The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Standing erect at the coffee point, not simply standing up straight but with his penis engorged, decently under his clothing of course, Jim thought back, his mind wondering and remembering. Not at all the right thing to do given Sophie was standing right in front of him and talking. The thought in his mind, rather than replying, was of having his cock between her lips then, perhaps, in her vagina—he could vividly remember just how warm and wet it had been—and then back between her lips. The thought of his cock all freshly wet from her being sucked—the idea of Sophie tasting herself on his penis. The thought…

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jim had quite missed what Sophie was saying.

“I was saying, could I come again, visit Mr. Crowfoot again? Such a delightful old boy. Charming, old school and so interesting. I liked his house, though for the life of me, I can’t remember a thing how his study looked. I can remember the other rooms. Did it have a fireplace and a big old desk? I just can’t remember. Have you been upstairs? Is that as nice as the ground floor?”

Sophie suggested the Saturday and Jim went across the road that very evening to see if that would suit Mr Crowfoot. He was surprised to find the old man no longer in his wheelchair. That sat on its own in the hall.

“No more visits from Nurse Evans, alas,” Mr Crowfoot had said, “But so good to be free of the plaster. I now have to restore the strength in my limb.” The old man was hobbling a bit, leaning on a walking stick but up and about. It was only when he sat down did Jim see just what the head of the stick was, previously it had been hidden in the palm of his hand.

“Where… where did you get THAT?”

Mr Crowfoot smiled. “My father’s, he found it somewhere abroad. Impressive eh?”

“You don’t go out and about with that surely?”

“I’m not going out yet, but I have in the past. You see nothing until the hand is removed—see?” Again he clasped the stick in his hand and it was, indeed, not at all clear to the casual observer just what Mr Crowfoot was clasping but once you knew it was then very obvious the carving below the hand was of a remarkably long erect penis, it even had a slight bend along its length! With the knob of the carved penis in the ball of the hand the carving was not obvious—or not so obvious. The sinuous veins might just have been natural to the wood; at least until you knew what it actually was, that is.

“I wonder how many young women have experienced it. Certainly, I have wielded it to good effect many times. Would you perhaps like to try it on your Sophie? Poke her with it? Or perhaps watch her use it. It is rather enjoyable watching a woman use a dildo.”

And so, Jim found himself escorting Sophie across the road once more. A very excited Jim knowing what would almost certainly happen. Sophie so unaware as she talked away at what was about to occur—unaware of what would happen, what had happened before and, would then have no real recollection of what had occurred inside Mr Crowfoot’s special room.

Sophie was more than delighted to find they were met at the door by Mr Crowfoot. She even kissed the old man on the cheek which was more than she had ever done to Jim. He noted just what walking stick the old man was leaning upon. Jim frowned, Mr Crowfoot would have to be careful not to put that down in Sophie’s sight unless, of course, it was in that room at the back with the desk and the Chesterfield.

Again, they sat in the front room whilst Jim made the tea. The old man perhaps a little unsteady on his feet. When he returned with the tea tray they were sitting on a sofa, Sophie to the left, Mr Crowfoot to the right. Having poured the tea Jim sat in an armchair opposite. Cup in hand his eyes kept returning to the walking stick set down by Mr Crowfoot to the side of the sofa. He could see it in all its masculine strength. What if Sophie stood up and saw it? What would she think? It seemed a strange risk on Mr Crowfoot’s part. Perhaps an element of danger excited him, or was it done as a challenge to Jim or to show just how confident Mr Crowfoot was in the strange power of the room, the study across the hallway?

Sophie was talking of her own modest flat. Jim’s eyes moved from the walking stick to look at her bare knees as she sat with them carefully together under her skirt. In not many minutes he might be parting those knees and looking in detail what was between them. He felt his penis rising as he commented on his own rather basic flat situated opposite Mr Crowfoot’s fine house.

Another cup poured, the conversation flowing to literature. Jim smiled when Mr Crowfoot offered to lend a particular book to Sophie. His words, ‘I have a copy in the study,’ having an especial significance that Jim did not at all miss. It was an invitation, a reason for Sophie to go into the back room.

“Come, let us go and find it.”

Jim leapt to help Sophie stand, anxious she should not see Mr Crowfoot fumbling for his walking stick. Mr Crowfoot though, then took her arm and hobbled with her out across the hall and into the study with Jim following, his eyes on her bottom. He turned and closed the study door behind him and when he turned again Mr Crowfoot was already at the bookcase looking for the volume. He actually handed his stick to Sophie so he could reach two handed. Jim’s eyes went wide at seeing the wooden penis shape in Sophie’s hand. She was looking at it. Had, perhaps, the study’s spell not worked?

“What do you think, Sophie, what do you really think? Does it shock you?” Mr Crowfoot spoke without turning, still seeking the book.

