The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Y B Lonely?

By Captain Eazy

8

By the end of the week, Sandy had begun to feel she had taken a post-graduate course in the art of fucking. She and Lyda picked up two more boys, and each time Lyda eagerly screwed them while Sandy looked on and masturbated or lovingly licked and nibbled Lyda’s pussy while Lyda enthusiastically sucked cock. When no boys were in the beach house, Lyda and Sandy were naked and at each other constantly. The days passed in a flesh-colored swirl, with Sandy feeling hornier and hornier—and looking forward to seeing Gene again.

When Lyda let Sandy out at her house late Sunday afternoon, Sandy was in kind of an exhausted but anticipatory glow. She hauled her suitcase to her own room, surprised that her mom didn’t seem to be home. Then, carefully, Sandy decided what to wear to call on Gene. She had bought a wicked little pair of thong underwear that left absolutely nothing to the imagination: it vanished into her butt crack, and form the back, Lyda had assured her, Sandy looked as if she were wearing only a thin, thin fabric belt. In front, the thong split her pussy, letting the plump mounds of flesh pout on either side. She had shaved so closely that, thin though the thong was, it barely covered the small strip of pubic hair she had left herself. Then a pair of white shorts that would show off her long legs. And a white, stretchy top that perfectly displayed her big, luscious breasts. In a kind of dreamy, glazed state, Sandy strolled next door and tried the knob. The door was unlocked. She opened it and stepped into Gene’s house. “Hey,” she called in a low, sultry voice. “Where are you?”

Gene appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a robe and scuffs and—Sandy found herself hoping—not anything else. “Hi,” he said with a grin. “You look great.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, wriggling into his arms and giving him a deep, long, wet kiss. “I think I’ve made up my mind.” She took a step back, peeled off the top, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down. She stepped out of them and posed for Gene, her right leg turned to display her pussy to the best advantage. She fondled her breasts, making the nipples come fully erect and pulsing for him. “You can take off the thong if you want,” she offered.

“Come with me.” He took her hand and led her to a bedroom. Sandy’s heart was pounding with anticipation. She stepped inside—and froze, feeling her stomach fall. A naked girl lay on the bed, smiling at her.

“Come on,” Gene insisted, tugging her hand.

Sandy frowned, feeling tears in her eyes. Gene had someone else. A blonde girl about twenty, blue eyes, great boobs, a welcoming smile—

The breath caught in Sandy’s chest. ”Mom!

“You did a good job on her, Gene,” her Mom said in a delighted voice. “She looks like a real slut!”

“What—what—?”

“I gave her the rejuvenation treatment,” Gene said simply. “And I had her quit her job. She works for me now, for my online company.”

Sandy had sunk onto the edge of the bed, staring at her gorgeous mother. Her mom reached out a lazy hand and caressed Sandy’s left tit. “So nice,” she murmured.

Gene was saying, very seriously, “Now, of course we can’t have people thinking that something weird’s happened to Sylvia, so we’ve decided that your mom has taken a job in another state and your older cousin has come to live with you. From now on, you’ll call Sylvia ‘Barbi,’ that’s spelled with an ‘i.’ And the two of you will both work with me and—well, not to beat around the bush, you’ll be my own private harem.”

Sandy gave him an anguished look.

“Just the two of you,” Gene reassured her. “I’m not greedy.”

“Let’s show her,” Sandy’s mom said in a low, eager voice. “Now. I’m ready. I’m soooo wet!” She giggled.

Sandy didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Gene said, “Stay where you are and watch.”

He stripped and Sandy’s mom—Barbi—held out her welcoming arms. As Gene lay on the bed, she reached down and grabbed his cock and expertly guided it to her pink, pink slit. Sandy heard her moan with anticipation as the swollen head of Gene’s dick parted her lips and glided inside her, smooth as silk. Beneath her skimpy thong, Sandy felt heat and wetness of her own. To feel a boy—Gene—inside her—to move her hips in that welcoming way—to feel him hard against her, within her, to feel the friction as his great cock slipped in and out—and it was a great cock, she saw, bigger, thicker than any of the boys Lyda had screwed in the beach house—

“Oh, God, oh, God!” Barbi was thrashing against Gene, pumping with her hips. The huge swollen rod of his dick slipped in and out, glistening from her pussy juices. Sandy could hear the slushing sounds of enthusiastic fucking. She groaned and writhed. She wanted—she wanted—she. . . wanted. . . .

Barbi suddenly squealed and writhed in obvious orgasm. Gene pushed off her and looked over his shoulder, grinning. “I can control my orgasms,” he said. “And I can stay hard for hours if we feel like playing.”

