The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I never remarried after my husband left me. People said I should find someone else, someone nicer, a man who would treat me better, but by that stage I’d had enough of being married to last me a lifetime. I was better off on my own, bringing up my baby son by myself.

I was slim and curvaceous. Everyone said I was highly attractive… that is, if a new husband was attracted to full, shapely breasts and a toned, curvaceous butt.

Even when Walt turned eighteen, and I’d reached the ripe old age of thirty-seven, I guess I still was ‘highly attractive’, the number of guys I had hitting on me.

My silky blonde hair and moist, plump lips and cornflower blue eyes were just as ‘drop-dead-gorgeous’ as when I was nineteen, but I wasn’t stupid any more, I wasn’t about to shackle myself to some sex-addict low-life for a second time.

Almost immediately after my husband walked out, my friends started saying I should remarry.

But no, I already had a beautiful little baby boy. My son Walt was such a cute little child he was enough ‘men’ for me.

To tell the truth I enjoyed being a single parent. It was nice having my son all to myself without my asshole husband poking his nose in. It was satisfying watching my little Walt grow up to be a hunky eighteen-year-old.

Who would have believed it? My little baby boy! My cute little toddler! At eighteen years of age Walt was six foot two! My hunky son was two hundred and fifty pounds of all-male muscle! He had a handsome face many film stars would envy!

Walt proved to be extra brainy too. In fact, my son turned out to be a bit of a technological wizard! He topped his class in computer science and software coding. There was nothing Walt didn’t know about radio-wave technology and 2.4GHz and 5GHz frequencies. From his early teens Walt was always fixing people’s phones and computers for them and coming up with algorithms he hoped to one day sell to major communications corporations.

No. I’d made the right choice. There’d never been any need for me to get married again and shackle myself to some slimy specimen of male sleaze, not when my beautiful boy had grown up to be such a handsome young man.

There was always plenty to keep me occupied. From day one I found ways of keeping myself busy. I joined a book club. I signed up for yoga and pilates. I went running every day. I kept myself fit with aerobics. Perhaps the running and aerobics were why I’d managed to keep my teenage figure even when I was thirty-seven, except for a little extra weight around my hips and a slightly fuller butt that dumb guys called ‘bootylicious’ when they pestered me.

I kept my mind busy too. I studied American History at the local adult education institute. I read up on organic gardening. I produced delicious organic vegetables in our back yard. I think a healthy diet was part of the reason Walt had grown up so big and strong.

Above all, however, the most important factor in my being a successful mother and living a successful life was maintaining a clean mind in a healthy body. I’d always been an upright sort of person with a clear set of moral values. I only drank alcohol at Christmas and on occasional festive occasions. I didn’t smoke. I never went to wild parties, only the polite gatherings of my friends. I always dressed modestly in the conservative outfits befitting a woman in her mid thirties. And as for the lurid things my husband used to try and make me do in bed with him, I’d put all that well behind me.

The activity I liked most of all was shopping. Especially online shopping. I much preferred shopping for my clothes on my phone to trailing around the malls being hassled by salesgirls to try on this or that outfit. I always seemed to choose more wisely online. Alone with my phone I could always find becoming outfits that fitted me perfectly. In fact, I became quite an aficionado of BestBuy.com and Mango.com, GapInc.com and Urban Outfitters.com. It was always satisfying, feet up on the couch, my body aching voluptuously after a run in the park, spending relaxing hours thumbing through special offers, summer sales and online catalogs for the next exciting bargain. And then, of course…

… The delicious pleasure of waiting for the delivery person’s ring on the doorbell…!

So when my phone kept cutting out every time I clicked on my favorite shopping app and I needed someone to fix it, it was only natural I should hand my i-Phone over to Walt, for my son to have a look at. As I say, my son was a genius when it came to cellphone technology and hi-spec computer chip programming.

Walt had always been a nice, helpful boy. He gave me his usual cheerful smile.

“Yeah. Sure, Mom. I’d be glad to.” He opened my phone at the back and looked at its battery and other innards. “It’s probably nothing major. Just the eSim or something.”

He took my phone off to his bedroom for further inspection.

Sure enough, after a few hours scrolling through i-cloud storage on his phone and doing complicated things to the eSim on my phone, Walt returned my phone to me with my favorite shopping app up and running again and somehow even more exciting to click on than before.

In fact, when I opened the app…

… I felt a click run up my spine…

… And a sudden tingle in my head. Walt must have recharged the battery too…

… A lovely mellow feeling passed through my whole body, from my toenails up to the tips of my silky blonde hair…

… The lovely mellow feeling went right through me and it was perfect for shopping…

… My eye for a bargain suddenly seemed sharper than ever. I clicked ‘buy’ with a new decisiveness…

My son smiled:

“Bettter, Mom? You getting a clearer signal now?”

I guessed I was. I’d never realized that there were varying degrees of signal clarity depending on your ‘eSim configuration’ as Walt put it. I’d always thought a phone was just a phone. The lovely mellow feeling was getting stronger and stronger. I’d never realized that one’s ‘user experience’ could alter so radically.

I murmured:

“Why yes, Walt. Yes I am. Thank you very much. I’m getting a much much clearer signal.”

My son sank onto the couch beside me. Walt had his phone in his hand too. He was such a technological whiz kid he was always on his phone, checking the football results or surfing the internet for cutting-edge phone technology sites.

Walt put his arm around me. We’d always been close. Walt and I had never tried to hide our physical affection for each other. Even now that he was eighteen my son enjoyed an innocent cuddle with his Mom on the couch.

He grinned:

“Feel good, Mom? Is it nice having you app back in full working order?”

I nestled against him.

“Yes, darling. It sure does. It feels wonderful! You’re great!”

I’d already bought a few items without hardly realizing. The lovely mellow feeling was getting stronger and stronger the longer I went on shopping. The tingle in my head was turning to a delicious, glowing light that made choosing really easy.

I purchased several sensational items straight off, one click, without barely having to even check the product details.