What was Mr Crowfoot up to, Jim wondered.

“It’s a… it’s an unusual carving. I’m not sure you should go out on the street with it, Mr Crowfoot.” Jim watched how she was holding and examining it, how her thumb rubbed up the rather well carved and equally realistic fraenum. It looked well polished from frequent rubbing as if the shape encouraged a certain rubbing or fondling. “Yes, it’s not the sort of thing really to show anyone: if it was mine I’d keep it locked away except…”

“Yes?” Mr Crowfoot turned and leant forward a little in expectation.

Sophie smiled her pretty smile, “I might get it out at bedtime.”

“Do you use a dildo, Sophie, have you got one?”

“Yes, hidden away in my knicker drawer, in a sock, but not as nice as this one.” She was holding it up, turning it around.

Such an interesting piece of intimate information. He would see Sophie the next day, perhaps getting her coffee at the office kitchen, little realising Jim knew what she kept in her knicker drawer. Did she just use it when alone or did her husband wield it as well, perhaps in support of his own penis? But there was to be more intimate matters he would learn about.

“What do you think about, fantasise about when you use your dildo, Sophie?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Depends.”

“Tell us your,” he paused, “what word should I use, ‘risqué’, ‘naughty’, ‘taboo’ or even socially unacceptable, thoughts. Your darker fantasies perhaps. Do you perhaps imagine being examined, maybe by a doctor, perhaps with an audience and the examination becomes sexual; perhaps with the nurse, perhaps with the doctor?

Sophie nodded and Jim swallowed. What on Earth went on in her mind? Did young women really have such thoughts, the sort of, or at least analogous, sexual fantasies that he did and, presumably, other young men—and probably Mr Crowfoot as well.

“Yes, Mr Crowfoot, and I have imagined people watching. A group of students taking notes. I find the idea of being exposed and watched arousing. Well sometimes.” She paused as if thinking. Certainly she was being open—completely open—undoubtedly due to the room. “Yes, quite often my thoughts take that turn. I like the idea of being on a beach—who doesn’t—a private cove and I’m there with a nice man making love but I do like to imagine we are seen. I look over my lover’s shoulder and see another man watching from a distance and then he comes closer. I like imagining seeing his cock swell in his swimming shorts and then he gets it out and wanks. Another man turns up, and then, maybe, another.”

Jim was fascinated; only just believing he was hearing Sophie say these things. What would she say next? “Did they, did they, um…” Suddenly he was not too sure how to put the question. Sophie was just standing there as if in the office, not unclothed or anything.

“Jim wants to know what you imagined happening. Did you copulate with them all or did the watching men perhaps ejaculate on you or perhaps you and your partner? Warm rain, Sophie.” He said it with a smile.

Sophie giggled. It was so sexy and so not like her or, at least, how Jim saw her at the office.

“Both! I’ve imagined that scene quite a few times.”

“Well, we are not down by the sea. But you could act out your examination fantasy, Sophie. You would like to do that. I shall be the doctor and Jim the young trainee. What would please you? Would you like to imagine yourself a young, blushing, virgin bride sent to learn about sex before the big day? Preparation for the wedding night eh?”

“I do sometimes imagine that. Me as the young, inexperienced bride being taken up to the bedchamber by my new older, experienced and large husband,” Sophie paused, “large in many ways.”

Jim was amazed by how Sophie’s inhibitions seemed to have been thrown to the wind by the room. To hear her allude to the size of a penis was—different!

“It must have been, for some young brides, quite a shock seeing an erect penis the first time. Not for farm girls who would have seen the animals copulating and have a pretty shrewd idea, but town girls kept away from such things.”

“Knowing where it was to go.” Breathed Sophie. “Excites me but must have frightened some girls.”

Jim watched Sophie’s chest rising and falling. Beneath her blouse he could see she was breathing faster.

“Imagine some Sir Jaspar like groom, removing his clothes revealing his hairy body—animal like—and at last his penis, right there in front of his bride and then… Oh, I like the idea, it growing, and growing right in front of her. Rearing up like a stallion!”

Jim shivered. What imagery was coming from Sophie. This was quite something. The room seeming to just let her go.

“Or,” said Mr Crowfoot, “she is suddenly presented with this at her pre-nuptial examination.

And Sophie play acted perfectly. A look of shock on her face as the walking stick, angled handled uppermost was thrust in front of her face by the old man.

“This, my dear, is what a man’s penis looks like when engorged and ready to enter a woman in copulation. Take it, hold it, as you will your husband’s, many times.”

Wonderful to see Sophie play act. Her fingers tentatively holding, feeling the realistic carving, turning it in her hand. “How long—is a real… man’s thing? Is it really as… thick?”

