tagMind ControlA Little Lunch

A Little Lunch


Perhaps it was an aspect of my new power, or maybe I am simply no longer oblivious. Either way, the world is suddenly full of people engaged in barely restrained sexual connections. Interactions that would not have earned a second glance in the past now capture my attention, inspire my imagination, and sometimes motivate me to intervene.

Take the pair having a working lunch at the table next to me yesterday. A young man, fresh out of college, obviously eager to succeed in his first job, was meeting with his boss for a monthly progress report. Dressed professionally but inexpensively, he barely touched his food as he fidgeted nervously with a stack of customer contact reports. His boss, 30-ish, blonde, attractive (and clearly aware of that fact), had draped her designer suit jacket over an empty chair and sat next to him. The sheer lace of her bra was visible through the white satin of her blouse and she knew it.

No young man has the professional restraint to counter millions of years of evolutionary conditioning, and this woman mercilessly preyed upon this genetic weakness. Her blouse, unbuttoned well beyond what could be considered professional, gaped open invitingly each time she leaned in to read his notes. And though he struggled to focus on work, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to her breasts. They strained to discern a nipple through the lace and his tongue subconsciously flicked out to whet his lips as he stared. She posed, holding this exposed position, pretending to "thoroughly" review his efforts. His eyes would dart surreptitiously between her breasts and face, frightened of angering her but unable to resist. She would often lean back to "ponder", eyes partially closed, hands massaging her neck and temples. His eyes would rivet to her chest, hypnotized by her mellifluously swaying breasts. This little dance, lean forward/lean back repeated many times: puppeteer pulling the strings of her "real boy".

She was truly beautiful, with an arsenal that included much more than her breasts. Occasionally, when necessary to emphasize a particular point, she slid her chair back, and assumed the posture of a prim and proper young teacher. With back arched, legs crossed and skirt riding up her thigh she would school her young companion on the subtleties of sales. In mock deference to her teaching, his eyes dropped; but they did not close. Instead they traversed her legs from hem to toe until, transfixed by her brightly painted nails, he simply stared, head bowed, struggling to breathe and completely unaware that her eyes were now watching his face closely. Deftly, she slipped her heel from her shoe, and pointed her toes. Her sandal, held only by a thin strap of leather, dangled precariously from her toes as she "absent-mindedly" bounced her foot. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as his head bobbed in time.

Suddenly, but with complete seriousness, she uncrossed her legs, leaned forward facing him head-on, and placed her hands on her thighs. Her knees opened, seemingly spread by the weight of her hands, and her hem slid slowly upward. I don't know if he heard her pontificate about the value of openness and personal contact with customers but it probably didn't matter. She certainly didn't care if he was listening.

"Turnabout is fair play; this little vixen needs nipple clamps," I decided. Entering her mind, I attached one to each nipple and tightened them slowly, watching her eyes. Her flesh compressed, the veins in her breasts bulged slightly and her nipples darkened into eraser-like nubbins rising from the pale pink background of her areolas. Her breath sucked in sharply, eyes widening as her hardening nipples pressed through her bra and poked through the soft satin.

With commendable discipline, she remained focused through the pain (pleasure?), and continued to converse with her colleague. Undaunted, I added an additional distraction: a tongue. Warm, wet, soft like a dog's, it slowly pressed between her ass cheeks and began rimming and exploring her tight little anus. That got her. Her eyes closed and her butt clenched reflexively as her breathing quickened. She was very distracted now, but still labored to regain her composure. She uncrossed her legs and leaned over the table, forehead cradled in her hand, trying desperately to focus as her companion described a promising new client.

I opened her legs. Her knees raised and spread lewdly. Her lips separated exposing the undulating walls of her vagina. The tongue moved forward, first sliding slowly over her clitoris surging deep inside her. She glanced side to side, then down, surprised to see her thighs still tightly closed when in her mind they were splayed wide. She stared at her lap, helpless as her body irresistibly responded to an imaginary but huge tongue fucking her hole and lapping at the fluid seeping from her.

Her wetness was not imaginary. I could sense the slow throb of her vaginal walls as they oozed fluid to lubricate her cunt. Like a warm slow river, it streamed out of her, soaking the pink thong that slipped between her swollen labia.

I enlarged the tongue, lengthening it to deliver long warm licks from anus to clit. It occasionally swirled against her rosebud or reentered her pussy to explore its inner contours. Her professional demeanor had now completely vanished. Her ass wriggled with every penetration. The clamps on her nipples shot bolts of pleasure directly to her wide-open cunt. Her juices flowed copiously, flooding past her drenched panties to create a steadily growing spot on her skirt.

Her breathing became ragged and her hands grasped at the hem of her skirt in a feeble attempt to regain control. But the tongue pressed against her pussy began to flutter with increasing speed. Her clit throbbed and burned. Her cunt walls and labia thickened, engorged by her impending climax.

As her orgasm approached, I planted a vision in her mind. She knelt naked before her companion, now impeccably dressed. Through the zipper of his pants, his rigid cock extended toward her. He pushed his hips forward pressing the tip of his penis into her mouth. She held it there, the soft skin resting on her tongue. Then the shaft slid forward until the tip pressed against the back of her throat, his slick pre cum leaking down her esophagus.

As she came, the cock spurted too, filling her mouth as her body convulsed. She swallowed reflexively but semen slid past her lips and down her chin. I sustained the orgasm for nearly a minute; her body wracked by waves of pleasure but her mind focused on the soft skin and gentle spasms of her employee's flesh filling her mouth. Then, the young man pulled his still spurting penis from her mouth, stepped back, and pointed his cock at her like a fire hose. He covered her breasts with rope after rope of thick white semen. His seed clung to her nipples, slowly stretching down, finally falling into the pale blond curls between her legs. Still he came. Directing his aim higher the warm, sticky fluid splashed against her face and covered her eyes. She reached out blindly to caress him; one hand cupped his balls, the other wrapped loosely around the pulsating shaft as she pulled him toward her, and buried her semen-coated face against him.

When I finally released her mind and body, she looked briefly at her chest and touched her cheek (seemingly recalling the sensation of warm semen). Then she stared hard at her employee, as if contemplating something. With a slight nod and smile indicating her decision, she opened her purse, threw money on the table, and grabbed her companion's hand, practically dragging the bewildered young man out of the restaurant.

I just grinned at the wet spot on the back of her rapidly receding skirt.

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