A String of Minor Disasters Ch. 02

So, this is sex. It's really not half bad. I'll have to do this again sometime.

"That was nice, Moses," I said.

"You are so sexy, Miriam. Want to make me hard and we'll do it again?" he said.

What does he mean, 'make him hard?' How am I supposed to do that? I don't dare to ask him what to do! It would reveal my profound ignorance. He'd laugh at me. Wait - what's that nymph doing to that centaur? Oh, right, she's doing that! I had always thought that was gross but now it does not seem to be gross at all, for some reason!

Maybe I'll just kiss it? Hmm, the taste is not bad. Maybe just a little lick? Oooh, I like it! Okay, let's take the head inside, yes, that's it, now I'll swirl my tongue around the head. I like that it's purple. A big purple mushroom but most definitely not the poisonous kind. Nope. This is the yummy kind.

That's it. Easy does it. I'll put some more inside my mouth, yes, easy does it. Hide my teeth, I'm sure he's sensitive there. Oooh! It's growing! It's working! The nymph is using her hands, too. I can do that! Thanks for showing me the way my little nymph.

Oh, my, this is working! His cock is stiffening inside my mouth. It's growing, too. I'm sure of it. This is fun! I wonder what it would feel like if he were to ejaculate in my mouth? Wouldn't that be amazing to experience? I'll just keep doing this until he tells me to stop. He's the man. He's in charge. It's his cock, after all.

Time's up, I guess. He's moving me around. He wants me on my hands and knees? Why? Oh!! Oh, my, it's like we're two dogs! OH, but Holy Moses it feels magnificent. He's going so deep! This is simply miraculous. Why have I waited so long? I've wasted ten long years being barren due to fear. Fear is the enemy. Thou shalt no longer be afraid. Write it on the blackboard fifty times.

Oh, my goodness he's lasting a long time, this time around. He's still mercilessly pumping in and out, in and out, in and out. I should be making some noise, shouldn't I? Yes, I think so. Here we go. What was that, a little squeak? Hey girl, at least it was genuine. It would be fake to moan. Oh, my goodness he's really fucking me hard now! I just gasped! And squeaked again! I love these hard thrusts.

I have to tell him. "Oh Moses, you feel so good!"

He's not saying anything, he's just fucking me harder and harder. It's getting better and better. What was that? I just moaned! Not forcing it, it just happened. Oh my, there's another one! And another! He's moving faster and even harder now. So fast! I can barely keep up! Another, another, another, another and WOW. Did I just scream? Yes, I did.

Bliss. That's what this is. It's bliss. I'm flat on my tummy after my orgasm. He's rolling me onto my back. He's spreading my legs. His cock is so nice! He's sliding it back inside me! Oooh, it's so good. Keep it up Moses. Fuck me all night long, never stop. Oh, yes. Just like that. Keep going, don't you ever dare stop and no! Don't slow down! Please, please...

Oh. It's ejaculation time. Here it comes. Aaah. Oh... Yes! Boy, he has a lot of that stuff. It's all inside me now. Boy, I hope I don't get pregnant. Que sera, sera. It's too late now. Let's hope for the best. Tomorrow I'm buying some condoms. Maybe a 'morning after' pill?

The nymphs are applauding. Should I take a bow? Has Moses noticed the painting and its strange machinations? I can ask that later. Is he asleep? He's lying on me, asleep? Yes, he's definitely asleep. What do I do now? He feels good on top of me, but he's already getting heavy. His cock is soft but still inside me. It feels nice but I wish it were hard.

Okay, he woke up. He's getting up. "See you at breakfast, lover," he said.

"I hope so. Kiss me before you go," I said, and he kissed me, tweaked my nipples and then naked, his soft dick dangling in front of him, he left to return to his room. I looked at the clock. It was 5AM.

**********

Beatrice had trouble sleeping. Ever since Ernie had been diagnosed with hypertension, the meds had made him impotent. Even Viagra had little to no effect. They both knew about Beatrice's voracious sex drive. She was one frustrated woman.