“All in good time, Sophie, I have some real penises for you to hold, but first your examination. Perhaps, Miss, you could undress in the corner and then lie down on the examination desk.” He removed the few items on the desk.

The desk had no doubt been used before for a similar purpose. Jim wondered how many women had been placed upon that desk, their vaginas and mouths at a useful height. Both Mr Crowfoot and, no doubt, his father would have, he was sure, engaged with wonderfully compliant women upon the leather top. Sophie wasted little time in undressing. A delight for Jim to see her once more completely naked and watch her climb up on the desk feigning embarrassment as she play-acted her part. How amazing, thought Jim, the room’s influence. What could and did happen once a woman was enticed into the study. She was completely and utterly at the men’s disposal.

“Well done, my dear, not too awful being here naked in front of your doctor and his assistant eh? But we need you to be a little more open.” With his walking stick, Mr Crowfoot indicated, not though with its base but with its head. He held it by its base and tapped with its knob end against Sophie’s knees encouraging them to open. “A bit more please, young lady.” The realistic shiny wooden knob stroked down the inside of Sophie’s thighs encouraging a wider splay.

Jim had seen something of Sophie when she had been across the arm of the Chesterfield whilst he had spanked and then, actually, copulated with her before releasing all over her bottom and back, but now he could see all of her most intimate parts.

“Educational for you too, eh, Jim? Fetch me that mirror would you.”

Jim did as he was bid, a little puzzled, but soon found himself holding it so the prone Sophie could see what Mr Crowfoot—or was that Dr. Crowfoot—pointed out to her.

“Your procreative and excretory organs all in one tidy place.” He looked up at Sophie as he put a pair of wire framed spectacles on his nose. “Your future husband is a lucky man. A fine body for him to enjoy. You are a pretty girl with a fine pair of breasts. Whilst these are really for breast feeding infants, men do take the greatest pleasure in playing with them and suckling upon your nipples. Whether or not in milk!”

He was gently poking at them with the head of his walking stick; a hard, wooden penis pushing at Sophie’s sweet conical breasts and her pale areolae and nipples. Quite a sight to see the facsimile penis in close contact with Sophie’s breasts. Just what Jim would like to do with his own penis, indeed he would very much have liked to come upon them, enjoying seeing and feeling his hot, creamy semen pouring out onto her breasts and perhaps rubbing them, making them all slippery with it. Such a shame a man only came once. The idea of rubbing the slippery breasts whilst then inserting himself into her just so pleasing in his unsurprisingly aroused state.

“Now you try fondling, imagine it is your husband to be. Isn’t that nice. Pinch a little, encourage your nipples to harden.” Mr Crowfoot did not stop using the walking stick.

So good seeing Sophie’s hands at work with the wooden penis interfering at the same time. Her fingers kept touching that as well, even rubbing its smooth hardness against her nipples.

Slowly Mr Crowfoot brought the knob to Sophie’s lips. So exciting for Jim to see the realistic carving coming slowly closer to her mouth. “Kiss it, Sophie, you should kiss your husband’s penis. It is there for you.”

A remarkably erotic sight. Jim was willing Sophie to suck but she just kissed. An almost chaste kiss right to the end of the very unchaste wooden object. What a sight!

“Now, Sophie, let’s examine your pudenda. Look in the mirror. See either side,” the bulbous wooden handle of the walking stick traced down Sophie’s outer lips on both sides, “your protective outer labia, closing over your soft inner parts, just smooth skin and such pretty curls. Nice though to feel stroked. You should encourage your husband to stroke slowly and take his time. There is a danger that men rush through the preliminary stages. There is some sense in having men tied and bound on their wedding night, and perhaps other times, so they don’t hurry, but we might discuss your thoughts on bound men another time, Sophie.” The wooden knob went round and round.

Here, though, are your inner lips, the labia minora, see how soft they are. You have generous lips. Again, protective but they become delightfully engorged as your arousal rises. Like a penis they fill with blood becoming thicker, at the same time the whole vulva lubricates allowing the penis ingress.

“And here is your little pee hole. See Jim it is here not as you might expect up here with the clitoris.” He was touching, pushing against the little orifice with the stick. “And of course, down here we have the other excretory exit and we know what that’s for don’t we Sophie?”

“Of course.”

“But what you might not know is some men, and maybe your husband to be, like to engage in a different, an unnatural copulation. They like to push their penises into that tight, warm hole!”

“No!”

“I wonder, Sophie, if you have thought about that. But that’s for another day. If your husband shows an inclination, then come and revisit me. We can undertake some training exercises. But here, this is the important place. Look Sophie, see this mock penis, pushing at your vaginal opening as your husband will do.”

“It’s too big to go in. I’m sure it is, doctor. Far too big.”

