As I’ve said, the last weeks of the summer were a sexual rollercoaster ride. With Natasha’s penchant for mischief and risky encounters, I never knew when an ordinary moment might erupt into an unbelievably intense fuck-session. Every day was nerve-wracking in a way, but not so much that I was ever tempted to adjust her behavior in a different direction. I liked the tension. I liked the suddenness of being blown away by a woman who possessed the unpredictability and ferocity of a summer tornado. I liked the feeling that she could be anywhere, anytime, scheming and drooling over my dick, ready to pounce.
And the thrills were not limited to Natasha. It only took two days for me to try using the crystal on another woman.
My next victim was the hot-bodied girlfriend of my boss at the renovation job. I justified it all by reminding myself how much of a dick Jim had been on Friday, but the more important thing was that his girlfriend was a total babe. Her name was Kitten, which I hoped was short for Catherine. She wasn’t very bright and she had a ghastly voice with this annoying squeak (it might have been the cause of my boss’ short temper), but nature had compensated for these deficiencies by equipping her with fluffy blonde hair and a ridiculously hot body. At work that Monday morning, she showed up at out work site as she sometimes did, and I managed to show her the crystal in her Mitsubishi sports car.
She went blank just as Natasha had, and it was all I could do to keep myself from whooping with joy. I rattled off her instructions quickly, telling her that she was to feel a desperate need for a secret fling with me. She would ask me out today, and then find a way to drop by my house to pick me up at ten that night. She was to be cheery and horny and take me to a private place of her choice where we could be undisturbed for a good three hours, and she would orgasm every time I said the word “fuck”. Then, just for the hell of it, I ordered her to blow Jim within the hour whether he wanted it or not. I added a command that she have a spasm right when he let loose, a spasm that would cause her to “inadvertently” bite down in his dick.
The sequence got a little mixed-up — she hounded my boss for the blowjob first, and they had one hell of an argument before he gave in and they drove off in her car. It took three hours for her to come back to ask me out, because, as she phrased it, Jim “had a little accident” and had to go to the emergency room.
Everything went splendidly that night. We checked into a motel and Kitten’s body was all I had imagined it to be. I kept the sex normal for the first go-round, just to see what she would do. It was pretty standard stuff, but her pussy was tight and I loved her tits. She was no Natasha, though, so I was glad to have the trigger word to play with. I had a barrel of laughs watching her bounce on the soft mattress as I said, “fuck” over and over with my fingers in her cunt. I went much farther with it than I’d intended, mostly because it just cracked me up to hear that mousy voice screaming in ecstasy. I don’t know how many times she exploded — enough to lose her voice and maybe lose a few brain cells, and she didn’t have all that many to spare.
I had friends back then, whom I haven’t really mentioned because I don’t know them now and they didn’t play much of a role in these events. Anyway, I showed the crystal to a high school buddy named Mark, but of course I didn’t tell him what it was once I saw that he was unaffected. Oh well, only half of the earth’s population to fuck with. To compensate for my disappointment, I hypnotized Mark’s cute younger sister into giving me her first blowjob. I know what you’re thinking: How much younger was this girl? Come on — a guy would have to be a total dick to rob the cradle. Looking back like this, I guess I was already on the fast track to hell.
Because Natasha had Josh most days, I expended a great deal of my sexual energy during this time by experimenting on others. You can believe that I wasted no time exacting revenge upon Donna, the assistant manager at my old fried chicken job. I pretended to plead to get my job back, and the bitch actually believed that I was desperate. Predictably, she grinned evilly and told me to ask again in a week. If the situation had been real, I’m sure she would have strung me along all summer. It wasn’t real, though, and the second I got her alone in the corridor to the bathrooms, I flashed the crystal and worked her over. Though pretty, she was too icky to fuck, so I commanded her to cluck like a chicken and squawk loudly whenever things got really busy on her shift. The following week, I got food there several times at the evening rush, just to hear her go off. You could hear the really loud outbursts even from the drive-through.
