The following afternoon, I had just finished working with a client when Grace called. She sounded awful.

“Lucinda and I had a terrible fight last night,” she informed me through sniffles and tears. “Meet me for an early dinner, Michael. I really need support.”

I canceled my late appointments and met her at Fred’s, a favorite tap house. Over pints of Guinness and plates of Spaghetti ala Fred, I read Grace’s eyes, looking for any awareness of the scintillating bathroom blowjob I’d received from Lucinda. My sex life was beginning to consist of multiple secrets, but today I was in the clear. I put on my best listener’s face and drank to soothe the clash between my desire to help my friend and my desire to fuck the daylights out of her girlfriend.

“It’s the group sex thing, isn’t it?” I asked, already knowing the answer

“Of course it is! She just wouldn’t back down. Lucinda was like a prize-fighter, constantly jabbing me with it and I finally snapped. You’ve never really seen me when I get like that, Michael. I’m tough and that’s generally a good thing, but when I take a U-turn, and my blood really starts to boil… It got to a point where she kept pressing, and it was like she couldn’t understand the word ‘no’, no matter how I framed it. I just got to a place where I totally lost it.”

“Where are you now, the two of you?”

“I’m not sure, but it isn’t good. I made an unfortunate crack about her having a lackluster tongue until it was hypnotized…”

“Ouch! That’s swordplay, not a fight!”

“Yeah, well, she gave as good as she got. According to her, I can only coax ‘lukewarm’ orgasms out of a woman. She’s had better, apparently.”

“Even though she screams.”

“She currently attributes that to your hypnotic talents, not me. It was all… very hurtful.”

“Is this a declaration of war or a simple lover’s spat?”

“Well, she made me give back the key to her apartment. I almost threw it at her, I was so pissed.”

“But you’ll make peace and get back together, right?”

“I hope so. I’d say it’s a true fifty-fifty. Maybe less.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

“I feel like I’m responsible somehow.”

“Nonsense. You juiced her sex-circuits, but it was the orgy talk at her party that got her all stirred up. If I could share her at all I’d share her with you, Michael, believe me. But I just can’t do it.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t know that you do. It’s more than you being a man, and I’ve realized that it’s not jealousy or feeling that I own her, either. It’s… complicated. I think my sense of self is involved, like I couldn’t live with myself if Lucinda became something like a piece of meat that could just be passed around.”

“Even when she’s requesting it?”

“I know it doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know how to describe my feelings, but they’re real, or at least real for me. They’re authentic. If I went against them…”

“I think I know what you’re getting at,” I said. “We end up defining ourselves through our actions. We can believe that we’re a certain way, but if we act differently, negating our own beliefs…”

“Right. And if we need certain things to be a certain way, whether or not everyone else in the world agreed or disagreed with that… Well, it’s us, no matter what anyone thinks. And we have to be ourselves above all else.”

“Socrates couldn’t have said it better.”

“Yeah, well, look at what happened to him. His boyfriend probably pestered him to get a three-way going, and Socrates snapped so badly that they had to put him down.”

“Let me know if there’s something I can do, Grace.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, because there might be something you could do to help.”

“Which is?”

“If you could put Lucinda into a trance again…”

“Whoa, hold on. A few days ago you were asking whether we might try to put you under.”

“I know, and I still might want those super-sex powers. But how can I use them on Lucinda if she won’t see me? For now, if you could just help to make this multiple partner obsession of hers fade away…”

“Like I work with other addictions.”

“Precisely.”

“Grace, how do you know that tweaking Lucinda’s psyche didn’t help to cause this current obsession in the first place? I mentioned the idea before, of creating a Frankenstein lover. We played with Lucinda’s sex jets and now you want them toned down. Maybe we should just stop.”

“That’s easy for you to say, but I’m in fucking love, okay? I don’t want chaos, but I’m willing to take risks. I need my girlfriend’s thighs back, and what you did with her had a definite effect. Your method works, Michael, I could see and hear the difference for myself. My girlfriend has Wonder Woman’s fucking magic tongue, thanks to you, and I fucking want it back!”