Mr Crowfoot’s smile and chuckle were condescending, “I can assure you the vagina is remarkably elastic. I shall get you to try, but first, this is most important,” he moved the knob upwards, “the clitoris! So much sensation in one place. To be treated carefully.”

Jim leant inwards as Mr Crowfoot continued, perhaps still play acting, perhaps talking for Jim’s benefit. “You can feel that, Sophie.” He was rubbing the carefully carved little penile orifice against the just visible button, making it grow. “Here above a charming little vee of skin, so pretty on Sophie, the protective clitoral hood, see how it peels back exposing her.”

It was clear to Jim; Sophie was lubricating nicely.

“Now Sophie, imagine your new husband is with you in bed. He is naked and his penis is strongly erect. He has been stroking you and you him. You have been exploring each other’s bodies, with fingers and tongues—perhaps. It is now time to consummate the marriage. He will lie atop you, pushing you into the soft bed and you will feel the end of his penis hard against you like this!”

Sophie started as she felt the sudden jab of the wood at her entrance.

“Perhaps you are not quite ready. Your husband could oil or grease his penis and make entry easier. Jim, could you oil the stick for Sophie.”

Jim had seen the glass stoppered bottle but had not realised its purpose. It was slightly peculiar pouring oil into the palm of his hand and then applying it to the raised knob and shaft of the walking stick. It was not a real penis but it felt like one. It was as if he was oiling another man’s penis ready for copulation. A strange thing to be doing, an almost uncomfortable thing to be doing, feeling its hard shape with all its carved realism. Shiny with the oil, Mr Crowfoot returned it to its position between Sophie’s thighs.

“Now imagine he is on top of you. You know his penis is hanging ready, perhaps an inch from you. It is about to happen. You grasp him tightly, your arms around his naked back. Are your ready, Sophie, close your eyes. It is about to happen.”

Jim watched as Mr Crowfoot pushed and Sophie’s eyes closed. The wooden knob seemed simply to be absorbed into his work colleague’s body; so good to see her gasp and shudder as if she was indeed a bride experiencing her first penetration by her new husband. Slowly Mr Crowfoot advanced the wooden phallus pushing it deeper into Sophia.

Sophie’s eyes opened and she watched the advancing dildo in the mirror in Jim’s hands. Had she done the same with a mirror and her own dildo from her knicker drawer? It fascinated Jim to think what Sophie had done, and, indeed, what her private thoughts were about sex. It aroused him to wonder just how kinky she might be, or how other female colleagues might be in the privacy of their own mind. What, he wondered, went on in the minds of women. Were they as kinky as he liked to think he was? What were their most hidden, or embarrassing, thoughts?

“Now Sophie I want you to practise whilst my assistant and I prepare certain apparatus to continue your preparations for your wedding night.” The wooden penis had been pushed and pulled a few times by Mr Crowfoot. Jim had rather been hoping to take over but it seemed the old man had other ideas.

Jim could hardly tear himself away from watching Sophie take hold of the walking stick and continue its use within her body, pleasuring herself. The wooden walking stick pulling upon her flesh and then pushing into it.

The apparatus was, of course, the two men’s genitalia. Clothes were heaped upon Sophie’s in the corner.

“These, Sophie, are the real thing.” Jim and Mr Crowfoot had walked back to the desk. Jim had known how erect he was and had not been surprised to see Mr Crowfoot the same. He was careful to offer the old man support. His leg was not yet strong. What a thing, though, to be standing one side of a naked girl and opposite another naked man, his own erection up at forty-five degrees and his knob peeled and see the other older man the same.

The feigned shock a delight. Under the strange influence of the room Sophie’s play acting seemed both natural and, moreover, a pleasure to her. She looked from one to the other.

“So big!”

“You may hold if you like.”

The walking stick was left in situ and Sophie’s hands went to the two penises, one to each hand. A pleasure to both men. So good to see her hand curl around Mr Crowfoot’s penis and feel her other hand on his own. Jim’s eyes flicking from one hand, or one penis to the other, seeing what she did. Such an erotic sight. His spread work colleague so obscenely impaled by the phallic walking stick with her two hands full of cock.

“You have the advantage here of two penises. Something you will not have with your new husband on your wedding night. With two penises we can give you an extensive or extended practice. The problem, you will probably find, with your eager husband is the procreative function will happen far too soon. Young men are too eager and like the bull in the field are no sooner inside the vagina than depositing their semen. Whereas you, a healthy young woman, will desire prolonged copulation. Such an enjoyment to feel a penis sliding within you. Leave these alone and feel again the wooden penis moving. Yes, is that not just so good?”

Jim walked around and stood watching from between Sophie’s thighs, the flesh wobbling a little with each thrust she made. Glorious to be standing there so hard and watching. He still could not get over what he was seeing—and a colleague no less. Sophie from a very different angle.