Satisfied and emboldened, I next pursued this returns manager at the nearby mall, a snotty chick who had given me a hard time about returning a CD player a few weeks before. It was fun, using the crystal on a couple of tweener girls to create a diversionary scene in the store. Because of the chaos (I had them tearing each other’s clothes off), the returns bitch was left alone at her post for a bit. I said, “I’d like to return this” as I held out the crystal in the palm of my hand, and she instantly became putty to be molded. She was cute enough, so I made her walk out into the parking lot and blow me in my car. I wiped the entire incident from her memory and left her there, standing in the middle of the parking lot with my cum dribbling down her chin.
It was all so surreal, suddenly having this power to bring fantasies to life. Also surreal were my phone conversations with Cindy during that time. She was starting college in a new state, meeting new people, having all kinds of stimulating experiences every day. Me, I was fucking Natasha and torturing near-strangers, and I was beginning to wonder whether there were any limits to the things I could get away with. I couldn’t tell Cindy a word about what my life was like, and I remember her sometimes saying things like, "Be good", or "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do" at the end of our talks. She was telling me not to cheat on her, even though we’d agreed to keep things sort of open.
I wasn’t being good. I was doing things that she couldn’t do, and was cheating on her in ways that would probably make her sick. Was I a heartless monster to tell my girlfriend that I loved her at the same time that I was screwing Natasha and experimenting on other women? Of course I was, but what interests me now is how I seemed to be able to divide myself so easily back then, to believe in the definition of Cindy as "the girlfriend", and Natasha as "the irresistible mind-control fuck-toy", and any other hot woman as something like a cum-sucking lab rat. I could check out some great-looking stranger on the street and actually conceive of fucking her, only needing to arrange a private viewing of the crystal. I could see some gorgeous actress or model on TV and know that I might be able to have them dying to seduce me some day. I even thought of ways to get rich bitches to shower me with money, and I could have them forget all about it, or perhaps allow them to remember without any ability to tell a soul or stop themselves from giving me more.
I know how this all sounds, but hell — I warned you, and it’s the way it happened.
I got my first taste of the new commands I’d placed into Natasha from my mom, after she came home from a clinic fundraising gala one night. Apparently, Natasha showed up in some kind of micro dress and spent most of the night hardening the cocks of the well-to-do.
“I thought she was being clever at first,” my mother said. “I mean, you should have seen the way the checkbooks were flying open as she sauntered around the ballroom, working on her victims. But then… I don’t know, maybe the divorce has her drinking. She… Well, it became almost… pornographic, I don’t know what else to call it. The way she wrapped all of those men around her fingers… I thought she might leave the event with several men clinging to each arm, but she went home alone, and she was crying. I hope she’s okay.”
She’d be okay as long as my dick was a part of her life. Pleased to hear that things were going so smoothly, I sneaked into Natasha’s house several times when she was away at work, delighting in the sexually charged entries in her diary. A penis pulsing description of the fundraising fiasco made for excellent reading, but that was far from the only entry of its kind. She felt like a walking, talking, ticking sex-bomb, and couldn’t keep herself from wearing short-shorts or tight tank-tops out in public, or flirting with some of her yoga students, or bending over to give certain men a good long look at her cleavage, or any number of other impulsive behaviors. She found herself flirting with her divorce attorney — a married man — giving him painful hard-on’s as they worked on finalizing her divorce arrangements. She got him to the point where his shirt became soaked with sweat, and ended fondling his cock, and pulling it out to give him an old-fashioned deskjob blowjob.
She wrote of her frustration — and his — when she froze with her lips only inches from the poor guy’s swollen meat. She described the state that came over her as a sudden, all-enveloping feeling of existential hopelessness, through which nothing could penetrate, especially some man’s dick. She blue-balled the lawyer and rushed home, despairing, only to have her body and spirits come alive again in her bed when she imagined a scenario where she fucked me in front of her yoga class.
I learned that one of Natasha’s girlfriends set her up on a blind date with some doctor. The diary described how she blasted her sex jets on the dance floor of some club, raising the temperature in the entire building by several degrees. She had her hands in her date’s pants part of the time they danced, but this time it didn’t even get to the point of total failure. They started to neck in a corner booth at the club, but any time she started to get hot, she would find herself wishing to leave, to ambush me for sex or hurry home to masturbate while imagining having sex with me. She felt so sexy, and so desired, but totally obsessed with fucking me. She felt like she could never get enough sex from me. She felt as though thrusting her body at me was the only thing that made her feel truly alive. She felt like she was going kind of crazy.