I knew Grace well enough to hear exactly where she was. Once the fucking-this and fucking-that entered her language, no amount of counter-argument would sway her, because her pussymotional gears were stuck in overdrive. She was going to push at this, in this way, and push hard.

“Okay, okay. How do I get Lucinda back on my couch?”

“Hell, she’s halfway into your bed — how hard could it be? Here’s my plan: Despite her dig at me, Lucinda has been saying that her orgasms are more intense since you worked on her. I think that’s become part of the problem — she has this idea that she’ll really blow her top with two lovers going at her. We can use all of that as bait.”

“You mean, I find some way to lure her in with the promise of shining super-nova orgasms?”

“Bingo. The way she’s been acting, I don’t think she could resist.”

“And then I turn her into your devoted, toe-obsessed lover again.”

“Fuck it, turn her into my obedient sex slave if you can. I mean it, Michael, stretch the boundaries as much as your hypno-dealie method can stretch them. Make Lucinda worship my body the way I worship hers, or try to make it so she feels like her vagina is drying up whenever she’s away from my tongue. And if she could have super- nova orgasms, but only with me…”

“I get it. You don’t even need extra sex powers, not as long as it feels to her like they’re there. If it could be taken to the extreme, she’d be helpless to resist you.”

“Theeere you go!” she beamed, like a mother watching a learning- disabled child achieve some new feat of hand/eye coordination.

“Grace… I never imagined that you could be so… controlling.”

“And I never thought I’d meet a set of thighs that made my soul and my vagina do cartwheels. I fucking need Lucinda’s love and devotion, Michael. Help any way you can and I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“And your gratefulness gets me…”

“I’ll find you the perfect woman. I can see where I went wrong with Tiffani. I’ll learn from that and work a miracle for you.”

“Another of your lame blind dates.”

“If you fuck them until they’re blind and can’t walk, that isn’t my fault.”

I laughed. “Let me think about all of this, Grace. Your plan is pretty out-there, and probably beyond my limited skills. It’s also kind of… diabolical. That doesn’t bother you?”

“Extraordinary thighs require extraordinary measures.”

“I’ll have to put that saying on my desk somewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said slowly shaking her head. “Sexual obsessions were never meant to get mixed-up with your profession, were they? I feel like I’m corrupting you.”

I almost choked on my spaghetti. “I wish you wouldn’t put it that way, Grace. I’m quite capable of corrupting myself, thank you.”

Everything was getting very, very complicated. I really did want to help my friend, and it pained me to see her suffering. At the same time, I was almost giddy with excitement, because Grace’s troubles confirmed the potency of my immersion commands, bubbling deep inside of her girlfriend. Lucinda could hope to think what she wanted to think, but her pussy was driving her forward, and her pussy needed me. I half-expected to get a breathy call from her, or to see her on my doorstep, just dying to fuck me ala Mira. She didn’t suddenly appear, but that didn’t change the fact that she knew she needed my cock to pop just right. The better orgasm she had anonymously thrown in Grace’s face had involved my dick jammed in her mouth, and Lucinda was willing to fight for the two-cunt/one-cock combo meal required to further super-size her orgasms.

She would make Grace’s resistance crumble, I was sure of it. I had to smile at the almost karmic perfection of planning to undermine my friend, at the same time that she hoped to use me to undermine her girlfriend. It was like Spy vs. Spy in the real world of complex sexual needs, except that Grace didn’t even know she had an adversary. I really did love Grace, in the tight friendship way that comes so rarely, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t screw with her plans, scheming to get my rocks off while keeping my real intentions out of her cross-hairs. I’d never had two women working on me at once, and I knew I couldn’t die happy without the experience.