“It’s true, it’s true,” breathed Barbi, in an ecstatic whisper. “Fuck her, Gene. Show her. Fuck my baby, fuck the slut. Let me watch!”

“M-mom!” But Sandy was thinking Yes, oh, yes, do anything to me, be nasty!

“Get her ready,” Gene said in a teasing way. “Sandy, get on the bed. Take off that thong.”

She did as he commanded, trusting him, first creeping onto the bed on hands and knees, then peeling the thong down and tossing it aside. Her mother was at her breasts, nuzzling, licking, sucking the strawberry nipples. Sandy arched her back and groaned. “This is so—so—”

“Nice,” Gene supplied. “Relax. Let it happen.”

“Yeah. . .” Sandy agreed. “It is kinda nice. It feels fantastic. Mmm. Use your tongue. . . Barbi. . . suck on ‘em. Bite ‘em!”

Now Barbi’s fingers were at her shaved pussy, pressing, spreading, dipping in and coming out slippery. Barbi trapped Sandy’s throbbing clit between two fingers, massaged it, teased it. Sandy bit her bottom lip, unable to control the rising passion she felt. It was no longer her mother licking her boobs, fingering her cunt. It was Bambi, a creature of lust and decadence, utterly abandoned to sensation. And she was getting Sandy ready. . . ready for Gene, ready for her first fuck.

“I w-want. . . wanna. . . wanna suck your cock,” Sandy moaned as Barbi worked her way down over the swell of her belly, toward her spread pussy.

Gene knelt beside her, and she turned her head, smelling the tang of his throbbing member. Sandy stretched her mouth wide to take in the purple helmet of the head, feeling her jaws creak with effort. She sucked and licked, then pulled away to say in a delighted voice, “I can taste your pussy, Mo—Barbi!” And then she took him back into her mouth again, moaning as Barbi returned the favor, tasting her daughter’s juices as her supple pink tongue lashed up and down the delicate creases of Sandy’s eager pussy.

Sandy felt delirious, lost in a sensual dream. She knew when Barbi slipped off the bed and knelt beside it, knew when Gene slipped his hard cock into her, not popping her cherry—Lyda had taken care of that—but deflowering her in a real sense, taking her virginity. She heard Barbi murmuring encouragement: “Fuck her deep, Gene! Show her!”

And, God, the sensation of being filled completely, stretched to accommodate Gene’s enormous tool! Nothing she and Lyda had done had prepared Sandy for that. It was fantastic, it was blinding in the pleasure she felt. She came at last, bucking and shrieking, and she felt Gene turn loose inside her, hot jets of cum filling her, squirting out from the sides and onto the sheets. Barbi cheered her on.

And then they all three lay in an exhausted tangle, kissing indiscriminately, caressing, fondling each other’s bodies. “This is crazy,” Sandy said weakly. “I—I was going to college, Mom had a job—”

“You don’t need to go to college,” Gene said firmly. “I’ll take care of both of you. You don’t know how rich I’ve become, Sandy. You’ll never lack anything, you’ll have every luxury you can wish for. Except another boy.”

“She’ll never want another boy,” said Barbi, kissing her on the mouth. “Never.”

“Nnoo,” Sandy agreed, and the sound was a moan. “Just you, Gene.”

“That’s good,” Gene said. “That’s my obedient little Sandy slut.”

“Mmm,” she agreed.

That was the beginning. In the days and weeks that followed, Sandy discovered that Gene was as good as his word. He let her have playthings—Lyda, for example, came over more and more often, and Sandy and Barbi shared her, drove her absolutely wild until she was an abandoned, mindless creature of lust, obedient to their every whim. And clothes and cars and a bigger house came as a matter of course. Sandy gave in—she had no choice but to give in—and lived a life that was as fulfilled, at least in one way, as any she could dream of.

But dreams were the rub. Now and then, not often, she had nightmares, bad dreams of being in bed with her own mother, her very own mother, when she knew full well that Sylvia had moved to another state and that her cousin Bambi had come to stay with her. And she had dreams that Gene was the master of her body and soul, that he commanded every thought she had, every feeling she experienced, as if that were a bad thing.

But she woke to tongues and fingers and a wonderful springy cock, and in the intense and fulfilling moments of sex she knew this was the reality. Dreams were only dreams, without meaning.

Her world was one of sensation and submission, of wanton, unrestrained giving and receiving, and every bout of love-making brought her new greeds, new hungers, and new fulfilment. If she was defiled, she did her share of defiling; if she was commanded, she took her orders with trembling gratitude.

And so she lived the life and ignored the dreams, and became a woman of such lustful passion that only a man like Gene was worthy of being her master.

The End