And she acted pretty crazy sometimes, and I didn’t have to read about it to know. I vividly remember one Sunday night right before I started college. It started out so unremarkably, with me in the kitchen chopping vegetables on a cutting board, helping my mom prepare dinner. Orange light streamed in our kitchen window and I was probably daydreaming about sex with Natasha or plotting some nefarious encounter with some skirt or another. The phone rang and my mom answered it. All of my senses switched to overdrive when I heard her say, "Sure, Natasha, I'll put him on."
"Hi, lover,” she began. “Is your mother still right there with you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"What are you two doing?"
"Just cooking dinner. I'm chopping vegetables."
"Oh, that's nice. You're very helpful around the house. You like being helpful, don’t you?"
"I guess so."
"It would be helpful to me if you’d let me suck your cock, Brian. I really want to suck your cock. In fact I’m dying to suck your cock.”
I was stunned into silence. Fuck, were those commands working!
"What would your mother think if she knew I've been dreaming for days about sucking your cock? Would she be happy for you?"
"Um, I could ask."
"I never drank Lester's cum once we were married,” she confessed. “He always wanted me to but he was such a tyrant, so I'd never do it for him. And yet all week I’ve been dreaming of drinking your cum like a milkshake sucked through a big fat straw. Does that make me a bad person, Brian?"
"Uh, I can't really say."
"I went grocery shopping today wearing a pair of cut-offs and a really tight top. There was this young man following me around, pretending to shop but really just staring at my body. I put on a show for him, reaching high for things I didn’t need, yawning so that I could stick my tits out… But the whole time I was thinking about unzipping your pants and taking that huge thing of yours into my mouth, and doing whatever it takes to make you cry for mercy. Why do you think that is, Brian? Is it because your cock is so big and beautiful? Is it because it turns me on so much to see you cum? Or am I just getting more generous in my old age?"
"That does sound really... generous," I replied. My mother was looking at me curiously and I was getting extremely hard.
"Generous. Yes, I can be generous by talking, or doing other things with my mouth. I can do anything with my mouth, Brian. You know that."
“I sure do.”
“I needed all of my limbs unfettered to perform some of my most difficult circus stunts. I’d hang from my scarves high above the crowd, using my legs to create momentum and drawing flowing pictures of dragons and demons with a set of other scarves that I held in my hands. How do you think I did that, Brian? How could I stay aloft with all of my limbs otherwise occupied?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied, feeling my mother listening in.
"I hung in the air from a scarf in my mouth,” she answered. “God, I have a talented jaw and mouth."
"Yes, you do," I replied, goosebumps forming all over my body. As far as I knew, Natasha was alone in her level of oral talent, able to give blowjobs like no other woman on earth.
"I'll bet you're hard for me right now," she teased.
"You are so right."
"I'll bet your dick is so hard that your mother has noticed."
"Maybe."
"You can tell your mother that I'm feeling desperate to suck it if you want."
"Uh, I'd rather not say."
"Then tell her that I'm lying in my bed right now, taking my shorts off. Tell her that I'm slipping them down my silky thighs so I can finger myself through my panties. Oh, yes... Ohhh God… Tell her that just listening to your voice is making me so fucking horny that I might explode right here on the phone. Tell her that my panties became damp the second I heard your voice on the line. Tell her all of those things for me, Brian," she suggested, her voice full of heat and mischief.
"I... I don't think so," I said. I thought I was going to faint from the pressure building in my jeans, and it occurred to me that it wasn't a smart thing to be gripping a knife while feeling faint. I put it down, slowly.
"Am I frightening you?" she asked.
"A little."
"But I'm also turning you on like crazy."
“Definitely.”
“I wish I didn’t have Josh tonight,” she sighed. “We could test the limits of your endurance. It's being young that helps you with that, but it's also that I know how to get you hard again. I don't care how many times you explode, I'll bet I can get you hard again."
I didn't answer. She was killing me.
“Oh well,” she said. “Gotta go. Bye!”
