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Just Joan

By: archibael



Work was hell, but at the very least I knew I was going to have a good time tonight. Sinne was in town, and with a couple of fibs about going out with the guys I'd be out the door without my wife any the wiser. Preparing my excuse-- it was going to be a "co-worker's last day" this time-- I opened the front door and saw any adulterer's nightmare: my wife was sitting there in the front room. With Sinne. Talking very intensely about something. All thought of what I was going to do that night-- the lies I'd tell, the hot, exhilarating sex Sinne and I would have once again... hell, even my own name-- all vanished in the single thought of how I'd afford a decent lawyer on my salary while my wife bled the accounts dry and got her rich family to spring for hers. Damndamndamn!

And then Sinne turned to me, and that bitch actually smiled at me. Like the cat that just ate the canary. Or something. I was even more speechless. I yet didn't know how I was going to kill her, but I was certain then that it was going to happen. I groped for words, but I needn't have bothered. Sinne had the floor. "Ah, you must be Mr. Baal. I'm Gloria Sinne, and I've just been having the most pleasant conversation with your wife."

She extended her hand to me as if we'd never met before. I stared at her a moment. The moment drew on. I didn't take her hand, I just looked at it as if it would bite me. Sinne's smile froze on the verge of cracking. I glanced at my wife, who was looking at me quizzically, but not angrily, and realized this was one of Sinne's little games. Not funny, this time, dammit. Not fucking funny. I took a deep breath, mumbled a greeting, and then excused myself rudely. I heard my wife apologizing to Sinne, telling her that I'd been very stressed at work lately and that she shouldn't be insulted or anything. But that it was certainly nice talking to her, after all, and they'd have to do it again sometime. I sat in my easy chair in the living room fuming but trying to maintain a semblance of peace. My knuckles whitened on the arm of the chair. The last thing Sinne said as she walked out the door was: "I hope to see you soon."

Some of the upholstery tore. I knew one person who would be seeing her soon. Very soon.

*** 

The instant we entered her hotel I slapped her as hard as I could, leaving an ugly red mark on her face. Unrepentant, she grinned through the tears; I'd hit her hard. "Mmmm... starting early tonight, are we?" she hummed, and tick-tocked her hips. 

I slammed her up against the bathroom door with my forearm against her chest and hissed into her face, "Just what the fuck was that, huh?!?"

"What do you think it was?" She wasn't as defiant now. Sometimes she liked it rough, but I knew she didn't really like it this rough. And perhaps she saw something in my eyes which told her that this wasn't foreplay of any kind.

"I think it was you trying to fuck with my mind." 

Something about this struck her as funny. "That's pretty close," she gasped between the beginnings of laughter. 

I almost hit her again, I swear to god, and I don't know if I would have stopped. But I don't enjoy hitting women, really-- it's not my thing, and I've known my share of girlfriends who had been battered by other guys. It's traumatic to even hear about, and I always hated the psychos who did that crap. So my fury was becoming less violent, if not dimming in any other way. I lowered her from the wall, and deliberately unclenched my fists. I turned away. And breathed. "What you did today was not funny. Not. You know that." 

"Yes."

"Yes? So you almost kill me with a heart-attack, and then finally agree with me that it wasn't an amusing trick? Well, I suppose I feel much better now." 

"It's now becoming funny, though, because you're behaving like a bratty little schoolboy." 

"Fuck you. You had no right. I'm going to buy a plane ticket in the morning and go hang out with Clive. Maybe we'll play racquetball together, and then I'll tell him about the hot little piece of ass I'm screwing. And then give him explicit details about her. Scars, moles..." 

"Enough." 

"... the little noises she makes..."

"I said, 'enough'!" She was getting angry, now. She knew damn well she had as much to lose in this as I had. 

"Oh, now it's not funny, huh? Now you're mad? Serves you right, you bitch." 

She glared at me. I glared back. Finally she dropped her eyes. 

"You're right. I should have warned you. I should-- " 

"Warned me? Like that would have made it better?" 

"Stop. Just stop and let me talk, will you? There is a method to my madness, okay? I should have let you in on it, but I wanted to surprise you." 

"It worked." 

"Not what I had in mind, actually. I was planning on being out of there by the time you came home, but things took a little longer than I'd expected." 

I sat down on the bed, and pulled out a bottle of crummy vodka from the mini-bar. Popov, I think. "What are you getting at?" I said between swallows. 

"I wasn't fucking with your mind. I was fucking with hers." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You're excused. Remember some of the games we played last year? With the whole Master/Slave worship thing?" 

"Yeah, of course." It has been incredibly hot, but where was this going? 

"Remember that you hypnotized me, and made me do whatever you wanted?" 

"Yes. That was fun." Damn right it was fun. Watching her strip outside on the hotel balcony where passers-by could see, then taking her on the bed... 

"Well, I couldn't forget it." She licked her lips, and I could tell she was locked in the same memory as me. She broke her reverie. "So. Anyways. I was looking into things, and reading some stuff, and... well..." She turned suddenly and grinned at me, looking very much the same as when I saw her in my front room earlier that night. "I hypnotized your wife." 

"You what?" 

"Hypnotized her. You know, entranced, sleepy, eyes closed but mind open..." 

"Yeah, blah blah blah. Those are my words, and they were a game. You weren't under hypnosis that night any more than I was The God of Orgasms." 

"You're right. I wasn't." She moved closer to the bed. "But she was." 

I looked at her blankly, waiting for the punchline. Her face was straight, though a mild smile curled her lips. It made me want to nibble them, but I was still highly pissed. Instead I waited for her to continue. 

She shrugged, and then grabbed the vodka and dropped a swig herself before scowling at it and throwing it on the floor to leak out where it probably belonged. "She dropped into trance fairly easily. She is a good subject. Very suggestible, according to the tests. Very." She let out a breath. 

"How... what...?" 

She turned toward me now, the hint of lust in her eyes. "I came in claiming to sell insurance." 

"You do sell insurance." 

"Which made it a better lie, don't you think?" Now she giggled a bit. I generally loved it when she did that. 

"What next?" 

"Well, she invited me in to sit down. It seems that she is worried about your life insurance being too little." 

"If anything ever happened to me she'd be fine. My policies are sizable, and her parents are loaded. Stick to the topic at hand." I was closer to her on the bed now. 

"I'm sure. Well, apparently she was concerned enough to give me a listen. A long, drawn-out listen." Sinne's voice changed in some indefinable way. "Insurance can be complicated to explain, you know, and it gets a bit boring and somewhat monotonous, and it's easier to just sit back and listen, no need to talk about it; save your questions for later... just sit back and relax and listen to my voice, and you'll understand it all." She was stroking my shoulders, now, through my shirt. I could smell her perfume. "Just sit back," she crooned, "and relax..." 

I don't think so. "Nice try, Sinne. That could never work." 

I don't think I saw a trace of disappointment in the depths of her eyes. But it was dark. "No, not on you, maybe, but it sure worked on her. She stared into space while I was droning on, and eventually I stopped droning and she kept staring." A spark lit her eyes. "Just kept on staring. Not even at me, just off at the wall somewhere.

"So I kept talking, asked her questions I didn't think she'd answer. Plausible insurance questions, just to be safe, but gradually not so safe..." Now her breath was definitely quickening. "She was under, Arch. She answered everything I asked, she did..." She glanced at me. "... not refuse to answer a single one." 

"Impossible." Ridiculous. (Then why was I as hard as a rock from this conversation?) 

"Entirely possible. I know, because it happened." At this point, I could hear the arousal in her voice. My anger now entirely replaced by intrigue and interest, I accepted her legs straddling my lap, and she unbuttoned her blouse. "You weren't there. You didn't see. But it worked, and she was entirely open to suggestion." 

"Such as?" I worked the cups of her bra down beneath her breasts and applied my tongue to one nipple. 

"You'll have to see for yourself." She ooohed as I took the entire nipple into my mouth and started sucking. "Ummm... just ask her about insurance premiums." Sinne yanked her skirt up, revealing her customary lack of panties, as well as her glossy black stockings. I didn't have to finger her to know she was already wet, I could smell her fragrance from here. She unzipped my fly and started to lower herself onto me. 

"Wait," I stopped her. "I want to eat you out, first." 

"I know you do, but there'll be time for that later. All of this talk has made me crazy. I need you inside me, now!" 

Who was I to argue with that?

***

I got home about three, after showering in Sinne's hotel room and then wandering around outside one of the smokiest bars in the metropolitan area. I opened the door to the bedroom and slipped my contact lenses off in the darkness, then made my way into bed. 

"Whatime'sit?" came the mumble from the other side of the bed. 

"Almost three." I closed my eyes. 

"D'jou guys have fun?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, just went to the bar." 

"Can tell." She sniffed at my smoke-filled hair. "You're stinky." 

"I love you, too, sweetheart." 

"Mmmmm. Well, I hope you feel better, anyway." She was half-awake, now, and headed for the bathroom to relieve herself. 

"Hon, do you worry about our insurance premiums?" 

She appeared to pause in mid-stride, then continued after a second. After the toilet flushed and some washing ensued, she came back out of the bathroom. She didn't head back to the bed, but wandered into the closet, completely ignoring my question. I couldn't figure out what was up, but I was way too tired to worry about it right now. I drifted off. 

When I woke up some uncounted time span later, my left hand was cupped around a breast and my right was being directed up and down a nylon-covered thigh by her hand. "Honey," she mumbled. "Are you awake?" 

I was now. "Ummm... yeah..." 

"Good." She removed her hand, but definitely expected me to continue as I had been directed. Which I was pleased to do; the silky hosiery was quite enticing. 