That was the reason I liked Grace’s idea about authenticity so much. I could apply it to the way I was beginning to live my life, the authenticity angle cutting right through any image of a good angel and a bad devil sitting on my shoulders, whispering contradictory advice into my ears. I was as I was, and I was as I acted, and there it all stood, neatly side-stepping the notions of personal or professional morality that might otherwise come into play to spoil my fun.

All I needed was to get a woman into the immersion state. If I could get someone that far, it was almost as though the rest took care of itself, because every psyche contains repressed desires. What human being hasn’t suffered from unrequited love, or secretly wished to experience some forbidden sexual act? How many among us wouldn’t sell a tiny fragment of their soul for more intense, or more frequent orgasms? The possibilities to bring steaming horny women my way might be as numerous as the number of psyches I could spread out on my couch, because very experiment I’d attempted thus far had been successful.

I know the power/corruption equation, so don’t get the idea that I couldn’t see what was happening. I was high on the potential for sexual mischief that the immersion technique made possible, and why not? Grace would do the same in my position — she had as much as admitted it. It was like that experience of pulling on a sweater thread and having the whole garment unravel. I had opened a trap door a crack by playing with Mira’s psyche, and now the door was opening wide beneath me, and I was falling in.

You might think that I was losing control of myself, and turning to what others refer to as the dark side, but I don’t see it like that. I have a theory, an original theory, that encompasses all of this. I can never admit to my ideas professionally — not without being shunned by all of my colleagues in the mental health community — still, I believe in this wholeheartedly. In fact, I know it to be true.

People want and need to fall. This doesn’t apply to everyone, but it applies to many. Sometimes we need to take the road that must not be traveled, because we need to experience the deep and muddy places in order to become, in the end, more complete human beings. The risks are there, whether mental or emotional or physical, and there is a very real danger of tempting fate, or tripping over the devil’s shoestrings. But it’s worth it — sometimes, and it can lead to hidden goldmines of experience — sometimes.

My profession does not allow this kind of thinking, because all destructive behaviors are seen as impediments to wholeness, and self- control is placed upon the highest pedestal, and worshipped. In about ninety-nine percent of cases, I would agree. But then you get that one client who has led one hell of an interesting life, even if the living came at a cost, and you start to wonder. Maybe stability and being “good” keep us from falling into some exquisite experiences. Maybe most of us never allow ourselves to fall quite far enough, partly because others don’t want us to, but primarily because we instinctively know that we'll always be haunted by the midnight beauty of our dark obsessions, even if we're able to pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off.

I knew what I was doing. I knew the risks I was taking, and I was reasonably certain that I could put on the brakes or do an about- face, if and when needed. After my cock had taken some wet trips through a few tunnels of love. As they say: In for a pussy, in for a pounding.

These kinds of thoughts tickled my mind as I worked with my clients the next day. How far I was willing to go and the risks involved were very present when Rosita Bello sauntered into my office for her second appointment of the week. It was funny, the way her trim body and incredible tits gummed up my thinking, turning the very word “morality” into nothing more than an eight letter ghost. My dick can’t spell, and I was glad.

She had dolled herself up, wearing a mid-thigh length turquoise skirt and matching heels. An elegant turquoise necklace dipped down to tease at the point where her cleavage began, the neckline of her form- hugging silk blouse taking a wide curving journey to reveal several pounds of flawless creamy breast-flesh. The effect was exactly right, embodying the promise of whoredom without looking whorish. She was just as I’d like to see her — a stacked bridge straddling two shores, one representing the will to look nice and stylish for a potential lover, the other just begging to harden my cock at any cost and fuck it raw.

“You look amazing today,” I said, as she settled into the client chair opposite me. She blushed from the compliment and crossed her legs, the left corner of her mouth lifting. It was very craftily done, but she adjusted her rear in the chair in a way that drew her skirt another inch or more up her thighs, and began to wiggle her raised foot, the muscle at the back of her calf moving. I stared at her breasts and I could see my gaze affecting her, the shapes of her nipples rising right before my eyes.