Her abrupt sign-off was like the needle being scraped across an old record player. I was so horny that I could barely spin some cover story for my mom’s benefit, that Natasha had a new project for me to work on at her house. I went upstairs to my bedroom to get my car keys. I’m not sure what I would have done — cruised the mall to make some cute girl blow me, probably.
Anyway, I opened my bedroom door and almost screamed. There she was, her body bursting out of a tiny red teddy, fingering her pussy and filling my room with the scent of sex.
“Surprise!” she whispered.
"Jesus Christ!" I began to shout, turning my shock into a fierce whisper about halfway through. All of my nerves seemed to scream at once. It was like the old baby-sitter horror idea turned on its head — you know, “The call came from inside the house!”
Natasha looked, if anything, even more devastating than I remembered. Maybe it was the context, her nakedness right there on the bed I’d slept in since I was a kid. It all seemed to amplify her physicality, making every delicious curve or muscle stand out in even greater relief. She stared up at a poster on my wall, a cheesecake shot of a popular model in a bikini. Natasha broke out into a knowing grin and shifted her body into a display pose with her arms crossed under her breasts, compressing them together. She was sexier than this supermodel that men all over the world lusted for, and she knew it.
I took all of this in with my adrenaline pumping, partly from lust, but also from confusion and nervousness. My mother was downstairs, but I had something even more distressing to worry about — Natasha had been lying to me on the phone!
She was on her feet and pushing me against the closed door before I could react, pressing her mouth to my lips and grinding her hips against mine. I felt her heavy breasts spread against my ribs, and seconds later her fingers were digging into my pants.
"Why aren't you naked?" she hissed. "What if we only have a few minutes?"
I locked the door, turning to hold her narrow waist and kiss her huge tits. When she began to moan softly, I lowered my right hand down until I could slip my middle finger inside of her. Natasha's body trembled and tensed, then she leaped up, wrapping her legs around me.
"Get in that chair!” she insisted, pointing to the swivel chair by my desk.
"The chair?"
I began to sit but then she pushed me down into it, quickly removing my pants and underwear.
"This chair goes up and down, doesn't it?" she asked. "And let's bring this, grabbing the pillow from my bed. “We're going to need it."
Natasha straddled my lap, her legs spread wide. I had a vision of us using the height lever of the chair for the up/down thrusts of our lovemaking, but that was silly. Natasha positioned her feet on the floor just so and then asked me to adjust the height of the chair to bring my cock inside of her. It took a couple of adjustments to make contact exactly as she wanted, and then I discovered what she had in mind. All I had to do was sit still while she stood with her legs locked tight, and she brought herself up and down my pole with nothing more than the muscles in her calves and feet. It was tip-toe fucking, as steady and rhythmical as a metronome.
"You're tense," she observed. "You're afraid that your mother will catch us fucking."
"She could knock on the door any second," I whispered.
"Ohhhh..." Natasha sighed, her pussy clenching around my dick more tightly. I moaned and got the idea to swivel the chair slightly.
"Yes!" she hissed more loudly. I didn't know how she was able to do it, but her foot/calf-flexes doubled in speed, sliding my cock inside of her with a delicious insistence. I put all of the attention of my hands on her rock-hard nipples, pinching them and rolling them around and around.
"Give me the pillow!" she demanded. I grabbed it and handed it to her. I don't know what I'd thought she would do with it, and watched as she bunched it up and just held it there in her hands.
I couldn't have been more excited, but I was trying to puzzle things out, too. I’d specifically instructed Natasha to be truthful with me, but her presence here, deceiving me, meant that the command had failed somehow. And what would the consequences be if my mother discovered us fucking up here? What we were doing was crazy. There was every reason to believe that we might get caught...
And then it came together for me.
"I think I hear my mother on the stairs!" I lied. "She's going to catch us!"
Natasha's breath quickened and I felt a tremor rippling deep inside of her. She brought the pillow to her mouth and I knew I was right.
"She's outside the door!" I breathed. "She's listening!"
