FocusTunes Ch. 02

"That helped," she sighed, smiling at me. "Thanks for letting me do that."

"No, uh, thank you. For doing that." Do you eventually have so much sex that you learned how to not say stupid shit afterward? "It feels great. You really know what you're doing -- I mean, you're...you know, you're really good." Fuck.

"Thanks," she giggled nervously, and for a second she looked like my mental image of myself: a scared kid, in a situation they didn't understand, experiencing a sensation that couldn't be real. Then, her preened superiority returned, and she gestured at my lap. "C'mon, make room. The least you can do is cuddle a girl after making her suck your balls."

I gave a quick and awkward chuckle as I adjusted myself in the seat. She curled herself up next to me -- she had always liked to fold herself up and snuggle into tight spaces -- and dropped her head against my shoulder. It was pretty platonic, save for the fact that it fucking wasn't. I just mean we had been in similar proximity before.

There was silence again. I had already asked my dumb fucking questions enough in the last two days, and I wasn't going to ask them again. The agony of another round of embarrassment was too much to endure.

"So," she started after a few moments. "What do you want to know?"

Well, apparently I was going to ask my questions. But she was smart; this was easier. I could stare forward and not see her, not get distracted by her image -- but I still felt connected to her, as you should feel to someone with whom you're having an intimate conversation about eager throatfucking.

"I guess..." A million questions swam in my head. I reached out for one. "I guess the easy question is...what happened last night?"

She waited before responding.

"I don't know what happened. I've replayed it in my head a bunch. All I know is that we were going through the lesson, like normal. I started to work on homework, you went to the bathroom, and a few seconds later I realized I really wanted to suck your cock. Like, really wanted. So I followed you to the bathroom -- I didn't really have a plan or anything, I just knew what I wanted and that I could probably get it from you. Not that I was trying to exploit you or take advantage of you or anything!" She added quickly. "Just that I figured...I don't know, I knew you were into me so I figured you'd want me to suck your cock. And you did, so...yeah."

I digested that for a second. It largely lined up with my story. Except...

"Can I ask a question now?" she said timidly.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," I said hastily, determined that our interchanges would start to become more fair.

"Did you...are you doing this to me?"

"No!" Shit. "No, I -- Miranda, I'm as confused as you are here, you've got to believe me." I turned to her now; she turned to me. There was still adoration in her eyes, but also sorrow. Not much suspicion.

"I didn't think you were. I just wanted to make sure." She was still so quiet. "Last night, once we were done, I got really...I don't know. Angry isn't the right word. Scared? I mean, I wanted to blow you and I did, but I was confused as to how it all happened so fast. And how intense it was. Like..."

She was hesitant. I, moments removed from a rape/coercion/mind control accusation, decided not to say anything.

"I've never liked it like that, you know? And I've definitely never...you know, talked like that before."

"You mean before I...like, at the end?"

"Yeah." She shuddered a little bit. "I didn't even sound like me."

"But...I mean, you just did it again," I pointed out.

"I know. Just when you got close, I just knew that like...God, fuck." She shook her head. "I knew that begging for it was the right thing to do. At least it felt like the right thing at the time -- now it feels weird." She locked eyes with me now, a full-bore freak out clearly welling behind her eyes. "I don't get why I feel this way...and I especially don't get why it feels so strong."

My feelings? Shit. I felt like shit. I was so confused by what had happened with Miranda that I had never considered that she could be just as confused as I was -- that maybe she wasn't just exercising her sex appeal over me in a twisted power play. She was still acting on feelings without being much cognizant of mine, which was a sucky thing to do. But she couldn't talk to anyone about this but me, really -- and at the end of it all, I still felt that friend-zoned instinct to simp on her feelings in the hope that one day, she would realize she loved the nice guy all along. Pretty pathetic, isn't it?

"I don't know." I threw an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "That's what I'm trying to figure out with all of these questions -- why you're doing this. I'm sorry if...I don't know, I was pissed at you for just doing it without talking to me about it, but I didn't realize you were as freaked out as I was."

"Yeah." She sniffed, ducking her eyes. "But..." She steeled her voice. "I'm not freaked out by sucking you off. At all. I want to keep doing that. I want you to want me to keep doing that. So if you're mad at me, I'm really sorry, I can spend more time with you afterward and we can do other stuff, too, whatever you want...just please don't make me stop blowing you."

I almost chuckled at the absurdity, but caught myself at the serious, desperate tone of her voice.

"Of course, Miranda. If you want to do that with me, I definitely want to do that with you."

