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Message-ID: <31446asstr$995152205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Wiseguy" <wiseguy@screw.u.spammers.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 14 Jul 2001 10:35:01 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} RP In the Moment {Wiseguy}(MF+ hyp cons)
Date: Sat, 14 Jul 2001 19:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

STORY CONTENT -- This story includes the following coded content:

MF+  -- heterosexual sex between an adult male and multiple adult females
             (but not at once)
cons   -- all sex is fully consentual
hyp    -- hypnoerotica; that is, the CONSENTING use of hypnosis to enhance
              sexual pleasure

---------------------------------------------------------------

REPOST -- This story, originally posted in July 2000, has been
nominated for a 2001 Golden Clitorides Award for Best Short Story.
Please support the awards by nominating and voting for your favorite
stories/authors at the following web site:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Rui_Favorites/www/Clitorides/nominations2001.htm .

---------------------------------------------------------------

NOTICE:  This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual
activity between consenting persons.  If you are not of legal
age to read such material, or if you find it offensive, then
stop reading now.

This story is (c) Copyright 2000 by Wiseguy and may not be
reposted on any for-profit system.  Posting on noncommercial
sites is normally okay, but check with me first and do not
alter the story in any way.

The full text of this and all Wiseguy stories is available for
download (text or PDF) or for on-line viewing (HTTP) at my
web site, http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Wiseguy/www.

I welcome all comments from readers (wiseguy35@hotmail.com).






IN THE MOMENT

(c) Copyright 2000 by Wiseguy




There's nothing like having family to stick by you 
when you're down.  

There I was, sprawled across the sofa in the living 
room with a six-pack of Bud next to me and a can of 
Pringles in my lap.  I was staring vacantly at the TV, 
where "Dexter's Laboratory" was on, trying to withdraw 
temporarily from the human race.

Woman problems, of course.  I'd been in love with 
Wendy since we were teens, and still was.  
Unfortunately for me, Wendy was in love with white 
powder.  She'd gotten hooked on the shit in our 
freshman year at college, tried to get me into it too 
and succeeded for a while.  Then I noticed I was 
looking forward to my next hit more than my next class 
and called it quits before that stuff took over my 
life.  

Wendy dumped me shortly thereafter, but I couldn't let 
her go that easily.  I kept up with her, tried 
everything I could think of to get her off the stuff.  
For a while it worked, and we got back together.  We 
graduated, got an apartment together, and seemed like 
we'd be okay.  Then, a few weeks ago I noticed that 
she was chronically short of cash, increasingly edgy 
and short-tempered,  and wiping her nose a lot.  I 
asked her flat-out if she was doing coke again.  She 
denied it.  We argued.  She walked.  I pursued.  She 
agreed to get help.  I checked her into the clinic 
myself.  She walked out a week later, still hooked.  I 
told her to get back into rehab or move out.  She 
moved out.

I missed her.  It felt as though some of my guts had 
been ripped out, but I knew what I had to do.  I 
changed the locks, changed my phone number, and went 
to stay with my cousin Lori for a few days.

Lori and I have been there for each other since we 
were little.  My aunt Sylvia and her husband George 
couldn't have kids of their own.  That didn't bother 
them too much until I was born, but then suddenly 
there was this cute little guy teetering around 
stirring up Sylvia's maternal instincts.  The more 
Sylvia played with my curly blonde hair, the more she 
wanted a baby of her own.  By the time I was crawling, 
they'd managed to adopt an 18-month-old girl:  Lori.

Lori was an orphan.  Her mother had died in childbirth 
and her dad committed suicide shortly after.  She 
became an orphan again at the age of eight, when my 
aunt and uncle left her with us for a week so they 
could take a vacation and their plane went down.  My 
folks became Lori's legal guardians and we finished 
growing up together.

From an early age Lori and I learned to look out for 
each other.    I beat the crap out of Tony Cirico more 
than once for calling her "Jinx"; she made sure there 
was a teacher nearby when three of Tony's pals jumped 
me after school later.  I let her use my Atari; she 
let me use her trampoline.  I let Lou Watson know that 
she'd say yes if he asked her to homecoming; she 
talked Angie Bennett into letting me take her to the 
prom.  

That's why it wasn't a big surprise when the TV 
suddenly went dark in the middle of Dexter's greatest 
experiment.  I looked around, half in the bag, and saw 
Lori standing over me with the remote in her hand.  

"Brad, you're a mess," she said.  It wasn't a 
criticism or a nag, just a statement of fact.

"Nice to see you too," I replied sarcastically.

"It's ten minutes to eight.  Have you eaten yet?"

I hefted the nearly-empty can of Pringles and belched 
loudly.  I was just buzzed enough to find that 
hysterically funny and started snickering 
uncontrollably.  Lori tried hard to keep a straight 
face, but I could tell she was weakening.  I flashed 
her my best "Ain't I cute?" grin and that did it -- 
she broke into a smile and laughed, shaking her head 
gently at the same time.  "You're incorrigible," she 
chuckled.  "Have you had anything to eat with protein 
in it?"

I had to think about that one.  "Don't think so.  I 
haven't been hungry."  

Lori's eyebrows crinkled up a little at that, but she 
let it go.  "Suit yourself," she said simply, "but I'm 
hungry as a bear.  So if you'll excuse me ..."

She punched the power button on the remote again and 
flipped it into my lap, then retreated to the kitchen.  
About fifteen minutes later a delicious smell wafted 
into the living room: beef and tomatoes and chili 
powder and Lori's secret taco seasonings.  Five 
minutes after that my stomach was growling for 
something more substantial than Pringles.  

I let my nose lead me out of my chair and back to the 
kitchen where I found Lori spooning hot, glistening 
meat out of a cast iron skillet and into an oversized 
taco shell.  "Smells good," I said tentatively.

Lori gave me a sideways look that said she was glad 
I'd come in.  "There's plenty here," she replied.  
"Help yourself if you want."  

That's Lori -- she doesn't preach, push or nag, and 
she just makes it easy for people to do what they 
already know they should.  "Thanks, Cuz," I said, and 
grabbed two shells for myself.  I filled them with 
meat and cheese, threw on some shredded lettuce and 
tomato, and grabbed us each a Pepsi from the fridge.

We didn't talk while we ate.  I hadn't been talking 
much anyway, and Lori isn't one to try and force 
things.  That's largely why I came to her instead of 
Mom and Dad, who would have insisted on talking things 
to death for my own good.  Lori basically let me do 
what I felt like, which had been pretty much nothing 
except eat, sleep, and cry on her shoulder a few 
times.   But just then, with a belly full of homemade 
tacos, I felt better than I had in a while.  I wanted 
to let her know it somehow.

"Lori?"  I started out, and waited for the encouraging 
look that I knew would come.  "Thanks for letting me 
mope around here.  I hope I haven't been too much of a 
sad-sack."

Lori smiled warmly and grabbed me by the hand.  
"You're hurting," she said.  "You're entitled to lick 
your wounds for a bit if you need to."

"Thanks," I said again.  "You still leaving in the 
morning?"

"Yes.  The invitation is still open, by the way."

When I first called Lori to tell her about the 
breakup, she told me that she had been invited to 
spend the holiday weekend in a private cottage on the 
Outer Banks.  The party was to consist of Lori and 
three friends, but she had invited me to come along if 
I wanted to get out of town.  I know a lot of guys who 
would trade one of their balls for the chance to hang 
out at the beach with four hot women, but I wasn't one 
of them.  "No thanks," I said, echoing my earlier 
answer.  "I don't want to drag the party down."

"Four single, eligible women on holiday at the beach," 
she observed.  "A two-ton weight couldn't drag us 
down.  But it's your call, Brad.  I checked with the 
girls and they're okay with it, so you're totally 
welcome if you want to change your mind.  If not, you 
can still stay here."

I just grunted and started cleaning up the dishes.  
Once the kitchen was cleaned up I started the 
dishwasher and shuffled back to the living room.  I 
was sick of the TV, so I grabbed my Discman and put on 
some John Cougar Mellencamp (Lonesome Jubilee, of 
course).  The hard-driving, regret-laced tones of 
"Paper in Fire" flowed through my head and I zoned out 
for a while.

Later on, I started thinking some more about the beach 
party, and what I knew of the group.  They were all 
friends of Lori's, people I knew by site but had never 
really hung out with.  I'd be the only guy there, and 
the only one who wasn't part of their circle -- the 
textbook definition of a fifth wheel.  

Then again, I wasn't exactly living it up anyway of 
late.  The prospect of spending the weekend in Lori's 
Alexandria apartment, alone with my thoughts and 
demons, seemed pretty lame.  Going back to my own 
place, where everything in sight had something to do 
with Wendy, would be downright ugly -- I wasn't ready 
to face that yet.  The more I thought about it, the 
less I wanted to be alone.

And so it was that I knocked gently on Lori's bedroom 
door at 10:30 that night.  She opened it right away, 
so at least I hadn't awakened her.  "What's up, Brad?"

"About the weekend ... are you sure it's okay if I 
come?"

She grinned and wrapped her arms around me in a big 
bear hug.  "Absolutely sure.  I was hoping you'd 
change your mind.  If anyone needs a weekend at the 
beach, it's you."

"I'll try not to be a wet blanket," I promised.

Packing was no big trick since I was living out of my 
gym bag anyway.  The only thing I was really missing 
was a bathing suit, but I figured I could make do with 
a regular pair of shorts.

We locked up and left at 8:30 in the morning, stopping 
at a nearby IHOP for breakfast before heading south.  
I volunteered to start the driving because it would 
keep at least part of my mind occupied during the 6-
hour trip.  Traffic wasn't too bad for a holiday 
weekend, probably because we had waited until Saturday 
morning to leave.  We finished the first leg, down 95 
South to 295 around Richmond to 64 East, in under 2 
hours.  Things got a little congested through 
Williamsburg but picked up again after that.  

We stopped for a late lunch in Norfolk, where Lori 
took the wheel because she knew the route from there.  
I could tell we were leaving the mainland when the 
amount of land on either side of the highway dwindled 
to a few hundred yards or less.  We meandered down 
route 168 and into the Outer Banks, seeing signs for 
Kitty Hawk and Nags Head.  Finally, just before Kill 
Devil Hills, Lori made a right turn and took us inland 
on Colington Drive.