This was incredibly insane. She rarely wore lingerie-- certainly never changed into it at three in the morning. "All dressed up, hmm? What's the occasion?" 

"Horny. And I know you like this outfit." 

Of course I did. I'd bought those vintage stockings for her two years ago and begged her to wear them, but aside from one occasion in a hotel room in Las Vegas they may as well have not even existed. 

"So, are you gonna help me out, here, lover, or am I going to have to do it myself?" She covered her other breast with her own hand, and I could feel her moving her other hand towards her cunt. 

I was stunned. And mostly spent; but despite my earlier activities the novelty of my wife acting like this (as opposed to Sinne, who always did) had gotten me intensely aroused again. After a few fumbling motions, I rose to wakefulness and began to stroke her bosom and her ass, at first lightly and soothingly, but then more insistently.

She turned to face me, then, her mouth raised to mine, and her eyes filled with passion. Come here, she mouthed. 

I grabbed her around the waist, and slipped my hand under the back elastic of her panties to cup her buttocks. She nestled closer, and began slowly rubbing her crotch on the front of my boxers. I nibbled my way from the side of her neck down to the place between her breasts, and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. "Please," she whispered in my ear, "I need you to eat my pussy." 

I was shocked. Generally averse to dirty talk in bed, it was typically difficult to get her to even ask for what she wanted. This was obviously... well, atypical. Not that I would let that stop me.

I love eating out. More so even than coitus, if you'll believe that. Fucking is too distracting, I think, though I certainly love it and won't pass it up. No, sucking pussy is more my style-- the things you can make her feel with your tongue, her smells, tastes... the feeling of her hips bucking under your chin when she hits orgasm. I've made it my business in life to make sure that I am an expert at cunnilingus, simply because I love it so much that I always want it to be the top on the list of her requests. I've broken up with girls who just didn't enjoy it (god knows how!), and lack of it in our lovemaking was in all honesty one primary reason I sought out Sinne after all those years. 

Anyway, I found myself in heavenly bliss, my tongue in her pussy and my nose on her clit, breathing in her aroma and licking my way up and down her labia. As her nylons caressed my ears, I built her up, using my fingers gently on her nipples far above my head, until I knew she was almost there. I drew her clitoris into my mouth and suckled it firmly. She whimpered and then tried to drive her entire cunt into my mouth as she came hard, and I plunged my tongue deep inside her before slowly letting her subside. As always, it was over too quick; I would have dove on her for hours more, if I could have, but she was too sensitive after the licking to tolerate any more. 

Of course, now what she needed was a good fucking, and she was definitely lubricated enough to accommodate me. She groaned "Mmmmmm... yesss..." as I entered her, and tensed her internal muscles around me as I started slowly thrusting. The fact that I'd already had three orgasms today gave me lots of staying power, although I admit I lost it utterly when she licked her juices off my face. What the hell did Sinne suggest to her with the "insurance premiums" thing? I plowed into her with a vengeance, then-- which she always enjoyed-- and kept going after my own orgasm to make sure her clit was pumped to climax as well. After, we both laid there in silence, holding hands, and I didn't wake again until morning.

***

I pushed through several hours of drudgery the next morning at work before I had time to call Sinne's cell phone. 

It rang six times, but I persisted. I really needed to talk to her since last night. 

Finally she answered the phone clicked, and a very distracted Sinne answered with, "Yeah?" 

"What the heck did you tell her to do?" I blurted out. "That was incredible!" 

An abrupt chuckle lay on the other side of the line, and she replied, "I'm busy and can't really get into it right now, Arch. I'll give you more details when you come home tonight." 

"Come home? You mean that you're going to be there again?" Suddenly I was suspicious. "Where are you, now?" 

Another laugh. "See you when you come home, sweetie." Click. 

Then I knew where she was, if not entirely what she was doing. But after last night, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

Five o'clock couldn't come quickly enough.

***

And in the end, it didn't have to. My boss always leaves early, so when he scampered at half-past three, I did likewise. I think I was still within the margins of safety on my ride home, but it's like a blur to me. There may have been injuries.  

I walked in the front door, wondering what I'd find, but the front room was empty this time. As were most of the other rooms I could see from my vantage. 

I headed to the bedroom. 

Knowing Sinne and how her brain worked, I confess that I expected to find something very much like this, but there's still no way you can be prepared for what I saw. There was my wife, in the same outfit she'd worn to bed last night, nude seamed stockings and all. The garters framed her ass nicely, with the panties pushed aside so her fingers could better access her cunt as she ground it slowly down in little circles onto the mattress. But of course that was a sideshow next to the main attraction: her head lolled slowly side to side as she applied her mouth between Sinne's thighs. 

Sinne was seated on the bed, backed-up against the headboard, her naked ass on my wife's pillow, her stockinged legs parted lewdly to admit the tonguing she was so obviously enjoying. Her head was rocked back, eyes shut, and she was slowly stroking a stream of my wife's long black hair across her nipples. I knew from the look on her face that she was near to coming, and I also knew from the sweat on her face that it wouldn't be the first time that she had today. She wasn't so far gone, though, that she didn't hear me at the bedroom door, and she looked at me with a fiendish and intensely erotic look in her eyes. 

Sinne didn't let my presence distract her, though. In fact, it seemed to encourage her. She pointed the toes of one of her legs forward, and then slowly, languidly moved the other foot from a spread position to rest upon her pleasurer's back. Up and down she stroked this foot, in time to the rhythm of the tongue-lashing, and then she slid that leg around the back of my wife's neck as she was brought to a thunderous climax, trapping mouth on pussy, assuming there was ever any desire to get free. From the enthusiasm of my wife's ass-motions, and of her dancing fingers, I don't think there was any such thought. 

"Hi, honey... I'm home?" I said weakly. 

Sinne was trying to laugh, but she was too out of breath to manage it. She relaxed and lay back, and helped herself to a nice warm bath of tongue. She favored, I knew, gentle licking around the labia as she recovered. 

"Hi, sweetheart," my wife replied, muffled. She did not in any other way pause what she was doing to Sinne. 

"Um... what's going on with you, dear?" There wasn't much to say, really. The vista was quite explanatory. 

"I'm... eating... Gloria's pussy..." she got out, between strokes. Or perhaps she'd said "glorious pussy". Same thing, in my book. 

"I see..." No, really, I do! I looked to Sinne for a real explanation; evidently my little hypnotiste had been at it again. 

"Joan, darling," Sinne said in dulcet tones. "Sleep time now." And my wife's head fell gently into her lap. 

"'Joan'? Who the hell is Joan?" 

"She is. At least sometimes, now. Arch, can you get me a glass of water? All of this hard work has made me very thirsty." 

I returned in seconds with a bottle of Arrowhead. "Okay, care to 'splain what that meant, now that you can wet your whistle? Certainly no other parts of you need wetting." 

"Mmmm..." she sighed at the memory, stroking "Joan's" hair gently. Certainly not. It's amazing what one can do with an afternoon and a lot of imagination." 

She didn't bother to cover up. I'd seen her naked hundreds of times, and my wife "Joan" was apparently a bit familiar herself, even if she had been awake. "Where do you want to start?" 

"How about with 'Joan'?" 

"Starting in the middle, mostly. Okay then. 'Joan' is a... a construct, I think you'd call it. She's a place in dear Mrs. Baal's mind where she can feel free to listen to the new, special instructions she's been receiving without dreary old morality intruding on the party." 


Just Joan Ch. 02



Chapter 02: Got the Look 

Home again in Michigan, with Clive finally at work, Sinne hit buttons on the multitude of remote controls which serviced their home theater system. She cursed as she activated the DVD player instead of the VCR, then finally gave up convenience entirely, walked over to the armoire, and manually turned on the appliances she wanted.

Now, she went over to her carry-on bag, still full of the detritus of the west-coast trip, and unzipped the pocket which held her goal: an unlabeled video tape in a nondescript sleeve. She gazed at it a moment and pondered its contents...

***

Creamy white thighs parted, Sinne watched with interest as Joan crawled slowly up the sheets and into her lap. Joan's makeup was a little over-the-top, as befitted the rest of her outfit-- today she was done up as a mid-1950s call girl, with a glamourous silken dress and corsetry reminiscent of June Cleaver in an implausibly naughty mood. Manicured nails slid up Sinne's skirt to rest in the small patch of hair she retained.

"Why, Ms. Sinne, I do believe you're not wearing any underwear beneath your dress. How uncouth!" Joan lightly brushed the hair with her nails in something that was not quite a tickle, but was definitely meant to be noticed. It was gently electrifying.

"I must have forgotten."

"I don't think so at all, ma'am. I think," she replied, applying more pressure to her strokes, "that you knew when you invited me over exactly where this would end up."

Sinne squirmed as the fingers pressed on the outside of her mound. She squeezed her ass muscles and pressed her groin up into the other woman's palm. "I don't know what you mean. I thought it was a perfectly legitimate secretarial agency."

"Oh, I don't think you were fooled. Surely not when you saw me. My fingers couldn't type a word with these nails." She gently parted Sinne's labia with two of the aforementioned fingers. Perhaps not deft enough for typewriter keys, they were skillful enough to keep from scratching or otherwise hurting Sinne's delicate areas as she carefully pushed one inside. "No, I don't think you were fooled at all."

Sinne gasped at the welcome invasion, not least because the other fingers were manipulating her clitoris with no small amount of expertise. "No..." she admitted, "I wanted this." She corrected herself. "I want this."

Joan smiled, continuing her hands' movements, and then adopted a mock-serious look. "Of course, Ms. Sinne. We at Private Secretaries, Inc. are trained in giving you whatever you want..."

"Rrrrr... come here, honey, and give Mistress what she wants," Sinne interrupted, breaking character. "No more 'typing'. What I want is your lipstick smeared on my cunt."