For reasons she never understood, she was able to hear the thoughts of women when they were in the Eros Room. She and Ernie also had the Eros Room wired for sight and sound. She would speak the woman's thoughts to Ernie (and to herself) as the woman in question debated having sex, then as she gave in, and last as she decided to submit. The women always, always

Beatrice and Ernie got off on their vicarious sex life, but now Beatrice needed more. She so wanted to be one of the submissive women in The Eros Room. Ernie's impotence made him uninterested in sex beyond their voyeuristic fun, and Beatrice's sexual desires had become dormant out of a lack of options. Now though, Miriam's thoughts as Moses deflowered her had brought back memories of her own loss of her virginity long ago. It also provoked a recollection of her many experiences post that dramatic event.

Beatrice was not married to Ernie. She loved him, but she was not prepared to give up on sex for the rest of her life. She had to do something. She needed a wing woman. Why not Miriam? She knew that since Miriam had just tasted sex after much too long of a chaste life, she would want more. Moses was leaving for his next round of business in Ohio, so he was not an option. She would be eager to explore the sexual world further but not know how to go about it.

Beatrice had been going out in the evenings for drinks for some time now. She had a favorite bar where the barkeep knew her by name. Finding a hookup was hard for her. She was pretty and had a good body for a woman her age, but she was old. Nobody was out at a bar with the idea to go home with a woman pushing 50 years of age. She thought of herself as 39, or sometimes as 42, but in reality, she was 46 and about to turn 47. Everyone wanted the younger girls, the twenty-somethings or the thirty-somethings. She knew that. She understood that.

In New York a woman over 25 years of age in the dating scene was remarkably easy to get into bed. Women over thirty practically required you to bed them. If a man wanted only sex it was easy for him to fulfill his desires. No effort needed. What then did Beatrice have to offer? This was her dilemma.

For a relationship she had a lot to offer. She was not a bubblehead, or an immature young woman with fantasies about marriage and children and she would have been a good choice for men coming off a divorce. She owned a bed and breakfast and it turned a large enough profit to give Ernie and her a decent life. However, she had a relationship with Ernie already. Ernie shared her perversions. He would have been perfect for her if he had not been impotent. She did not want a relationship. She only wanted sex.

She had tried exploiting her outside interests. She had joined a choir in her neighborhood and rehearsed regularly and even performed. She had a nice voice, being a second soprano. She had made some nice friends that way but none of the men in the choir interested her. She had tried playing bridge but alas that too was a failure in terms of the men involved. In addition, her meager skill at bridge tended to embarrass her.

Beatrice had been practicing her special gift of mind reading. She had tried mightily to see into the minds of other people who had never even been inside the Eros Room, and that of course was most people. She could not. She could only enter people's minds when they were in the Eros Room, and even then, she could enter only the minds of women.

A new idea had recently come to her: Instead of looking into the minds of women as they slowly (or even at times rapidly) decided to submit to a man, perhaps instead, or in addition, she could plant ideas in the heads of the men?

After all, she knew the nymphs had implanted in Miriam the irresistible idea to go downstairs at 3:30AM for some port wine, only to find Moses there. She also knew the nymphs had similarly 'forced' her into removing her nightgown for him when he had asked.

Maybe she could take a page from the nymphs' playbook and learn to 'suggest' behavior to the man she had her eye on?

There was a man, Anthony, who came often enough to her favorite bar. He was fifty something, at most 60, and he was usually there alone. On rare occasions, and only on Thursdays, he would come with his son, whom she guessed to be about thirty. She did not feel safe trying out the brain implantation idea alone, but if she went with Miriam, perhaps the two of them could take the two men back to the Eros Room? If they could do that, the nymphs and the centaurs would take over from there, she was sure.

There was the wild card of Ernie. He enjoyed even more than he should have watching their guests have sex in the Eros Room. They always had sex. Always. Would he also enjoy it if one of those people was his own partner, Beatrice? She knew this was a big risk. She had dropped some hints, and his reactions had been consistent with the idea of letting her have a little fun, okay, but could she have fun while rubbing his face in it? Maybe they should go to the man's place, at least the first time?

Convincing Miriam to join her in her quest for a little hard cock, to put it crudely, was easier than she thought it would have been. Miriam, it seemed, wanted to make up for lost time. When they got to the bar they were thrilled to see Beatrice's prospect Anthony was there with his son. This was a lucky Thursday.

************

"Are those two men in the corner the men you told me about?" I asked.

"Yes, but you know we have to play this just right," Beatrice said.

"Can you really read my thoughts?" I asked.