I’d never enjoyed shopping for clothes—my favorite thing—so much in my whole life. I knew I was on one of my online shopping sprees, maybe spending too much money, but it didn’t matter in the slightest.

Photos of outfits, lingerie, shoes, scrolled rapidly down my screen. In a split second I could tell which one would suit me and which one wouldn’t. My thumbnail clicking ‘checkout’ had never felt so swift and assured in my whole life.

Bargains rose up out of the morass of competing styles and prices, begging to be clicked.

Color coordination decisions flowed from my fingertips like tactile inspirations.

Worries about my credit limit vanished. I flipped from card to card.

Perhaps it had something to do with the new speed and clarity of my internet connection, or whatever it was Walt had done with my eSim configuration but I’d never had such an exhilarating shopping spree in my life.

My son stood up and stretched.

“Well. I’d best be off.”

Walt switched his phone off and shoved it into his back pocket.

… I felt another click run up my spine…

… The tingle in my head vanished…

… The lovely mellow feeling passing through my whole body, from my toenails up to the tips of my silky blonde hair sort of… switched off…

… The lovely mellow feeling was gone… but it was okay… my brain felt a bit blurry, but nice and relaxed too… I’d just had the nicest shopping experience ever, I was bound to feel a little tired…

… In fact, I stretched out on the couch and felt myself beginning to fall asleep…

… But it was alright… I had the pleasure of the delivery man’s multiple rings on the doorbell to look forward to, and seeing all the twinsets and pants suits and flouncy blouses and sensible shoes I’d bought.

The delivery men were on their toes. In a matter of days the first ring on the doorbell arrived.

I signed the chit and hurried into the living room with my parcel breathless with excitement.

Walt looked up from where he was stretched out on the couch:

“Delivery man brought a present for you, Mom?”

I was busy opening the bubble envelope. I blurted:

“… Yes… yes… it’s my…”

The company must have made a mistake.

They’d sent me the wrong item!

I hadn’t ordered this…!… whatever it was… I wasn’t exactly sure… there certainly wasn’t much of it…

Two ruche-d bands of red lycra with some strings attached.

I found the ticket. I felt my brow wrinkle:

“‘Backless Crisscross Cutout Deep V-Neck Halter’?”

Walt grinned:

“Sure, Mom. You must have ordered it!”

“… Ordered it…?” I held the skimpy thing up. “I never ordered this!”

Walt shrugged:

“You must have! Try it on!”

“… Try it on…?”

A halter? I’d never worn a halter in my life, at least not one as slinky as this!

I mumbled:

“… No… it’s impossible… there must be some mistake…!”

Walt took my phone. He flicked through my email inbox. He laughed:

“No. Here it is! Look! Victoria’s Secret. Backless Crisscross Deep V neck Halter! Thank You For Your Purchase. Here’s your receipt!”

My face burned:

“Well they can thank me all they like! I’m sending it straight back!”

Walt frowned:

“No. Go on. Try it on, Mom. Before you send it back. It might look nice.”

“… Nice…?”

I was appalled… but… Walt’s cheeky-little-boy smile was irresistible… I might as well humor him…

I pouted:

“… Okay… don’t look…!”

I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. I unclipped my sensible bra.

Walt turned away and carried on with his phone.

I slipped my full, jelly-soft breasts from the cups of my sensible bra and…

… Felt a click run up my spine…

… A sudden tingle in my head…

… A lovely mellow feeling passed through my whole body…

The halter fitted me perfectly!

The crisscross bands were narrow, the slinky black lycra didn’t cover all of my breasts, my sumptuous softness kept slipping out on either side, but then I do have particularly voluptuous breasts, at least they felt particularly voluptuous, straining at the silky tug of skin-tight spandex, my taut nipples pronging deliciously.

I murmured:

“… Mm-mmm… it does fit rather nicely…”

Walt was all eyes:

“Nicely? You look sensational, Mom! There’s no way you’re sending it back!”

A ring at the doorbell.

Another delivery!

The delivery man looked me up and down from my boxy denim knee-length round-the-house skirt to my Victoria’s Secret halter. He thought I looked nice too.

There were at least a half a dozen parcels for me to sign for! Christmas had come all at once!

I hurried back into the living room with my purchases, my heart beating like crazy.

I picked at sticky tape. I ripped at bubble wrap. I tore light-weight envelopes open.

A Kiki de Montparnasse Lech Moi Lace Thong.

“… Don’t look…!”

I put it on.

My skirt and sensible panties were gone. I’d never worn a real thong before.

I should really shave my pussy first, but I couldn’t wait. Some moist back curls squeezed out at the sides where the V of lace-edged gauze, red as my face, clung to my sumptuous mound. The lace-y waistband clung way too low. I pulled it up higher and the red G-string sank into my quaking vagina. My pussy was suddenly so wet elasticated lace simmered in helpless juice. I felt a strange new sensation between my legs. A nice sensation. It must be the mellow feeling percolating through my whole body. My thirty-seven-year-old pussy hadn’t been as wet as this in nineteen years.

My tail-bone kicked. My hot gash jerked and bucked… it was only the clicks running up my spine… it was just the warm tingles exploding in my brain… for a second I had to cross my legs and squeeze my thighs together hard… I’d forgotten what a climax even felt like…

“… Oh… oh…”

Walt surveyed me appreciatively. My son liked what he saw too.

“Turn round, Mom.”

I swayed giddily. I went up on my toes. I spun pirouette-style, showed him how the thong fitted at the back.

“Wow! Sensational! You sure got what it takes, Mom!”

I knew he was only flattering me. It was only a hunky eighteen-year-old son playing up to his Mom, making her feel better about herself.

One by one I tried on all my other purchases.

Fiorucci White Ripped-Denim Low-Waist Lace-up Mini Short Shorts.

The ripped denim crotch sank my juicy G-string deeper into my pulsing pussy.

“Sensational, Mom!”

Jimmy Choo, ‘AZIA’. Red Calf Peep-Toe High Heel Strappy Sandals. Five-Inch Stiletto Heel.