Her eyelids fluttered and her vision turned inward towards her sexual bliss, just like that very first night. You might think that she wasn't there any more, but her body's drives only intensified, and we entered into another gear together, a fuck overdrive that caused me to literally see stars for a few seconds. Natasha added knee bends to her choreography while I swiveled the chair back and forth even faster. Everything seemed to vibrate and go electric from my toes to my fingertips. I was just seconds from cumming, and Natasha looked like her body was about to burst into flames. Her eyes stopped fluttering and suddenly went wide, and her cheeks and chest flushed a deep shade of red. I could feel her pussy tighten, and right at the moment that I could see her going over the edge I whispered, "Oh Christ, it’s her! She sees us!"
She screamed her orgasm into the pillow, her entire body shaking. The liquid spasms in her pussy were too much for me and I felt the flooding rush of my own orgasm rise and crest. Her big left boob almost seemed to come out of nowhere, smothering my open mouth right as I shot my load, and I cried out at full volume right into the depths of that beautiful mass of tit-flesh. I clutched Natasha's body tightly and we held onto each other for perhaps another minute before she disengaged and staggered over to the bed.
I joined her and we lay there, recovering. I had understood for some time that naughty behavior and the risk of discovery was like a volatile liquid that helped to fuel Natasha's lust. There was a pattern, a pattern that went all the way back to that story she'd told me about fucking that guy in his shower while his fiancé slept in the next room. And now I understood that I had inadvertently created a loophole in my hypnotic commands with her. I’d told her to always be truthful with me, but I’d also told her to engage in the sexual behaviors that turned her on the most. Lying and slinking turned Natasha on so much that one command had overridden the other. My first mistake? The consequences didn’t seem dire this night, but they could have been. I’d read enough comic books in my youth to realize that the situation was oddly familiar. How many times in some story had the evil genius “borrowed” Superman’s powers, for instance? Rather than instantly killing the weakened hero, the undisciplined villain gloats over his new powers and uses them stupidly, only to have them stripped away.
I had no powers of my own. They all belonged to the crystal, and if I acted out my whims without careful planning, I could find myself nowhere. Like Natasha’s old magician friend? He had been in possession of the crystal at one time, but where was he now?
I thought about these things as we breathed deeply in the afterglow, tightly spooned together under the covers. Natasha eventually confessed that Josh was away for a sleepover at a friend’s house. She told me that it had been hard for her to lead me on, pretending to be stuck at her home when she knew I was downstairs, my dick swelling in my pants from her teasing. She confessed that she felt like she might die if too much time went by without fucking me. I cupped a breast in my hand and listened, and thought, and planned. I must have drifted off to sleep like that, holding on tight.
Later in the night, I began to dream that a beautiful girl was sucking my cock. Loud slurping sounds and the feeling of blood stiffening my rod awakened me, and there she was, on her knees with more than half of my tool in her mouth. It was difficult, but despite the thrills and chills emanating from my crotch, I stealthily opened the drawer to my bedside table, and withdrew the crystal.
Natasha’s focus was so total that I literally had to position the charm right next to my cock to make her fall under its spell. She came to a complete halt in mid-suck, and I started to laugh, because what guy ever stops a woman when she’s giving him a scintillating blowjob?
A guy who can raise the stakes of the sex even higher, that’s who. A guy who figured that the only thing more exciting than sex with Natasha was to fuck with Natasha’s mind as well as her body
“Natasha, can you hear me?” I whispered.
“Mummzzz…”
“When I snap my fingers, you will continue blowing me with twice the intensity, without remembering that your blowjob was ever interrupted with my commands. You will suck my dick as though giving me an extraordinary orgasm is a matter of life and death, and every swipe of your tongue or suck with your cheeks will reverberate in your nipples and clitoris, driving you insane.”
“Mmmmnnn…”
“When I begin spurting, the taste of my cum will trigger the most intense orgasms of your life. But you can’t make a sound when you explode, do you understand? If you make even the tiniest cry, your pleasure will vanish, and be replaced by a feeling of complete emptiness in your pussy. Hollowness, a total sexual vacuum deep inside that you will feel desperate to fill.”
“Mo…”
“Yes. And only my tongue can deliver you, do you understand? Only the touch of my tongue. Anything else can intensify your need, but not send you over the edge.”
“Mwummm.”
