Sexual Immersion Therapy
Chapter Twenty
That Wednesday, the day before Dee got on a plane with barely a shred of her flying phobia intact, was by far the most sexually active day of my life—up to that point. I had done some things with Dee during hypnosis that I could barely believe, with so many variations and triggers in her that I invented a need to go to my office for a couple of hours, which was cover for returning to my house to write down all the immersion suggestions that were swimming in the woman’s psyche. I was afraid I’d lose track, and I very much wanted to every single word I’d slipped into her mind and body.
It was raining like crazy on the commute, the sky so dark that it almost looked like nightfall at four in the afternoon. One of the streets I normally took to get home was roadblocked because of flooding, and when detouring to get around that I saw a couple of downed trees.
Everything looked intact when I got to my house. I put on lights to chase away the gloom and went straight to my safe, and sat at the dining room table with my secret notebook, catag all that I had done at Dee’s apartment.
It was quite a list. First, she loved being hypnotized and really got worked-up from it, like a woman who’s discovered an extremely rare and extremely potent sexual fetish. That hadn’t been difficult to accomplish, when her hopes had been high from the beginning that hypnotism could improve her life.
I had also made it so she needed to flaunt the size and beauty of her tits whenever she was with me, whether dressed or naked, and to be thrilled every time I complimented her breasts, or I told her how much they turned me on. That one had also been easy, since she’d been proud of her curves from the beginning, and hadn’t been shy ing them to tease me. Amping up the sensitivity of her nipples had been nothing more than the juicing of an existing pleasure for Dee, as she had hissed excitedly every time I’d fondled them, long before being hypnotized.
I had turned variations of “You could really benefit from additional immersion sessions” into a trigger that made her nearly desperate to tit-fuck me again, all the better if combined with fresh hypnosis. And there was all the stuff about her wanting my stuff inside or all over her body, as a curative for her flight fears. Also, in a session in the early morning, I ed to clean up my tracks, telling her that she could never-ever divulge to anyone how we had turned immersion hypnosis into a thrill-ride sex act.
It was in that same session that I added a trigger that would have Dee feeling compelled to stimulate her clitoris with her fingers whenever I said the specific words, “You may have the best tits I’ve ever seen”.
I tested that one out about an hour later, when Dee was preparing morning coffee for us. She’d been at the kitchen counter wearing nothing but panties, every movement of her body like a theatre production with her tits in the starring roles, the plot all about her huge tits getting me horny. That included the frequent arching of her back, her tits thrusting forward. When she brought a steaming cup to me at her kitchen table, she bent forward at the waist, saying that a freshly made brew always went better with lots and lots of milk.
That image, of her breasts dangling to either side of the offered coffee mug, so pendulous and yet so creamy-firm, got my cock as hot as the coffee. I wanted the caffeine and gratefully sipped, but a minute later she gave me a stunning side-view of her boobs while buttering toast, and all that jutting flesh was so inspiring that I couldn’t help uttering the newest trigger: “Dee, you may have the best tits I’ve ever seen.”
Her response was almost immediate. Her entire body stiffened and she carefully put the knife down, right before her left hand slipped into her underwear, her knuckles stretching the fabric as several fingers busied themselves between her legs. I considered simply watching, curious as to whether she’d keep going at herself until orgasm. I wasn’t able to stay away, though, lifting her onto the kitchen counter so I could eat her pussy. She reciprocated by applying real butter to her breasts, smothering and curing my sausage with them. When she rubbed my semen into her tits that time, the combination of spunk and butter made her breasts shine so much that I could see curved reflections of the kitchen windows in them.
I particularly loved that cum-cure direction. It meant I really didn’t need to work at Dee’s flying phobia any more; all I needed to do was have sex with her a few more times, and she could swallow or rub her “therapy” right into herself.
Earlier in the night before falling asleep, so many new erotic manipulations had bloomed in my mind. I could make it so some beautiful woman believed that having sex with me could cure her migraines, for instance. If working with a comely college student one day, she might as well believe that sucking me off and swallowing my spunk would help her to better retain information for an exam. Or how about a variation of Dee’s fixation on keeping her skin looking smooth and youthful, by putting into a gorgeous thirty-something’s mind that Michael-cum was the ultimate wrinkle-defeating face cream?