Our destination turned out to be a small private 
cottage just outside Colington.  It was a two-story 
structure in a style that evoked images of New England 
more than the South.  The clapboards and square posts 
were painted in glossy white, the trim in navy blue.  
It had a wraparound porch for sitting and socializing 
and a well-trimmed lawn all around.  The grass 
disappeared down a slope as I looked down the side of 
the house and I could see the water behind.  

I grabbed my gym bag and Lori's suitcase and followed 
her up to the porch.  The front door was opened before 
we got to it by long, lean woman with milk-chocolate 
skin and finely sculpted features:  Diane, our 
hostess.  

"It's about time you guys got here," she remarked with 
a smile.  "I was afraid we'd have to start the party 
without you."  Then to me she added, "Brad, I'm really 
glad you came.  If there's anything I can do ..."

"Thanks," I said, casting my eyes down to the floor.  
"I'll be okay, really."

Diane lifted my chin, bringing my eyes into contact 
with hers.  "I know you will," she said softly.  "Just 
remember, you're among friends here.  You can let it 
all hang out and nobody will mind."

"I know that.  Thanks."  From behind her, I saw Lori 
flash me a sheepish look. So she'd told Diane about my 
romantic problems.  I knew she meant well -- Diane was 
a counselor of some sort, I remembered -- but I wished 
she'd asked me first.  I really didn't want to spend 
the weekend fending off well-intentioned offers of 
help.

Perhaps sensing my discomfort, Diane changed the 
subject.  "Would you like the fifty-cent tour?"

"Sounds good."

We started the tour by going up the stairs to a simple 
landing.  There were two bedrooms of roughly equal 
size.  Diane and Lori would share one, their friends 
Brandy and Allison taking the other.  "You'll be 
downstairs," she explained to me.  "I hope that's 
okay."

"Fine," I assured her.

The only other room upstairs was the bathroom.  It was 
unexpectedly large compared to the bedrooms, sporting 
both a whirlpool tub and a large glass-enclosed shower 
stall.  Dual sinks and a large panel mirror stood 
opposite the shower, with the commode tucked into a 
corner beside the sink counter.  A picture window 
above the bathtub looked out onto the beach behind the 
house.

"I detect a remodeling job here," I remarked.

Diane grinned and nodded.  "There used to be three 
bedrooms, one master and two smaller ones.  My 
brother, who owns the place, knocked down the third 
bedroom.  He used most of the space to expand the 
second bedroom and the rest here."

"Makes for a nice bathroom."

"It has to be, it's the only full bath in the house.  
There's a powder room on the main floor and an outdoor 
shower in back, but for regular bathing this is it.  
We're all going to have to be a little flexible in the 
mornings."

The main floor featured a spacious foyer, from which 
the stairs ran up to the second floor.  Tucked under 
the main stairs was a doorway to another staircase 
leading down.  Further along was the powder room, a 
tiny little thing barely big enough to contain the 
toilet and pedestal sink.  An oval mirror hung from a 
nail in the wall over the sink.  On the other side of 
the foyer was the living room, done comfortably in 
country pine.  An open doorway led back to the dining 
room, which had another big picture window looking out 
onto the beach.  I caught a glimpse of a couple of 
figures sunbathing on the deck behind the house but 
couldn't make them out clearly from that angle.  A 
saloon-style swinging door led from the dining room to 
the kitchen, which was brightly lit by sunlight 
streaming in from windows.

With a quick call of "Get decent, girls!" Diane led us 
out a pair of French doors from the kitchen to the 
deck. There we found our other two roommates.

Allison was small and thin, with rich golden hair 
cropped short like a gymnast's.  She had been a 
gymnast until her early teens, I remembered Lori 
saying, but had filled out just a little too much in 
the bust and hips for advanced competition and had 
gone on to other sports, eventually becoming a middle 
school gym teacher.  She was sitting up when I came 
onto the deck, quickly fastening the top to her white 
bikini.  She gave me a bright smile and offered her 
hand.  "Hey, Brad."

My eye shifted quickly past Allison to where Brandy 
lay face-down on a lounge chair.  The pieces of a 
bright red bikini sat on the end table next to her but 
she made no effort to cover up her long, well-rounded 
body.  She half-turned, offering me a splendid side 
view as she raised a hand to shield her eyes and 
looked me over.  "Hi, Brad," she said with a wicked 
smile.  "I'd forgotten how cute you are.  Want to rub 
some lotion on me?"

I grinned back and concentrated on maintaining eye 
contact.  "Nice to see you too, Brandy.  Maybe later -
- Diane is still giving me the tour."

Next we went back to the foyer and down the stairs to 
the basement.  The bottom level was like a different 
house.  The walls were covered in dark paneling, the 
ceiling in white tile.  The little hatch-type windows, 
high up on the walls inside but at ground level 
outside, provided a bit of natural light to soften the 
white glare of the fluorescent fixtures.   

Most of the level was finished as one large rec room.  
A mahogany pool table occupied the middle of the 
space.  Simple shelves made from planks and cinder 
blocks housed books and knickknacks along one wall.  
There was a modest entertainment center supporting a 
less-than-modest wide-screen television with VCR, DVD 
player and 6-disc CD changer in one corner.  A wet 
bar, complete with mirror, glass shelves, mini fridge 
and six bar stools, took up another corner.  Along the 
wall opposite was a sleeper sofa, a futon, and a pair 
of worn-looking bean bag chairs.  A small doorway next 
to the bar led to an unfinished space which served 
both as laundry room and as a beer and wine cellar.

"I feel bad sticking you alone in the basement," Diane 
began.

"It's fine," I assured her.  "Besides," I added with a 
twinkle, "who says I'll be alone?"  Diane and Lori 
exchanged a quick glance and smiled back at me.

"Should we just move Brandy's things down here now?" 
Lori quipped, calling my bluff.  

"Let's just see what develops," I demurred.  Banter 
aside, I really wasn't looking to score with Brandy or 
anyone else for that matter -- in my heart I still 
wanted Wendy.

The tour was over.  Diane took Lori upstairs to unpack 
her things.  I dropped my gym bag in a corner and 
checked out the pool table.  I'm no connoisseur, but 
I've played on enough pool tables in my time to 
recognize a good one.  This one had nice felt, no sign 
of joints in the slate, and good woodwork on the 
visible surfaces.  I found the balls in a box behind 
the bar, grabbed a cue and spent the next hour and 
some knocking balls around.  I was pretty rusty -- it 
had been too many months since I'd held a cue in my 
hand, and my eye was way off at first.  After a while, 
though, my instincts started coming back.  I was 
getting seriously into it when I heard a voice right 
behind me.

"Brad?"  It was Allison, still in the white bikini but 
with an oversized button-down shirt on top.  "We're 
grilling steaks for dinner.  Lori wants to know 
whether you'd like to do the honors or leave it to 
her."

That was a no-brainer.  As good as Lori is in the 
kitchen, she is dangerous with a grill.  She has a 
terrible habit of using too much heat, leaving the 
food charred on the outside and barely done on the 
inside.  I set my cue down and followed Allison 
upstairs.

The grill was out back on the deck under a vinyl 
shroud.  I hesitated a step before going out there, 
but the girls had persuaded Brandy to put on her 
bikini.  It was a pretty tiny bikini, though, and I 
often found myself getting an eyeful as Brandy 
deliberately hovered around me on the pretext of 
helping with the cooking.  My body responded the way 
any healthy heterosexual male's would.  Fortunately, 
the "Kiss the Cook" apron Diane had loaned me provided 
some much-needed cover.

We ate well.  Lori took care of the salad and sides, 
and Diane opened a delicious red wine to go with it 
all.  The dinner conversation stayed light and casual, 
getting a bit looser toward the end as the wine kept 
flowing.  The five of us made quick work of clearing 
up, but somehow our wine glasses never made it into 
the dishwasher.  Instead they got topped off and we 
gravitated toward the living room.

The sun was setting on the west side, which left the 
east-facing living room in dim natural light.  Diane 
flipped on a couple of floor lamps and we settled in.  
I dropped into a recliner by myself, which forced 
Brandy to share the couch with Allison.  Lori and 
Diane pulled chairs in from the dining room to form a 
loose circle.

"Everybody feeling nice and mellow?" Diane asked as 
she set the wine bottle on the coffee table.  It was a 
good three quarters full -- was that our second 
bottle, I wondered idly, or our third?  

There was a general murmur of consent.  Diane started 
things by raising her glass.  "Now for our traditional 
round of toasts.  To my brother, for letting us use 
his cottage."  

"To Diane's brother," we repeated, and drank some 
wine.

"To friends and family," Lori proposed.  That was also 
good for a drink.

Allison came next.  "To SPF 50!" she offered, pulling 
back her cover-up to reveal a burn-free shoulder.  We 
applauded and drank.

Brandy winked at me as she raised her glass.  "To sun, 
sand ... and sex!"  I needed a drink for that one.

Everyone looked at me expectantly.  Thinking quickly, 
I raised my own glass.  "To bizarre traditions!"  What 
the hell, it made them laugh.

"If you think the toasts are strange," Brandy said, 
"wait'll you hear what comes next."

Lori groaned while the other women chortled. "You are 
under no obligation whatsoever, Brad," she assured me.

"Obligation to what?"

"Another of our little traditions when we get together 
like this," Diane explained, "is a few rounds of Truth 
or Dare."

"Like I said," Lori interjected.  "You absolutely 
don't have to play.  Nobody here will mind if you sit 
out."

Brandy looked as if she wanted to disagree, but it 
never came to that.  "What the heck?" I replied.  "I'm 
up for it.  Besides, there's a question or two I 
wouldn't mind asking you."

"Me?"  Lori said with exaggerated innocence.  "I can't 
possibly imagine what you mean, my dear boy."

"Then we'll have to let him start, won't we?" Allison 
suggested.  "I can't stand the suspense."

Everyone turned toward me.  I had clearly been 
elected.  "Okay," I said, sipping some more wine.  
"Lori, truth or dare?"

Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at me, weighing 
her options.  "All right ... truth it is."

"Who else in this room have you told about my personal 
life?"

The unmistakable flush of guilt rose in Lori's cheeks.  
"Everyone," she confessed over the barely-contained 
howls of her friends.  "I just wanted them to 
understand," she added sheepishly.

Brandy let her off the hook.  "My turn," she asserted, 
and then to nobody's surprise challenged me. 

I was still way too sober to consider taking a dare 
from Brandy.  "Truth."

"Boxers or briefs?"

I let out a relieved sigh -- Brandy was being gentle 
with me.  "Depends on the outfit," I answered 
truthfully.  "Boxers whenever I can, otherwise 
briefs."

Brandy was shaking her head.  "I meant right now," she 
said.  "What are you wearing under those jeans, boxers 
or briefs?"

"Boxers."

Allison started to speak, but Brandy cut her off.  
"Wait a minute," she said.  "How do I know you're 
telling the truth?"

I chuckled and shook my head.  "I should've known you 
had a plan," I retorted.  "And I suppose there's no 
way you'll just take my word for it, is there?"

"Nope," she grinned back.

Grumbling good-naturedly, I stood up and undid my 
jeans, pulling them down just enough to show her my 
boxers.  "Satisfied?"

"For now," she said with a wink.

Allison picked on Lori, who again opted for Truth.  
"Do you find Brad attractive?"

Lori swallowed some more wine to buy time.  "We grew 
up together," she said, "so I don't tend to think of 
him in that way, but sure.  He's got that boyish charm 
thing going for him."

"Gee, thanks ... I think," I kidded.

Lori turned things right back on Allison and, when she 
opted for Truth, asked her the same question.

"Yes I do," she answered immediately, looking me over 
with a smile.  "Very attractive."

This was getting uncomfortable.  It got even more so 
when Diane offered me the choice of Truth or Dare.

"What is this, Pick On The Guy Night?" I complained.  
"Truth."

"If Wendy were to call you right now saying she wants 
to get back together, would you do it?"

"Is that a professional question or a personal one?" I 
asked, stalling for time.

"Probably a little of both.  If you'd rather not 
answer out loud, you don't have to."

I thought about it.  "That's okay, I'll answer.  If 
she were to call right now, I'd have to say no.  She 
has to get her own life straight before I can let her 
back into mine."  I knew the truth of it even as I 
spoke; I also knew that if Wendy really was on the 
phone, I might not have the strength to give her that 
answer.

My turn again, an opportunity to put someone else on 
the hot seat.  "Brandy," I said, smiling fiendishly.  
"Truth or Dare?"
 
I was half expecting to hear Dare, but she surprised 
me by choosing Truth.  No problem.  "You've been 
flirting with me all night, making suggestive comments 
left and right.  You talk a good game, Brandy, but how 
many guys have you actually slept with?"

The other girls broke out into a chorus of guffaws.  
Allison elbowed Brandy in the ribs and cried, 
"Busted!"  Brandy waited for things to quiet down, 
then answered the question.  "Three."

There was a sincerity in her voice that short-
circuited any thought of a smart-ass response.  "Thank 
you."

Brandy grinned and delivered the punch line:  "The 
rest of 'em didn't sleep a wink!"  That prompted a new 
round of rude laughter from the group.  Brandy turned 
to Allison and said, "My turn, Allie ... Truth or 
Dare?"

The blonde's eye narrowed for a second as she 
considered.  Her face took on a devil-may-care 
expression and she answered, "Dare."  

Lori and Diane applauded her bravado.  "All right," 
Brandy said.  "I dare you to let Diane hypnotize you."

Allison met her friend's gaze coolly.  "Sure, why 
not?"

This was just too weird for me.  I looked over at 
Allison, puzzled.  "She can do that?"

"Oh, yes," she replied.  "Diane's quite the Svengali.  
Licensed and bonded and all that stuff."

"Not quite yet," Diane corrected.  "I'm still learning 
the finer points of hypnotherapy and accumulating 
supervised hours.  A couple more months and I'll be 
certified."

"There's nothing to worry about," Allison added.  
"She's practiced on all of us before plenty of times.  
It's no big deal."

"All of you?" I asked, looking specifically at Lori.  
She nodded in agreement. "Wow."  I had some 
hypnotherapy experience of my own as a patient, so I 
could appreciate the trust they had to have in Diane 
in order to let her practice on them.  

While I digested this new and fascinating piece of 
information, Diane prepared her subject.  She dimmed 
the room lights a little and had Allison rearrange 
herself for maximum comfort.   Then she circled around 
behind her subject and started speaking softly and 
slowly.

"Without tilting your head back," she began, "Pick a 
spot as high on the ceiling as you can find and fix 
your eyes on it.  Keep them focused on that spot, 
Allison -- don't let them wander, keep the image nice 
and sharp. ... Take a deep breath now, nice and deep 
and slow ... and let it out, nice and slow.  That's 
fine.  Now I want you to start counting backwards to 
yourself, starting at 500.  Count at your own pace, 
silently, picturing each number in your mind as you 
think it.  If you lose track of the numbers, just 
start over from any number you want.  While you're 
busy counting I'll be talking to you, but you don't 
need to pay any particular attention to what I'm 
saying.  You will hear me and understand me easily, 
even when I tell you that it's okay to stop counting.  
Begin counting now, please."

As Diane spoke her voice grew softer and smoother, 
taking on a melodic cadence that I had come to 
associate with my own therapist.  Allison sat still, 
some strain already showing in her upturned eyes, as 
Diane wove her spell.  She told Allison that her body 
was relaxing, becoming soft and smooth, sinking into 
the couch little by little; that her eyes were 
becoming tired, heavy and tired, needing to blink; 
that each blink would be longer than the one before, 
and with each blink Allison would find it harder and 
harder to open her eyes again.  

I could tell it was getting to Allison:  her eyes were 
tearing, the muscles around them quivering with the 
effort of keeping them open.  She did start to blink, 
heavily and slowly, looking as though it was taking a 
lot of effort to open her eyes at the end of each 
blink.  Her face took on that slack, dazed look that 
people get when they are asleep or on heavy narcotics.  
Her shoulders slumped, hands resting heavily in her 
lap, and she seemed to settle further and further into 
the couch with each slow, easy breath.  

In the middle of it all, I was surprised to realize 
that this was really getting me turned on.  I'd been 
in her position a number of times myself but in an 
office setting, with a guy doing the hypnotizing, 
there was nothing even remotely sexual about it.  This 
was very different, more like watching a stage show -- 
they always seem to pick the hot women whenever they 
can.  

Looking around, I saw that I wasn't the only one 
paying rapt attention to the goings on.  Brandy was 
staring openmouthed at Allison, and from the stillness 
of her body it seemed as thought she might be going 
under too.  Lori sat quietly in her dining room chair, 
legs crossed, watching with interest.

"Eyes growing sleepier and sleepier," Diane continued.  
"Heavier and heavier ... so tired ... time to rest ... 
You can stop counting now, Allison.  In a moment, I'm 
going to touch you on the forehead.  When I do, your 
eyes will close down.  Your whole body will simply 
rest, let go, and sink a hundred times deeper into 
relaxation."  She timed it beautifully, waiting for a 
heavy blink at the top of a breath.  When she touched 
Allison's forehead, the girl just collapsed like a 
deflating balloon.  Her whole body slumped down and 
started to fall sideways.  Diane skillfully caught her 
and eased her into position against the side of the 
couch, her head supported by a pillow.

Brandy hadn't moved a muscle.  Noticing her glassy 
gaze, Diane reached over and touched Brandy on the 
forehead.  The result was equally dramatic as Brandy's 
eyes slammed shut and her head dropped.  Unlike 
Allison, though, Brandy's body wasn't well supported; 
her weight shifted as she relaxed and she slid off the 
edge of the couch.  One knee struck the coffee table 
with a loud bump and jarred her awake.  

"Jesus, Diane!" she protested, shaking her head to 
clear it.

"Serves you right," the hypnotist retorted.  Allison 
slept on, apparently completely unaware of the 
disturbance.  Nodding toward her subject, Diane asked, 
"Did you have any particular suggestions in mind?"

Brandy pulled Diane closer and whispered into her ear.  

"That's wicked," Diane said.  "But I like it."  She 
resumed her hypnotist's voice and addressed her 
subject again.  "Allison, I'm going to give you some 
suggestions now to show everyone how good you are at 
following them.  Your conscious mind will remember 
nothing of these suggestions until the morning, but 
your subconscious will remember and follow them for 
the rest of the night.  Will you do that?"

"Okay," came the sleepy reply.

"Very good.  Allison, please answer this question for 
me:  who is the sexiest, most irresistible-looking man 
you've ever seen?"

"Martin."  

"And who is Martin?"

"One of the trainers at the gym," she replied 
dreamily.  "He's got a delicious-looking body ... but 
he's married."

"I'm sorry," Diane commiserated.  "But tonight, 
Allison, we have a very special man with us.  Someone 
who is so attractive, you'll find that he is easily 
ten times as sexy and desirable as Martin.  The more 
you see him, the more you'll realize that he is the 
sexiest man you have ever seen.  Can you guess who 
that is, Allison?"

"Brad?" she guessed.  I started to laugh, but to my 
shock Diane smiled.

"That's right," she confirmed smoothly, "it is Brad.  
Brad is ten times sexier than Martin, ten times sexier 
than any other man you can think of.  When you wake up 
in a few minutes you will realize this, and it will 
not seem at all abnormal to you.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said.  "Brad is the sexiest man alive."

"Very good, Allison.  Being in the same room with such 
an incredibly sexy man, it is natural that you might 
find yourself having sexual thoughts about him.  I'm 
sure that as you notice how incredibly, irresistibly 
sexy Brad is a wide variety of wild, sexy, erotic 
thoughts will go through your mind.  When one does, 
Allison, when you have a sexual thought of any kind 
about Brad, you will clear your throat.  Your 
conscious mind will not notice that you have cleared 
your throat, and if anyone remarks on it you will 
ignore them, but your subconscious will make sure that 
you do clear your throat every time you have a sexual 
thought involving Brad.  Is that okay?"