"Good." Knotted tension slumped out of her shoulders.

More silence. This time, I couldn't hold my tongue.

"So...other stuff?"

She swatted me at that, but it was as playful as it was pissed. "Quit while you're ahead, Ben."

She stayed snuggled up to me, and I enjoyed that for a moment. It didn't feel as good as getting a blowjob, but it felt good in a different way. The blowjob was maybe the best sensation I'd ever gotten from her, but this was the closest I'd ever felt to her. And I liked that shit, man. Free fellatio doesn't stop you from feeling things, I guess.

But I still needed to figure out why this was happening. I didn't know what I was going to do after that, to be honest -- I didn't want to stop this train, that's for sure -- but I did want to understand what was fueling its engine.

"My turn for a question." I said, and Miranda roused, turning attention back to me. "Do you remember me calling you?"

"What, today?

"No, last night, before everything happened. I butt-dialed you, I think. The line was open the entire time we were together -- I only found out when I checked my phone after you left."

Miranda was up now, moving to her phone back at the bar. I checked to make sure her ass was still there -- yep -- and followed her in. She grabbed her phone and started clicking through it; I took to the forgotten pineapple and resumed chopping. It was nice to do small favors for booty calls, I thought.

"Holy shit," she said after a moment, showing me my name in her call log from last night. "I don't remember this at all."

"You definitely picked up." I told her. "According to both your phone and mine, I called you."

"Holy shit," she repeated, scrolling back through her call log, as if more answers would be hidden there. After a fruitless search, she dropped her phone onto the counter, walking away in frustration. As I brushed it over to the side to keep it from the pineapple juice, I saw the app icon sitting there on her homescreen: a garish red musical note with an opened eye in the center of the note head. FocusTunes.

My memories and theories snapped into place like Legos. (I have a 7,000 piece Millennium Falcon in my bedroom, kindly shut the fuck up.) Tutor Ben and Tutee Miranda had been joshing around like good ol' times, but once Miranda had put her mother's psychobabble music on, they hadn't spoken. Not until he had accidentally called her from the bathroom...and she had heard what he had said while he was jacking off. About her. Using her name.

Holy shit.

"I have a fucking memory gap." Miranda was talking, probably to me, about a very real problem in her life. I was on a-whole-nother fucking planet.

Holy fucking shit. The music. She hadn't remembered it -- neither had I, but that was because it hadn't been important. She hadn't remembered it because she didn't remember it.

"...if I'm having some sort of health crisis, but that doesn't explain why..."

Fuuuuuuuucking holy FUCK! It had been to help her study! Help with retention! So when she had heard me talking, she had retained the fucking holyfuckholyfuckholyFUCK.

"...a new vitamin regimen, but there's no reason that should lead to memory loss..."

What would happen if she listened to it again? Would she remember what happened if she saw the app, or heard the music? Or would she go back to just absorbing information? Could she be

"...Ben?"

COULD SHE BE TOLD NEW THINGS? WOULD SHE RETAIN THEM?

"...Ben?!"

Fuck. Okay.

I turned to Miranda, my extremely hot friend whom I had accidentally brainwashed into wanting to suck my cock and beg for my cum, and decided that this new revelation would only stress her out further. She was upset, and I didn't want to throw gasoline on the fire.

That's why I wasn't telling her what I knew.

"It's scary stuff," I said, capping the blender in the most casual, nonchalant blender-capping you've ever fucking seen. "I don't know why you wouldn't remember it -- I mean, there was obviously a lot more going on that night than just a random phone call."

"Right, but--"

I turned the blender on. Super casual. Chill fucking button push, man. The sound drowned out Miranda's response, and she sent me a sour face, but I needed 45 seconds to think. Here's where I got:

1) Miranda had turned on her FocusTunes

2) I had accidentally called her

3) I had told her to suck my cock and beg for my cum

4) She did, and continues to do so

Ergo:

5) I had brainwashed Miranda. It wasn't intentional or rapey, but I had.

6) I knew how to do it again.

I'd love to tell you I had an immediate moral revulsion to that idea. I could, if I wanted to -- just lie. You weren't there to see my dick get hard at the very thought of doing it again; you didn't see my eyes drag over Miranda's tits and her ass, shameless in their newfound power, fearless of retribution. I could claim that I had qualms.

I didn't. I had already broken that seal, opened that Pandora's box -- I had already bent Miranda's mind and reaped the consequenceless benefits. I knew what it tasted like, and fuck it tasted good. I wanted more.