I loved that image, of repeatedly giving cum-facials to a woman who just couldn’t wait to massage every drop into her pores. The placebo effect in medicine is a real thing, and I ought to be able to fortify that a thousandfold in all sorts of ways, making my dick the cure for whatever ails you.
Writing all of this down sparked questions about what more I should do with Dee before she got on that plane the following morning. I could give her the freedom to sleep with anyone she wanted when on the West Coast; that was probably the best course of action, especially if things went well and her stay became lengthy, or she ended up relocating. But I didn’t see any reason to bless her with anything approaching the sexual bliss she was experiencing with me. I had already decided that I’d be the only lover who could provide Dee with thundering nipplegasms, and I didn’t even need to worry about her finding someone else to play hypnotism games with.
That got me thinking about something Dee had said to me in the morning, soon after butter-jobbing me: “I think I’ve met my erotic utmost.”
She’d followed that statement with a story about being a bridesmaid for an acting school friend, who said she knew her marriage was going to last because her husband-to-be was definitely her erotic utmost, the man in the world who turned her on like no one else could.
Maybe, if my life had unfolded in a different way, I would be wondering if I should eventually marry Dee. The woman was a physical treasure and she’d been a wonderful lover even before being hypnotized. She was talented; she was intelligent; she was level-headed but had also allowed herself to act spontaneously…
But no, as things were I had no intention of ever marrying Dee, and she hadn’t been fishing in those waters. I loved that language of being her erotic utmost, though, the person in this life that could take her into a plane of sexual intensity like no one else. The way Dee had framed it, she’d actually been expressing a potential problem, that our sexual chemistry had so outstripped anything she’d ever experienced that engaging in sex with me had become just about the only thing she wanted to do when we were together. We knew almost nothing about our compatibility in the day-to-day activities that made a relationship deep and lasting; hell, we still hadn’t even fucked.
I knew I wasn’t going to go Dick-in-Jane with Dee before she left. Her tits were just too sublime, and we were almost out of time. And sorry, I just didn’t like condoms.
But really, I was already getting exactly what I wanted, and sex with Mira Cassidy was just days away. As for any kind of committed relationship, I was coming to think of my immediate future like this: I wanted to be a giant planet with multiple female moons circling around, caught in the gravity of insanely hot hypnotic sex. Immersion hypnosis could make that possible; it could lock multiple women in and also gracefully fling someone out of orbit if I wanted to move on. With Dee, I was still undecided as to whether she would be a lesser moon or a greater one; perhaps her geographical location would make that clear.
I decided that the next time I had her in the immersion state, I would make it so she could stand being away from me for as long as needed, but there could never be such a thing as a final good-bye with us. The right words spoken in the right way could ensure that she would always say yes to having sex with me again, no matter where life took us. She could date movie stars, get married, maybe even have kids some day… But if triggers had real duration, I could place a few inside of Dee that acted like sexual fire-alarms, compelling her to put down just about anything she was doing, rushing out from her life circumstances to come and satisfy her most extreme sexual needs, with me.
I lifted my pen and took a deep breath, with a chill of realization running through me. What I had done already and was planning to expand upon made no sense at all, not unless I possessed the hypnotic equivalent of a superpower.
I sat perfectly still, trying to peer at that idea from several directions, seeking the flaw. Sell-out Sam had alluded to the power of immersion hypnosis from before the beginning, but like this? In my training we had delved into all of the tools I was using, from the connections between mind/body systems to the effective use of trigger phrases, and even trigger objects or situations. But there simply hadn’t been any indication nor any expectation that my voice could be this powerful. It had all been about gentle nudges, working at little behavioral seeds so they might be able to grow into healthy tendencies over time. What I was practicing was so much more overwhelming than that, like the power of a nuclear weapon when compared to conventional explosives.
I asked myself out loud, “How am I able to do these things?”
My question was about ability, not morality, and the answer that came to me was obvious: the technique was like so many things—a violin, a paint brush, a basketball—that only reached their full potential in just the right hands. No artist in six-hundred years had been able to paint a portrait as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa; it was one artist’s genius that created that magic, not the oil paint. Something as fine as a Stradivarius violin would sound like crap if I tried to play it; the potential was there in the instrument, but it took an extremely high degree of mastery to unlock the perfect sound.
I liked that last analogy, because it was the rhythm and modulation of my voice that worked the magic. I knew it to be true from my training that some other practitioner of the technique could utter the exact same words into the exact same ears, and they would be less persuasive or even totally useless.