"I can when you're in the Eros Room. Now I cannot really do it, I think. I only get snippets. It's like a bad telephone connection: You go in and out. Maybe I can do better if I concentrate. Would you mind if I tried?" Beatrice asked. "Think of a number, okay?"

"Okay," I said. "Less than ten?"

"No, just think of any number, any number at all," Beatrice clarified.

I nodded when I was thinking hard about a specific number. Beatrice smiled.

"Is it 42,387?" Beatrice asked.

I gasped in amazement. "My goodness, that's impossible! How on Earth did you do that?"

"Quite frankly, I have no idea," Beatrice said. She was smiling broadly, flushed at her achievement.

"You know, at first I was thinking of 42, since it's the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything," I said, thinking of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. "But 42 was too easy, so I added 387 basically as a random choice."

"I know," Beatrice said. She was freaking me out!

"Are you going to try with the men? I mean to implant ideas? I know you cannot read their thoughts," I said. Beatrice had explained her plans to me, but I quite reasonably thought they would not work. There was not a chance in hell they would work. They were simply not credulous. I even thought she was delusional, or just plain nuts. Her trick with the number, however, had given me pause.

"Yes, but I think we need better physical proximity," she said.

"You never told me the son is Black," I said to Beatrice.

"Oh, yes, he is," Beatrice asked. "I guess Anthony had married a Black woman at one time."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" Beatrice replied.

"Well, why is he here on the make if he's not alone?" I asked, quite reasonably I thought.

"Oh, honey, you have so much to learn. She may have died, they may have divorced, they may have an open marriage, she may be frigid, she may have decided she's in reality a lesbian, and so on. He also could be looking to cheat. Some men like variety, no matter how wonderful their wife or partner may be. Does it matter? And does it matter that his son is Black? Is that a problem for you?"

"No, au contraire. He looks quite sexy," I said.

"Yes, he does, doesn't he? Anthony is sexy too, isn't he? And he's white if you prefer him?" she asked.

"No, let's stick to the age appropriate men," I said. I kind of liked the idea of interracial sex, especially if the man was as good looking as was Anthony's son. I had so much to learn. I wanted to catch up to everyone else my age. I knew some of my girlfriends had enjoyed lots of different lovers over the years. I was jealous.

"Stick to the plan," Beatrice said for what had to be either the fourth or the fifth time.

Beatrice was not wearing a low-cut blouse, she was wearing a dress cut down to her navel and quite a bit of her two braless boobs were sticking out. Her nipples were hidden, but that was about all. She was small breasted. I would guess she was a B cup, and she used that fact to great effect. My boobs could never have pulled off a dress like that; they're just too big.

"You use what you've got," Beatrice had said to me, as we had dressed for the evening.

Had I been a man with a boob fetish, and Beatrice assured me that includes all men, or at least all heterosexual men, then I'm sure I would have spent the evening praying to the almighty to let a nipple reveal itself, or else I would have spent the evening resisting the temptation to stick my hand inside her dress to cop a feel. The dress was a massive tease.

We went over to the men and introduced ourselves. I had to do all the talking because Beatrice was using her full power of concentration to plant an idea in Anthony's brain. He probably already had the idea himself; Beatrice simply had to make it irresistible to the point where he was compelled to act on it.

We got to talking. The men bought us drinks and we went to a table in a dark corner of the bar. At one point Anthony stuck his hand inside Beatrice's dress and fondled her boobs. His son Javier was shocked and simply stared with his mouth open. Beatrice smiled and giggled and did nothing to stop Anthony who was pulling aside her dress, at the risk of of exposing her entire boobs, nipples and all, both to his son Javier and of course to me. Other people in the bar might have seen the show as well. He stopped just short of revealing her nipples. Just short!

I was thrilled for Beatrice. This was proof she could get inside a man's mind and compel him to do something he had wanted to do but which society did not allow. It was her proof of concept. Javier was busy apologizing to me for his father's "inexplicable behavior."

Javier had been checking out my legs. I had worn my shortest skirt for the occasion and no panties. This was also part of Beatrice's plan. Beatrice winked at me and shortly later Javier placed his hand high on my thigh, just below the hem line of the skirt.

"It's okay, Javier. Sometimes a girl likes it when a man takes a liberty or two," I said in reference to his Dad's behavior with Beatrice and her boobs. As I said it I parted my legs just a bit. It was just enough to give Javier a message. The message was received. He left his hand on my thigh. It was not moving. Now it was up to Beatrice, a second time.