“I really want to thank you for seeing me like this,” she exhaled. “You don’t stay at your office this late every evening, do you?”

“Not too often,” I replied. Actually, almost never. I’d tacked Rosita onto the end of Tuesday’s schedule so that Carlotta would be gone, leaving me free to improvise without any fear of my receptionist hearing or seeing anything out of character.

“You’re so… incredibly kind,” Rosita said, a little dreamily.

“Tell me where your difficulties are, Rosita,” I started as usual, drinking in the inspiring volume of her tits.

“I feel like I’m having a relapse,” she confessed. “I keep… I’ve been having these intense cravings.”

“For drugs?”

“Oh no, not that. These are, um… They’re different.”

“You’re talking about a craving for men?”

“Yes, men. Or… really only one man. I keep seeing myself with this one man, and it’s… I’ve never felt like this before. I fantasize and I… I can’t stop!”

“Can’t stop fantasizing?”

“I’ve been masturbating, Michael. Masturbating like crazy. Like… I never thought I could.”

“And it’s beginning to feel like another addiction.”

“Yes! Because I just can’t help myself, or stop!”

“You did say that it’s been some time since you had a lover. Perhaps this is only a natural reaction, Rosita. You’re a beautiful woman, with such immense… charms. You tease men for a living, absorbing lustful stares for hours on end. It must be hard having so many men showing their interest in you when you dance, yet withholding yourself.”

“Yes, hard, but never like this! And I really only care if this one man finds me sexy. I need him to… want me.”

“I’m sure there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t be drawn to your beauty, Rosita,” I said, allowing my eyes to glide along her cleavage. Her bouncing foot bounced more and I moved my gaze to her lovely tanned legs. She squirmed in her chair, one of her hands crossing a huge breast to play with the bottom of her necklace. She was drawing my eyes back to her delicious tits, which I’d made particularly sensitive to my staring in our previous session.

“I get… so hot… even talking about this. I should… stop…somehow…”

“Sex talk is definitely permissible within these walls, Rosita. As long as it’s your truth.”

I noticed how her forearm was blocking my view of her left nipple, which had to be as insanely hard and prominent as the one I could see. Twisting her necklace as she was, she was probably secretly rubbing her nipple with the inside of her arm. Her foot was wiggling more, too — in fact, her legs were restless pretty much everywhere. How long before the woman began to masturbate right in front of me, or leaped out of her chair to shove her rack in my face?

It all came flooding in, the much, much stronger commands I wished I’d shoved into Mira’s psyche when I had the chance. Here, almost ready to beam orgasms through her eyeballs, sat the kind of woman I’d sighed over ever since I knew what a hard-on was, and I had her wriggling in my office like a fish on a dock. Even her breathing fit the image — it was ragged, and rapid, like the air could no longer bring enough oxygen inside to feed the fires burning in her pussy and tits. I had her hooked the way Grace dreamed of hooking Lucinda, and the way I might like to hook every hot-bodied woman in my life.

It was more than the control that made my cock want to scream. Jacking with Rosita’s inner psycho-sexual anguish was like the ultimate form of foreplay, and I felt as though I had just now discovered what real sex was, and what it could be, and how badly I wanted it. By sticking my hard-on inside of Rosita’s mind, I’d made her simmer for days, as though my dick followed her everywhere she went, poking at her huge tits and stirring the juices of her pussy, invisibly cooking her from the inside.

How far could I take this? Having a beautiful, horny client hot for my dick might be all kinds of things, but it was not in itself grounds for losing my right to practice. To actually fuck a client, though… This was new territory, and it was an extremely dangerous place to be.