“My assistant and I will demonstrate; let you feel real copulation. We will swop over when we feel the semen about to rise, so as to give you a long and almost seamless copulation. At the end I shall demonstrate what it feels like to have an emission of semen within you and my assistant will show you what an ejaculation looks like coming from his penis.”

Jim smiled. Mr Crowfoot again being so careful about contraception. He rather envied, foolishly really, the old man’s infertility and the way he could ejaculate without worries inside a woman. Jim felt despite his condom experience with Nurse Evans he was somewhat of a virgin still.

“May I?” Mr Crowfoot took Sophie’s hand from the walking stick and placed it upon her breast. “You stroke there whilst I deal with your vagina. We want you to orgasm, an orgasm caused by real penises so you know what you are seeking with your husband. If on your wedding night you don’t, do insist he fingers you until you do come. Perhaps even whisper the idea in his ear before he penetrates you. Perhaps only allow him ingress when he has almost made you come with his lips and fingers. Jim, would you remove the walking stick please.”

A pleasure for Jim to reach and gently tug. Was Sophie perhaps grasping it with her muscles making it difficult to remove. The thought of her grasping his penetrating penis was very pleasing. A sudden squeeze like that might set him off, he thought. He was conscious he was very much like the hypothetical bridegroom in being prone to premature ejaculation within women. He needed Mr Crowfoot’s practice—please!

Mr Crowfoot took the walking stick and seemed rather happy to have it again for support. Perhaps he liked the feel of Sophie’s wetness in his hand even if it must feel so like grasping a hard penis freshly pulled from a woman. It would even be warm.

“Come on Jim, out of the way.” He actually tapped Jim on his upstanding penis with the stick, encouraging him to come away from between Sophie’s thighs and allowing himself easy access. He got Sophie to scoot herself a little further down the desk so her sex was right at the edge.

Naturally Jim watched, of course he watched closely as, rather than the wooden phallus, Mr Crowfoot’s hard flesh touched Sophie. Despite his age Jim could not help feeling Mr Crowfoot stood well, perhaps a bit more blemished, perhaps craggier and with the veins more prominent but essentially no different from Jim’s own. So exciting seeing the old man push and his real penis enter the girl and slide. A sort of disappearing act! Now you see it: now you don’t! And, indeed, there was Mr Crowfoot right up against the desk and not a half inch of penis to be seen.

Mr Crowfoot took his pleasure, clearly enjoying the steady rhythm of his copulation. No doubt also feeling safe with his two hands able to hold onto girl or desk, supporting his leg. Jim was impatient for his own turn; yet knowing it would be a shorter turn. Mr Crowfoot was clearly on anything but a fine trigger.

At last the man stepped back, carefully manoeuvring himself with his walking stick.

“Are you ready for my assistant now, Sophie?”

So good to see her nod as her fingers stroked her breasts. It was, in effect, an invitation to fuck. Hardly something at all likely at the office. The idea of it—‘come on Jim, let’s go to a meeting room and fuck’—just so unlikely. Yet in Mr Crowfoot’s study everything was quite different.

“In you go.” Again, a tap to his penis from the walking stick and Jim stepped forward.

So exciting. He felt himself almost shivering with arousal. Just looking down at Sophie’s splayed legs, her open and wet sex was almost enough to send him spurting across her curls. “I don’t think I can.” Awful to say given how much he had been wanting to fuck her but he was not at all sure he could hold back once he felt her wet heat. “I’m sorry I’m too…”

He did not finish the sentence because there was a sudden slap to his hanging balls. Mr Crowfoot had brought the walking stick sharply up between his legs, a sudden movement up from behind, between his thighs, catching his so vulnerable hanging scrotum and testes with the stick. Surprise, shock and then Jim felt the delayed pain building.

“Better? Try now.”

Jim’s stepped forward, almost crumpling at the knees with the pain, and touched his work colleague. There was no risk of his coming now. He could push in to the hilt with no fear of ejaculation. A strange pleasure: wonderful sensation to his penis, the pain in his balls dull but yet so excruciating, the sight so erotic, the thought of penetrating and having sexual intercourse with Sophie so good. Pleasure and pain so mixed together. Was it a technique Mr Crowfoot had learnt from his father? Had perhaps his own then young and defenceless balls been similarly treated? Was Mr Crowfoot simply passing the lesson on?

With the pain Jim was able to stay within Sophie quite a time before relinquishing his possession to his host. All the time Sophie had been playing with her breasts, simply lying there on the desk whilst the men stimulated her sex with their penises.

Mr Crowfoot stepped forward again but this time began by a careful rubbing of his knob on Sophie’s clitoris. “Direct clitoral stimulation is always a good idea as well, make sure your husband does that often, Sophie. You try Jim and see how Sophie reacts so well to the intense sensation.”