Giggling, the "secretary" abandoned the facade and completed her crawl upward. She left her middle finger to its work, slowly sliding in and out, and applied her mouth to Sinne's engorged clit.

Sinne emitted a series of moans at Joan's expert pussy work. I can't believe, she thought as she hit her first orgasm, how much I missed this.

Europe had been artistically fascinating, if a bit stifling, but she had been without traditional forms of release the whole time. Certainly some of the men had been intriguing (and some of the women), but there was something missing these days when she saw or spoke to them. Something which made her lie in bed at night and masturbate over flashes of memory of Joan instead of going out to experience the Euro

nightlife.

It wasn't the girl's cuntlapping talents, although those were wonderful and-- impossibly-- improving all the time. Like now, for instance, as she pried Sinne's lips open with her mouth and curled her tongue into the inner walls in a rhythmic massage. Joan already rivalled her husband-- even exceeding him in technique. Not quite yet in enthusiasm, though-- Sinne suspected that a bit of pre-Joan was holding her back a bit. Not that you could tell by the tongue-lashing she was receiving, though: already Sinne was ready to come again, and Joan was moaning in excitement at the prospect, without even having touched her own pussy.

No, though Joan's mouth was heavenly, it didn't keep Sinne celibate on the month-long trip. It wasn't even the submissive way she begged to serve, or the way she masturbated whenever permitted to, all the while staring at her Mistress with devotion.

It was, rather, the particular look in Joan's eyes.

Not in 'Joan' mode, or when playing French maid, or secretary. 

"Joan," Sinne panted as she came again, "Sleep now." Joan's motions slowed. "Now, continue what you were doing, remaining asleep. But... mmmm... open your eyes, Joan. Open them. Now."

Despite how soon it had been since the last orgasm, Sinne felt her hips rolling again uncontrollably as she saw Joan's eyes. The look in her eyes when she was in trance was what made Sinne come again and again and again...

***

"Hello, my darling Mistress..."

The video tape had started. Joan's face was in frame, smiling benignly, and perhaps a bit mischievously.

"... If you're watching this, it means you're finally at home alone." Joan pouted a bit onscreen. "I wish I could be there with you, while you watch, but I don't think your husband would understand our relationship, or why I was visiting." Now she was smiling again. "You told me to 'surprise you', so that's what I tried to do. This entire tape is a result of my demented imagination. I know I'm pretty twisted little slut-- don't know where that comes from, but I know you love it about me. Don't you, Gloria?"

Sinne unconsciously nodded, furrowing her brow. But what exactly was Joan talking about? "Surprise you"? 

"As always, I am waiting for you to come back to me. I love you, I want you, I lust you. Please don't be away so long this time." With that, Joan's hand reached up and out of frame, and suddenly her image was replaced with a blue screen. Wonderfully cunthungry slut she was; competent video editor she was not.

Sinne sat on the couch and waited for the next segment of the video to start.

***

"You are sinking deeply with the sound of my voice, sinking more deeply with every word. As you listen and sink deeper, your relaxation increases, and your body becomes more and more heavy even as your mind becomes less and less resistant to my suggestions. You're going deeper, now, heartbeat slowing, breathing becoming more relaxed, focusing entirely on my voice, body heavier, mind sinking deeper and deeper into..."

Into control. Sinne felt calm seeping out of her as her brain registered that she was being hypnotized. Her pulse began pounding, her skin grew flushed, and her thighs moistened as she imagined herself lying compliant, obedient. The more she thought about it, the more aroused she got. "Stop," she moaned. "It's not working."

Joan stopped in mid-sentence. "Sorry, Gloria. It's my fault. I wasn't relaxing you enough." She looked upset.

"No," Sinne replied. "No, dear. It's not you. It's me."

Joan accepted this, but her disbelief was evident. Everyone has heard those words, of course, usually in the course of a breakup, and they carry a bad connotation.

Sinne drew her close, holding her in a gentle but firm embrace, Joan's head cradled to her breast. Despite her disappointment with another failure to go under, she was incredibly horny. As her arousal grew, her slavegirl began lightly nuzzling her bosom, as if knowing what Sinne was feeling. Was wanting. "Joan, you must go under for your Mistress now. And give me The Look."

Joan stopped burrowing into Sinne's light gown. Her body grew slack, but her face was upturned, her eyes open and empty. Staring into nothingness, into depthless sleep, into open and unquestioning submission to control. Sinne's pussy was aflame as she gazed at Joan's blank expression, and she commanded, in a whisper, "Oh god, yes, fuck me."

Joan, unable to stop even had she wanted to, sank to her knees and obeyed.

***

It really wasn't Joan's fault, Sinne knew. At least, not in the way that Joan meant.

In her sexplay with Arch (was it a whole year ago, now?) she'd been immensely turned on when he'd pretended to be her therapist and had "put her under". She swung in the sub direction about as often as in the domme direction, really, and the idea of being hypnotized and doing things because she had to, not because she wanted to, sent a chill up her spine. Of course, with Arch it was just a game-- as it was meant to be. She was no more hypnotized by his play-acting than he was an employment applicant and she a female executive in the next night's entertainment.

But the thoughts of mind control had lurked beneath the surface, with her, and she'd spent the next several months tentatively exploring texts in the libraries and bookstores for information about the subject. Once you got beyond the stage-magician nonsense, there was a surprisingly large body of knowledge in the public domain on the fundamentals of hypnotism and how it was done. And how it could be done. And-- more and more, it seemed to Sinne-- how she could do it. The thought had made her wet.

Then had come the trip to Arizona, with the planned rendezvous with Arch... After her seminar ended at noon, suddenly in a mischievous fit, she had decided that Arch's wife would make quite a fun little experiment. That had worked beyond her wildest imaginings, but the most life-changing part of it had not been the creation of "Joan", or the subsequent sexual satiation, but had been the lustful admiration (and, she eventually admitted to herself, the jealousy) of that entranced, open-to-control expression on the face of the beautiful Mrs. Baal.

It consumed her, now; her panties grew moist when she contemplated Joan's staring eyes, and what she could be made to do, but of late it began to dawn on her that what she wanted most of all was to have that face herself. She wanted to-- no, lusted to-- be open, and willing, and unable to resist.

But what to do? Who to share this desire with? There was no way she'd let a complete stranger toy with her mind, and Clive was certainly out of the question-- the last thing she needed was to be with him in a state where she would answer all questions truthfully. 

Arch was an obvious choice, provided he was capable of learning how, and she'd been sub with him before often enough to know she'd enjoy it greatly. But while she enjoyed the hell out of fucking him, she didn't entirely trust him-- not with her unbridled mind. No, the right selection was an inevitable, if ironic, one.

Joan. Her creation, born of Arch's wife's persona, infused with sexual deviancy, and utterly devoted to her servitude. Sinne could, above anyone else, trust Joan-- how could she not?

Slowly, Sinne had trained Joan, molding her into a competent hypnotist. She gave Joan the understanding of slow induction, the deepening phases, and suggestibility tests. Instructed her on tone of voice and proper cadence. Shifted her personality a little more toward the dominant pole. 

The first test of Joan's new skills had been Arch, of course. Though probably not stupid enough to fall under while alert, Arch was used to Joan reinforcing her programming at night through self-hypnosis, and in many cases slept right through it. Which made it relatively easy to pull him into the web: Joan had slowly transitioned from chanting "I am going deeper asleep for Mistress; I must obey her commands" to "You must go deeper asleep for Mistress; you must obey my commands." Programmed with a little of Sinne's enjoyment of controlling others through trance, Joan had gotten steamy-wet on the night she'd finally heard Arch murmur in his sleep, "I must obey your commands..."

From that moment it had been child's play, really; the sleeping Arch was hardly in any condition to resist anything Joan wanted to make him do. He transitioned swiftly from a husband, thrilled with the newfound sexiness of his altered wife, to a helpless thrall too enspelled to control his own masturbation activities. This turned Sinne on, and she could have had a lot of fun with it, shifting allegiances and dominances from spouse to spouse and back again... But instead it just made it all more frustrating: now she would see Arch with his eyes staring into the inner space of trance, too. 

She wanted it, for herself. 

She needed it. But every time she came even remotely close to going under with Joan, she couldn't help but realize what was about to happen and got intensely excited... to the point of distraction, and distraction was exactly what she didn't want. Dammit!

Sinne had half-imagined plans to go to a psychiatrist, claim she was a nymphomaniac, and beg for libido-suppresants, but she wasn't sure even that would work-- the excitement was largely, but not entirely, sexual. The frustration was almost unbearable, and the face-fuckings she administered to the entranced Joan and her husband every time she thought about it only served to highlight her deep need to be there herself. Maybe drugs...?

When she started obsessing about it at work, spending more time in the ladies' room with her fingers up her snatch than at her desk working, she knew she needed a solution, and she needed one soon...

***

The blue screen cleared up, revealing a view from the back seat of a sedan. Arch's Grand Prix, it appeared to be (she knew its back seat well). It was parked in his driveway, and this was punctuated on-camera by the couple walking down the front walk toward the car: Arch and Joan. Dressed nicely, if not entirely formally. He had on a sharp, black suit (no tie, of course; Arch hated ties) while Joan was decked out in a shimmery ice-blue number, slit to the thigh. They opened the car doors and came inside, glancing back and smiling at the camera before pulling out of the driveway.

What the hell am I watching? Sinne thought to herself as she leaned back on the couch.