That thought made my cock pulse, like it wanted to remind me where so much of the power came from. And my dick was right—my vocal superpower was very effective when working with professional clients, but it burned with a different intensity when desires were inflamed. I could address my clients’ various issues brilliantly when employing a hypnotic boost, but it was with sexual immersion therapy that the sun and the moon and the stars all aligned. Why even pretend otherwise?
Accepting that, I came to the strategic crossroads I had contemplated before—to have any superpower at all, I first had to ease an alluring woman into the immersion state, and that meant inventing some means of getting more of these theoretical beauties onto my couch. How did I go about that when self-preservation dictated that my sexual immersion endeavors needed to remain hidden? It was only extreme luck that had opened a doorway into Dee’s subconscious mind; without her sudden need for air travel, none of these most recent immersion transgressions would have been possible.
I sat there for perhaps ten minutes, brainstorming ideas for getting hot women onto my couch. None were satisfactory; it didn’t take much imagination to poke holes in them. At the same time I had an underlying belief that an answer to the problem did exist. It was like a puzzle of not being able to get to there from here, and in that case the only way to come to a solution was to somehow think outside of the box.
I closed my notebook and locked it back in the safe, content to ponder all of this later. I went upstairs to gather a set of clothes that I could take with me to Dee’s house, doubting that we’d spend much of tonight with any clothes on at all. But I would need to dress for work at her house the following morning, ready to go straight from the airport to my office.
I had a drawer open, ready to grab a pair of socks, when I sensed a movement to my right. I knew, before I even turned my head to look—it was Mira, standing at the bedroom door, wearing a daringly short teal-colored skirt and matching top, her eyes blazing with the need for sex.
I froze, not from fear but from some mixture of surprise and eyeball-awe. And, maybe greatest of all, the sensation of every sperm in my balls suddenly standing at full wiggle-height, every single one wanting to get a better view.
Mira stepped into the room and placed her back to the wall, just standing there emanating desire, filling the whole fucking room with it. Her body in that skirt and form-hugging top, and those fucking legs…
Gone, just like that, was any cock-fatigue from fucking Dee so many times. Mira saw the effect she had on me and she breathed in deeply before saying, “I woke up this morning, dreaming about sucking you off.” She let that statement sink in, then followed with, “I’m supposedly at a meeting with our lighting director, working out some technicalities. But with all the flooded roads, the roadblocks and delays … We could have as much as ninety minutes.”
Her voice was steady but her eyes burned like they had in Lucinda’s bathroom, or worse. I couldn’t stop staring; her skirt and top combo was just clothing, but on her body they became lingerie.
“Take your clothes off and lie down on your bed!” she ordered, her tone of voice communicating the urgency of her needs.
My hands went for the clasp of my pants but then I stopped, thinking better of the situation. The tables had turned and I no longer had to do things that I hoped would make her final defenses crumble. She needed my hard cock now, like a fish needs water.
“No, Mira. You take your clothes off, so I know you’re serious this time.”
My challenge had an effect; I would swear her entire body visibly changed under the clothing, like every muscle became infused with volatile fuck-Michael energy. She stood taller as she reached behind to unzip something, shrugging the skirt down her thighs and helping it fall to the floor. Off came the tube top next, and there stood Mira Cassidy in my bedroom, in nothing but black satin panties and a matching black bra.
I just gawked, my pulse audible in my ears like it was the sound of my cock applauding. Mira was made of flesh and muscle and bone just like anybody else, but how it all added up reached right into my dick and made me ache in a way that even a woman like Dee could never touch.
“All of this is yours now,” she said, with a theatrical sweep of her hands, indicating her entire body. “Taylor leaves for Africa on Sunday morning and his trip has been extended. He’ll be gone for twelve days and the dance company’s filming project is wrapping up, too. I’m going to have nothing but time, to be with you any way you want.”
I absorbed all of this with my eyes traveling from Mira’s legs and hips, up the well-muscled waist to her bra, framing the substantial cleavage crack between her tits. She smiled and made porn-theater of slipping the panties down the terrain of her legs, kicking them away. I was literally salivating, the perfect pussy I had tasted all those weeks ago once more uncovered in my home.