"Sure," she agreed.

"I'm glad," Diane said.  "This will show everyone what 
a very good hypnotic subject you are.  In a few 
moments I'm going to count from one to five.  When I 
reach the count of five, you will awaken feeling 
refreshed and happy, as if you've just had a nice nap.  
Your conscious mind will not remember any of your 
suggestions until tomorrow morning, but your 
subconscious will remember and follow them all.  If 
someone tells you what your suggestions are before you 
can remember them, you will hear something other than 
what they are actually saying; your subconscious will 
provide words that won't give away the secret.  Are 
you ready?"

"Ready."

Diane counted up to five, and Allison's eyes fluttered 
open.  Her gaze fell on me almost immediately and I 
could almost see her pupils opening up as she looked 
at me.  She stretched lazily, arching her back and 
letting the open shirt fall away from her bikini-
covered breasts in a sensuous way, clearing her throat 
more than once in the process.  I felt a sudden urge 
to crawl underneath the recliner and hide.

"That was wonderful," Allison said, her voice dropping 
half an octave from where it had been most of the 
night.  "What did I do?"

"Oh, nothing," Brandy replied quickly.  "Nothing at 
all."

"Yeah, right," Allison came back.  "And I'm a 
supermodel.  Truth or Dare, Diane?"

Diane was just settling down in her chair again.  
"Truth, please."

"What suggestions did you give me while I was 
hypnotized?"

I watched Allison closely as Diane answered.  "I told 
you that Brad is the sexiest man you've ever seen, and 
that every time you have a sexual thought about him 
you will clear your throat without realizing you've 
done it.  I also told you that you won't remember any 
of this until tomorrow morning."

Allison looked confused.  "That's it, no posthypnotic 
triggers?"  Diane just shrugged.  "Well," Allison said 
looking at me, "I hope I made a sexy-sounding 
chicken."  She cleared her throat again, which sent 
Brandy into spasms of barely-suppressed laughter.

Lori got an evil look on her face.  "Truth or Dare, 
Allie?"

There was no hesitation.  "Truth."

"Who do you think is sexier:  Tom Cruise, Harrison 
Ford, or my cousin Brad?"

Allison cleared her throat again at the mention of my 
name, which sent Brandy into another fit of mirth.  
"Do you need something to drink, Allie?" she chortled.

"No," Allison answered warily.  "Why do you ask?"

Brandy doubled over in hysterics.  "Don't mind her," 
Lori said, "she's been hitting the wine pretty hard.  
What about my question?"

Brandy had to run to the powder room as Allison 
cleared her throat several more times.  Finally, 
looking from me to Lori, she answered.  "Honestly, I 
think Brad.  With that curly blonde hair of his, and 
those puppy-dog eyes, I think he could be a movie 
star, too.  No kidding."

I hid my reddening face in my hands.  Diane let me 
recover for a minute, then challenged me to Truth or 
Dare.  "Truth -- definitely truth."

"A while ago you asked Brandy this question, so I'll 
ask you:  how many  women have you had sex with, 
Brad?"

Coming from Diane, knowing what I now did, it didn't 
seem like a teasing question.  I had the feeling I was 
going to get some therapy this weekend whether I 
wanted it or not.  "Just the one," I confessed.  "I 
dated others before Wendy, and during the couple of 
months when we were apart the first time, but I didn't 
sleep with them."  Was that why I couldn't seem to get 
her out of my system?  Why I kept remembering her 
smile, her scent, and her taste?

"Your turn, Brad," Lori prompted me.  Half my mind was 
back in Wendy's arms, and all of a sudden I had no 
more interest in this game.  

"Can I pass?" I asked.  Diane nodded sympathetically, 
as if she could read my thoughts -- more likely she 
was reading my body language.  Whatever; I got up and 
headed for the powder room myself.

I didn't need to pee all that much, but I took the 
opportunity anyway.  I also splashed some cold water 
on my face and then sat down on the throne, letting 
the slight wine buzz die down a little.  After a few 
minutes I heard female chanting from the other room:  
"Bradley ... Bradley ... Bradley ... Bradley ... "  It 
was cute enough to get me to chuckle and come back to 
the living room.  A chorus of cheers (and throat 
clearings from Allison) welcomed me back.  Brandy 
offered me the wine bottle, and just for the hell of 
it I took a long pull straight from the bottle and 
gave it back to her.  She did the same and passed it 
to Allison, and the chain reaction continued all the 
way to Diane.  

"Truth or Dare, Brad?"  It was Lori's turn, 
apparently.

I'd had enough truth, and figured I was reasonably 
safe with Lori, so I chose Dare.  Lori pounced right 
away with her challenge.  "I dare you to let Diane 
hypnotize you."

Allison burst into a fit of throat clearing.  Diane 
came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder.  "Is it 
okay with you, Brad?  Or would you rather not?"  

She was giving me an out, if I wanted to take it.  I 
shrugged.  "I did pick Dare," I said resignedly.  
"Besides, I have a feeling this is according to 
someone's plan."  I looked pointedly at Lori, but she 
wouldn't make eye contact.

Diane's voice was reassuring.  "Lori tells me that 
you've been in hypnotherapy before, so you know that 
nothing can happen here unless you're willing to let 
it happen."

"I know."  Thanks to Allison, I also had a pretty good 
clue as to the kind of suggestions I'd be getting.  I 
did think seriously about taking the out, but in the 
end curiosity got me -- I wanted to know what it was 
like to be put under by a woman.  Would it be as 
seductive as watching Allison, or as boring and 
clinical as my therapy?  I had to find out.  "Let's do 
it."

First we went through the ritual of settling in, 
getting as comfortable as possible.  I put up the 
footrest on the recliner and tilted it back a bit, 
kicked off my shoes, and pronounced myself ready.

Diane was behind me already.  "Okay, Brad," she began.  
"Let's start with your eyes closed, please.  Take a 
deep breath and relax. ... Now take another long, 
deep, slow breath ... and let it out, relaxing as you 
feel the air escaping. ... Now I want you to 
concentrate all of your attention on your right hand.  
Feel the temperature of the air around your right 
hand, the texture of the fabric beneath it, the weight 
of it as it rests on the arm of the chair. ... Be very 
aware of every sensation you can about your right 
hand."

I fixed my attention firmly on the sensations in and 
around my hand, as instructed.  I felt warmth of the 
still air on my skin, the coolness of the leather 
armrest under my palm, the slight bump of the watch 
band around my wrist.  As I noted all these things to 
myself, I realized Diane's voice had gone on to 
another instruction.

"Good, Brad.  Now, while you continue to be aware of 
everything about your right hand, I wonder if you can 
expand your awareness to include your right arm and 
shoulder.  Notice everything you can about your arm 
and shoulder, while still remaining aware of all the 
sensations in your right hand."

It took some work, but I did it.  I felt my shoulder 
muscles loosening, noted the texture of my shirt 
against the shoulder and arm, and the spot where my 
elbow rested on the arm rest.

"And now, as you continue to be aware of your hand, 
arm, and shoulder, notice how your breathing becomes 
slower and easier, how each breath relaxes you more 
and more.  More and more relaxed with each slow, easy 
breath."

It was hard to concentrate on all this with the sound 
of Allison clearing her throat almost continuously in 
the background, but I noticed that my breathing was 
indeed slowing down.  Then Diane had me expand my 
awareness again to the feelings in my legs, then my 
back, then my stomach.  Each step took me further and 
further into myself, and soon I felt the heaviness, 
the weird sense of detachment that I recognized as a 
pretty deep trance coming on.  Diane's voice grew 
faint and distant, hovering just outside my awareness, 
but I knew it wasn't important to try to make out the 
words.  After a while another voice joined her, one 
with a very familiar tone.  My voice?  It wasn't 
important, and anyway I felt too good to worry about 
it.  I was in a beautiful, peaceful, safe place.

"...three, four, five.  Eyes open, and wide awake."

I took a quick inventory of my senses.  Everything 
seemed okay; other than the slightly detached, just-
had-a-nice-nap feeling that I usually have after a 
hypnosis session I didn't feel any different.  
Remembering Allison's treatment, I let my eyes pass 
over the women and checked for any kind of weird 
reaction.  None of them suddenly seemed like a sex 
goddess to me.

Allison was still thinking about me, apparently, 
because she cleared her throat again several times.  
It was a soft, sexy sound and I was starting to like 
it -- if only all women came with a signal like that.

"Are you okay, Brad?"  Lori was looking mildly 
concerned.

"Fine.  Never better.  Your turn, Diane."

She considered for a moment, then said, "I'll pass 
this round."  I couldn't think of anything offhand 
either, so I passed as well.

"That makes it my turn," Brandy said.  "I haven't 
picked on you yet, Diane -- what do you say?  Truth or 
Dare?"

"Truth, please."

Brandy shot me a sideways glance before asking the 
question.  "Did hypnotizing Brad get you hot?"

Diane looked down at her lap for a minute, then she 
made eye contact with Brandy.  "Hypnosis is about 
trust.  In some ways it's the most intimate thing one 
person can do with another. "

"So the answer is?"

"Yes," Diane confirmed.  "I got aroused working with 
Brad."  She looked over at me and I just grinned and 
shrugged at her.  That seemed to be the right 
response, because she smiled back with a wink.

Allison cleared her throat again -- that sound was 
starting to get me hot -- before turning to face 
Brandy.  "How about it, Brandy?  Are you up for a 
dare?"

"Go ahead," Brandy said,  "dare me."

"I dare you to switch seats with Brad for the rest of 
the game."
 
Brandy seemed none too pleased.  Grumbling, she stood 
up switched seats with me, brushing herself closely 
against me as we went by.  The red bikini stayed in 
place somehow.  I settled down on what had been 
Brandy's end of the couch.  Allison was on my left and 
scooted over to close most of the gap, crossing her 
lovely legs in my direction.  That wonderful throat-
clearing sound seemed almost like an excited purr at 
this range.  

Lori took her turn, asking Diane a question.  I didn't 
pay attention; my senses were still a little 
overwhelmed by the closeness of Allison's body and 
that soft, sensuous sound she kept making.