Arch and Joan were talking to each other, but the sound was muffled over the noise of the car engine and the road noise. No problem seeing their actions, however; Arch rested his hand on the slit-revealed knee of Joan, and within a moment or two had slid it upwards, taking the dress with his hand. Joan eased her seat back with the lever at its side, and parted her thighs to give his fingers access. The camera didn't reveal exactly what he was doing, because his urgent motions were concealed by the puddle of silk in her lap, but Sinne could see from the flexing of his wrist muscles that he was administering a swift and powerful finger-fucking to his wife. And nothing about her moans and pleading tones were drowned out by the background noise, now. 

Sinne wished she could see Joan's face, and as if in answer to her silent request, Joan, pulled down the passenger-side visor and flipped open the attached mirror. She aimed it at the camera, and Sinne now saw Joan's eyes glazing in that near-climax look she wore so well, eye-shadow accenting the sexiness of the half-lidded gaze. "Near-climax" was not enough, though, and soon the eyes were fully closing of their own accord; a glance lower on the screen noted that the satiny material of the dress was straining upward with the hips beneath, and Sinne didn't need the cries from the front seat to know that Joan's pussy was coming all over Arch's hand. She didn't need sound to hear the next thing out of Arch's mouth as he drew his hand free and brought it to his nose and mouth. "Mmmmmmmm..." She knew him too well.

Well, at least now Sinne knew what kind of video this was.

***

The solution came to her... so to speak.

She was being fucked for what had to be the fifth time by Arch's glorious cock; Joan's latest suggestion-- that he could not come until Mistress Sinne ordered him to-- certainly didn't stop him from plowing into her with speed and fury. At first, Joan had shared the space with Arch, gently embracing Sinne's clitoris with the back of her tongue as he slowly, deliciously pumped their Mistress, but after the fourth orgasm (or so... who keeps track?) the redhead had coursed with fervor and demanded that he fuck her pussy hard. Arch enjoyed compliance, though it meant Joan had to move to avoid being smashed into. Joan looked somewhat disappointed to leave the tangy slipperiness which she'd had her face buried in, but she contented herself with satisfying Gloria's tits, one with her mouth, the other with her fingertips.

Now, hours later, during the fucking, Sinne pulled Joan's ass toward her, indicating that the woman should submit her cunt to Sinne's mouth. "Oh, Mistress, thank you..." Joan almost cried, as her beloved hypnotiste began to suck on her clit.

Looking up at Joan's face through her parted thighs while being plugged below by Arch's straining efforts made Sinne's exhausted hips start moving, once more, and when Joan lost control of her bodily functions and ground down against Sinne's face, the contagious excitement made Sinne's overworked pussy thrust and twitch involuntarily one final time, coming heartily, but almost painfully.

"Stop," she begged Arch, panting. "I'm done. I can't take anymore. Arch, my slave, you can come in Joan's mouth."

Ordinarily, the sight of Joan licking Sinne's juices off of Arch's cock, and then closing her eyes in triumph when he thrust himself deep into her throat would have gotten Sinne horny once again, but she was too spent to think of anything else, and she drifted off to sleep.

***

Drifted off to sleep? Sinne pondered, days later, back at work, now. That's never happened before. I must be getting old or something. Sinne had a rabid sex drive, and she had always tired her partners before she herself was in need of rest. Not that she was never satisfied, just that she was always ready for that one extra go at it. Not Wednesday night, though, apparently. After the four-hour "tag-team" session with Arch and Joan, her libido had drained away from her with her last orgasm... 

And suddenly she had the answer. She spent an hour in the ladies' room furiously masturbating, in anticipation of finally wearing the enticing blank stare of the hypnotized, and longer that night after Clive had gone to bed.

***

The fingering scene on the tape had Sinne moist, and she had her hands in her exercise shorts, gently rubbing herself through her panties. Arch smeared Joan's upper lip and chin with her own come, and she responded by eagerly licking his fingers, but the car trip apparently wasn't long enough for any more antics, and the car pulled into what appeared to be a restaurant parking lot. As the car stopped, the couple turned their heads back to the camera, and Arch reached his fuck-hand back, and the screen went blue again for a minute.

Sinne took the opportunity to pull her clothes off completely, giving her better access to her horny, musky hole as she spread her thighs wide. When she was done, she focused on the tape again, where the scene had changed to a restaurant table, from the angle of the tabletop. The place settings were elaborate, and in the background she could make out more elegantly-dressed tables, with draped cloths extending to the floor.

Joan and Arch sat beside one another, angled slightly toward the camera, and chatted gaily about his job, and of friends they'd seen recently. Before this could get too boring, the waiter arrived with the main course-- for Arch, filet mignon; Joan had the mahi-mahi. A third plate was set near the camera, though Sinne couldn't make out what was on it in the blurry instant it was visible. The waiter asked if there would be anything else, and Joan replied, "No, not right now."

The waiter left, with an odd backwards glance toward the camera, and the couple started digging into their meal. After commenting on the chef's skill, Joan looked outward from the television, grinned evilly, and said, "Oh, dear, I think it's time for you to eat your dinner, too. Don't forget to set up the camera."




Just Joan Ch. 02



There was a patch of jerkiness in the video, a rustling, and then darkness. This lasted so long that Sinne almost hit fast forward, but then it seemed the camcorder must have adjusted to the new light level or something, because now you could make out what was going on. At first it looked like a small room with curtains, but it became apparent this was not so when Sinne noticed the shoes on the floor, one pair of casual men's dress loafers, and one pair of silver fuck-me-pumps. The shoes were there because the camera was under the table, and the "curtains" were the floor-length tablecloth.

There was some final adjustment to the placement of the camera: pointed such that both pairs of legs from the diners above were visible and in the field of view. Then, as the image stablilized, Sinne saw someone, the cameraperson, evidently, crawling forward to meet the silvery high heels. Someone whose identity was obvious from the elegantly-coiffed red hair and the tight little black dress-- $229 at Bebe, got it on-sale for a mere $117-plus-tax.

It was herself, of course. Crawling on hands and knees, exposing her ass and garters to the camera as her dress hiked up. Parting Joan's dress at the slit, and slowly licking her way up the other woman's leg from the ankle onwards. As she rounded the knee, Sinne-onscreen was gently pressing Joan's thighs to either side, exposing the brunette's neatly trimmed bush before it was concealed again-- concealed behind the back of Sinne's head, which dove forward on camera, eagerly, almost desperately, into Joan's muff.

It was impossible to see onscreen exactly what was happening-- this wasn't the fake angle generally used in porno movies. All that was visible was the back of Sinne's head, slowly turning this way and that, now and then grasping for leverage on the sides of Joan's thighs. But it was enough to make Sinne-- the Sinne sitting on her hands on her couch-- come like a fiend. None of this was familiar to her, at all, not the restaurant, not the cuntslurping she was delivering to Joan (and she could hear the noises, by god, she could hear Joan's soaked pussy slapping against her own face, sloppy with every stroke), nor the way you could hear Arch and Joan in the background, continuing their casual dinner conversation, Joan's voice more than a little distracted. Sinne was drawing a complete blank, here, which could mean only one thing...

She'd been under. She'd been hypnotized, and made to do this by Joan.

Her fingers danced in her slit and she let out a guttural sound.

***

"Relax, dear, and focus on my eyes as you feel your body growing heavier and heavier..."

Joan's induction was making Sinne feel randy already, and Joan could tell. She made a gesture, and Arch moved to comply, affixing his mouth to Sinne's cunt.

"... and as you concentrate on my voice you will find that it fills your mind..."

Arch's tongue manipulated her clitoris and it couldn't have been more than a minute before she was able to come, both from his nimble attentions and from the idea that the slow, drowsy sensations she was feeling were the precursor to trance. Her breath slowed after the climax, and she found it deepened her ability to relax.

To relax and do what Joan told her to do. Her nipples tingled and tightened at the thought. Arch redoubled his efforts as he heard her moan, and Joan continued with her droning, silken phrases.

"... feeling youself enter a warm, soft place where you can feel only peace and your thoughts can gradually become blank..."

Her hips bucked upward at Arch's face as he added two fingers to his ministrations, touching her inside, finding that spot that drove her crazy. She doused him with her juices as she successfully, though barely, managed to stay focused on Joan's eyes, and her words.

Her breath caught on the cusp of orgasm, and the wash hit the back of her head, and as she exhaled in bliss she did feel like she'd entered a warm, soft place. Her body felt so relaxed. Just as Joan was telling her it was.

It was working.

"Keep looking into my eyes, Gloria, and I want you to imagine you are falling into them. No fear in falling, no, just slow, gentle drift, like a feather..."

And Sinne could feel it, like a feather, and Joan's eyes were so big and welcoming and she was sinking, going under, at last, at last, and it was making her so fucking horny to think about how she must look, becoming open and compliant. Her pussy was afire again at the thought.

Before the excitement could draw her out again, Joan spoke calmly and with a gentle cadence of sleepiness, and Arch had his cock in her now; she barely would have understood that it was there but for the pleasure it brought her, as his thrusts matched the rhythms of Joan's speech.

"... deeper and deeper..." and she was sinking deeper and deeper into Joan's enchanting eyes, and Arch was going deeper and deeper inside her, the topside of his rigid cock giving indirect pressure to her clit, and bringing her to the brink yet again.

"... letting yourself let go, letting yourself be hypnotized by me..."

The word "hypnotized" pushed her over the edge into animal movement, animal need, and the animal squeezed with her inner muscles as her pussy came once more. The animal did all of this, because the mind was sinking, floating downward on a cloud of sexual satiation, drawn by Joan's eyes and voice, down into the oblivion she wanted more than anything.

She came many more times that night, but she would remember none of them, for after the animal took over the body's needs, her mind was left disconnected, with nothing left to do but take instructions from her Joan, her wonderful, successful, entrancing Joan.