I spun on one heel supermodel-style.

“Christ, Mom. You were built to wear high heels, babe!”

Babe? It wasn’t a very appropriate way for an eighteen-year-old son to speak to his mother, but it was only Walt’s boyish exuberance.

A White Gold Gigi Baguette Ankle Bracelet.

What had ever made me purchase such a thing? But the anklet did show off how much slim toned leg there was from my Jimmy Choos all the way up to my mini short shorts.

Some rings. A Rabane Crystal Choker. And my ensemble was complete.

I walked up and down the living room.

I felt great. I felt absolutely wonderful. I’d never felt so good in my whole life. I sashayed up and down. I pirouetted before the mirror. Felt great? I looked great. I was on a catwalk in my own living room! I knew I was the hottest thirty-seven-year-old-in town!

Walt smiled.

“Okay, Mom?”

It was time to take my new outfit off and get back to reality.

Walt was already on his way out of the room. My son was heading for the door thrusting his phone in his pocket.

No fun lasts forever. It was time to get back to the real world.

I slipped out of the beautiful halter and put my sensible bra back on.

I buttoned my blouse all the way up to the modest flounces round my throat.

I wriggled out of my gorgeous hotpants and Leche moi thong and climbed into my practical panties and round-the-house skirt again.

My trainers were more comfortable than the Jimmy Choo high-heel strappy sandals but as I laced them up I missed that lovely tense wobbly feeling in the backs of my legs.

Choker. Anklet. I stowed them away nostalgically in a drawer.

When I was finished, back in my demure, everyday clothes, feeling more like my usual upright, moral, healthy-mind-in-a-healthy-body self I felt…

… A click run up my spine…

… The tingle in my head vanish…

… The lovely mellow feeling passing through my whole body, particularly in my quaking pussy and yearning breasts and taut tight nipples, switch off…

Reality reasserted itself. I was back in my everyday world. I wasn’t a smoking hot MILF model after all, sashaying up and down a living room catwalk.

I looked at my neatly-folded purchases with horror. My scalp prickled. What had I done? I needed to send every single item right back to the shop immediately! Except…

… My brain felt blurry… but nice and relaxed too… I suddenly felt tired…

… Tomorrow… I’d send them back tomorrow… after a nice sleep…

I woke from a dreamy doze at three o’clock.

Three o’clock?

It was time to go shopping.

For food and household necessities, not clothes unfortunately.

I was running late.

I needed some carpet shampoo as well as stocking up in toothpaste, shower gel and toilet paper. As a single Mom it was all up to me. Broccoli. Carrots. A side of lamb. I didn’t even have the ingredients for tonight’s dinner!

My round-the-house skirt was a bit faded and boxy for going out in. My favorite flouncy blouse had seen better days.

I was just getting changed into something more presentable when Walt walked in, phone in hand, scrolling through his latest Facebook messages no doubt. He glanced at me:

“Going out, Mom?”

“Mm-mmm. I’ve got some shopping to do.”

His beautiful dark eyes lifted from his screen, big and wide and bright:

“Why don’t you wear that new outfit you bought?”

I nearly dropped dead.

“That? No way! I don’t know what got into me! Spending money on all that trashy tat!”

Walt’s lips were extra cute when he smiled his quizzical smile:

“Trashy tat? You looked great.”

I blurted:

“No! Never. I’m sending them straight back to the—”

… A delicious click ran up my spine…

… Turned to a yearning tingle in my head…

… A lovely mellow feeling passed through my whole body, from my toenails up to the tips of my silky blonde hair…

I pouted:

“… Well-lllllllll… if you say so… if your really think I looked great…”

Walt grinned:

“I do! You looked stunning!”

The lovely mellow feeling was turning to a delicious, yearning heat percolating through every pore of my silky skin.

“… Really…?”

The corners of his lips curled in that bewitching way he used to have when he was a little boy and I caught him doing something wrong.

“Mom, you got a smoking hot body! Why not show it off once in a while?”

He was right. I was thirty-seven, but I still had a nicely chunky body. I certainly felt smoking hot.

I pouted:

“… Oo… well… yes… okay… if you say so…”

Walking through the mall, swaying on my five-inch heels, getting used to the slashed denim gripping my succulent split, accustomizing myself to my breasts slipping and sliding in clingy lycra, getting used to the lecherous glances men were giving me from all directions… I must admit, I felt okay… the mellow, floaty feeling carried me along… Walt said I looked good… Walt thought his Mom looked great… that was all that counted…

… Someone I knew glanced from a distant restaurant, did a double take… and decided that the big, bootylicious babe sashaying through the late afternoon shoppers couldn’t possibly be me, and went on with her meal…

I carried on with my usual household shopping.

Walmart for some steak for Walt’s dinner.

Costco for some new towels.

Target because their vegetables were fresher than the other outlets.

I wandered past clothes shops.

Macy’s. Bloomingdale’s. Nordstrom. Homely window displays of the demure sundresses and modest blouses I used to wear. It was nice just window shopping. Nothing in these stuffy, conservative outlets caught my interest.

My shopping bags were getting heavy. Potatoes, broccoli and avocado for Walt’s steak. Two pounds of apples, kiwi fruit for my son’s all-round fitness. My shopping was beginning to drag at my arms. I could feel myself getting blisters on my heels from my high heel strappy sandals. It was time get back to the car and head for home.

I exited the mall and crossed at some traffic lights.

I wandered through a maze of less and less familiar streets.

It was getting late.

… The delicious clicks had been running up my spine faster and faster, more and more deliciously, ever since I left the house…

… The light in my head tingled dazzlingly…

… The lovely mellow feeling from my toenails up to the tips of my silky blonde hair flowed like liquid electricity through my voluptuous body… the mellow feeling seemed to be doing strange things to my memory. I wasn’t exactly sure where I’d left the car.

I rang Walt to ask for directions—my son knew this downtown area well— but his phone was busy. My son’s number was engaged.

I was lost, but I didn’t really mind.