The next thing I noticed was Allison accepting a dare 
from Diane.  "I dare you to give Brad your best, most 
passionate kiss."

"You're on!"  Before I could open my mouth to comment, 
Allison had snaked under my left arm and climbed on 
top of me, settling on my lap in a way that put steady 
pressure on my crotch.  Her arms whipped around my 
neck and drew my face to hers.  

Our lips met.  Hers were soft and yielding.  I felt 
her tongue teasing at my closed, tense lips and took 
the hint, easing up and letting her through.   A 
muffled groan tried to escape from me as I felt her 
body pressing harder against mine, and things got 
decidedly crowded in the front of my pants.  She 
sensed the obvious changes down below and moved a 
little bit, which put my bulging denim right up into 
the white triangle of her bikini area.  

From somewhere behind Allison I heard Brandy's voice.  
"Let him breathe a little, Allie," she said.

Allison broke off the embrace and backed up, a look of 
great satisfaction on her face as she resumed her 
seat.   I crossed my legs in a transparent attempt to 
hide the serious hard-on that had formed during the 
kiss.  I also tried to put my hands in my lap, but for 
some reason I could only manage it with my right.  My 
left arm seemed to be stuck, pointing straight out and 
slightly up.  I was trying to figure out what to do 
about it when Brandy asked me to choose Truth or Dare.

"Truth," I answered, my mind still mostly occupied by 
the mystery of my left arm.

"Is your cock hard right now?"

"Hell, yes!" I told her.  "Not only that, but my left 
arm seems to have a raging hard-on too."

Brandy almost fell out of the recliner from laughing.  
Diane and Lori were also having a good time, and 
Allison was snickering in between throat clearings.

"Funny you should say that," Allison said to me.  "How 
does this feel?"  With a lecherous gleam in her eye, 
Allison gently raked her fingernails from wrist to 
elbow on my frozen arm.  For a split second there was 
just the slight pressure of her nails on my arm, then 
I felt it -- a pair of fingers running not only down 
my arm, but down the length of my cock!

I let out an involuntary gasp as I felt the bizarre 
dual sensation.  Allison changed direction, sweeping 
back up toward my wrist, and the phantom sensation in 
my cock changed direction with her.  "Jesus!" I 
exclaimed.  "This is unbelievable!"

"Oh really?" she teased.  "How about this?"  She 
leaned forward and put two of my fingers into her 
mouth.  Instantly I felt a warm pair of lips closing 
down on the very tip of my cock.  Allison worked the 
fingers in and out of her mouth and I felt it on the 
head of my rod.   All I could do was sit there and 
groan while Allison gazed wickedly into my eyes.  
"It's your turn, you know," she reminded me.  "You 
need to give someone a question or a dare.  Can you 
think of a dare for me, Brad?"  

Putting together a sentence was getting difficult, but 
I managed it.  "I dare you to come downstairs with me 
and finish this in private."

The teasing on my hand stopped.  Instead, Allison took 
a firm grip on my left hand and pulled me off the 
couch.  "I thought you'd never ask."  The sensation of 
being yanked out of my seat by the end of my cock was 
the strangest thing I've ever felt.  A close second 
was the feeling of being led by the extended cock past 
Lori, who was laughing and grinning, and down the 
stairs to my temporary quarters.

My left arm still didn't want to do anything but mimic 
my cock, which made it difficult to do much about my 
clothes.  In the end Allison did a lot of the work, 
pulling the shirt off over my head (leading to another 
strange sensation like a cloth condom being pulled off 
of me) and the boxers down to my ankles without 
wasting any time at all.  I stood and watched, arm and 
cock extended, while she slipped out of her cover-up 
and bikini.

Allison's body may not be built for traditional 
gymnastics, but I could tell immediately that it was 
ideal for the kind of sport we were engaged in then.  
She had perfect natural breasts, a generous handful 
each with beautiful nipples already standing firm.  
Her hips and thighs looked strong and sensuous, and a 
neat arrowhead of corn silk thatch pointed the way to 
heaven.

We didn't even bother unfolding the sofa bed first; I 
just plopped onto it on my back, letting my arm and my 
cock stick straight up.  Allison grabbed my left hand, 
planted it firmly between her breasts and squeezed 
them around it, causing my jaw to drop as I felt ripe 
breasts pressing against the end of my rod.  "This is 
going to be over in about ten seconds if you keep that 
up," I warned her.

"Oh really?"  She climbed up on top of me and dropped 
herself down over my rigid cock.  A contented sigh 
escaped her lips as she wiggled around a little, 
taking me in all the way.   "Very nice," she said, and 
then took my left hand and started licking it.

The double sensation of being inside Allison and 
getting head at the same time blew me away.  Thinking 
ten seconds might have been overly optimistic, I put 
my working hand to use and found her nub.  I fingered 
that three or four times, which caused Allison to 
really go nuts.  She put three of my fingers in her 
mouth and sucked hard, and that was it for me.  With a 
loud grunt I felt my body clench and then release the 
first hot jet into her.  Allison kept sucking hard, as 
if to draw everything out through my fingertips.  One 
more brush against the button did the trick for her; 
she let my hand go, threw her head back and cried out 
repeatedly as she squeezed herself around me.  

With the waning of my orgasm, I found my left arm 
responding to my own will again.  I put it to good 
use, giving Allison's breast a nice fondle while she 
was still in the throes of her own climax.  When she 
was through we decoupled gently and she lay down on 
top of me to cuddle for a while.  

Lying there on the couch with Allison on top of me, 
luxuriating in the skin to skin contact and listening 
to the soft creaking of the main stairs as the others 
made their way to bed, I remembered what post coital 
bliss was like.  Between the coke's effects on Wendy 
and the discord from our arguing about it, a lot of 
the fun had already drained out of that relationship 
long ago.  Why hadn't I noticed that before? 

After a while Allison stirred.  We shared a soft, 
extended kiss and then she climbed off me.  "Bathroom 
break," she explained as she started toward the 
stairs.  "I'll be right back." 

"Do you want a shirt or something?"

She gave me a wink and a shrug.  "Why bother?"

"Good point."  

While she was upstairs I got up and unfolded the couch 
into a nice-sized bed.   The mattress already had a 
fitted sheet, so I simply threw on a top sheet and 
tucked it in quickly at the bottom.   

Allison came back down as I was finishing up.  
"Domestic men are so sexy," she remarked.

"But will you still think so in the morning?"  It was 
meant to be a joke, but then I remembered the terms of 
Diane's hypnotic suggestions.  What would Allison 
think in the morning?

"You're getting that sad look again," she said.  
"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

"I was just thinking how nice it would be to go to bed 
and hold you," I lied.

"Oh -- in that case, quit thinking and just do it."

We got into bed and cuddled like spoons.  I put an arm 
around her and held her, slowly stroking her stomach 
with my palm.  I noticed a new scent -- she had put on 
some perfume while she was upstairs.  

As her body settled into mine and our breathing 
synchronized and slowed, I found my hand moving in 
ever widening circles.  Without thinking about it, I 
brushed against the bottoms of her breasts.  Allison 
responded by wiggling her bottom, which started a 
rebound reaction in my cock.  My hand wandered up a 
little higher and cupped a breast, squeezing gently 
and toying with the nipple, feeling it stand up and 
swell.

Allison purred and shifted a little to give me a 
better angle, which also gave her a chance to slip a 
hand between us and find my expanding cock.  I let 
that go until I was nice and hard, then shifted down a 
little myself so I could get her nipple in my mouth.  
She put a gentle hand on the back of my head and 
moaned appreciatively as I suckled her.  My hand 
wandered down her body and found the moist, warm spot 
between her legs.  She spread her thighs for me, and I 
slipped two fingers into her slit.  She was already 
wet.  I spread her juices around, feeling along her 
lips and probing the space in between.  Every time she 
made a noise I made a mental note of the place and 
movement and practiced it.  After a while I had her 
panting and guiding my hand with her own.

"Get inside me now, please," she breathed.  I was 
happy to oblige, thought not in the way she probably 
meant -- I reached in and slipped my middle finger 
into her canal as far as it would go, hooking it to 
press on the upper side.  Wendy had a spot there that 
would drive her nuts if I touched it just right ... 
did Allison have the same thing?

Yep.  At the very end of my reach I felt a warm, 
smooth bump in the top wall of her tunnel.  As soon as 
my finger touched it Allison gasped and cried out in 
pleasure.  I pressed my advantage, brushing that spot 
again and again until Allison came hard.  While she 
was riding the top of the wave, I got up on top of her 
and slid my cock inside.  She reacted by hooking her 
legs around my hips and pulling me in closer.  We 
rocked together, establishing a rhythm, finding 
exactly the right position to get me locked and loaded 
inside her, and triggered another climax for her.  The 
feeling of her walls tightening around my shaft was 
enough to finish me off as well.  We moaned through 
the end of our orgasms together, slowing down as one 
and finally drifting off to sleep.


I've always heard that morning-afters are awkward.  
Imagine waking up in the morning in a strange bed, 
with a good friend of your closest relative, and then 
in a rush remembering that she'd been hypnotized into 
thinking you were the sexiest guy in the world.

The pleasant afterglow from our night faded quickly 
and a sickening, cold dread took its place.  When 
Allison woke up her mind would be clear, I realized.  
Would she consider our night together as consensual 
adult sex, or as date rape?

I stared up at the ceiling as the questions circled 
around my mind.  Would Allison have slept with me if 
Diane hadn't made her think I was such a stud?  Would 
I have slept with Allison if I hadn't gotten so 
aroused by the circumstances?

The circumstances ... what exactly were the 
circumstances?  I still had no memory of the 
suggestions Diane had used on me, although the results 
were pretty obvious.  I needed to know, though.  I 
started to get up, to go find Diane and ask her.

A sleepy voice stopped me halfway out of the bed.  
"Brad?  Where do you think you're going?"

"Morning," I said, still afraid to turn around and 
look at her.  "I was going to go ... uh ... grab a 
shower or something."

"What's your hurry?"  she asked.  "It's still early, 
everybody else is probably still asleep."

"No hurry."

"Then come back here and talk to me," she said.  "I 
need to know if you're okay with this."