Her eyes slowly closed, and she finally obeyed the commands to sink deeper.

***

The scenes after the restaurant on the tape, taking place mostly in Arch and Joan's home, were stilted, as if the camera had been shut off, or even ignored altogether. There were segments with Sinne's bra-covered tits plastered up against the front window, her fingers playing with her clit through her panties as she watched passers-by; the tape didn't indicate how many passers-by watched her. There were parts with her hungrily devouring Joan's pussy, begging this woman to be her Goddess, to enslave her, to please gift her with the cuntjuice she had earned; images of Arch fucking her from behind, holding onto her garter-belt like a harness, her mouth pleasuring Joan's tits, her clit, her ass. Through it all, the onscreen Sinne obeyed. Without a question, without even a look of curiosity on her face, she did what she was told to do by the lovely brunette-- this woman who was her own slave. And Mistress... Goddess...? It was so easy to lose track. And so delicious.

Sinne's couch smelled like a whorehouse, and her fingers were wrinkled from the heat of her steamy twat. Sinne was coming, and coming hard, and couldn't seem to (and didn't want to!) stop. She had the VCR paused on the last frame of the last scene. Yes, the memories had come flooding back as the recording showed her what she'd done, and she realized now that Joan had craftily planted the suggestion for her to forget everything until she saw it on the tape. Perhaps too craftily; Sinne would have to make sure, now that she'd succeeded, that Joan was properly under control and not taking matters too interestingly into her own hands. Sinne wondered, then, if she'd made a mistake in giving Joan a bit too much of her own dominant tendencies.

But that was almost irrelevant (though to tell the truth it was a somewhat arousing thought on its own-- she'd even come to that particular concept once already); no, what was important now, what was driving her lusty screams to echo through her empty house, was the image on the television screen.

A full-on shot of her own face, taken by Joan after she had serviced them for hours. Makeup smeared into disarray, damp with perspiration and cunt, hair down and sticking to her cheeks.

And The Look in her own eyes, that blank, sweet Look, of complete and utter resistance-free compliance. 

Staring into those eyes, Sinne came again, and again and again and again until the VCR switched itself off. Never knowing that the look on her face now, as she scooped more fuckjuice into her drooling mouth in between strokes, was virtually identical to that on the screen in front of her.

If she had known, she would merely have come harder.



Just Joan



"You've given her an extra personality?" The mind boggled. "Isn't that a little warped?" 

"Not entirely. It's pretty important, for what I've been trying to do. Or get her to do. For her mental health, too." 

"You're making her schizo to preserve her mental health?" 

"Sorta kinda. Look, all that guff about hypnosis not ever making you do what you don't really want to do? It's true, to a certain extent. But if you are a good suggestible subject, like she is, you'll do anything you're not totally opposed to. Which is fine, but can cause you a lot of confusion as you try to figure out why your inhibitions are gone, and why you're doing things only deep dark parts of you would ever consider doing. I present you with Exhibit A." She gestured at her still-damp inner thighs and the lovely face resting on them. 

"Okay, you've got me there. There's no way she would have done this before your little 'sessions'." 

"Don't be so sure." I looked at her quizzically and she smiled mysteriously and shook her head. "We can talk about that later. Look, anyway, when I met with her again today I put her under with a code phrase and questioned her about her activities since last we'd spoken." 

"Voyeur." 

"You've no idea. But you will, in a minute. Anyway, she was disturbed that she had acted that way with you last night-- she didn't think it was like her at all and... well, the rest wasn't either. Now with a willing subject, they know they're receiving treatment, and they expect changes in their behavior, but she's not exactly willing, is she?" 

"Looked willing enough a minute ago." 

"You know what I mean. She was shocked and confused about what she'd been doing, and it would probably have really screwed her up if we continued much. Well, I don't think simply stopping would have been any fun, do you?" 

"No!" 

"But you can ease the problem by making up a new person-- " 

"'Joan'." 

"You're quick. 'Joan'. While your wife was in a deep, deep suggestible state today, I told her about a friend of mine I called 'Joan'. Joan is a lot like your wife-- same figure, same coloring, same basic manner-- she even has a fantastic husband named Arch. But Joan is a lot more open-minded than she is." 

"Oh, really?" I was intrigued. 

"Oh, yes indeed. So I gave a large lecture on what Joan was like, all the time taking your lady deeper, and deeper..." She grinned at me. "When she was deeper, I told her that she could pretend to be Joan whenever she wanted to, and that she would always want to whenever she heard me say 'Just Joan'. So, problem solved. Joan is the one doing all the somewhat dirty stuff, and wifey is just playing a little game of pretend. No harm in that, right? And Joan is entirely of my making, so I can mold her as I wish." I could tell she was getting excited again, as she was glancing down at the head in her lap. 

"What is 'Joan' made of?" It damned well wasn't sugar and spice. 

"Heh. Joan is a little bit of you, and a little bit of me. The fun parts, I assure you." 

"Such as?" 

She shook her head. "We'll go over details later. Anyway, I put several suggestions in her head last night..." 

"Yeah, I know. Damn fine work!" 

"Hush. The 'insurance premium' part was trivial-- she's already in love with you, so getting her to do sexual things for you was nothing. No, I gave her suggestions about how she felt about her body, about what she found attractive, and how that made her feel. You think you reaped the rewards last night, but... well, let me show you what I saw when I got here, this morning, shall we?" 

I nodded. 

"Joan, dear." 

Eyes still closed, Joan replied sleepily, "Yes?" 

"Do you remember what you were doing this morning? Before you were Joan?" 

"Mmmm hmmm." 

"Can you show me what you did after breakfast?" 

"Mmmm hmmm." 

"Can you tell me what you were thinking, too?" 

"Okay." 

"Joan, you will begin to show me when you wake up. You're waking up in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Wake up." 

She walked into the kitchen, put on her robe, washed a coffee cup (which had already been washed, of course), and then came back into the bedroom. "Hmmm. Have to do the laundry. Have to get a clean load of underwear going. Underwear..." She sat down on the bed. "Oh, darn it, I'll have to hand-wash the garter-belt and stockings I wore for Arch last night. What made me wear them, anyway? That's not really like me. I just couldn't help it, though. I got sooo horny and had to show him how much I wanted him." She picked them up, and examined them a bit. "Not too dirty, though. Just smell lightly of sex. Mmmm..." She lifted the delicates to her nose briefly and inhaled. "I did look good in these, I'm sure." She glanced from side to side momentarily, almost guiltily. "I wonder what I'd look like in them right now? No one's home. I could dress up." 

She clipped the garter-belt around her waist, then straightened it before bunching up the first stocking. It went on her foot, and she drew it slowly up her leg before fastening it with the front and side garters. "Mmmm. Feels so silky smooth. Wonder why I never noticed that before? Where's the other? Ah. Bring it up the other leg... there. Front and side garters-- oops, have to do the side one again. Make sure the seams are straight up the back of the leg, to draw the gaze up to my ass... Now what made me think that?" She looked flustered. But that passed as she crossed and uncrossed her legs with a swishing nylon sound. "That feels very nice. Have to do the back garters now. Over to the mirror, I think, to make sure I do it right." 

She walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom, and looked over her shoulder, hiking up her robe to see the back garters and the nylon seams. "Now there's a pretty sight," she sighed. "Just hook that one... so... and the other... oops, straighten the seam... there. Now that looks hot. Really hot. It's making me horny again, like last night." She grabbed the seat for her dressing table and sat down on it, still looking in the mirror. "I still have a good body, after all of these years, thank God. Nice firm tits, and killer legs. Maybe I need to wear shorter skirts, to show them off!" She hiked up her robe again, showing large expanses of thigh, as if to illustrate what one of these skirts would look like. "Very nice. Very sexy. Very... oooh... Feels so good to run my hands up the nylons. And they look so good on me. So sensuous. So--" 

I looked at Sinne, who was engrossed as I was, though apparently she'd already seen this. "What suggestions did you give her?" 

"Pleasure with her own body, mostly." Sinne smiled. "A little exhibitionism, and a little voyeurism. A dangerous combination when you add a mirror, wouldn't you say?" 

Now engrossed with the mirror, her hands were traveling up and down her thighs. "Tingly..." she added, and snapped the garter strap on one of the legs. "Ha!" She made a delighted face at her image in the mirror as she slipped her hand under the welt of the stocking and saw her hand through the sheer material. Her other hand snaked upward even before she said, "Need to rub my nipples, now. Yesss..." She shook out her long hair and spread it on her chest. "Mmmm. Pretty hair. Feels nice and silky on my nipples. Want to touch them through the hair. Ahhh... Peekaboo! Oh, cup them... yes. Wish I had someone here to suck them, but I guess licking my fingers will have to do. Mmmm. Look so sexy with my fingers in my mouth. Now move those fingers to my tits, and suck the other hand. Mmmm. Very sexy mouth, very warm wet tits. But getting wet in other places, now. Mmmm... need three hands, but will have to make do with two..." 

This was utterly arousing to just watch, but the running commentary was driving me crazy. Sinne was next to me, her hand on my leg, and I'm quite sure she knew my cock was solid. Her other hand was on her own stocking, and moving upward. 

By now, of course, only one hand was left to service the nipples. The other flashed across the hose tops in an instant, lightly brushing them with the long fingernails, and burying itself in between. "Ummmm. Sorry silky things, but I have more important things to do with my ha-- ahhh... hands. Pussy needs... uhhh... needs rubbing, fingers in... nipples rubbing... fingers out... palm on clit... ohhhhh." She thrust her cunt into her hand with movements made more seductive by the fact that she was watching them and improving them as she went. 