I decided to take a short-cut down a back street.

The back street was narrow but there were plenty of neon lights shining even this early in the evening.

It was a nice, easy-going street. It was relaxing to sashay down its narrow pavements after the hustle and bustle of the mall.

I felt at home. There were lots of girls standing around in the shop doorways dressed just like me in skimpy hotpants and tank-tops that left nothing to the imagination.

A man said something to me that I didn’t understand.

Strobe lights flashing in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped dead.

The window displayed little more than posters of pretty girls in bikinis, and merchandise specifications on un-illustrated signs. It was the most alluring window I’d ever shopped in.

The shop had a bead curtain entrance instead of the usual plate glass doors.

It was very strange.

How interesting.

Besides from the bikini posters the window merely displayed a list of items that I guessed could be purchased inside if one wished to purchase such disgusting things.

VIBRATORS

LOVE EGGS, whatever they were.

POPPERS. BUTT PLUGS. DILDOS. SPECIALIST VIDEOS.

I shuddered.

It was a sex shop.

Yes. There was a sign above the door:

SAM’S SEX EMPORIUM.

I shivered. It was the sort of shop I’d never go into in a million years. It was the kind of ‘emporium’ my sleaze-bag ex-husband used to haunt, where he picked up his sleazy ideas for all the stuff he tried to do in bed with me.

There was a list of what looked like might be services on offer as well as products.

PRIVATE BOOTHS.

RUB DOWN.

GLORYHOLE.

My scalp prickled.

Gloryhole? God alone knew what a ‘gloryhole’ was. Such a beautiful word, ‘glory’, coupled with the less savory ‘hole’.

Ugh!

Unstoppable clicks shuddered up my spine. The tingle of light in my head turned blinding bright. ‘Mellow’ turned to ‘ecstatic’. A floaty feeling quaked in my moist vagina.

I pushed through the bead curtain and went in.

Inside the shop, my ears were assaulted by a blare of raunchy music. My eyes were ravaged by row after row of the obscene artifacts advertised outside.

My head spun. The light in my head rippled outwards from my brain and bathed everything in a warm pulsing glow. The mellow feeling surging through my body was awakening luscious spasms in my succulent pussy.

I could see at once that the man behind the counter was a sleazy low-life. He was the same sort of randy waste of space my ex husband had been. I approached the counter and asked him:

“How much is the glory-hole?”

I didn’t know what a glory-hole was, but it somehow didn’t matter. I was only asking out of interest.

The man looked me up and down. He leered at my full, jelly-soft tits wobbling in my halter, at my toned bootylicious butt pouring out of my short shorts. I didn’t mind him leering. I was hot. Men are allowed to leer when you’re hot. He rubbed his lips together:

“Half an hour. A hundred bucks.”

Oh.

I see.

I understood.

A glory-hole was time related. It had something to do with the passage of time. How interesting!

Half an hour didn’t sound like very long so I said:

“I’ll take an hour, thank you… if that’s alright…”

I had plenty of money on me. I could feel the light in my head shining out through my eyes, making my blue irises even bluer and more lustrous. The mellow warmth was concentrating itself in my pussy mostly, more molten now than mellow.

The smiled:

“… That’s alright, doll…”

It was the first time in nineteen years anyone had called me ‘doll’ and that had only been when my ex-husband and I were first courting.

The man took my money and handed me a key. His eyes grew murky. He leered:

“… Down the corridor… first door on the right…”

I picked up my shopping and swayed in the direction he’d pointed me.

The corridor was dingy but I found the first door on the right no trouble.

So this was a glory-hole?

A door in a dingy corridor.

Two hundred dollars for a key to the door for an hour.

It seemed a bit expensive.

I pushed the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened.

The place I entered was more like a cubicle than what you’d actually call a room. The blindingly-lit space was rather cramped.

Florescent light glared down on flimsy, magnolia-white walls.

There were a couple of chairs, and that was it.

I deposited my shopping bags on the floor.

I sat down and crossed my legs.

So this was all there was to it? Two hundred dollars to sit in a white-washed cubicle for an hour? I decided to complain to the management… mind you…

… It did feel rather nice, just sitting here…

… It was only a cheap plastic chair but where my butt’s sumptuous softness escaped from its V of slashed denim, my naked ass-cheeks purred on the slick plastic…

… The florescent tubes were a bit glare-y, but the bright light seemed to be somehow massaging my luscious breasts through my fuck-me halter… in fact, my tail-bone was starting to twitch so deliciously I had to all at once uncross my legs…

The tingly light in my head kept showing me things. I hadn’t felt as hot as this since the night I conceived Walt.

I unzipped my short shorts. I decided to masturbate. If I was going to sit here for an hour I might as well have some fun.

I slipped my hand inside my thong. My pussy was sumptuously wet already. My hot slit slipped and slithered, yearning for my fingertips to come and help out, quick, quick. I churned my throbbing clit in a mess of sopping clit hood. Three fingers sank into my juicy fuck-hole.

“… Oh… oh…”

Opposite where I was sitting something slid through a round hole in the wall and hung down long and thick and relaxed on the whitewash.

I knew at once that it was a penis… I understood immediately that it was a man’s genital instrument… thick and raw and long enough to belong to a horse, but definitely a man’s sexual organ… an extra large male penis with a foreskin piercing… a gold ring like a gypsy might wear in his ear dangled from the thick, relaxed foreskin…

… I was appalled… but before I could scream…

… I realized…

… It was the most beautiful cock in the whole wide world… big and beautiful, and proud too, wearing the big gold ring that twitched on its thick tip with pride…

… It wasn’t nasty…

… Or thrusting at all…

… It was special…

… The piercing must have hurt when it was done, but this lovely big cock wasn’t scared of a bit of pain if it meant undreamed-of orgasms for some lucky girl…

… The huge penis was a beautiful relaxed brown color… the deep rich tan of pulsing masculine power… even in its relaxed state, the tip swelled out to a breath-taking thickness, the slick fore-skin an even more purple-y brown color than the shaft, a ripped spear-head relaxing before battle…

… For a second I almost thought I recognized the thing. But no, that was impossible. I hadn’t seen a fully-grown male penis in nearly nineteen years…

I slipped from my chair.