Jim could already see, but he was not loath to step forward and rub the two organs together, feel Sophie’s hardness against his own—smooth, taut skin to smooth, taut skin. He even slipped downwards and pushed into Sophie once again

Again and again the two men swopped places, pushing into the young girl and encouraging her towards orgasm until it happened. Perhaps it was lucky Mr Crowfoot was in possession because Sophie’s clamping thighs might well have prevented Jim’s egress when he, for his part, could not prevent his own orgasm and the ingress of fertile semen. There was no such worry with Mr Crowfoot both because he held back from coming despite the stimulation—or provocation—and because his semen posed no danger to Sophie.

Jim, by now the pain in his testes but a faint but dull ache looked with real desire at Sophie. Her orgasm over she just lay, so splayed, so relaxed, so vulnerable looking across the desk, her arms hanging loose, her thighs wide splayed and her wetness so obvious. She had relaxed her tight grip on Mr Crowfoot but he was still in place. Perhaps as well, because Jim felt such a desire to step forward and take Sophie, push into her so helpless looking, so floppy seeming body and ejaculate.

“Now, Sophie, I shall demonstrate what your husband will do. Concentrate now. I want you to feel this.”

Jim thought Mr Crowfoot would certainly feel it! And it was, of course, evident that he did. Obvious too what he had done when he pulled his softening member from Sophie. Jim got a very clear view of Sophie’s well filled sex. How he would like to have followed on—but that was not permitted or wise.

“There you are Sophie. Just like your wedding night, I hope. Was that helpful?”

“Yes doctor, very helpful. I am grateful.”

“Now Sophie, my assistant will show you what has just happened inside you but an external demonstration. I want you to use your hand rather than my assistant show you himself. It is important you know, as all brides need to, how to manually please your new husband. There will be times when, and you know what I am talking about, when it will not be so easy or so pleasing for you both to copulate, but you will want to please your husband. Now Jim will stand beside you, take hold and watch closely.”

Sophie turned and reached. Jim stood beside her as she began wanking him, her face rather too close to the end of his penis. She was doing what she had been told but was going to more than see the ejaculation when it came from his penis.

“When you are ready Jim.”

Jim was in no hurry, but his penis had other ideas. He found himself unable to hold back, felt his, still a little aching, balls rise and he was doing it. One little spurt out and onto Sophie’s face and then ‘blam, blam, blam’ he was ejaculating right into his work colleague’s pretty face as her hand worked him. His penis producing his cream all over her cheeks and mouth. A sight to treasure and most likely what some of his male colleagues had actually dreamt of doing but would never have the chance. Lucky Jim!

He had certainly made a mess.

“I was amazed, quite astounded,” said Jim to Mr Crowfoot that evening over mugs of cocoa. He had gone across the road to talk, to reflect on the morning’s ‘meeting’ with Sophie; perhaps even to thank Mr Crowfoot. “How you managed to get Sophie talking about her secret desires and fantasies.”

“I’ve always liked doing that. Arousing to hear such uninhibited talk. It is remarkable what they say sometimes. Some are remarkably chaste in their thoughts, if that is the right word, their thoughts really more of romance than copulation: others are just so different, some very naughty indeed. And so enjoyable to let them—or rather make them—act out a fantasy. Do they remember anything? I don’t know. I like to think in their subconscious it comes out and bolsters their naughtiness. You enjoyed?”

And how could he not have! It would be quite something to see her in the office the next day and know she knew nothing of what had happened or about what he now knew about her.

“Perhaps she will visit again. What shall we do then?”

A couple of days later found Jim up and about and thinking of getting ready to go to work. He stood looking out of his window at the old house across the road. He wondered about Mr Crowfoot’s father. How it had been in his day? On the desk in the study, he recalled, was a photograph of the man with his wife beside him. A photograph in monochrome from long ago, perhaps forty or fifty years before. The 1920s or 30s, but the clothes perhaps of an earlier era, certainly very formal. The man in a dark suit with wing collar, the woman in a long dress. Mr Crowfoot had mentioned that his mother seemingly sometimes joined the elder Mr Crowfoot in the room. What had gone on then? How had she participated? Surely the man had not needed the strange influence of the room with her, they were married, after all, and presumably, given the elder Mr Crowfoot’s evident sexual needs it was unlikely marital relations were not other than frequent and passionate. Jim rather thought there was more to it than that; he rather suspected or liked to think Mrs Crowfoot had, in some way, joined in. His Mr Crowfoot had assured him the room did not affect men, so it could not be that young men were invited into the study for Mrs Crowfoot’s pleasure.