Now she was losing coherence of speech, but she wasn't stopping her hands from working her. "Pinch nipples... yesss... pump slit... ahhh... need to taste..." Her pussy drenched hand rose to her mouth, and she sucked the fingers in one-by-one, savoring the flavor. Her other hand abandoned the nipples to finish what had been started in her cunt. This was easily the most erotic thing I had ever seen my wife do-- for some reason, it even beat watching her eat our Sinne-- though not by much. Sinne's hand was in her own cunt, now, too, and she said, "Oh, yeah, I may have added a dash of lesbianism, too..."

One hand pumping her mouth (she was still saying things, but they were impossible to understand, even if some of them happened to be actually words) and the other with three fingers assaulting her clit and dipping inside, my wife looked into her own eyes in the mirror and shrieked an orgasm the likes of which I'd never seen-- not even from Sinne. Sinne was impressed, too-- she had her own clit pinched between her knuckles and was coming just from watching. 

She lay back in the chair, gasping, recovering. "What the hell was that?" she said, looking worriedly in the mirror. "I don't know why I did that. What's wrong with me today? And last night, for that matter?" She looked at her hands, and realized where they'd been-- both places, and looked mildly disgusted with herself. "I can't believe I just put my hands in my mouth after frigging-off... after masturbating, I mean. Does this make me some kind of dyke?" She walked into the bathroom, and started removing her stockings-- but quickly and businesslike, now, not as languorously as she'd put them on. "Have to wash these later, but first, I need a shower." She actually washed her hands before getting into the shower.

Before she could turn on the water, Sinne called out in a commanding voice, "Joan, stop." Joan froze in mid-motion. "Please, come back to the bed and go back to sleep. Joan sighed and did as instructed. "So you see, Arch? Giving her those suggestions worked, and would have continued to work. But it would have caused her no end of trauma. We don't want a basket case on our hands, we just want to have a little fun. So Joan is the answer." She looked at me frankly. "So, what do you think?"

My answer was the head of my cock prying open her labia and thrusting inside. I answered for a long while.

***

So now I have a sort of "extra" wife, Joan. Sinne and I got to know her all weekend, in many different ways. She really is a combination of both of us: from Sinne she gets the near-constant horniness, along with the urge to show off her body, and an appreciation for the wearing of fine lingerie. Sinne programmed her with my love for gazing in earnest at fine hosiery, and together with the lingerie fetish, this makes my life quite a bit of eye candy. Joan never leaves the house without wearing something sexy beneath her skirt, and has a preference for sheer, full-fashioned nylons, with seams and the loophole welt and the works. She actually even wears them to sleep every night. 

She also gets from me the obsession with eating pussy-- specifically, but not limited to, Sinne's. She talks about it all the time, in bed and out, and I know that she's got a stash of lesbian porn in her closet she thinks I don't know about. Hearing her describe, in detail, what she has done with Sinne and wants to do with others makes me no end of horny, and nearly usually ends with her licking her own juices off my face after I've spent at least an hour between her stocking-clad thighs. Fortunately for both of us, Sinne visits often, so we both get to indulge, but Sinne's going overseas next month and won't be back for awhile, so Joan's been on the prowl for some time now trying to find an acceptable substitute.

She's not always Joan; in fact, often I revert her to normal, since I found that Joan spends so much time with mirrors and fingers and nylons that none of the household chores get done. Sinne and I haven't decided yet whether to keep the two personalities separated, or to start gradually merging them together. I don't mind having "a lady in the sitting room, and a whore in the bedroom" (and, hell, all the other rooms as well), but the Joan personality, as is, requires constant reinforcement and maintenance. 

Normally this is accomplished by Sinne when she's in town, through long, slow deepening and suggestion processes. I've watched them, and it's pretty hot. Sinne likes these sessions too, even though there's no real sex going on, and she always needs a good tonguing and fucking once they're done. Sometimes Joan does the tonguing while I fuck her, and sometimes I suck Sinne off while Joan masturbates or fucks me. Sinne has eaten out Joan a number of times, and enjoys it a lot, but the hypnosis gives her a power rush and she's therefore usually in Domme mode when we're together with Joan. Last time I came home from work to find Joan in a maid outfit, "tending" Sinne, and calling her "Mistress", and the glow in Sinne's eyes was almost scary. 

When Sinne's not in town, Joan's maintenance is done at night. Sinne has taught Joan self-hypnosis, and while I'm busy sleeping Joan emerges and deepens and starts to give herself suggestions. I've woken up a number of times to hear Joan chanting to herself "must obey my Mistress", and "go deeper for Goddess". She fingers her pussy at the end to solidify the programming with positive feedback, and I generally get a taste myself after watching her do this-- it's very hot to observe. I have the trigger phrase for Joan, and to change her back to my old wife, but Sinne has kept all the other phrases restricted to her alone. I objected to this, but then Sinne got coy and asked if I wanted her to just deprogram Joan completely, or should I just let her have her way? So of course I relented. It's annoying though. 

And lately, when I wake up at night to hear Joan chanting "obey... obey... obey..." and "slave to Her pussy", I get the oddest feeling that-- just for a second or two-- I may have been mouthing the words myself. 

"...a little bit of you, and a little bit of me..." 

So I wonder, as I'm watching Joan frig herself to ecstasy at night, as she mimes bringing Sinne to climax with her face, how much of Sinne is in there.

And whether the smile on her face at the end, as she drifts off to sleep, might perhaps be a little bit sinister.



Just Jogging



Five days on the road, and Sam and Dave were now ready for their break. They'd just dropped off their last trailer and were finally heading home for a long weekend. After dragging those trailers around all week, the unhitched prime-mover seemed to respond like a racing car. Sam had his foot down and was hitting the high numbers until Dave warned him to slow it down.

"Long weekend, you know. Cops will be out in force looking for suckers. Don't know about you, but one more point and I'll do my licence."

Acknowledging the point, Sam slowed. Truth be told, he was already on official probation. One more offence and it would be an automatic disqualification for him. 

Cruising along, homeward bound, they were passing the park when Dave saw her. 

"Slow it down, Sam. How old do you reckon that piece of ass is?"

Glancing towards the jogger ahead, Sam slowed a little. 

"Nineteen. Possibly twenty," he said. "That is a prime piece of ass, I must say."

"I want her."

"Well there she is. We'll just pull over and you can invite her aboard."

"I'll make her an offer she can't refuse," murmured Dave.

Sam passed the target and pulled up. Carefully timing it, Dave swung open his door and stepped down, landing on the ground as the jogger passed them. A quick step behind, hands on her waist, and Dave simply picked her up and threw her up into the cabin, where Sam was waiting for the catch.

Quickly pulling the jogger deeper into the cabin, Sam held her as Dave swiftly remounted, slamming the door. Pushing the woman, who was now yelling, swearing and struggling, into Dave's willing arms, Sam slapped in the gears and they were moving again. The quick abduction had taken bare seconds, and no-one was the wiser.

Dave held the wriggling woman easily, basically using one arm to hold her pinned to him while his other hand went wandering, checking out the various curves that were so close to hand. While he was doing this, Sam turned off the main road, heading down a side track that ran alongside the river. Finding a reasonably secluded parking area, Sam pulled over.

"Hold her across your knee, legs towards me," Sam told Dave, who quickly followed the suggestion. 

For a few moments the jogger mixed some frantic kicking in with her language, but with an adroit movement Sam caught her legs.

"You hold still for a moment," Sam told her, giving her a sound slap on her lycra covered bottom. "Any kicking and I start smacking your pretty little ass." 

With the cessation of the kicking, if not the language, Sam smartly peeled off the jogger's shorts and panties. A little friendly fondling of the treasures uncovered caused a renewal of the kicking and a serious of furious squeals. 

Another firm slap, this time on a naked bottom, slowed the kicking down.

"OK, Dave, Sit her up and hold her hands above her head," instructed Sam.

On having his instructions followed, Sam lifted up the jogger's top and bra, pulling them over her head. Dave promptly changed his hold and helped the jogger shed the rest of her unwanted clothing. Unwanted by the men, that is.

Releasing the woman, the two men regarded her, while she tried to cover herself. Not very successfully.

"Bastards. What do you think you're doing? Give me back my clothes," hissed the woman.

"Dave, she seems pissed," remarked Sam.

"Yeah, but that's probably your fault," returned Dave. "You shouldn't have slapped her pretty little bottom like that."

"Hey, self-defence. She wanted to kick me," pointed out Sam. "She actually did kick me."

"Not hard or often enough," came the snarled comment. "What the hell do you want with me?"

"Don't look at me," said Sam. "I didn't want you. Dave did. Blame him if you want to blame anyone. What's your name?"

"None of your business. And I suppose you didn't run your fucking hands all over me while you were tearing at my clothes," came the surly reply. "Give them back and let me go. I'll be reporting this."

"Stop fussing," said Dave. "You haven't been hurt. And if you cooperate you won't be. I'm just going to give you a nice little break from your tedious life. I guess if you won't tell us your name, we'll just call you girl.

Now relax a little, girl. I'm not going to just spread your legs and bonk you, if that's what you're afraid off. I'm just going to start checking out how you feel, because you have to admit, you've got one fine body."

Suiting actions to words, Dave pulled the young woman onto his lap, holding her hands behind her back. Then he started touching her. 

Wriggling and squealing in fury, the jogger found herself the object of a thorough exploration, Dave's hands starting at her face, dodging the snap of her teeth, and running smoothly over her skin, touching, caressing and squeezing where appropriate.

Pressing his hand firmly against her mons, Dave tried to coax the jogger into parting her legs.

Come on, girl," he said irritably. "They're going to part sooner or later. Stop making difficulties."