It struck me then, how my profession was referred to as a “practice”. I already knew that I was going to practice on Rosita Bello — there was no chance in hell that I would miss this opportunity, not with those huge tits crying out for my mouth and cock. I looked at her, but in my mind I could also see Mira. They were more different than alike, but the state of horniness I’d like to get both to experience was pretty much identical. Mira’s husband was due to fly over the horizon in the morning, but that left this evening and night to spend as I wished. Everything I did to Rosita here, if successful, could later be aimed at Mira, if I could only get her under my power again. Lucinda and Grace were also due for additional manipulation, and there could be others to immerse in the future.

As they say, practice makes perfect.

“Rosita?” I continued, projecting compassion and authority. “There’s something you aren’t admitting. You feel that you can’t become this man’s lover, despite your extreme desires. I know I’m right.”

“Oh God! You… know!”

“This man is married, isn’t he?” I intentionally misfired.

“No! No, he…”

“You’re falling for some controlling lowlife again, right when we need you to…”

“No! It’s not like that! This man is kind and intelligent! I can trust him!”

“Or so you believe.”

“No, it’s true! I know it’s true!”

“Then why don’t you approach him about your feelings?”

“I want to. I’m dying to, but…”

“You’re afraid he’d have reasons to turn you down?”

“Yes! I don’t think I could bear it… Oh, this is so haaaarrrrd…”

And so was I, playing this little game. I knew she would fuck me every which-way if I just whipped out my dick while staring at her tits, but there were new hypnotic commands to impart.

“Let me help you with the new technique, Rosita,” I said, in my most trustworthy tone. “You need help finding the calm place in yourself where you can make this choice wisely, and from a place of strength.”

She nodded, but her eyes looked panicked, expressing the fear that she might lose her chance to get what she so desperately needed. It took some navigating, but I got her on the leather couch, her boobs looking almost ridiculously huge in the tight top, her skirt riding up her lovely thighs. This was the first time I’d attempted to lead a woman through her body with the scent of pussy already filling the air, and it took more time, the relaxation and the sexual excitement clashing. With persistence, however, Rosita finally succumbed to my voice, following it into that special receptive state where I could work my devious magic upon her tender psyche.

“Follow my voice up the insides of both thighs, Rosita,” I repeated, marveling at the shapes of her hard nipples. “What is it like between your thighs? What do you feel inside?”

“Oooooouuuuuuhhhhhhmmmm!”

Her raging lust was completely expected, since I’d made her feel this way. Nevertheless, this raw vocalization of her horny state was like a jump-starter for my cock, and I couldn’t resist unzipping my pants to pull my king snake out of its lair. I lightly stroked it as I continued.

“Can you express what you feel between your legs in words?”

“So… incredibly empty and… boiling, craving… neeeeding… Oh God, I need… Michael… to fill my emptiness.”

Music to my dick. “You know you have to fuck Michael, Rosita.”

“Yes!”

“Your need will grow and grow, and you’ll have a total meltdown if you don’t fuck Michael.”

“Uhhh! I…”

‘Your breasts ache for him. All of you aches for him, because only Michael’s cock can fill the deep, deep emptiness you feel in your pussy. You desperately need Michael’s cock. You have to have Michael’s cock.”

“Yes! Michael’s cock!”

“Your life is not complete and can never feel complete unless you fuck Michael.”

“Uhhh…”

“Your emptiness feels like a terrible pressure, and your only hope for relieving this pressure is to feel Michael’s hard cock touching your breasts, and filling your mouth, and slipping inside your pussy. Michael’s cock is your Ultimate Pleasure Tool — nothing can heat you up like your desire for Michael’s cock. Nothing can make you explode like fucking and sucking and teasing and pleasing Michael’s hard cock. You’ll never stop needing Michael’s cock.”

“Oh! Oh give it to me… I need… to fuck Michael!”

“Michael’s cock can give you orgasms like you’ve never even dreamed of, Rosita.”

“Ohhhhh… pleeeeaaase…”

“But Michael can’t fuck you, Rosita.”

“UH! No! No!”

“He’s your therapist, and your therapist cannot fuck you.”

“I know! Ohhhhh… pleeeeaaase… Find some way…”

“You know that Michael loves your body. He desperately wants to touch your special breasts.”