"Huh?"  Confusion overcame shame and I turned to look 
at her.  "What about you?  I feel like I took 
advantage of you ... aren't you upset?"

"Do I look upset?"  

Allison was propped lazily up on one elbow looking at 
me.  The bed sheet had slid down to her hips, 
revealing those tantalizing breasts to me.  She toyed 
with one with her spare hand and looked straight at my 
face.  "No," I answered, "you don't."

"That's because I'm not.  I knew going into the game 
last night that something like this might happen, and 
I'm not sorry it did.  Are you?"

"No," I said quickly.  "Well ... I don't think ... I 
mean ... I've got so many questions still."  I was 
getting flustered.  

"Would it help if you could remember your hypnosis 
session last night?"

"I think so.  That's really why I was getting up ... 
to find Diane and ask her about it."

"I've got a better idea.  Come here."  

I scooted back into bed next to her and she drew me in 
for a long, tender kiss.  Our lips met and our tongues 
met, and then I heard Diane's voice in the back of my 
mind:  "The sound of Allison clearing her throat is a 
very sexy, sensuous sound.  The more you hear that 
sound, the more you will find yourself becoming 
aroused by it because you know it means that Allison 
is thinking about you sexually.  As you become more 
and more aroused, you will inevitably develop an 
erection.  When you do, Brad, your left arm will also 
have an erection.  As long as your penis is hard, your 
left arm will extend straight out too, and any time 
Allison touches your left arm or hand, you will feel 
the exact same touch on your penis at the same time.  
You will find this extremely arousing, Brad.  Your 
left arm will continue to act this way until you have 
had an orgasm, then it will return to normal. ... Your 
conscious mind will not remember any of these 
suggestions until Allison kisses you in the morning, 
but your subconscious will ensure that your body obeys 
them."

I drew back quickly, my mind overloaded with the 
memory.  "Whoa,"  I murmured.  "I don't know what to 
think."

"Then don't think," she said.  "Don't worry about last 
night.  Just be in the moment.  What is your body 
telling you right now?"  

That was an easy one.  My nipples were getting tight 
as they responded to the sensation of her fingers 
playing with the short hairs on my chest, and I had a 
hard-on.  "Right now," I replied, "my body is telling 
me that you're very close, and very naked, and nobody 
else is awake yet."

"Then let's go with that."  She enveloped me and 
kissed me again, and I let my body run on autopilot 
while I lost myself in her.  She offered me a breast 
and I took it, suckling with increasing hunger as my 
hand found its favorite resting place between her 
thighs.  I stroked and teased her until we were both 
ready, then she rolled me over and mounted me easily, 
riding me slowly until we both came.  Then it was time 
for some more sleep.



When I woke again I was feeling much better about 
things.  Diane's suggestions had increased our 
awareness of each other,  certainly, but acting on it 
had been our own free choice.  In fact, the whole 
situation had Lori's signature all over it:  she and 
Diane had prepared the meal, so to speak, and left it 
to me to realize I was hungry.  Right again, Cuz, I 
thought to myself.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs coming down.  I pulled 
the sheet over us just in time as Brandy appeared.  
She was wrapped in a bath towel -- my intuition told 
me there was nothing else underneath it -- and was 
carrying two more.  "Wake up, sleepyheads!," she sang, 
plopping the heavy towels onto the bed with us.  
"Breakfast in twenty minutes."  

"I take it the shower is free?" Allison said, blinking 
the sleep from her eyes.

"Diane's in the upstairs one now," Brandy explained, 
"and Lori has dibs next.  We thought you two might 
want to try the one outside."  She winked broadly at 
us and added, "It's big enough to share."

The outdoor shower turned out to be a booth built into 
the near end of the deck behind the kitchen.  The back 
wall of the house formed part of the stall and was the 
source of the plumbing; there was also a short 
partition on the right side and back that came up to 
my chest.  It had clearly been meant for rinsing off 
after a swim, but it was enclosed enough to offer 
reasonable privacy as long as nobody else was on the 
deck.  And, as Brandy had promised, it was just about 
wide enough for two.  After a good look around for 
potential witnesses, we shucked off our clothes and 
got in.

It didn't take long for us to get used to the openness 
of the outdoor shower.  We took turns soaping each 
other up and rinsing off, getting a bit frisky in the 
process.  At one point I looked over and saw Brandy 
through the kitchen window.  Our eyes met and she 
winked at me, then pulled down the window shade with a 
guilty grin.

Something about an outdoor shower brings out the 
closet exhibitionist in people.  Allison and I felt no 
burning need to go dress; instead we just strolled 
into the kitchen wrapped in our bath towels and 
started setting the table for breakfast.  We weren't 
the only ones taking their time about getting dressed 
-- Diane and Lori came down in bathrobes.  Ironically 
Brandy, who had slipped on an oversized nightshirt, 
was the most dressed of the group.

We had a nice breakfast of bacon and eggs, home fries, 
and plenty of fresh juice.  Brandy did most of the 
cooking and everyone helped clean up afterwards.  The 
talk turned to making plans for the day.  

"I'm in the mood for a road trip," Diane announced.  
"Anyone up for the outlet mall?"

Allison perked up instantly.  "Oooh, me!" 

"Sounds like fun," Lori seconded.  "Brad?"

"What do you think?" I asked sarcastically.  With 
Lori, shopping is more of a social activity than 
anything else.  I'm the stereotypical guy:  I don't go 
near a store unless I know exactly what I want to buy 
and where to find it.  She knows that, but she was 
busting my chops by asking.

"That would be a no," she translated, grinning.  
"Brandy?"

She thought it about it for a minute, then declined.  
"I think I'll stay here and work on my tan," she said.  
"Besides, somebody needs to keep an eye on Brad."

Now it was Allison's turn to grin.  "Nice of you to 
make the sacrifice, Brandy."  They winked broadly at 
each other, as if sharing an inside joke.

With the agenda set, the group disbursed to finally 
get dressed.  I pulled on a pair of running shorts and 
an athletic shirt, figuring I'd take a walk along the 
beach for a while.  Brandy changed into a rainbow 
striped bikini that was even tinier than the red one 
from the day before.  The others dressed casually for 
a day at the mall.  They were starting out the door to 
get into Diane's Camry when Allison pulled me aside.

"You realize, of course, that Brandy wants your body," 
she warned.

"Maybe," I said.  "I think it's more likely she's just 
playing with me."

Allison disagreed.  "No, she's serious.  Give her half 
a chance and she'll jump your bones before lunch."

That didn't sound good.  "What do you want me to do?"

Allison laughed softly and shook her head.  "Lori 
warned me you might think that way," she said 
cryptically.  "Look Brad -- you're a sweet guy, and I 
really like you.  Last night, and this morning, were 
really great and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't 
interested in seeing you more."

"But ..." I prompted, knowing there had to be one 
coming, a part of me dreading it all the same.

"But," she continued, a gentle smile on her face, 
"we're not a couple.  Not yet, anyway.  You're still 
working through a pretty serious breakup; it's too 
soon for you to be hooking up exclusively with anyone.  
You need to get out of yourself a little."  She took 
my face in her hands and kissed me softly.  "When 
you're alone with Brandy, I want you to do what you 
did with me this morning -- turn off your mind and 
just stay in the moment.  Do what your body wants to 
do, and don't think about it too much.  Can you do 
that for yourself?"

"I can do that."  My mind was awhirl; what else could 
I say?

"Good," she said.  "Have fun, and we can talk later if 
you want to."  With that, she ran to the car and took 
off with Lori and Diane.


I made a long, solitary morning of it on the beach.  
Walking along the shore, nodding and smiling to the 
very few others I encountered on the way, gazing out 
at the waters of the Roanoke Sound, I spent most of 
the time lost in thought.

Wendy and I were over, that was a certainty.  I found 
it surprisingly easy to say that and believe it -- 
much more so than a day or two before, when the 
thought of her was enough to send me scurrying for the 
Pringles and the remote control.  A large part of the 
pain, I realized, was really the loss of intimacy.  
After the night with Allison, and with Brandy no doubt 
plotting my seduction at that very moment, things were 
looking pretty good in that area.

And what about Allison?  It felt like there was 
something there, at least a possibility of something 
deep and lasting.  Or was that just me looking to 
replace Wendy by latching onto the first available 
female?  Allison was right -- the only way to know for 
sure was to date around for a while, see what feels 
right.  

The sun was leaning toward the west when I sighted the 
beach house again.  I'd been gone several hours; it 
was hard to be sure how long because I'd left my watch 
in the house.  Brandy was out back on the deck.  Just 
for fun I walked with my head down, looking up only 
with my eyes so she wouldn't think I'd seen her yet.  
As soon as she spotted me she jumped up, rearranged 
the lounge chair, and slipped off the striped bikini.  

When I got back to the house, she was sitting on the 
deck rubbing sunscreen lotion on her naked chest.  She 
pretended surprise at the sound of my first footfall 
on the wooden steps and quickly placed an arm across 
her breasts.  "You're back," she observed in a 
flustered voice that sounded almost genuine.

"Sorry if I startled you," I said, looking away from 
her, playing the game.

"It's okay.  Actually, you're just in time.  I need 
someone to put sun block on my back.  Would you mind?"

"Sure," I agreed.  Brandy set the lounge chair to full 
recline and rolled over.  "Where would you like me to 
put it?"  

"Anywhere that looks dry," she said.  Her entire back, 
shoulders, and bottom looked dry to me, so I decided 
to start at the top.  I squeezed out a good amount of 
the lotion between her shoulder blades and spread it 
around with my fingertips.  "You can use more 
pressure," she said.  "It works better if it's rubbed 
in well."  So I used a little more pressure, letting 
my palms get in on the action, working the lotion into 
her skin with circular motions.  I felt the muscles in 
her shoulders relax under my touch.  "You have a great 
touch," she purred contentedly.  

I worked my way further down to the middle of her 
back, spreading the lotion out evenly and working it 
in, smoothing the skin over her muscles as I went.  
"You can spread out more," she advised.  "Up and down 
the sides too."  So I ran my oily hands up the sides 
of her body a few times, just letting my fingertips 
brush against the sides of her breasts.  Then I moved 
to the small of her back, using thumbs along either 
side of her spine.  "That's nice," she coached.  
"Lower, please."