“I need…” I said, and those two words could have meant so many things. I needed to be inside her; I needed to see her tits; I needed to squeeze my fingers into the musculature of those legs again; I needed to bury my head between those thighs and taste her heavenly nectar. But above all else, I needed to witness how she was hypnotically tethered to my cock, and what that would do to her when she climaxed.
She unhooked her bra, and the momentary gleam of satisfaction in her eyes told the story a second or two before I saw her breasts completely uncovered for the first time. I gasped because her tits were as physically ideal as the rest of her; they were just so big for a dancer, and in shape they were exquisite, big and simply round, with perfectly circular and distinctively broad areolae. Her breasts sat so firmly upon her torso—strong pectorals—that despite their size her nipples pointed slightly upwards, like their beauty had been bestowed by the heavens and they wanted to pay homage.
I’m not sure whether my head was slowly shaking back and forth in awed slow-motion, or if I was too stunned to move anything at all. Because despite not being as crazy-massive as Rosita’s nor as full as Dee’s, these were, without a doubt, the most beautiful naked breasts I had ever been in a room with.
I think something snapped inside of me right then, like the distinct breakage of any remaining tendons connecting my cock to anything resembling morality. Because the only reason this woman was offering herself to me was from the trail of decisions and actions where I had tossed ethics and scruples into a trashcan, hypnotically cramming that incredible body and fractured psyche with an undying need for my dick.
“I knew you’d love them,” she said, lightly tweaking her left nipple. “They manage to keep up with my legs, don’t they?”
Maybe I groaned—it was the absolute roundness of her areolae, and the way her nipples seemed to point so proudly.
“Now take your clothes off and lie down on your bed!” she said a second time.
Complete confidence—Mira felt that way about her beauty and no wonder. She was physical perfection, or more like physical persexion, from head to toe. That was just the fucking truth.
I couldn’t help smiling as I pulled down my zipper, because she was going to feel every bit of that sexual adulation in a few seconds, because of the suggestions I’d placed inside her. My cock was well-formed enough and big enough that I could be proud of it all on its own, but the hypnotism inside her meant it was about to enthrall her like the movements of a dancing cobra.
As I lowered my pants I turned my body sideways, deciding that her first view would be in profile, showcasing the length. I slid my briefs down and my erection bobbed up and out, extending away. Mira gasped as I stepped out of my clothes, the extent of my erection fully exposed, and when I looked over at her she was sinking to her knees, mouth wide open. The woman looked rapturous in a way that I hadn’t even seen in Rosita.
My intention was to calmly unbutton my shirt and lie upon the bed as Mira had said, but she sprinted up and rushed at my dick, knocking me back onto the bed with the head of my cock sliding into her wide-open mouth.
My soul was in a precarious place to begin with, but being pounced upon by Mira, with that fucking body filling my vision anywhere I looked, the warm light of my bedroom lamps turning all that feminine muscularity into a carnal landscape that I could have and rule over for as long as I wished…
“I need to be inside you!” I growled, placing my hands on her head to emphasize my need. It was amazing to have Mira’s lips around me but I had been drooling for this woman’s pussy for months, and I just fucking needed to have my cock buried inside her. I had tasted it and gently fingered it, and to win it I had crossed an ocean and shattered ethical rules like lust-filled goblets tossed into a blazing fireplace, all to have her, to fuck her, to be in her.
Her mouth relinquished its tight wet hold and she craned her neck to meet my eyes, and right there I saw the fury of emotions and body desires that made this encounter completely different than any extra-marital liaisons that might be taking place elsewhere in the city, or maybe in the rest of the country or even the whole fucking world. The raw physicality and extraordinary beauty were hers, but the intensity of the sexual fire was my creation, months or even years of repressed carnal energy animating her flesh.
Naughty Mira was on fucking fire and I would swear the heat she radiated excited the very air we breathed. That’s when it came to me that, like Prometheus, I had become a fire-giver, tapping into some invisible realm to steal a power that was dangerous for mere mortals to possess. Mira’s body, those eyes and the blazing heat they conveyed—she was inflamed, a woman turned into a combustible element.
Her hands were all over my meat, rubbing it and squeezing it, possessing it. My back was upon the bed but my legs were off it, feet on the floor, and I shimmied my way fully on, with Mira crawling catlike above on all fours. I thought she would keep coming forward until her pussy was aligned with my cock but she gathered herself and stood fully upright, her feet planted to either side of my waist.