When the only reply was a rebellious shake of the head, Dave nodded to Sam. Grinning, Sam reached over, placed his hands on her knees, and jerked her legs apart. 

"Leave them like that, girl," He told her. "You will find it simpler for yourself."

There was an audible groan from the jogger, but she left her legs apart while Dave continued his exploration. Soon he was rubbing and kneading the jogger's mound, squeezing, and massaging. Except for a few squeaks, either from protest or fury, the jogger had finally shut up. That was until Dave separated her lips and darted a finger inside her.

"Stop that, you bastard," came a sudden scream. "Don't you dare put your fingers in there."

"Yes, girl. Sorry, girl," said Dave, continuing to explore where she would much rather he didn't. 

A horrified squeal announced he had found her clitoris and flicked it. Followed by a loud protestation to leave her alone, followed by more shrieks as Dave continued to flick the jogger's clitoris.

Eventually, Dave withdrew his hand.

"Guess what, Sam," Dave announced. "It's our lucky day. She's a virgin. You want to go first?"

Ignoring the outraged protest this comment raised, Sam shook his head.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I don't bonk virgins. Too much squawking when you first go in. I mean, just listen to this one carrying on, and you haven't even shafted her yet. I'm warning you, you shaft a virgin and she'll probably follow you for weeks looking for a second serve."

"I'll take my chances," Dave replied with a grin. "Here. Hold her for a few moments."

Sam pulled the jogger onto his lap, letting his hands do some walking, while Dave shed his trousers. Then sitting relaxed, erection at the ready, Dave looked across at the jogger. She in turn was looking at him, desperately trying not to see his erection. 

"You said you weren't going to do this," she protested.

"Ah, no," said Dave. "What I said was I wasn't going to do it straight away. Can't you feel how hot and wet you are? That's why I've been stroking you. Getting your juices running so you'll have a fine time.

I don't suppose you want to just climb on board and mount me?

No, I thought not," he added, seeing the look of outraged fury on her face.

Dave hauled the jogger across his lap so she was straddling him and facing him. He held her arms firmly behind her back, while pressing her forward so she could feel his erection pressing against her pussy and lower stomach.

Slowly he moved her upwards, letting her feel his cock dragging slowly against her lips, agitating them and persuading them to part. Soon she was high enough for his cock to move between her legs, head resting comfortably against her slit. A gentle downwards pressure and his cock slid between the jogger's lips, causing a wail of protest. 

Now Dave held still, not trying to force his way into her. He could feel her wriggling, trying to pull up and away from where his cock was pressing into her, but while he was not forcing entry, Dave had no intention of letting his fish off the hook. He held her firmly in position and waited.

To her horror, the jogger could feel herself starting to sink down on to that damned shaft. She couldn't hold herself up off it, and as time passed the pressure of the man's cock increased. She could feel it pressing against her hymen and knew it was only a matter of time before something gave and she would be neatly skewered by this bastard. 

She was swearing steadily, trying to wriggle away. She could hear laughter and looked at Dave, startled. He was actually laughing at her efforts to avoid getting raped, she realised. Fury flashed through her, and she straightened her shoulders, preparing to give him a verbal blast that would totally wither him.

Instead she gave a shout of pain as, momentarily forgetting to hold herself off Dave's cock, she promptly sank down a little. Enough for her hymen to rupture with a flash of pain.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," she wailed. "That hurt. You've ruined me, you swine."

"Poor little you," soothed Dave. "Has your cherry been popped? Happens to everyone sooner or later."

Continuing to swear at Dave, the jogger found that she was still sinking down, Dave's cock moving steadily higher within her, stretching her and filling her. He was moving nice and smoothly, she found, and knew that in an ideal world she'd thank him for taking the time to get her hot and wet. In this world, she just continued to curse him some more.

Dave felt his new little friend finally come to rest and start to twist and turn a little. She was, he knew, trying to find the most comfortable position to be in, or the least uncomfortable, seeing it was all new to her.

"And your name is?" he prompted, while she twisted distractedly.

"Beatrice," she muttered, squirming. "Everyone calls me Bea."

"OK, Bea," Dave murmured. "Are you quite comfortable there?"

He winced when Bea answered with a shriek.

"Comfortable?" she yelled. "You ram a flagpole up me and leave it there, and you want to know if I'm comfortable?"

If pressured, she would have had to admit that it didn't really feel too bad now that she was getting used to it. However, she was quite willing to state that hell would freeze over and the devil would be passing out skates before she admitted it willingly.

"Right," thought Dave. "She's ready for the next step. I think I might just stay like this for a while and see what happens."

Bea had finally settled down and was waiting. She knew there was more going to happen than just her sitting there with this oaf's cock rammed up her, she just wasn't sure what. Or when it would happen. She waited, growing more irritated by the moment as Dave seemed quite content to sit back and enjoy the feel of being in her.

Sam, meanwhile, was watching the entire event with amusement. He'd enjoyed seeing Bea slowly skewered by Dave's cock, and was now watching to see what would happen next. He grinned, noticing that Bea was getting restless and starting to twist about on Dave, trying to get something happening.

"What's wrong, girl," asked Dave. "You seem a little restless."

"I am not restless," stated Bea, calmly and firmly. "I am just waiting for you to finish off what you started, presuming you know how, because I don't have any bloody choice in matter, do I? Or have you changed your mind and decided I can go home again?"

In reply Dave finally pulled back from Bea and then thrust vigorously upward.

"Fuck!" came the scream. "Don't do that!"

There was another vigorous thrust and another squeal from Bea.

"What's the problem, sweetheart," crooned Dave. "You said you wanted me to get a move on."

Dave was now thrusting steadily into Bea, who was twisting and turning, trying to handle this assault on her body and senses. Bea could hear herself screaming at Dave, not sure what she was saying, but happy to have a reason to yell at him. Anything that would help distract from that relentless pounding that was doing terrible things inside her.

Desperate to come to terms with the assault on her body, Bea found herself trying to anticipate each thrust, trying to change position to meet it more smoothly, finding herself reluctantly moving in time to Dave's unrelenting assault.

She could here Sam making comments and cheering her on, urging her to ride, baby, ride. Which was what she was doing, Bea belatedly realised. She was bouncing up and down on Dave's erection in fine style, like a jockey heading for the winning post.

She swore softly to herself, but couldn't make herself slow down or resist the rhythm now that it had begun. The rhythm was part of her and she was part of the rhythm. She could feel Dave driving home, harder and faster, but not hard or fast enough. To her horror she heard herself begging for more, enjoying the result when Dave responded.

Dave continued to hammer home. Bea was totally caught up in what was happening to her body, reluctance taking a back seat to the driving need of lust and want. He heard her pleading and answered willingly, driving himself towards completion.

Bea's senses were now concentrated internally, feeling Dave swelling within her, filling her, more than filling her, tearing her apart and sending her screaming to an explosion of sensation.

Dave leaned back in the seat, watching Bea finally come back to her senses. Bea opened her eyes and looked at him, first still in a daze, but then with a tinge of fury as she gathered her senses again.

"I take it you're done?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh, yes," Dave assented. "What you'll be like once you've had a bit more practice is going to be a wonder to behold. I'll try and catch you again in a year or so and see how you've come along.

Sam, are you sure you don't want to try Bea out. She's really quite gifted."

Bea's heart turned over in shock, but was relieved to hear Sam saying he didn't do virgins, remember.

"I know, Sam", replied Dave, "but she isn't a virgin now."

"Good point," murmured Sam. "OK, Bea, move over here and I'll see what you've learned."



Just Joshing



“7:10am! Damn! “, I said to myself as I stood in front of Apartment 3D.  I had been knocking on the door and pushing the buzzer for ten minutes.  No answer!  I had just tried using my cel-phone to call Josh’s number; it rang and rang.  No answer there either! 

“What th’Hell!”  I was supposed to pick up the new guy, Josh, to make a 10:00am sales call on a customer a hundred miles away and, with rush hour traffic being what it is, three hours would be hardly enough leeway to make it on time.  

I turned to go back down the steps resolved to take off and make the sales call alone.  After all, I was the senior sales guy and Josh was the trainee.  I could do the job just fine all by myself and Josh could explain his dereliction to the boss all by himself.  Around the corner of the stairway came Josh dressed in running gear, his t-shirt stuffed into the front of his speedos, breathing hard, and glistening with sweat. 

“Hey, Dirk!”, he rasped as he galloped up the stairs.  “Sorry about the time.  Good run today.  Got carried away.  Went 10K instead of 5K.  Whew!”  He leaned down, unknotted the lace on his running shoe and slid his door key off and unlocked his apartment door.  He looked over his shoulder and said, “C’mon in.  I’ll grab a shower and we can get on our way.  I’m quick.  No Prob!”   

I had met Josh only twice before, both times in business clothes—well, business casual.  In our line of work, khaki slacks and a knit shirt were acceptable attire both around the office and with most of our customers.  I could tell then that he was fit but seeing him now in his running gear I could see he was in great shape--one heck of a lot better shape than I was.  We were both about 5’9” but Josh weighed in at about 160lbs as compared to my 190lbs.

“Plant it on the couch, chief!  There’s coffee in the kitchen, if you want some.  I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” all of this as he disappeared into the one and only bedroom.  

I walked into the kitchen, found a cup and poured myself some coffee. But as I was walking back toward the couch I saw something that almost made me spill the whole cup of coffee.  Josh was walking from the bedroom down a short hallway toward the bathroom carrying a bath towel but otherwise he was stark naked.  

I had only a glimpse but it only took an instant for me to take in the entire scene.  Josh was indeed in good shape and moved with a swimmer’s grace.  I could see he had smooth skin, a healthy tan, and nicely formed muscles without being over developed, and hardly an ounce of fat that I could see.  Oh, and one other thing, the towel he was carrying didn’t cover up his cock, which looked to me to be about five inches long—FLACCID!