Grinning with the knowledge of where this was leading, 
I teased her by lowering my hands about an inch and 
continuing to work upward.  "Lower, please," she 
repeated.  "It's okay, I won't hurt you."

I teased her a little more, then gave her what she 
wanted -- a full hand, thorough massaging of her 
bottom.  "That's it," she said dreamily.  "You're 
doing wonderful things for me, Brad."  

It was doing things for me, too.  Feeling her smooth 
skin in my hands,  listening to her purr softly with 
contentment, smelling the growing scent of her 
arousal, was putting my own hormones on red alert.  If 
Brandy were looking my way she couldn't fail to notice 
the serious lump in the front of my shorts, just as 
from my vantage point I couldn't fail to notice the 
non-sunscreen moisture collecting between the tops of 
her thighs.

Brandy's legs were pretty well covered already, but I 
was listening to my body and my body wanted to rub 
some lotion onto her thighs.  I started low and worked 
upward, letting my thumbs slide up on the insides and 
just catch the end of her outer lips as they slid up 
and over her butt.  "Oooh," she sighed appreciatively.  
"You can just do that for a while if you want."  She 
parted her legs slightly, and I took full advantage on 
the next several passes, letting my thumbs play up and 
down along her slit several times while I cupped her 
buttocks in my hands.  I was rewarded with several 
loud moans. 

At this point Brandy was definitely ready and I was 
starting to get urgent messages from my swollen cock 
so I was ready to drop the pretense.  I stepped back 
and quickly slipped off my shorts and shirt.  "You 
stopped," she complained, trying to look back at me 
but I was too far behind her.

"You're getting a little pink," I ad-libbed.  "Flip 
over and I'll do your front some."

Brandy turned over and saw me at her feet, naked and 
fully erect.  A feline smile came over her face.  
"You're going to get a nasty sunburn like that," she 
remarked.  "You'd better let me put something on it."  
She scooted down on the lounge and sat up.  Reaching 
into her slit, she swabbed up some of the juices with 
her fingers and lathered it on my cock, working it in 
like the sunscreen. 

Now it was my turn to start moaning.  "Oh, he likes 
that," she remarked.  "Would you like me to go lower?"  
She tickled my balls with her fingertips, and my head 
bobbed up and down on its own.  Taking that for 
assent, Brandy moved one hand down to fondle my balls 
while the other continued to massage my cock.  Soon 
Brandy's fingers worked their way back along the 
sensitive skin behind my balls.  My knees buckled and 
I went down slowly.  

Brandy crawled back on the lounge and hooked one 
finger at me, giving me a classic "come hither" stare.  
There were no questions, no thoughts in my mind at all 
-- acting on pure animal lust, I crawled up onto the 
lounge and on top of Brandy and plunged myself into 
her.  She curled an arm around my neck and brought me 
down to a breast while hooking me with her legs.  
Slowly at first, but with quickly increasing urgency 
we established a rhythm.  

Brandy came first, her full-throated shouts of "oh, 
YES!" filling the air and probably carrying twenty 
miles out to sea.  I held on as long as I could, 
giving her the best ride I could, until the pressure 
was too much and I burst.  She held me in a powerful 
grip while my body turned to jelly, all its energy 
being focused on the act of ejaculation.  Then we grew 
still.

She pulled a beach towel over us for sun cover and we 
held each other on the deck for a while, enjoying the 
glow in silence.  Then we showered together in the 
outdoor stall, pulled on our clothes, and started 
working on dinner.


Dinner was simple but good:  grilled chicken breasts 
with barbecue sauce, cole slaw, biscuits, mixed 
veggies, and plenty of cold Sam Adams to wash it all 
down.  The shoppers entertained us with tales of the 
deals they got at the outlet mall and the characters 
they ran into.  

Brandy was surprisingly discreet about how we passed 
the day.  "Brad spent most of it on walkabout," she 
said when asked, "and I worked on getting rid of my 
tan lines."  Allison looked a question at me when she 
heard that and I winked back at her in response.  

We lingered over our meal longer than the night 
before; it was well past dusk when we finished the 
cleanup and adjourned to the living room.

"Any more interesting traditions I should know about?" 
I asked Diane.

Our hostess shook her head.  "No, we got those out of 
the way last night.  For tonight, Allison suggested a 
friendly pool tournament.  I understand you play."

"I used to play a lot.  I'm pretty rusty now, though."

"Spoken like a true shark," she said with a smile, and 
led the way downstairs to the rec room, which was also 
my bedroom for one more night.

Figuring out a reasonable playoff rotation for five 
people was a bit of a challenge, but we came up with a 
plan everybody seemed to like.  We settled on nine-
ball because it's simple and everyone knew the rules.  
To keep everyone involved, we decided on a "three and 
by" scheme:  everyone plays each round until they win 
three games, then they sit by while the others 
continue; when all but one player has 3 wins, the 
remaining player is out and the rest start a new 
round.  It's not an official tournament scheme, but it 
works well for friendly games.

It didn't take long to see who the real contenders 
were.  Diane won her three very quickly, with me close 
behind.  Lori took a little longer but was clearly a 
notch or two above Brandy and Allison on the skill 
ladder.  When Allison pocketed the nine ball for the 
third time, Brandy conceded gracefully and appointed 
herself barmaid for the rest of the night.

The next round was more interesting.  I won my three 
first.  Diane came next without too much trouble, but 
Allison came on strong and gave Lori a battle for the 
last slot.  They each had two wins, with only three 
balls left on the table, when Lori made a fatal 
mistake.  She lined up a routine bank shot to pocket 
the seven ball but misjudged it, and ended up 
pocketing the seven and the cue ball.  Lori's scratch 
gave Allison the cue ball in hand:  she easily 
pocketed the eight, and followed it up with a tricky 
angled shot on the nine to win.   

Brandy was the first to congratulate her on the upset.  
"Way to go, girl!" 

Allison grinned back.  "It's amazing what a little 
motivation can do."

My curiosity was aroused.  "Motivation?   What 
motivation?"

Allison and Brandy giggled softly and looked to Lori.  
"Nothing," Lori told me.  "Just a little side bet."

Interesting...  "Can I get in on it too?"

"You are, Bradley.  Trust me."  Lori gave me a 
sisterly kiss and excused herself for the night.

I almost didn't survive the next round.  With pool 
it's important to keep cool, line things up carefully, 
and stay focused on the game.  Once Lori was out of 
the picture, though, that last part started getting 
difficult.  I'd start to line up a shot and one of the 
girls would cross my field of view with her skirt 
hiked up or her blouse coming open, or a soft feminine 
figure would brush against me.  It was all in fun, of 
course, but it did play hell with my concentration.  
My timing was off, I started making mistakes, and I 
just barely beat Allison to advance to the last round.

While Diane racked up the balls, I cornered Allison at 
the bar.  With my hands squarely on her rear cheeks I 
pulled her nice and close so she could feel the hard-
on she and Brandy had conspired to induce.  "That was 
highly unsporting of you two," I chided quietly.

She grinned wickedly back at me.  "Feels like you 
enjoyed it, though."

"Would I have enjoyed it as much if I'd lost that last 
game?"

"You'll never know."  

Diane cleared her throat discreetly.  "Since there's 
only two of us left, shall we lag for break?"

"Sure, why not?"

As I approached the table, Brandy let out a snicker.  
"Watch it, Diane -- it looks like he's smuggling an 
extra cue in his pants."

"As long as it stays there, I don't mind," she 
replied.

I grabbed a spare cue ball from the box under the bar 
and spotted it behind the head string.  Diane had hers 
in position already.  We had Allison count three, then 
we each hit our cue ball straight forward, letting it 
bounce off the foot bumper and come back.  Mine 
returned smoothly and came to rest about two inches 
from the head bumper;  Diane's veered off course a 
little, hit the side, and barely limped across the 
head string.  "You win," she observed.  "Do you want 
the break?"

I picked up my extra cue ball and stepped back.  "You 
can go ahead."

Diane spotted the cue ball in her favorite breaking 
place, about six inches left of center and just behind 
the head string.  She executed a good, clean break; 
for a moment it looked as though she would pocket two 
balls, but they spun in place near the pockets without 
dropping in.  I let out a sympathetic "Ooch!" and 
started looking at my options.

It was a good break for me.  I had an easy time with 
the one ball, and was able to sink the two and the 
five with my second shot.  The three ball was in a bad 
place, but with a careful oblique shot I was able to 
get it to scoot sideways and push the six into a 
corner pocket.  The three followed easily, giving me a 
clean path to put the four in a side pocket.  When the 
cue ball came to rest after that shot, I had a choice:  
take an easy shot to pocket the seven ball by itself, 
or a harder carom shot to make the seven sink the 
nine, which would win the game.  The girls were 
behaving, so I went for the quick win.

Almost got it, too.  The cue ball struck the seven 
just right, and the seven obliged by bumping the nine, 
but the angle was a little off -- the nine ball hit 
the bumper just shy of the pocket and bounced clear.

"Nice try," Diane said.  I'd left her in good 
position; she had no problem sinking the seven, eight, 
and nine on three shots.

I broke for the next game and got lucky, sinking three 
balls on the break.  After two more simple shots, I 
had another outside chance for a quick win.  I took a 
straight-on shot at the four ball and knocked it into 
the six; the six made a bee line for the right corner 
pocket while the four careened off into the left 
corner and sank the nine for me.  

Diane was impressed.  "Very tricky, Brad."

I shrugged modestly.  "The six was the plan, the nine 
was luck."

While Diane racked up, Allison came over and whispered 
in my ear.  "This is one game where a little less luck 
will yield you a lot more fun.  Trust me."

She retreated behind the bar before I could ask her 
anything, and Diane was ready to break for the third 
game.  My head was full of ideas, among them what the 
mysterious side bet might involve.  I yawned and 
stretched, and made Diane a proposition.  "It's 
getting late.  Why don't we make this the deciding 
game?"

Diane seemed a little suspicious, but agreed.  "In 
that case, should we lag for break again?"