I know I made a sound of some kind, because the foreshortened view up her body was the entire point of her standing there, and I was simply awestruck. The flaring roundness of her calves, the combination of grace and strength in her bulging quads, and above that miraculous terrain the slit in-between that was already shiny and oozing.
Up past her projecting breasts Mira appeared equally awestruck, eyes fixed upon my towering erection. “I’m better than she is,” she said, both hands extending down at the center, fingertips brushing against the wet of her pussy. “She’s beautiful and her boobs are huge, but we both know I’m the one you really want.”
Mira knew exactly what she was doing, giving me this legs-forward view up her body. She bent her knees and waist, the fingers of her right hand going into her slit, and when they came out they were viscous and shiny, and she brought that glistening wetness to the head of my cock. Her fingertips caressed, palms curling to feel how solid I was.
She was the one making an unintelligible sound this time, and I didn’t believe it was an intentional action when a line of drool escaped her mouth, landing on her hands to aid in lubricating me.
“Oh God, oh yes,” spilled out in a soft whisper, the half-there tone of her voice so familiar, as though echoing her responses to the immersion suggestions from nearly two weeks before.
My cock twitched in her hands and I would swear I was becoming even harder somehow, an enlarging afterburner kicking in that until now had only been theoretical, never tested. Mira seemed to feel that; I could see it in the parting of her lips, and the tensing of her thighs and calves.
“It’s me you want!” she half-shouted. “Tell me you’ll give her up!” Fingers going faster at the crown of my cock.
Those delicious sensations and this view of her miraculous body made saying it easy. Plus the fact that Dee would be on a plane to the L.A. the next morning. “I’ll give her up! I promise!”
And then, no warning and no mercy given, her legs went out in a wide split and the center of her body plunged around my cock like a balletic sex-ring toss. I woofed out air from the force of her landing, the whole of my length penetrating into sopping wet velvety heat.
I have no idea which of us cried out the louder from the impact, but I was the one whose mouth made unbidden animal music in response to the friction of her subsequent movements. I tried to say, “Oh Mira!” but it came out like something halfway between a shout and a too-quick chant of “Ommm!” Mira’s flexibility had her entire upper body leaned back from the waist, the back of her head grazing the covers. Neither one of us moved vigorously for several seconds, no animal humping, just the insanely heightened awareness of his perfect hand-in-glove fit, me buried to the hilt inside of Mira Cassidy’s hypnotized cunt, finally filling a void within her with something more tangible than my voice.
She was the one to begin the real fucking, her legs still thrust wide but bent at the knees, feet planted upon the bed. I could watch her calf and thigh muscles doing the up and down work while her waist gyrated her hips, and therefore her pussy with me inside it. It was like the place where my cock ed to my body became the origin point of some hot pendulum controlled by Mira’s gravity, unceasing in its forward and back and sideways arcs. Her hips went around and around, leaning and undulating while rising and descending.
My eyes were just as much in motion, roaming to absorb the details of her physique, that and the silky fit of her microwaving my balls. I thought I could actually feel an unnatural degree of heat inside her, as if my commands from that one hypnotic session had taken up residence and turned the insides of her body into a kind of Vesuvian engine, with inexhaustible sexual power roiling and quaking deep in her core.
Mira’s eyes were closed, mouth loosely open with her head beginning to rotate as she shifted into an athletic slip-sliding con fuoco mode that had her chestnut hair flying. It was as if every ounce of her athletic capacity had been repurposed, a dancer turned into a gyrating up-down sex-machine that might be able to maintain this pace for hours.
There weren’t even going to be minutes, not with my balls turning into cauldrons, an insistence gathering inside that got me gasping, got me hardly even believing. It kept building and I thought I might out from the intensity, and then Mira’s entire body began to quake, her eyes going wide with shock and the two of us crying out together. It became all hot liquid and I literally saw stars as I came. My eyes were wet, yet even with my eyesight filtered I could witness Mira’s face and the flesh at the center of her chest flushing towards crimson. Her mouth dropped open and an animal wail came out, our twin surges colliding.
Grace had talked about loving Lucinda’s O-face, and I could say that I fell in love that night with the Miss Torso version, even with her hair sometimes hanging in the way. She shuddered like quarters had been dropped into her, the game continuing to play deep in her inner recesses. I could feel it happening all around and upon my spent meat, wet surges heating my flesh again and again.