I slid to my knees, my short shorts gaping. It was too late to think of zipping up now.

I knelt before the heavy penis where it hung down the wall.

“… Mm-mmmmmmm…”

I touched its tip with my tongue.

I breathed dewy moisture on the big swollen spear-head. I flicked at the gold ring with my tongue-tip.

The whole penis stirred on the white-wash. Even hanging dead-weight all that gorgeous heavy meat began to pulse.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

I got my tongue under the heavy tip and lifted it away from the wall. The gold ring banged my teeth. The swollen spear-head throbbed as it slid into my mouth. It knew where it belonged.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

I heard a deep breath, a deep, male breath, get drawn in on the other side of the wall. I knew the penis had to belong to someone. A man. But somehow that no longer mattered.

I clamped its throbbing spear-head between my teeth. I plastered loving saliva on the tight piss-slit with my tongue. The gold ring stood up straight as the slick spear slid from its sheath.

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

The big cock’s swollen tip instantly grew heavier in my mouth. It liked me breathing on it. It appreciated me licking it. It savored my hot tongue flirting with its jewelry. It wanted my luscious mouth-meat to lavish more saliva on it. There was plenty of juicy moisture in my mouth, hot and ready for me to spread around with my tongue.

“… Argh… argh…”

The weight in my mouth grew bigger and harder and heavier. It throbbed deliciously. The thick shaft stiffened trying to get more of itself into the back of my mouth.

“… Argh… argh… argh-llllllllllllll…”

I was glad I didn’t know whose cock it was. Giving this beautiful big thing a face and a name would have been so-ooo embarrassing. I didn’t know who the penis belonged to but that didn’t mean that it didn’t understand me and I didn’t understand it. We understood each other. His cock and my mouth knew each other though and through.

“… Glurg… gla-aaaaaaarg…”

I knew at once that the thing wanted me to fit my lips around it tight and juicy where its spear-head swelled out from its stiffening shaft and massage it with my lips, give its thick tip a spasm bath with my juicy lips, the gold ring twitching in succulent wetness, till its full length was rock-hard and throbbing like crazy. I understood perfectly what this gorgeous thick penis wanted.

“… Glurg… gla-aaaaaaarg...argh-lllllllllllllllllllllllll…”

It was lucky my shorts shorts were unzipped. I didn’t have to waste time unbuttoning them.

My hand was already inside my thong. My fingertips quaked in slippery wetness. My wet clit was on fire. My taut tight trigger pulsed sensational messages all the way up my body to my yearning mouth. My erect clitoris told my tongue what to do. Smooth gold quaked in my wind-pipe. A slither of hot clit instructed my throat muscles how to give this guy’s gorgeous big cock exactly what it wanted.

“… Argh… argh…”

I could feel him on the other side of the wall, muscular thighs— the size of his cock, there could be no doubt he was muscular—pressed against the plywood to get more of his erection out and into my luscious mouth, his ripped abs pumping the wall.

“… Mm-mmm… mm-mmmmmmmmm…”

My tail-bone kicked.

My pussy jerked and bucked.

Luscious cream sieved between my knuckles. Helpless juice was drenching my thong. I stabbed three fingers again and again and again deep into my helpless wetness. I was having an orgasm. The first in many years! The hottest ever!

“… Mm-mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…!”

My head banged the wall. My forehead ground trapped blonde hair into white-washed ply trying to get the whole of him in my mouth.

I didn’t know what to do. A dreadful uncertainty gripped me.

Ecstatic spasms thrilled through my body. My wet gash went into rut. My hot cunt pulsed urgent demands up into my throat. I wanted him to cum. Whoever he was I needed to taste his hot semen. His cock was so big and gorgeous his semen was sure to taste delicious except…

… I’d paid for an hour…

… I’d only been in here ten minutes and I’d climaxed twice already…

… If he came in my mouth… His cock was so stiff and hard, twitching and leaping in my lips’ succulent moue, I could feel him rushing towards the brink too…

… If he climaxed I wouldn’t get my money’s worth… two hundred dollars, it was a lot of dough…

… My ex husband, Walt’s father, always hated it when I made him cum too quick. Walt’s Dad hated me when I made him shoot his load too fast. He used to slap me around. He used to have to smack my bootylicious butt red raw, to get himself ready again…

… The stud on the other side of the plywood— he was obviously an alpha male— couldn’t knock me around, even if I wanted him to knock me around. There was a wall between us. He didn’t know my face and I didn’t know his, there was just this sweet understanding that we were having a good time no strings attached…

I drew my mouth away. Strings of saliva and pre-cum stretched from my mouth down to his raw, throbbing spear-head, tying us together, my lips to his thick prong in delirious, juicy entanglement. His foreskin ring was drenched in spittle. I surveyed my handiwork.

I whimpered:

“… Oh fuck…”

I pumped it in my fist. Raw and slippery and rock-hard. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen iin my whole life.

A groan from the other side of the wall, a lovely guttural groan, deeper than I’d ever heard a man groan before:

“What’s that, baby?”

He was talking to me!

The dude on the other side of the wall was prepared to hold a conversation with me!

I didn’t know what to say.

I mumbled:

“… You’re… you’re beautiful… your cock’s so beautiful…!”

I wrapped my fingers round it. The rock-hard gristle felt even thicker than it tasted. I pumped his throbbing shaft. My hot fist slipped and slid on the contents of my throat up and down his pounding piston.

An even more guttural grunt:

“It’s all yours, doll.”

They were the sweetest words I’d ever heard. It was the most beautiful a man had ever talked to me in my whole nineteen, sorry, thirty-seven years.

I went crazy. My fist went crazy on his slippery shaft. I pumped the big explosion pulsing up his rock-hard cock. My thumb stroked his slippery piercing, spread luscious pre-cum round and round his gypsy ring, round and round his drumming piss-slit.