“Ohhh… Michael…”

“You know how beautiful you are, and how Michael lusts for you. He is kind and compassionate, and he wants to alleviate the terrible emptiness in your pussy. But he is your therapist. It tortures Michael that he can’t fuck you. You want to help him and he wants to help you, but he is your therapist, and there are risks for him. It would be a horrible thing, for Michael to show such compassion by fucking you, only to have it harm him in some way.”

“Can’t… harm…”

“To get Michael’s hard cock, and to help him touch your special breasts, you must wish to protect his reputation as strongly as you wish to fuck him.”

“Uhhh.”

“To feel Michael’s cock completely filling your emptiness, you would have to keep it a secret forever.”

“I’d… keep it…”

“Under no circumstances would you ever let it be known that Michael helped you in your desperate situation, by fucking you while you were his client.”

“Uhh…”

“Michael’s cock aches for you the same way you ache for Michael’s cock. You can understand his pain. You could ease the intense pain in Michael’s cock, by being his enthusiastic lover.”

“Yesss…”

“Michael is a kind and intelligent man, Rosita. You trust him, and you want him to trust you.”

“So… kind…”

“Can you wish, above all else, to make Michael’s cock happy, and to reward his compassion by protecting his secrets?”

“Oh yes! Yes!”

“Then follow this voice, Rosita. Follow it deep inside your boiling pussy. Are you there?”

“Yesss!”

“Whenever Michael stares at your breasts or pussy, your excitement grows. You’re so horny, Rosita. Sooooo horrrrny…”

“Uhhhh! Michael!”

“To get Michael’s cock, you need to pull your panties down your thighs, and play with your boiling pussy.”

She reacted at once, and I leaned in close to watch. Her panties were pale blue, and damp, and the pussy that became visible couldn’t be any wetter. Rosita’s thighs eased open, her fingertips lightly flicking.

“Your left hand on your right breast, Rosita. Pull the neckline of your blouse aside, and reach in, to play with your nipple.”

The movement of all that tit-meat nearly had me ready to launch. I gave my cock a final stroke, then stuffed all of that hardness back inside my pants, and zipped up.

“You will slowly begin to ease out of your trance, Rosita. When you see how excited Michael is from witnessing your masturbation, you will not be able to resist seducing him. Do you understand?”

“Oh yesss…”

“And Michael will let you seduce him. Tell him to follow you to your apartment, where you can fuck. Fucking you will be Michael’s ultimate act of kindness. Others wouldn’t understand, but you do. You understand.”

“I… understand.”

“Keep playing with yourself then, and slowly come out of the trance.”

I sat down again, watching and listening as she played with herself. No longer responding to the technique, she began to pant, her big tits heaving, her fingers speeding up between her thighs. I could tell the moment when she became aware of where she was, and what she was doing, and who must be watching. Her head quickly tilted in my direction, her eyes wide.

“Michael! Oh no! I didn’t know I was…”

She brought her hands away from her body and sat up, reaching to pull her skirt back down her thighs. But then her eyes focused on the erection straining at my pants, and everything stopped. I stared at her panties and tried to look embarrassed, but I didn’t have to fake the near-dizziness I felt from being so goddamned hard. I could almost see the suggestions rolling through her mind and body, the emptiness she felt in her pussy like a cavern that free will had fallen into.

“Ohhhh…” she moaned. “Oh you poor man…Look at what I’ve done to you!”

“I’m sorry, Rosita,” I faked, staring at her tits to further undermine her mind. “You started to touch yourself and I… You’re so beautiful! I know it’s inappropriate… I’ll go into the reception area for a moment…”

I started to rise from my chair, and she intercepted me, the biggest tits I’d ever been this close to pushing into my middle.

“Ohh, Michael! Let me help you!” she exclaimed, a hand finding my hard-on and rubbing.

“I want to do this so much, Rosita,” I whispered back. “But I can’t.”