How strange that would have been, the pair enjoying a young, perhaps very innocent, couple together. The elder Mr Crowfoot undressing the young women, Mrs Crowfoot undressing the young man. The elder Mr Crowfoot, watching with amusement and fondness, as his wife caressed the young man’s upstanding manhood, perhaps sucked it a bit before riding it. How exciting, perhaps, for Mr Crowfoot to see his wife’s vagina full of the young man’s cock whilst he busied himself in and around the young woman.

There would no doubt have been a lot of clothes to remove, a more complicated business than today. Jim was amused to find himself erect at his thoughts. He got out of his bed and stood looking out of his window across at the Crowfoot house. In his mind the thought of the young couple, perhaps newly married, visiting the Crowfoots. Perhaps the young Archibald Crowfoot introduced to them as they drank tea in the front room and then watching his father inviting them into his study to view something or other, not understanding the significant glance between his father and his mother. Then, after a time, his mother rising and telling him to go upstairs and play but him standing at the foot of the stairs watching as she hurried into the study and the door closed and stayed closed for a long time.

How might the elder Crowfoot prepare the couple; what would the mother have seen on entering the room; perhaps the couple already naked and sexually engaged; Mr Crowfoot standing there watching with his penis exposed and erect, waiting for his wife to join him before engaging with the young women, giving his wife the chance to see the tableau; perhaps Mrs Crowfoot might separate the two, tugging the young man’s penis from the young woman, leaving her vagina moist and open for Mr Crowfoot whilst she toyed with the wet penis, perhaps then telling the young man to undress her. Jim was sure there was a lot of telling, a lot of directing.

He stood there in his bedroom, stroking his penis at his thoughts. Lovely to imagine, but Mr Crowfoot had told him the room had no influence on men. Nice as the idea was of Mr Crowfoot’s mother enjoying a succession of young men whilst her husband enjoyed the girls it could not have happened. Well, it could have happened if there had been some sort of agreement, if the young men had been like himself, invited participants. It could have been his own father! His own father with rather improper thoughts about a young lady, a young lady who had no interest in him, being offered the chance of, well absolutely anything really, on condition he also submitted to Mrs Crowfoot. From the photograph she was certainly not an uncomely woman, handsome indeed. Jim felt he could certainly have happily copulated with her in return for the opportunity with young ladies!

He imagined himself, rather than his father, entering the study with the elder Mr Crowfoot in his severe dark suit, Mrs Crowfoot in her long dress and the unsuspecting young lady, perhaps like Jennifer—Jenny—at the office. Jenny was rather nice, willowy and small breasted, she would very much have fitted the ‘Flapper’ image of the 1920s: short hair, shapeless dress to her knee, swinging jewellery and not a lot to her chest. Good to see her dressed like that.

Jim’s foreskin slid up and down as he thought. What would it have been like sharing the flapper and Mrs Crowfoot with the elder Mr Crowfoot. He had a pleasant image of both women bent over the desk and the two men alternately plugging them with very wet penises.

Had things like that happened? Jim wondered if perhaps Mr Crowfoot might have some old photographs which might give more of a clue what went on. He was intrigued. Were young men rather like himself involved? More likely, Mrs Crowfoot had simply joined the elder Mr Crowfoot in his misdeeds with the young women. Perhaps she had a penchant for the girls—who could blame her, certainly not Jim; he liked the girls after all. Had not Mr Crowfoot hinted at such? Yet, surely Mrs Crowfoot would have been just as influenced by the room as Nurse Evans or Sophie and would therefore remember nothing of what transpired within. Perhaps there was a gradual loss of the room’s amnesia like qualities. He would have to ask Mr Crowfoot. It would not be good if Sophie remembered: or was the effect that she would come to relish what happened and want to return again and again?

Just as good to imagine the two people in the photograph he had seen, undressing a young woman, yes, like Jenny, together and performing all sorts of sexual acts with her. Jim would love to see two women making love, soixante-neuf perhaps. How good to watch. Easy to imagine the naked Mr Crowfoot senior wanking as he watched his wife and Jenny being intimate, knowing he would be intimate with them later—or perhaps at the same time. What was it like having your penis licked by one woman at the very time you were slowly sliding it in and out of another woman? Jim had only just felt what it was like to be sucked or to fuck—that sort of special activity was quite outside his experience.

It would be good, he thought, if he could inveigle Jenny into visiting Mr Crowfoot, perhaps get her once inside the study to dress as a flapper. But there would not be another woman there, just the now not so ‘young’ Mr Crowfoot with his own desires and needs. Jim smiled, imagining Jenny being invited to sit on the old man’s knee in her flapper dress, settling down upon his upstanding erection. He imagined himself walking across and presenting his own penis to be sucked—not so much a cigarette in a long holder as sometimes used in the period but a big, fat cigar! Jenny bouncing on Mr Crowfoot’s erection as she sucked his own. What a pleasing thought.