I snapped my fingers and almost leaped up to hit the ceiling, the immediacy and intensity of her sucking was so extreme. The woman fucking hoovered my rod, almost like we were living in a fast-motion film. I tried to keep quiet but it was too much, and I started panting loudly, groaning just before letting loose. The sounds of Natasha’s super-sucking were far from quiet, but she didn’t moan or whimper, even though I could feel the trembling in her mouth, communicating the intensity of what she was feeling in her body.
I completely lost it when I lost it, screaming out an “Oh God!” The shaking in Natasha’s body as she came made the entire bed vibrate, and she was able to ride the enhanced tide in silence for a good ten or fifteen seconds. But the tasty reverberations proved too much for her willpower, and she whimpered, and that one whimper cost her, the sound quickly morphing into more of a sustained cry of anguished loss, penetrating my hard meat.
The next several moments were like a scratching clawing dream, the woman’s desperation turning her into a fuckbeast. She impaled her pussy with my still-hard pole, and fingered herself furiously with both hands while riding me, the bedsprings creaking and her tits swinging all over the place to the point that they slapped together in the middle, making a strange quick clapping sound.
She kept trying to fuck me and herself faster and faster, all to no avail, her frustration bringing her to the point that tears started to stream down her face.
“Natasha”, I said, although I didn’t know whether she could even hear me. “I think I know what you need.”
I had to use all my strength to push her off of me, because she couldn’t stop abusing my dick in an effort to make herself cum. I got her on her back and planted my head between her legs, giving her just the tiniest touch with my tongue.
“Ohgod! Ohgod!”
I used my fingers next, withholding the instrument of her deliverance. And then she began to beg.
“Oh please, Brian! Your tongue! Touch me with your tongue again! Pleeeeeaaaaaase!”
An itty-bitty swipe, just enough to have her thighs trembling around my ears. More begging, and then I went at her pussy with a vengeance, thrusting my tongue inside, bringing it out to swirl all around her clit. With her legs squeezing at my head so uncontrollably, I felt more than heard her next series of orgasms. They went on, and on, and might have gone on through the night if I hadn’t finally withdrawn my tongue from its duties.
She couldn’t speak or even move for the longest time. I had to move her body into a position where we could lie there together on my bed. No complaints, though. I was loving this.
“I can’t… I can’t…” she began.
She could talk again, but her thinking still seemed to be recovering.
I held her tight, cupping and squeezing one of her tits, taking deep satisfied breaths of air, the atmosphere of my bedroom absolutely saturated with the smell of pussy.
“I can’t… live without this,” Natasha was finally able to utter.
I didn’t think that I could either. Manipulating women — and Natasha in particular — with the crystal was just too fucking fine. The only possible downside to this situation that I could see was the possibility that it could end sometime in the future if I screwed up somehow.
I would not allow that to happen. No fucking way. Which meant that I had to do things right, and I could only do things right if I understood what could go wrong.
And so I encouraged her to talk. It started with her trying to describe the cravings she felt for my cock, and how I seemed to be able to read her needs so well, and how she could never get enough of sex like this.
Her words were music to my twisted ears, but I had an agenda. And so I said something about feeling that sex with her was pure magic, and with that word as a bridge, I steered things towards her old relationship with the first keeper of the crystal.
“You never told me about splitting up with Carlo,” I said. “What ever happened to him, and how did things begin with… with your magician friend? For that matter, what happened to him?” I asked. “And when did you meet your future husband?”
I could feel her hesitance to answer, but then she was under my commands to be truthful with me, and that must have helped.
“It was a painful time in some ways. I was still very much in love with Carlo. But then he had this… this terrible fall…”
She went silent for a bit and I allowed that. Had she seen it happen? Was she replaying the event in her mind?
“We all knew the risks we were taking. There were no nets, our ability to live another day depended on never making a catastrophic mistake. Carlo… It was such a shock. Of any of the acrobats, he was the one you’d never expect to fall. Even when he lay there, I though he’d get up somehow. But of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t.”
“He… died?”
“Not right then. Three days after, in the hospital.”
At that moment I almost regretted bringing any of this up. I held her more tightly, and stroked her hair. But then I asked her to continue.
“I met Lester two or three weeks later. And almost at the same time, I began my relationship with… with… with…”
“The magician?”
“Yes, with him.”
“Why can’t you say his name, Natasha?”