“I’ll do anything!” she began to plead, pressing in closer. “I’m… so good at this…”

I stared down at her compressed tits and felt her tremble like a volcano ready to blow. “I’m dying to, but…”

“Pleeeeaaaase! I’ll never tell a soul,” she promised, her other hand sliding up my cheek. I stared straight into the crack of cleavage created by her twin mounds, squeezed together as they pressed into me. She gasped from my gaze, the hand playing with my cock squeezing hard. “Oh God I want you to fuck my tits! We’ll… help each other! Oh please, let’s help each other! I need it! I need it desperately, and so do you!”

The hand squeezing my dick had fingers that knew how to work a zipper, and she went in after me, upping the ante. Her hips moved forward and somehow a huge breast slipped up and out of the confines of her blouse, a stiff dark nipple aimed for my mouth. My tongue met it, and tasted it, the softer surrounding flesh molding around my lips and cheeks. If I’d actually intended to resist Rosita’s advances, it would have been so hard, and painful, or perhaps impossible. As it was, I tried to make my eyes convey desire and indecision, pain and pleasure, horniness fighting conscience. Ultimately, I met Rosita’s pleading eyes and communicated surrender — not only to my lust, but to a great surge of compassion for the emptiness eating at her psyche and cunt. Filling my voice with feeling, I replied, “No one can ever know… that I did this for you.”

She seemed to swoon, surrendering her weight to my arms. Perhaps it was my incredibly sexy “nobility”, or it might have been a response to my right hand, which cupped her ass before burrowing under her skirt, finding the wet spot on her blue panties.

I stroked her hypnotized slit through the wet fabric, slipping around the edge to make first contact, gliding up the length of her, then probing inside.

“Ohhh!” she cried, her pelvis thrusting forward to drive my fingers deep. “Oh yes! I… need…”

I wordlessly reamed her pussy, wiggling my fingers in every direction. Her eyes went incredibly wide and I saw the orgasm coming, arriving quickly because she’d been boiling for so long. I smothered her mouth with mine when she came, doing my best to dampen the sound. It succeeded for a time, until her exhalation of breath proved too much, and I had to disengage. The last notes of her scream echoed off my office walls, and I could only pray that anyone nearby in the building would believe the voice to be one of therapeutic anguish, rather than a hypnotically induced orgasm.

For perhaps another minute, Rosita was dead weight in my arms. I left my inserted fingers right where they were, practically holding her up by her cunt. I felt her heart pounding through her tits, and her hips began to rotate, my fingers sliding around inside of her again.

“I need your cock!” she gushed. “I need it, I need it!

“We can’t do this… here.”

“Come to my apartment, then,” she answered, grinding herself into my fingers. “Just... follow me.”

We left the building separately, my dick like a nightstick in my pants. Hadn’t this adventure into big-titted cumdome begun with complicated ideas about the meaning of the word “following”? The word had represented so many complicated things to me before; now it was as simple as my aching dick following a set of taillights through the dark streets of the city, with hot pussy as my destination. Every stoplight meant several more seconds before I could take a wild ride on a great body, and every green light was a signal to go, go and fill the emptiness inside of Rosita that I’d exploited, in some ways even helping to create.

She lived in a second story loft in a neighborhood affectionately known as “The Groove”. Our hands were all over each other as we climbed the outside steps, slipping inside her door quietly like teenagers sneaking into their parents’ home for a night of illicit sex. I had just a few seconds to skim the surroundings of her apartment, and I saw what I thought I’d see, having absorbed enough accounts of her life to have already pictured it in my mind: a raised platform in the corner of her great room, with a plush chair placed close to a floor-to-ceiling gleaming metal pole, there to use for professional practice, or personal sex.

I was just beginning to grin when everything went pliantly, smothery warm. I’d never had a lover with really big tits before, and didn’t anticipate how quickly they could be freed from garments and moved into place, the place being my neck and the lower half of my face.