Standing, looking in a rather unfocused way, out of his bedroom Jim overdid his wanking, his thoughts had been rather exciting after all, and from the end of his penis shot several ropes of semen, out and down onto the window sill and carpet just as he might so easily have done into the flapper’s warm and wet mouth; Jenny’s mouth. It mattered not. He was a young man, after all, and would produce more semen quickly. He had, though, to go to work and not visit Mr Crowfoot, whether or not he saw Nurse Evans walking up his garden path. That was, in any case, very unlikely with Mr Crowfoot now being on his feet.

What was it about that room? Mr Crowfoot did not seem to know. What was it about the room that entranced the women? Was it the pattern on the carpet, the smell of the leather armchair and sofa, perhaps the patterns in the stained-glass window in the wall, or a combination of all of those things that brought about the desired state of mind? Yet it was so quick, so complete and so strong. He had seen it with two women already. He looked down at the mess he had made. Should he really be hoping to do ‘it’ again with more young women—make a mess with them—even, perhaps, Jenny?

“I sometimes wish,” mused Mr Crowfoot, “I had been more musical. So useful to have been a piano or violin teacher giving lessons,” he smiled at Jim, “to young ladies of course. Probably not all the time but enough. A piano in the front room and another in the back. Much of the lesson in the front room then a little extra practice in the back.”

“Clothed practice in the front but naked practising in the study? Perhaps the girls sitting on your lap as their hands move across the keys.”

“Or perhaps learning the violin or flute. Practising on the flesh flute in the study. I am sure you can imagine that!”

Of course, Jim could imagine that. The flautist playing his cock from the side and perhaps her younger sister, just starting out, playing it like a recorder, her lips gently holding the knob as she blew. Not so good sitting with an erection in Mr Crowfoot’s house when there was not a young lady waiting in the study.

“I was never very good at music.”

“So, no extra tuition sitting on the lap of some pretty music teacher with her hands helping you with the keys.”

“No, our music teacher was an old bloke anyway, so quite different. I liked him, made us laugh, but I was just hopeless. Couldn’t tell a crotchet from a clef. Did have one teacher I would like to have sat on my lap. Right at the end of school Miss Redmond joined us straight out of college. I think she impressed all the boys. Long ginger hair done up in different ways each day, tall and busty. There was a lot of talk of brassiere size! I wonder if she knew quite how many eyes followed her bottom’s rise and fall as she went to the staff room. Rachel Redmond, I wonder what became of her.”

“You’d have liked her to play your flute?”

“And all the other boys. I suspect a lot of semen was spilt because of her.”

“Imagined in all sorts of places.”

Jim smiled, “Between her breasts, in her mouth, on her bottom and, of course, mostly I am sure pumped in between her long legs. Yeah, what a thought!”

“I recall my father interviewing one of my teachers in this study,” I was quite young. I think it was rather a long interview! Probably I had done something naughty at school. I expect my father was delighted at the opportunity her visit gave.”

“An opportune visit! How in the past have you enticed women into your study? Extra tuition of some sort?”

He asked.

“Alas no. I have mentioned parties, taking young ladies aside for a time to show them something interesting.”

“Your collection of etchings?”

“Something like that. Or wives of friends. I was bad like that. So often when they came to stay the husband would go out for a time, to town, and… well it was rare that I could not entice the wife into my study on some pretext. One time I remember—you’ll like the idea—I had two wives, two young women in here together.”

“You made them… together?”

“Of course, but more especially I took them whilst they lay together and actually managed to inseminate both at the same time, moving quickly from one vagina to the other whilst ejaculating. I was inordinately proud of myself. Rather foolishly so, looking back, but there you are. Not many men can claim to have done that!”

“I’d like to have seen them together.”

“Indeed, watching two women entwined is delightful. Stimulating! I wish I could show you. Perhaps a couple of your colleagues might like to visit on some pretext and then, I am sure, I can encourage them to...” His smile was suitably lascivious.

It was rather fortunate, certainly coincidental, that Jim found both Sophie and Jenny in the kitchen when he went to fetch his afternoon cup of tea the very next day. They were sitting at a table having a meeting about a work matter, sensibly over a cup of tea. Jim offered them his packet of chocolate biscuits.

“I was telling Jenny about your old man.”

“Oh yes? I saw him yesterday. Had a long chat. He seems much recovered.”

“Using his walking stick, I hope. Gives a feeling of safety, and the reality too. My grandfather…”

Jim listened and the more so when Jenny started asking questions and showing real interest.

“He’d be delighted if you both payed a visit.

Incredibly, to Jim, it was arranged. He assured them Mr Crowfoot would be in Saturday morning. It was unlikely he would be going out—not with the prospect of such visitors arriving at his front door!