He disappeared into the bathroom as I sat down on the couch.  I was breathless with that familiar electric feeling in my body.  I am glad Josh couldn’t see me because I knew I was blushing and, more than that, I could feel my own cock begin to stir as that delicious feeling progressively saturated my body.  I just had to do something.

I got up and walked over to the bathroom door.  I could feel my heart pounding and I felt my legs wobble a little as I said, “Hey Josh, I gotta pee.  Do you mind if I do it now or should I wait?”  

His voice came back to me over the sound of the running water, “Go right ahead.  It’s O.K. with me.  Besides, this is an all male bathroom!”

As I went into the bathroom I could see Josh through the semi-opaque shower curtain standing in the tub/shower letting the water run over his head.  I positioned myself in front of the toilet, unzipped my pants, and freed up my cock.  But there was no way I was going to be able to pee even if I had really needed to.  My cock was getting harder by the second.  

“Hey Josh.  Make sure to scrub behind your ears and the back of your neck!  That’s what my mother used to say to me all the time.”

With a chuckle he responded, “Ears? Neck? No problem!  But I need a scrub brush or something for my back.”  The chuckle was louder and sharper as he said the last--almost breathless, I imagined.

“Anything I can do to help?  That’s what managers are for, buddy; making sure the new sales guys are presentable!”  I laughed back hoping it would sound like good natured kidding but deep inside me was the desire that it might be taken as a come-on.

“Hmmmmm.”  That was all he said, “Hmmmmm.”

I had to take a chance.  This was just too good of a situation.   Besides, my cock was now so hard that I would have to do something with it anyway before Josh got out of the shower.  If I was wrong, I could always plead a prostate problem coupled with misplaced locker room jocularity.  Or I’d say, “Just ‘Joshing!’”   I’d think of something.

It took me exactly five seconds to peel off my polo shirt, kick off my shoes and socks, and strip off both my slacks and underwear in one smooth motion.  Stark naked, I slowly pulled back the shower curtain.  “Anything to help a rookie!”  I announced ,teasing with a forced bravado.

Josh did a quarter turn as the curtain went back and I could see a smile on his face and also see his soapy right hand stroking his erect cock.  Oooh!  His cock was magnificent—all nine hard inches.  

“You work on that, pal.  Let me do you back.” I said as I slipped into the shower behind him.  I reached for the bar of soap in the wall tray I couldn’t contain the smile on my face either. 

I began to get wet from the spray splashing over Josh’s shoulders and used that to lather up my hands.  I began to soap up his back starting at his neck and working my way down between his shoulder blades and then to the small of his back using a circular rhythmic motion that kneaded his muscles along the way.  Then I began to soap up his waist and butt moving my hands around to his front massaging his flat taut abdomen.  As I leaned against his body reaching around to his front, I could feel my cock straighten and prod his body.  And I could feel the voltage of that electric feeling begin to surge.

I replaced his hands around his cock with mine.  He leaned his hands against the front wall of the shower as my arms surrounded his waist and I began to stroke his cock.  I could feel his body quiver every so slightly as I alternated hands stroking his firm, slick penis. His “Hmmmm” began to turn to an “Ahhhh”.

I stopped stroking and with my hands on his waist firmly turned him to face me.  His face was tilted up, his eyes were closed, and his tummy was flexing and relaxing in the same rhythm that I had been using to stroke him.  

I knelt down and rinsed the soapy lather off his cock watching the clear water reveal a perfectly formed, shiny, tumid phallus. I took his member in one and cupped his scrotum with the other.   I opened my mouth and gently enveloped the circumcised head of his penis with my lips.  As large as his cock was, I found that I was able to easily put into my mouth firmly pressing it further and further across my tongue to the back of my throat.  I closed my lips around his cock and began to develop suction that caused my tongue to rub along the underside of his penis.  I felt him swell a little and then relax as I moved my mouth back and forth over his hardness.   I couldn’t quite get all of his cock into my mouth but I could just about feel his pubic hair tickle my nose as the shower water ran down his stomach and over his cock.   

Back and forth I moved taking him deeper and deeper into my mouth.  I could feel the head of his penis press the back of my throat as he thrust his hips forward in rhythm with me.  Back and forth, in and out; back and forth, in and out.  At one point, his cock almost slipped out of mouth but I saved it and buried him deeper into me.  I could feel the slickness of his pre-cum as it began to lubricate my tongue and I could feel the stimulation of salty semen on my tongue as he began to come.  

But I stopped for an instant and just held his cock in my mouth, not moving at all, being very still.  I could sense the tension in him, the quivering of his tummy, the sharp intake of breath, the pressure of his hands on my shoulders.  And then I took him as deep as I could, forcing his cock all the way to the back of my mouth, against my soft palate, against my uvula as I suppressed my gag reflex.  

And did he come?  Oh! Yes! He came and came and came.  It flooded my throat and my mouth and began to seep out of me lips onto my chin.  I held his throbbing cock in my mouth as it went through its serial paroxysms, each one less than the last until it stopped pulsing entirely.  And then I felt his hands on my shoulders relax and I could sense the tension go out of his legs and tummy.  I heard a long deep, deep sigh and a whisper, “Oh! Man!”  he murmured with passionate but gentle relief.

I swallowed again and then backed his now softening penis out of my mouth making sure I captured every drop of cum that remained on it.  As he leaned back, I moved my fingers to my chin and captured the overflowed semen that had settled there and spooned it into my mouth.

I looked up and could see his face again.  He was ecstatic; his cheeks were flushed, eyes were shining and his smile was incandescent.  I hope I looked the same.

“Hey, buddy!  You really got something going for you there.”  Josh said, as he regained his breath.  

I tried to be unassuming by just giving him a simple “Thank you”, but he laughed and said, “No, man.  Look at that!” pointing between my legs. Now my cock isn’t exactly tiny.  It isn’t as big as Josh’s, but damn near, and it was still hard.

Sucking him off had been so satisfying that I had entirely forgotten about my own hard-on.  But there it was: my cock was red, swollen and shiny and, now that I had time to think about it, a little painful.

“Let’s see what we can do with that one, my friend.”  Josh leaned forward, raised me up to my feet and then knelt in front of me to work on my cock.  

He wolfed down my erection hungrily, getting it even harder and more sensitive.  I began to feel the stirrings in me when he stopped.  

“I got a better idea.” he said as he grabbed the bar of soap.  “Here, use this.”

Then he turned around facing the front of the shower again, leaning over a little with his firm butt facing me.  I got the picture.  I lathered up his fanny and then began to minister to his crack applying more and more lather to make it evermore slippery.  My hand moved deeper and deeper until I found his tight little asshole.  Then I lathered up my hand again and began to probe his anus, first with one finger and then, as one finger slipped in and out more easily, I began to use two fingers.  I could feel his sphincter relax as his asshole expanded and became more lubricated.

My two fingers were moving easily in and out of his asshole so I knew it was time.  I took my hand away and then used both hands to spread his butt cheeks.  I could see that sweet spot perfectly and aimed my hard shiny rod at it.  

Now my cock is bigger around than my two fingers so it took some pressure to get past the remaining tightness of his sphincter but once I had my cock was inserted his ass was smooth and slippery as any pussy that I can remember.  He gasped but a very little as I entered him and tensed his glutes.  Both of those reactions made me even hornier.

My cock slid in and out of his ass like a piston, so deep on the up stroke that my balls slapped against the back of his balls and so far out on the down stroke that the head of my penis almost cleared his asshole.  But the tightness of his ass held my prick there to repeat another stroke, and another, and another…..

I could hear him now, his sighs becoming louder and deeper turning into a gentle grunting cadence.  But I could tell those weren’t sounds of pain but sounds of pleasure: deep, deep pleasure.  And that passion transmitted to me, as I pumped in and out harder and faster and deeper.

I was at the point that I could hardly contain myself.  I wanted to come so badly but I couldn’t.  His tight asshole was grasping my cock a little tighter with each stroke applying that exquisite painful-pleasure that precedes an orgasm.  

Then, finally, I couldn’t hold back any longer.  I felt my cock swell and throb as I pulled his ass toward me and held him to me as I came.  I could feel my come spurting into his ass as I pressed the cheeks of his ass against my abdomen.  And I knew he could feel it too; not only my cock pumping my semen into his ass but the spasming of my tummy and legs against his body as my cock shot its wad into him.

I couldn’t help myself from crying out in delight and relief as my orgasm heightened and then abated.  I turned absolutely limp with the delirious afterglow of that spectacular orgasm.  

We didn’t say much as we finished up the shower, washing each other down with cooler water, scrubbing away at all the cracks and crannies to cleanse them of the remnants of our passion.  Nor did we say much as we toweled each other off, luxuriating in the near ecstasy of the sensation of the rough terrycloth on our over stimulated nerve endings.  That was almost as good as the sex itself—-almost, but not quite.

As I was getting my clothes on, I looked at my watch.  “Jesus Christ!!” I yelped. “Look at the time!  Goddammit, it is already 9:15 and we have to be 100 miles from here by 10:00 O’clock!!”  My sales manager persona was kicking back in—big time.

“Don’t worry, Pard”, Josh laughed.  “Once we are in the car, I will call them from my cel-phone and tell them we are going to be late.  They will understand when I explain that we had a ‘blow-out’!!”  Then began to laugh even harder,  “After all, we ARE salesmen, aren’t WE?”

Josh and I are still working together.  We make it a point with my boss to insist that is good for production that I accompany Josh on all of his road trips. We ARE Salesmen, after ALL!!