"Sure."

I had no intention of throwing the game, but it did 
occur to me that it might be fun to take a more 
aggressive approach.  With that in mind, when I won 
the lag I decided to break myself.  I gave it a good 
stroke and pocketed the eight ball.  The one ball was 
in an awkward spot, so I used it to knock in the five 
ball instead.  That gave me a good position to sink 
the one so I did.  The two followed, which set up 
another indirect shot with the three and seven.  That 
worked, and left the three positioned for an easy tap 
into the side pocket.  

Now I had an interesting position.  The four, six, and 
nine balls were the only ones left on the table.  I 
had a more or less straight shot at the four into the 
side pocket, but I could also do a bank shot on the 
four that could knock it into the nine and maybe win 
the game.  My luck on those shots was running about 
even, so I went for the win.

Once again I came close but didn't quite get the 
bounce I needed.  The four ball did its thing, but the 
nine stopped rolling about three inches short of the 
pocket.  Diane took over and sank the remaining balls 
for the win.

Brandy and Allison stayed long enough to congratulate 
Diane, then suddenly seemed very sleepy.  Brandy gave 
me a broad wink on her way up the stairs.  Allison 
favored me with a hug and one more whisper -- 
"Remember, stay in the moment!" -- before following 
Brandy.

"Looks like it's just you and me," I said to Diane as 
I put the balls back in their box.  "Do you want to 
tell me what you've won, or do I get to guess?"

"You can guess if you like," she said noncommittally.

"My guess is, the winner gets dibs on my body for the 
night."

Diane laughed softly.  "Good guess.  Are you okay with 
that?"

Her eyes sparkled at me, and in the back of my head I 
heard Allison's voice telling me to stay in the 
moment.  "Sure," I said.

"Suppose I said I was more interested in your mind?"

"As in, you'd like to hypnotize me again?"  She 
nodded, and I gave it a second's thought.  "Okay."  I 
felt completely safe with Diane, so why not?

She had me lie down on the futon with my head on a 
small pillow in her lap.  As she spoke to me, telling 
me to relax and breathe deeply, let go, let it happen, 
she gently rubbed my temples with her fingertips.  In 
just a few moments that subtle, swimming sensation 
started to flow through me and I was out.

I have a hazy sort of memory of what happened while I 
was under her spell.  We did a lot of talking:  about 
me, about Wendy, about Allison and Brandy and Lori, 
about my feelings and fears.  I think I cried a lot, 
and I remember her holding my head to her chest and 
rocking me gently when it got too hard, telling me to 
let it out, take care of the feeling, stay in the 
moment.   At some point we got off the futon and moved 
to the bed.  Diane unbuttoned the top of her dress, 
pulled my face to a breast, and told me to relax and 
sleep...


I woke up some time later, slightly spaced out, with 
my face resting comfortably between a pair of dark 
satin breasts.  The fluorescent lights were off, but a 
halogen floor lamp still burned in a corner, and in 
the reflected light from that I could see that Diane 
was asleep.  Her breathing was steady and slow, and 
she was snoring softly.  

I didn't remember a lot about our talk, just hazy 
flashes here and there.  I felt tired, turned inside 
out, but at the bottom I also felt relieved, as if a 
heavy load had been taken off my back.  The talking, 
and being held and rocked and soothed by her, had 
helped.  I wanted to thank Diane somehow.  There in 
the semi-dark, with her body so close and warm, I 
could think of one excellent way to do it.

Diane was wearing a cream-colored sun dress with 
buttons down the entire front.  She had undone the top 
several buttons herself earlier to give me access to 
her breasts; gently, slowly, so as not to wake her too 
soon, I opened the rest and pushed the cotton fabric 
aside.  She wore only a pair of silky black string 
bikini panties underneath.

Moving carefully, I kissed my way down her belly 
toward the panties.  She barely stirred as I pulled 
them down to her knees.  I watched her face as I 
slowly stroked the insides of her thighs with my 
hands:  her mouth moved a little, and her eyes seemed 
to be twitching madly behind closed lids -- Diane was 
dreaming.  Still caressing the insides of her thighs, 
I also bent down and kissed her mound, then the areas 
around her mound, circling the area.  Very soon the 
sweet, unmistakable aroma of feminine arousal began to 
rise from her.  I buried my nose at its source and 
inhaled deeply, letting the scent fill my senses and 
put iron in my cock.  Diane moaned in her sleep as I 
parted her thighs and filled the space in between with 
my face.

Moisture flowed all around me and I licked it up 
eagerly, spreading it around with the broad side of my 
tongue as I searched out her sensitive places.  I 
found the magic button just above the tunnel entrance, 
and when I did I felt her whole body shudder.  Muscle 
tone returned to Diane's legs and they parted a little 
further, giving me a better angle of attack.  I took 
advantage quickly, teasing the canoe boat driver to 
attention and brushing him down.  In the space of a 
few minutes Diane went from peacefully sleeping to 
shuddering and moaning, alternately squeezing my head 
between her legs and relaxing them.   Whether it was 
one long orgasm or several short ones in series I 
couldn't tell, but she was definitely wide awake and 
going off the deep end.   

After a while the fingers that had been running 
through my hair grabbed me and pulled me upwards in a 
fast, powerful yank.  I tried to pause for a taste of 
breast but she kept pulling until we were nose to 
nose.  Her eyes burned into mine and our lips met in a 
frenzied, passionate kiss.  She was gasping for breath 
too much for a long kiss, so we did dozens of short, 
strong ones until her juices were all over both of our 
faces.  When she recovered some breath, her hands 
softened their grip on my head and she started 
massaging my temples with her thumbs, making little 
circles the way she had before.  "Relax, Brad," she 
whispered, "relax and focus on the moment.  Be in the 
moment."

At the contact and the words my head started spinning, 
and my body suddenly became very heavy and slow.  I 
was dropping into trance.

"That's it, Brad, keep focusing on the moment.  Let 
your body tell you what it needs, what it wants.  Feel 
all of your body's energies concentrating in one 
place, the place that will give you the most pleasure.  
Let it build, let it grow, until that part is the only 
part you feel.  Let all of your awareness focus on 
that one part, getting harder and harder, more and 
more aware, more and more urgently in need of 
release."

As she spoke, I found myself becoming more and more 
aware of the burning energy in my cock.  Everything 
else seemed to dim, to fall back, and all of my 
vitality became concentrated in that one place.  

"Good, Brad," Diane's voice said from a mile away.  
"You are totally focused now on the energy, the 
sensations, in your penis.  Now stay in the moment as 
your penis enters me, and let yourself be totally 
aware of every sensation as you slide in and out, 
becoming more and more aroused with every movement and 
every sensation."

I moved forward a little more and managed to guide my 
raging member home.  As I slid in, I felt every bump 
and fold in her skin parting to receive me, every 
ridge inside her tunnel rubbing against my hard shaft.  
Her hips tilted and suddenly everything lined up 
perfectly -- my cock drove itself in the rest of the 
way and bottomed out.  I would have been happy to stay 
that way, but at Diane's urging I felt myself flexing, 
pumping in and out, reveling in every sensation, 
growing harder and longer with each movement.  Diane's 
smooth voice grew breathless and gasping again, but I 
was too focused on my own physical sensations to 
notice much.  "Come now, Brad, come with me now," she 
said, and my cock sprung into action, jerking and 
firing with what felt like a cannon's force.  I felt 
the energy rush through me and out into a cloud that 
enveloped us, lifted us, supported us.

Then, in a timeless few moments, it faded away, 
leaving us breathless and sweating in each other's 
arms.  "Sleep now," Diane said, and I let the warmth 
and the darkness take me away.


I woke up in the morning to the smell of buttermilk 
pancakes and sausage.  Brandy and Allison were both 
standing over me, gently shaking my shoulder.  
"Breakfast in ten minutes," they told me.

I rose groggily and headed for the stairs, forgetting 
until I was halfway up that I was buck naked.  Allison 
threw me a towel, and I used the outdoor shower again 
to wake myself up.

Diane was our breakfast chef.  The pancakes were 
heavenly, the sausage done just right, and there was 
plenty of fruit to round things out.  Several of our 
companions complimented Diane on her radiant looks, 
but she just smiled and winked knowingly at me.

Once breakfast was cleaned up it was time for Lori and 
me to go.  She had to be at work early Tuesday, and 
after moping around her place for a week I needed to 
get back to work too.   We packed our things, traded 
hugs and kisses, and headed north.

At first we rode in silence, listening to the radio 
and letting the ocean breeze cool us as we made our 
way up towards the mainland.  I felt a profound sense 
of peace that didn't fade away as the miles rolled by.

It wasn't until we were stopped for lunch in 
Fredericksburg that Lori asked me the Big Question:  
"How do you feel?"

"I feel good," I said honestly.  "Better than I have 
in a long time, even before the breakup."  I reached 
across the table and took her hand, adding, "Thank you 
for that.  For everything you did."

"It wasn't all me," she said modestly.  "Allie and 
Brandy and Diane had a lot to do with how things 
turned out."

"I know," I said, "and I'm grateful to them, too.  But 
I never would have made the trip if it hadn't been for 
you. "

"I'm just happy to see you being yourself again."

I squeezed her hand again and looked her in the eye.  
"I hope you're still happy after I tell you this:  
while you were packing, I had a little talk with 
Allison.  We're going out on a date this Friday that 
might stretch into Saturday.  Nobody's going to rush 
anything, but I have a feeling we may be seeing each 
other on a steady basis.  Can you deal with that?"

Lori seemed to be fighting back a tear.  "Allie has 
always liked you, Brad.  If you two want that, I think 
it's great for you both.  I'll deal."

"Thanks."

The rest of the trip home was quiet and easy.  We 
managed to get back to Alexandria ahead of most of the 
holiday weekend return traffic.  By five o'clock I was 
unlocking the door to my own apartment, a week's worth 
of unopened mail under my arm, bracing myself for a 
flood of sad memories.

I was better prepared than I thought.  The place had a 
melancholy feel to it, but I was at peace with myself 
and I could accept the memories without dwelling on 
them.  I was learning to live in the moment.



-wg
6/17/00







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