Beatrice's nose crinkles up in a highly fetching way when she is concentrating and trying to implant a compulsion. She's positively adorable when her nose crinkles like that. According to the plan, she was now planting a compelling idea in Javier's mind. Anthony was still playing with her boobs and fondling them in front of the entire barroom of people.

She had success a second time and Javier's hand began its long journey, slowly sliding up my thigh. He slid it very slowly up under my skirt, all the time looking at my eyes. I was smiling as his hand progressed. Just before his hand reached its goal, he kissed me. I returned the kiss and our tongues became engaged and Javier's hand travelled the final inch or so, to my pussy. I saw his eyes open wide when he realized I was without panties. He began to finger me, right there in the bar. I felt like such a slut!

We continued to kiss as he fingered me. His hand had pushed my tight skirt up as it moved up my thigh and quite a bit of my legs was exposed. I was blushing but at the same time aroused in the extreme.

Following "the plan" I began softly to moan when his fingering got me even more aroused. It did not take long. The outrageousness of the situation was enough to get my motor running. It did not hurt that Javier knew how to finger a girl. The man was clearly an experienced lover.

"Your place or mine?" Javier asked, shortly after I experienced a small orgasm. It was small, but Javier knew he had given me one. He had used that moment to reel me in, as if I were a fish in a stream. Clever guy.

"My place, Javier," his father Anthony said, before I could even reply to Javier. Javier looked at his Dad; he had not been expecting that.

We all left in a taxi. Four people in the backseat meant one woman on someone's lap. I was the lucky girl and for the length of the taxi ride I got to enjoy Javier's hard cock poking at my buttocks. It was delightful. Anthony continued his breast molestation of Beatrice for the entire cab ride. I began to think Beatrice needed to fine tune a bit the power of her mental suggestions.

Beatrice whispered something to Anthony and the taxi took us instead to The Twilight House. We all had cake, cookies and port wine in the sitting room, while Beatrice rearranged her dress to properly once again hide her boobs as much as the dress allowed, which was not much. Javier by now had my dress bunched up around my upper thighs, so I was almost naked below the waist and as such exposed to Anthony as well as to Beatrice. We all finally stumbled up to the Eros Room.

Five minutes after entering the Eros Room both Beatrice and I were naked. I was kissing Javier as his hands ran all over my body. He kept telling me how sexy I was and how I had a great body. I wanted to hear what a great person I was, but how could he have told me that? He had only known me for a few hours. I suddenly got cold feet about having sex with a man who was, in essence, a stranger.

I knew lots of my girlfriends had casual sex in exactly this way. That did not mean however that it was the right thing for me. Then it happened. Javier began to tell me what to do. "Sink to your knees, Miriam," he said. "Give me a blowjob."

Javier said it with a big, bass, deeply masculine voice. I felt this unexpected, sudden need to obey. I heard Beatrice's voice in my head. "Don't be scared, Miriam. Do as the man says. You know you want to. Obey, Miriam, obey."

Beatrice's words in my head were compelling. Intellectually I knew she was doing to me what she had done both to Anthony and also to Javier back in the bar. I knew I was being manipulated but I felt powerless to resist. I knew I was about to give a man a blowjob for the second time in two days, and also for the second time in my life.

I sank to my knees. Javier had already shucked off his pants and briefs while we had been kissing. His cock was hard, sticking out and pointing at my face. Once again, I was surprised. I was not grossed out to see it as I had always been before, but as with Moses the previous night, I found it a thing of beauty, and most of all an object of temptation.

I liked that his cock was a nice chocolatey brown color. I love chocolate, especially dark chocolate. I figured his cock was the shade of 72% cacao. I wondered if it tasted of chocolate? I took a taste. Nope. Not chocolate. It tasted like Moses' cock had tasted the night before, although his cock had also had my own juices covering it from the wonderful sex we had just had.

"How about you fuck me first, and then I blow you?" I quite boldly asked.

Javier did not reply verbally. Instead he picked me up as if I were a pillow and tossed my naked body onto the bed. The man is strong! It seemed to be effortless for him to do that. I think he saw how large my eyes were when he did that. Beatrice had put handcuffs on the nightstand and Javier smiled when he saw them and quick as a wink he cuffed my hands to the headboard of the bed.