“… Oh… oh… oh fuck…”

I stuck it back in my mouth. I impaled my luscious wind-pipe gullet deep on his throbbing prong. I made a delicious O with my lips, a succulent wedding band round his swollen girth, and fucked his swollen tip with my luscious wind-pipe. Smooth gold slid up and down my throat.

“… Glu-uuurg… gla-aaaaaaaaarg… argh-llllllllllllllllllllllllllll…!”

My head bobbed up and down. I impaled my throat gullet-deep again and again and again.

“… Argh… argh…”

I gargled his thick tip, its quaking ring, in sweet throat honey.

I felt bad worrying about getting my money’s worth. This ecstasy was worth a million dollars. No money on earth could buy the delicious release spasming up my body, choking hard on his thick, rock-hard cock. I didn’t care if I never breathed again.

“… Argh… argh… argh-llllllllllllllllllllllllllll…”

His monster pemus wedged itself in my throat. I was swallowing his foreskin ring!

“… Argh… argh…!”

He went off deep in my wind-pipe. He exploded in my succulent gullet.

His throbbing spear-head pumped surge after surge of delicious semen deep down my throat, as deep as my very heart.

I choked and spluttered. I coughed up gag and spittle.

I felt totally confused. I was grateful that he liked me. I was glad that, whoever he was, I’d given him pleasure. But I suddenly felt lost and uncertain too, swallowing for all I was worth. His load was so big and hot and generous I couldn’t swallow fast enough, plenty was running down my chin and dripping on my halter.

It was hard when I finally pulled my mouth away. My lips didn’t want to let go. When I eventually released him his huge length stayed poking a long way out from the wall, more willowy and relaxed now than before.

I licked his warm sperm off my lips. I mumbled:

“… Well… erm… thank you… thanks a lot…”

I went to stand up. My thong was drenched. My knees wouldn’t stop trembling.

His guttural voice came out from behind the wall, somehow forced and unnatural, as if he wasn’t speaking with his usual tone of voice. Maybe he was shocked too by how big he’d cum:

“Where you going?”

Where was I going? I was going home. I was going straight home to try and work out what had just happened to me.

He growled:

“Aint had your hour yet, babe. Reckon a doll like you needs to get her full hour’s worth, ey?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I mumbled:

“… Hour’s worth…?”

A rasping laugh:

“You heard me. I’m all yours for another thirty minutes, sweetheart.”

How he knew I was a ‘babe’ I had no idea. The hole his cock was poking out of was no more than six inches in diameter and his penis filled most of it— his heavy spear-head was still swaying around a long way out from the wall—he couldn’t see my face. He could only see my mouth, maybe my hand inside my short shorts. There was no way whoever he was he could check on my being a ‘doll’, let alone a ‘sweetheart’.

I felt a sudden warm glow in my heart.

I was a ‘babe’. I was smoking hot. I was a ‘doll’. He made me feel like a ‘doll’! A total ‘sweetheart’. His big was cock hungry for some more of my mouth.

He grunted:

“Pump it for me, babe. It’s in love with you…”

My heart stopped beating. ‘Love’? ‘Love’ was the last word I’d expected to hear in this flimsy, florescent-lit cubicle.

“… My big cock wants to fuck your throat real good, gorgeous…”

My head was spinning. His semen was so filling and so tangy… and he wanted to give me some more…?

For a second I thought I almost knew the voice… but that was just the gravelly way this dude’s voice purred:

“… Pump it for me, doll… you pump real good… get me ready again and… tell me about yourself, why don’t you…?”

I stopped breathing altogether:

“… Tell you about myself…?”

His voice went low and gravelly:

“… Yeah… I wanta know… you sound like an interesting lady…”

Interesting? ‘Interesting’ was the last word people ever thought of when it came to me. I’d never been ‘interesting’ in my life, especially to well-hung dudes with gravelly voices.

I took his cock in my hand. It was easier to close my fist round his thick shaft than to think of anything to say. My fingers slipped and slid on raw gag and saliva up and down his stiffening length.

“… Well… I… erm…”

I realized what a boring person I was. My life had been totally humdrum and uninteresting. I mumbled:

“… I’m divorced…”

“Oh? Really? That’s interesting!”

Interesting? Maybe he was making fun of me.

I picked up pace. My hot fist ramped his pounding piston way down deep where his huge balls were thrusting to get through the hole. His piss-slit twitched and shuddered. I thumbed pulsing prec-cum round his swollen tip. His foreskin ring slithered in gag and semen. His rock-hard thickness leapt and bucked in my hand.

“… That’s it, babe… just like that…”

I told him about what an ass-hole my ex husband was.

He grunted:

“… That’s a real pity…”

I told him how I did yoga and Pilates and how I was interested in local history. His cock was rapidly reaching the point where I’d have no other option but to put it in my mouth again.

The wall wobbled where he was squashed against it. It was only plywood. He groaned:

“… Any kids…?”

My head spun. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to say. I panicked. Everything went black. Why did he ask me that? Why was he questioning me about ‘any kids’ in a sleazy gloryhole? I blurted:

“… No… no kids… I’m afraid… just me…”

There were some things that were just too private to tell him, even though the waves of pleasure thrilling through my body felt so wonderful.

I put his cock in my mouth:

“… Argh… argh…”

I clasped his throbbing spear-head in a succulent moue. My lips massaged voluptuous spasm after spasm from his swollen tip, felt the ecstasy welling up.

“… Argh… argh… argh-lllllllllllllllllllll…”

I slid sweet suction down his full pounding length. I impaled my throat on his pulsing prong. My forehead banged on plywood desperate to fit all of him into my famished mouth.

“… Glu-uuurg… gla-aaaaaaaaarg… argh-llllllllllllllllllllllllllll…!”

I wasn’t even touching my pussy. I didn’t even need to churn my clit. I spasm-d helplessly. The ecstasy gripped. I undulated in voluptuous abandon, kneeling on the cubicle floor, my luscious throat impaled on the thick spear-head pumping throb after throb of hot cum down my throat.