“I… don’t know. I know his name, of course. It must be… I don’t know. It’s been like that for some time.”
“Tell me about your relationship with him.”
”It was… complex. The relationship was purely professional for the longest time. We practiced together almost every day, so there were plenty of opportunities for… him, to make advances with me if he’d wanted that. I always knew he thought I was beautiful, and, well… He was charismatic and I found him attractive, too, but I never really expected to make love to… to him. But then I met Lester, and went out with him while the troupe was performing in Paris.”
“And you and Lester became lovers.”
“Yes. I became all… excited. Not so much by Lester, but by the idea of seducing… the other, on the side. I don’t know why I get so turned on by the idea of sneaking around with the risk of getting caught in the act, but I do.”
Yes, I’d seen that side of her and I was even fueling it. But I needed to keep her on track. “And then… What? You married Lester and just said good-bye to the magician?”
“No, not exactly. He disappeared.”
“Disappeared? What do you mean? Disappeared like magic?”
“I never knew. He just… disappeared.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
Her brow furrowed, but the words came out. “Because he’d gotten me pregnant.”
Well holy shit.
“Josh is… his,” she said. “Lester never knew.”
I felt like something was being revealed here, something I should know. Only it remained hidden. I didn’t even know what questions to ask.
“My magician lover gave me several things,” she continued. “He helped me to see this side of myself, the side that loves to mix risky behavior with sex. He gave me Josh. And he gave me the stone that you’re keeping for me.”
“He just… gave that gem to you one day?”
“Not quite. I found it among my things after he vanished. It had always seemed so special to me, since he’d used it to hypnotize me so many times. He must have left it for me to keep.”
Curiouser and curiouser. How could she have found it without succumbing to it? Did the crystal need a male owner to make it work? And why would Anton leave something like that behind? He wouldn’t, I concluded. He was probably dead, just like her acrobat lover. We lay there in silence a good while longer, until Natasha showed signs of leaving by putting on her bra. I surreptitiously reached under the pillow, where I’d placed the crystal, and drew it out to halt her exit. I bolstered her programming then, telling her that she would always desire me, and never tire of having sex with me. I told her that our sex would always feel fresh and exciting to her, no matter how many times we did it. I told her to keep surprising me, and astounding me. I told her that she was in love with me. I told her that she would always be in love with me. And just for fun, I told her to chant my name in her mind when she taught yoga. I told her to whisper my name every time she put on or took off her bra, and that what she referred to as “her big twins” were now to be thought of as “Brian’s perfect pleasure pillows”. I told her to scour the city’s sex shops for the biggest dildo she could find, and name it “Brian 2”, to be used when she masturbated late at night with my image filling her brain. I told her to write her masturbatory experiences, in detail, in her journal with one hand while the other hand tended to the needs of her body. I told her to smear her cunt juice on the pages of her diary every time she brought herself off when thinking of me. I’d been wanting to try it, and this seemed like the perfect time to fuck Natasha with her mind not quite there. I ordered her to lie on her back with her legs spread high up in the air, and I fucking roto-rooted her pussy, keeping my eyes open to watch the little flickers of body awareness pass through the muscles of her face. She was little more than a receptacle for my cock and my cum like this, but the tight wetness of her tunnel and the feeling of total control did the trick for me. I pulled out an instant before exploding and shot my load all over her mane of dark hair, wondering when she would notice that it was there, and whether she would wrack her brains trying to remember how it had happened.
Eventually released from the crystal’s spell, Natasha slipped out of my room and home before dawn. I showered and thought about all of the fine, fragrant journal entries I would catch up on some day.
I had an early breakfast, rather than even trying to go back to sleep. My mother was up early, too, and was strangely quiet. “I, um, heard you with someone last night,” she finally said.
I felt my face flush and I had a moment’s thought about showing my mom the crystal.
“It’s okay,” she went on, “although I’d thought that you and Cindy were… solid. Whoever she was, you two were quite…” She didn’t finish the sentence. “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” she finally added.
“I do,” I responded. And I thought I did.
“Brian?”
“Yes?”
“It might be time for you to think about getting your own apartment. No pressure, but… Well, it’s time, isn’t it?”
She was right. It was time.