I did what you would do — I started licking and kissing, and brought my hands up to gather and squeeze as much as I could hold. I kept my eyes open, too, staring past the tip of my nose into Rosita’s boobs. I have no idea what she was like with previous lovers, but with the immersion suggestions coursing through her she became a groaning moaning tigress, clutching at my dick and trying to smother me with her tits while slowly pushing us through her loft to the place we needed to be.

I almost fell backwards when my heels reached the raised corner platform. She cupped my ass and ground her hips forward, urging me up the step and guiding me until I flopped back into the big soft chair.

“Everything off!” she demanded, unbuttoning my shirt with one hand while unzipping me with the other.

I was naked in seconds, my cock as hard and straight as the metal pole behind her. Rosita tore her blouse away and there they were, her two mega-orbs, strip-club huge and immersion technique hot, bouncing with enthusiasm as her pelvis began to rotate. She arched her back, her jumbo juggs thrusting forward, as two hands and one foot reached back to grasp the pole.

I got a dance. I got an up close and very, very personal, slippery- slidey pole dance. She left the turquoise skirt and heels on to begin with, her narrow waist supple and bendable like a belly-dancer’s, her oversized boobs blessed with a thrilling talent for parting to wrap around the pole, then meeting again on the other side.

I got a sense of the thrills that Rosita brought to her strip club every night she worked, but I could also see that the immersion suggestions were throwing her off her normal rhythm. She danced seductively, as she might in front of tables filled with adoring men, but then her eyes would zero in on my stiff cock, and her arms reached out as though groping to touch a savior, going against the tease aspect of her dance. She was a public snake-charmer by profession, but here in the privacy of her loft, with the commands fresh and suffusing her being, it was my snake in command, irresistible to her and mesmerizing her with its one-eyed stare.

Which brought her skirt and panties down perhaps a bit prematurely, her need overwhelming her wish to perform for me. I got a good cock- twitching look at her nude body writhing and trembling before me, and then she was in my lap, her pussy unerring in its aim. We both groaned as I slipped inside her wetness, and Rosita went fucking wild in my lap, her boobs smushing me, her hips grinding into me so hard that it was like she wanted the tip of my cock inside her womb.

She came before I did, her orgasmic screams aimed at the ceiling as her entire upper body bent backwards. She slipped off me and I thought I might have fucked her unconscious, but it was simply the fastest way for her boobs and mouth to get down and around my dick. On her knees she tit-fuck-blew me, my rod alternating between her tits and her lips. I came with my seed splattering onto the tops of both boobs, which she raised with her hands to lick up every drop.

We fucked three more times in that huge chair. I couldn’t get enough of Rosita’s monster boobs, and every time I stared at them her engines re-ignited. Her tits seemed to be on fire all night long, and it didn’t escape my attention that she never once let go of contact with my dick, whether we were fucking or not. It didn't matter if I was hard as stone or soft and spent, some part of her needed to touch or hold my dick. She couldn’t let go of it. She needed it, the way a child needs a security blanket. She needed it the way a hypnotized woman had been told to need it.

It must have been four in the morning when I allowed her to guide me to her bed, and her hands were wrapped around my cock the whole way.

“I’ve never felt so completely filled,” she whispered, her boobs conforming to the planes of my face. “I was so empty, and you completely fill me. I need your cock, Michael. I’ll… never stop needing your cock.”

Hearing my own words replayed through her mouth inflated my dick again, even after fucking her so many times. Once again I felt the walls of her hot pussy wrapping around me, and I fucked Rosita from behind, squeezing and kneading her pliant knockers, immersing my dick in this woman so immersed in my libidinous wishes.

When I came into her, I almost cried out Mira’s name. Even as I shuddered I knew that it was now Wednesday morning, the morning that Taylor Cassidy boarded a plane, leaving his hot-bodied wife all alone. It was Wednesday morning, the morning after a whole night of practice, for all that was to come.