“… Gla-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarg…!”

I choked on tangy sperm. My gullet milked him helplessly. My succulent wind-pipe hoovered up every last drop of delicious semen pulsing from his big cock’s gorgeous tip. My throat didn’t release him, my plump lips didn’t let him go till I’d tasted all his life force, his heartbeat, every cell of his no-doubt fit body.

It was over. I’d had enough.

I staggered to my feet. My halter adhered wet and glistening to my jellying tits.

I zipped myself up. The V of slashed denim tightened into my luscious gash, drove soaking wet elastic deep into my helpless meltdown. I didn’t have the strength to clean myself up.

The guttural voice purred from behind the wall.

“… Nice one, babe… you’re the best…”

It was stupid, my heart fluttering at a complement like that—he didn’t know me from Adam. He was only saying it. He said it to every customer— but I couldn’t help myself, grateful wing-beats pounded in my chest.

His cock, relaxed now, but still extra long and thick, was sliding back up the wall, slithering back through the hole.

The guttural purr turned low and gravelly:

“… Why don’t you come again some time, gorgeous…?”

The guy at the counter looked me up and down as I swayed past, my shopping bags banging against my knees.

“Alright, darling?”

My face burned.

“… Yes… yes… thank you…”

I wasn’t sure what was happening. What the hell was I doing in here?

… The click ran up my body from my high heel strappy sandals to the tips of my lustrous blonde hair. A click like the tap of a fingernail on an i-Phone keypad quivered through me from head to toe.

… The warm tingle in my head vanished…

… The lovely mellow feeling passing through my whole body, the spasms in my wet pussy, the yearning in my sumptuous tits and taut tight nipples, the heady taste in my mouth switched off…

Outside it was dark. Neon signs climbed the blackness. Cars cruised past in clouds of lecherous gasoline. There were more girls out on the sidewalk than before.

I didn’t know where I was. I no longer recognized these garish streets.

The warm light went off in my head. The world stopped being lapped in lulling brightness. The lovely mellow feeling switched off. I was alone and aching in a hostile night.

My short shorts crotch felt damp. Why was my pussy wet and sticky? I was only walking from the mall with my shopping to where I’d parked the car. Why was my halter damp, my nipples standing up taut and tight like moist antennae thrusting at the night? I liked shopping. I enjoyed window shopping, but not enough to warrant these ecstatic after-shocks thrilling through my body, this delicious taste in my mouth.

Murky eyes leered at me. Gangster types looked me up and down.

A bulging halter and fuck-me short shorts.

What was I wearing? What in hell’s name did I have on?

Stiletto heels clicking on the pavement!

I never wore stiletto heels!

What was I doing in this disgusting outfit? I tried to think. I couldn’t. I needed to cast my mind back, work out what was going on, but my brain had stopped working!

What had I done? Where had I been?

I couldn’t remember. My brain felt soft and mushy. My mind was a blur, my memory a total blank.

What the hell had just happened. It was gone. I couldn’t remember a thing.

It took me a long time to find my car, stow my shopping in the trunk and head for home.

When I got home Walt was sitting on the couch watching football on TV.

He grinned. His dark eyes sparkled:

“Hey! Mom! Where you been?”

I felt even more confused than ever. I nodded at my shopping bags.

“… Shopping… I guess…”

Walt chuckled:

“You guess?”

“… Well… yes… erm… I suppose so…” I dumped my shopping on the floor. “… I just feel a bit spaced-out… that’s all… I must have over-tired myself shopping… and…”

My body went hot all over. I could feel myself blushing to the roots of my hair.

I screamed:

“… What am I doing in these revolting clothes…?”

Short shorts! Halter! Stiletto heels! I was dressed like a common whore! I looked like a slutty streetwalker lounging under neon lights.

Walt laughed out loud:

“Revolting?” His eyebrows lifted. “It’s not revolting, Mom. You look great.”

I was growing more and more baffled.

“… I look terrible… I feel terrible… I can’t understand it…”

Walt grinned:

“Can’t understand what, Mom? You look superb.”

I blurted:

“… Well I don’t feel superb…!”

I hated it when my son made fun of me, particularly over something as horrible as this slutty outfit, over the frightening gaps that were appearing in my memory. It was almost as if he found me attractive! It was almost as if my big hunky son, sprawled out on the couch, who’d known me all my life and knew I was a modest respectable woman, found me sexually alluring!.

I blurted:

“… And mind your manners when you speak to your mother…!”

I didn’t like the lazy way he was sprawled on the couch, manspreading, his legs wide apart, showing off the huge lump under his jeans zip.

I turned on my heel:

“… I’m having a shower…!”

I was back in my comfortable, modest clothes, back in the kitchen preparing dinner for my hunky son as I loved to do… but I still felt deeply disturbed, almost as if something terrible had happened…

I tried to remember what had occurred to make me buy that fuck-me, slutty outfit and, even worse, to go out shopping in it. Walt had fixed my phone… but beyond that I couldn’t remember a thing…

I felt queasy… over the last twenty-four hours big gaps had appeared in my sense of time… whole hours at a stretch about which I was unable to recall a single detail… except that weird things were happening to my body… and strange sensations were taking over my mind… weird yearnings I’d never had before… I’d come home from shopping in a terrible state, half undressed, my slutty thong moist and itchy, my pussy aching, a strange taste in my mouth… and yet… some invisible power had erased the reason for my terrible state completely from my mind and left only random, meaningless images… a gold ring quivering in the darkness… girls’ voices under neon lights… a bare white room…

I shivered.

The ghastly process had started just after Walt fixed my phone. But that was no explanation. My phone was working perfectly well now. Surely my son had nothing to do with this weird sense of unreality that was taking hold of me.

I wandered around trying to get things straight in my mind.

The house was empty. Walt had gone out somewhere. He’d received an urgent phone call from a friend and rushed out of the house shouting into his phone.

I drifted into my son’s room.