She finally collapsed onto me, and though my hands were buzzing, feeling partially dissolved or remote, I managed to hold her tightly to me. We both breathed with deep rasps, our stunned lungs working hard to keep us going so we could live to do that kind of fucking again.
In time, the most delicious warm calm settled around my shrinking cock. No woman had ever taken all of me in on the first try like that, just burying me deep without any fear. With Mira it had been like a lock welcoming the key that had been designed for it—was the woman’s inner anatomy somehow as spectacular as all you could see on the surface?
I didn’t fall asleep, but I wasn’t all there either. It felt to me that for a time, my consciousness shrank or retreated just as my spent cock did, getting less solid, less sure. Eventually a question arose of whether Mira might be my erotic utmost, or at least my anatomical utmost, but that idea became too slick to hold onto. Thinking slid sideways into a series of quick surreal visions or waking dreams—in one I saw Mira’s O-face floating ghost-like in the air, wafting towards me until it dissolved into my chest, warming my heart and becoming a part of my recovering breaths. I found myself wanting to climb inside Mira’s skin and build a home there, so deep inside that I could mingle with all of the words I’d poured in, lounging in deep thermal immersion pools that bubbled with the promise of insanely powerful hypnotic sex.
Somewhere, abstractly, I wondered whether the raw physical act of lovemaking could ever feel better than this. We both lay there silently, until Mira let out something between a sigh and a growl, and I realized that her quick breaths were intermixed with little sobs, her body beginning to shake.
Was she crying from the sex we could achieve together? I held her even tighter, stroking the back of her neck, running my fingers through her hair. Her body shook for perhaps half a minute before she lamented: “It’s never been anything like that with Taylor. It never could be. It felt like...”
I waited, dying to know how she’d describe it.
“It felt like I was fucking the sun! And like I was a sun, too, and we just... I can’t even describe it.”
Maybe it was a funny thing to have running through my mind just then, but I’d seen a computer animation of two galaxies colliding, millions or perhaps billions of years of movement sped up so that the galaxies, each being torn apart by the other as they combined in a spiraling gravitational dance, finally merged into one new form, one new galaxy. The narrator had never said it—perhaps I was the only one to see it this way—but to my eyes those galaxies had appeared to be having sex.
“Your cock is just…” Mira said, a hand finding the shrunken form of what had felt as solid as a mountain a few minutes before. “It’s like a damned cathedral.”
I could have laughed; I’d sure never heard that description before. And were these the kind of words that naturally flowed from the hypnotic playbook I was perpetrating?
She shuddered, and shifted out of my embrace to reposition her body so her head was at my hip, legs towards my face. Taking my flaccid cock in her hands, she stared intently at it, as if trying to decode its one-eyed secrets.
“You’ll never know how much I’ve craved this! It’s like my body just knew we would be a perfect match, and then my soul climaxed and I can finally breathe!”
This was definitely the voice of naughty Mira, no longer gagged and tied to a chair in a dark corner of her psyche.
She sighed, the hand holding my flaccid cock lightly stroking, like she had a new pet to take care of. “I knew you’d be big from the first time I touched you, but…” The sentence was completed with curious pressure from individual fingers, part of her hand warming my balls. Her breath was on my cock, along with her hand.
I placed a hand on the back of one of Mira’s calves, feeling its astounding fullness and solidity. A knee was just inches from my nose, leading to a muscular thigh and the pussy above, with the milky ooze of my seed partially visible. That one hand glided down from Mira’s calf to her ankle, and the strong arched foot. My other hand went to the other leg, moving up the thigh.
I knew the clinical name for deriving sexual gratification from the worshipping of a woman’s legs—crurophilia, which directly translates as “leg love”. With my cock beginning to harden again, I thought I probably had a pretty severe case of leg-love when it came to Mira’s astounding stems.
“Oh Michael,” she whispered right onto the tip of my dick. “You’re back. How…”
The glory of her fucking body, that was how. These legs of silky steel, and her abs and her eyes and mouth, and the toned elegant arms that had helped to harden my cock the first time we sat down to talk—that was how. And now her freaking gorgeous tits with their perfectly round areolae, and especially the knowledge that half of Mira’s entire being, and pretty much all of her sexual being, was hopelessly hypnotized into being obsessed with my thoroughly hardened cock.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I love your penis, I just love it! I just… I can’t…”
She never said what she couldn’t, because her mouth stretched around the first couple of inches of me. Her tongue slithered along the underside and I sighed, believing I was about to get my first Mira blow-job.