His computer stood open and booted up on his desk. He’d left the house in such a hurry he’d forgotten to shut down his laptop.

My curiosity got the better of me.

I clicked back through various websites and PDFs my son had looked at in the last few weeks.

A cold shudder ran up my spine.

A site from the dark web:

‘Mind Control, an A to Z of Brainwashing Techniques’.

Warnings. ‘Classified’. ‘Do Not Share’.

‘Mind Break’ by Professor Stanislaus Wyszinski of Harvard University.

Instructions. Technical details.

‘Radio Wavelengths and Neural Receptivity’.

‘The CIA Guide to Long Distance Mind Control’.

Surely the click that ran up my spine when I opened my shopping app had nothing to do with my own son brainwashing me? Surely that tingle of light in my head couldn’t have been my ‘neural receptivity’ to Walt’s ‘radio wavelengths’? Surely the mellow feeling flowing through my body, the sense that the mellow feeling was making me do terrible things, wasn’t the result of ‘CIA Long Distance Mind Control’?

No.

Impossible.

No way.

Out of the question.

My own son?

Never.

I thrust the thought from my mind.

The idea was too terrible to entertain for a single instant.

I felt guilty even thinking it.

Walt?

My clever, hunky, lovely eighteen-year-old son do such a terrible thing to me?

I shook my head. No. It was impossible. Except…

… There were other things to upset me on Walt’s computer too…

A notice from the college that he’d failed his college course. A message from Walt’s Head of Department demanding an interview about his ‘slack attendance’ and ‘disruptive attitude’! ‘Disruptive attitude’? ‘Slack attendance’? It couldn’t be. It must be a mistake. Walt was top of his class. All through his school career he’d been a model pupil.

… Even worse…

… A message in his mailbox from some creepy guy called Werner demanding money…

… Three thousand dollars…

… Werner was going to ‘break Walt’s legs’… He was going ‘stuff Walt’s stupid head down his dumb throat’. Werner was going to ‘ice my son’ if he didn’t pay him the three thousand dollars pronto…

… Something to do with a gambling debt…!

It couldn’t be true. My son didn’t have friends like that! Walt was upright and honest and decent. He never gambled. He didn’t mix with nasty people who were into poker and blackjack.

I was shaking. I was trembling all over.

I switched his computer off. I couldn’t face any more. I wished I’d never looked at the freaking thing in the first place.

That night I didn’t sleep a wink. I tossed and turned. I just couldn’t take any more. I didn’t know what was happening to me.

In the middle of the night I heard Walt come in, very late, still arguing with someone on his phone. His voice slurred. His language obscene. He’d been out drinking, and God knows what else besides drinking. I felt as if I didn’t know my son any more.

I woke up next morning, my mind a total blur.

Walt could hardly have slept at all. He didn’t get home till three a.m and at eight I heard the front door slam as he went out again, still arguing on his phone.

There was only one thing for it.

I needed to go for a run.

I always went for a morning run, three miles every day. The cardio vascular exercise cleared my head and calmed my mind.

Yes. It was a bright sunny morning, perfect for a good long run.

I opened my wardrobe.

My running shorts and sports halter, freshly ironed, were waiting in the bottom drawer.

… Another click in my spine…

… Another clicking sensation shivered up my spine…

… The click reached my brain…

… Another tingling light came on in my head…

… A mellow feeling flowed through my whole body…

Running shorts?

Sports halter?

No.

No way.

I was a babe. Someone had called me a ‘babe’. I couldn’t remember who or when or where.

A run?

Three miles?

Fuck that.

A stroll!

A nice sexy sashay down the street and back.

There were loads of other outfits I’d bought on my shopping spree. I’d forgotten the details of how I’d actually ordered any of them, but there they were…

… A skin-tight black tube skirt… faux leather… slot neckline and butt-hugging hem… the skin-tight black tube skirt slit all the way up the back… crisscross thongs tugging between my shoulder-blades, sinking into my toned, curvaceous ass-cheeks…

… A Bordelle black sheer micro thong…

… Mm-mmm and… yes…

… Christian Louboutin black peep-toe spike stilettos… just made for a casual stroll down the neighborhood…

… Mm-mmmmmmm… ye-eeeeeeeeeeeeees…

… I felt better already… much clearer in my mind… the light in my head much stronger… the mellow feeling growing more and more powerful…

I locked the front door behind me. Walt was out, but being eighteen he had his own key.

I emerged into the sunlight, my high heels clicking briskly on the morning sidewalk.

Yes. What a good idea! A nice walk. I already felt so-ooooooooo good. What a lovely summer morning it was!

A guttural roar.

The tang of hi-octane exhaust fumes.

The bellow of a motorbike coming from somewhere down the street behind me.

Some greasy biker. A bruiser Hell’s Angel letting the whole neighborhood know what a powerful bike he rode.

I mustn’t look.

The guttural roar of a Kawasaki Ninja H2 998 cc engine changing down.

How I knew it was a Kawasaki Ninja H2 998 cc engine, I’d no idea. I just knew.

I kept on walking.

Click click click.

I didn’t look round.

The guttural snarls as the bike changed down behind me, slowing down behind me, in time to the stiletto clicks on the sidewalk thrilling up my spine.

My heart stopped beating.

The big bike was cruising into the curb behind me… I didn’t look back…

… Rolled to a halt beside me…

The rider was completely in black.

Black leather from his neck all the way down to his heavy biker’s boots.

The black visor drawn down on his black helmet, reflecting the glare of the street, his face invisible.

The only thing I could be certain about was his ripped, muscular body, his pumped, leather-clad thighs gripping the hot paintwork.

His voice came out eerie and unreal from a speaker grid in the front of his helmet, eerie and unreal but somehow weirdly familiar too:

“Hey! Gorgeous. Where ya goin’?”

I murmured:

“… Dunno…”

He nodded at the shiny saddle behind him. The voice came cool and gravelly, and strangely intimate, out of the helmet’s speaker:

“Fancy a ride?”

I shrugged:

“… Yeah… okay… why not…?”