Unexpectedly, she released me from her mouth. “Get on your knees,” she said. “Right there, like standing on your knees.”
I didn’t question the way she directed our sex, nor the fact that I had managed to get hard again, even after going at Dee’s tits so many times, and now Mira. Viewing and touching Mira’s body was like binge-munching Viagra, my arisen cock leading the way as I moved towards the head of the bed. She arranged her body into a squatting position facing away from me; facing away, that is, until she arched her back and lifted herself, seemingly without effort, so that she was on all fours but with the front of her body facing the ceiling. She curled further so her head was upside-down, her mouth just inches from my straining dick.
And there it was, the sexual possibilities of a limber-as-fuck professional dancer, where her body wasn’t just incredibly beautiful, but incredibly capable. Mira had configured herself into back-curling contortionist sex, or the offering of a contortionist blow-job, and she exhibited no signs of quaking or any other physical strain. She could probably maintain this position for an hour if needed.
I had to wonder if she’d ever shown this ability to Taylor—when she’d recently gifted him with a handful of hypnotically fueled hummers, had she contorted herself like this for the delivery? Possibly, but I had the feeling that flaunting her flexibility was all about the creativity of naughty Mira, finally set loose on her dream-dick while high on immersion magic.
She never even attempted to take my entire length into her mouth and throat, but it was obvious in just a few seconds that she had been practicing a great deal on her silver friend. Because after working on the tip of my cock with her lips, the woman took in at least half of me, swallowing suddenly and confidently, her cheeks and even the top of her throat visibly distorted.
The blow-job began slowly, perhaps somewhat reverently, but quickly progressed to an oversexed vacuuming with nothing held back. It was like Mira’s lips burnished my meat, wanting to polish me smooth. I’d never felt anything quite like this ferocious gliding action, and it called forth a response from my balls that was a couple of steps ahead of my general awareness.
I wanted to give warning at what I could feel welling inside of me, but the sudden surge stripped me of my ability to speak. I did groan or verbally gush, like all the air deflated out of me as I spewed into Mira’s mouth and throat. Outer awareness seemed to dim as the intensity of my balls being emptied became everything. My eyes closed and even then I saw flashing lights, like a visual representation of pleasure synapses firing in my brain.
On her first try, had the woman given me the most exotic blow-job of my life? I slumped or surrendered or absolutely relaxed in some indefinable way, and at some point I became aware of the mattress shifting as Mira moved. Seconds ed, or maybe minutes; the next thing I could be certain of was that I heard my shower running, and the sound made me smile.
Mira wasn’t going to be sloppy, and do things that would bring a jealous husband with a loaded shotgun to my door. She had to have my cock but she was doing it intelligently, choosing a night when the weather had the city somewhat disrupted. She had found a perfect opportunity to give in to the intensity of her needs, while simultaneously keeping drama and scandal at bay.
I was sitting up in bed when she appeared in the doorway again, dressed as if nothing had happened. Only it had happened; her complexion, especially in her cheeks, looked even more vital and her eyes were different, though I couldn’t say how.
I was still naked, and I wasn’t brandishing my cock at her but I also refrained from the silliness of trying to cover myself.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, and that had me wondering what would come next. “You’re wonderful, all of you.”
“But?”
“But honestly, I think it’s that great big thing between your legs that I’m in love with.”
Her gaze was on my thing, not so formidable at the moment because of how she’d destroyed it with her mouth. And there was no way I could take offense if she loved my dick more than the rest of me, not when I’d moved dominos around the life-board for weeks to make that happen.
Mira let out air through her nose and shifted the weight on her legs, and I thought if she lingered much longer with her eyes affixed to my dick, I might discover the ability to grow hard yet again.
“I have to go,” she said, stating the obvious. She tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling, as though counting, before saying, “I doubt I’ll be able to see you again before Taylor leaves. Rehearsals with the dance company will pick right up, and Taylor’s schedule might be less predictable as he gets ready for his trip.”
I thought about reassuring her that it was okay, but why bother? She’d come back for more of my cock just as soon as she could.
“My God, what have you done to me?” she said, staring straight into my eyes.
I figured she didn’t truly want to know.