I needed Miranda to listen to her FocusTunes again. I hadn't yet seen it work, so I didn't understand the exact mechanism. Was it a particular soundtrack? Did it have to be in her headphones? Did I have to speak during the song?

Fuck. I had no information and no way to get it, test it, prove it. I needed a guinea pig, but even if I had one, Ineeded time, trials, and trust -- nobody was going to let me just play random shit to them and then tell them to do random kinky shit. What if I got it wrong the first time? And they demanded an explanation?

Terror returned as I realized the obstacles facing me. Maybe this was a catastrophically bad idea. It had worked on Miranda, what we had was awesome, trying to get more could fuck it all up. If I--...wait. It had worked on Miranda!

I stopped the blender. Miranda had retrieved her phone and was mindlessly scrolling through it on a barstool, waiting for me to finish.

"I have a theory about why I can't remember--"

"Do you want to suck my cock right now?" I asked, my voice way more confident than my trembling body and thumping heart would have indicated. Miranda blushed.

"...yeah," she admitted. "But it's not that bad, like it was this morning. And I also want to talk about this more, so--"

"Just hang on, I'm trying to figure something out." I took a steadying breath, dropped my pants to my knees, and started lightly stroking myself. Immediately, Miranda's eyes latched onto my dick, just as they had in the bathroom doorway. She couldn't pull herself away.

"How about now?"

"Yes," she said through a heavy breath.

"Worse than before?"

"Worse than before."

I stroked my length to full hardness, watching Miranda's heavy breaths push her tits against her shirt. Her mouth was slightly ajar, her lips shining with moisture.

"Come here."

She immediately obeyed, slipping around the bar with haste. I stopped her a few feet away with a raised hand.

"Get on your knees there."

She dropped right away, looking up at me out of instinct. I shook my head.

"Eyes on my cock."

She snapped them back down.

I stroked again as I thought. I needed her fully amped up for this to work.

"Do you know what ahegao is?"

She shook her head.

"Damn. Uh, let your tongue hang out of your mouth. Don't stop yourself from drooling, either -- I want to see if your mouth is wet enough for my cock."

It almost looked like she was going to object to the degradation, but the moment's hesitation was just to gather her thoughts. She did as I had instructed, and a few seconds later, a thin dribble of spit began descending from the tip of her tongue. Precum had coated my cockhead by this point, and I was actively stroking myself off. I took a step closer, halving the distance between us.

"Put your hands in your lap," I said. "Now squeeze your elbows together around your tits, I want you pushing them up so I can see them better." Through the low of her shirt I could see them swell at my word, her cleavage bursting up even to the top of her sports bra. I took another step forward to get an even better look, and in doing so, put my cock at eye level.

"Just your tongue." I instructed softly, lowering my hips just enough to drop my balls on her tongue. She began lapping at my balls for the second time that day, and I didn't take my hand off my cock, jacking off mere inches from her worshipful eyes, her energetic obedience. She raised her hand to replace mine after a moment -- with a word, I made her return them back to her lap.

After a minute of tongue-bathing on my balls and shaft, I pulled myself up from her mouth, tilting my dick down to aim the head at her open mouth. Despite the wet stain growing on the center of her shirt right over her tits, Miranda kept her mouth open and tongue extended.

"Eyes on me," I growled, surprised at my own insistence. She locked into my gaze, my head only a few inches from her mouth now.

"Do you like it when I make you do things before sucking my cock?" I asked. This was the question: anything less than a firm yes, and I would need a new plan. I needn't have doubted.

"Yes." She said earnestly.

"Are you wet?"

"Yes," she all but purred. "This is fucking turning me on." And immediately, tongue back out.

"What would you do for me to suck my cock, then?" I asked, my tone light and playful.

"Whatever you asked." I didn't doubt her devotion for a second.

"Take your shirt off." I said.

In one motion, she leaned back for room, tugged at the hem of her shirt, and folded her arms above her head. It wasn't nearly a titty drop -- there'd be time for that later -- but it was the most erotic strip I'd ever seen, because it happened at my word.

Her shirt discarded, Miranda returned to her position. Her sports bra was fluorescent pink and orange, and hid her tits better than most of her daily attire. That's okay -- this wasn't about exposure. It was about proof of concept.

"Stay here." I said, stepping slowly over the countertop, determined not to rush and tip my hand, reveal my excitement, fuck up the whole operation. I snagged her phone and her AirPods case, ensuring they were connected before showing Miranda the home screen.

"Unlock." The firmness in my voice wavered with anticipation, and with it I saw a shadow of a doubt slide across Miranda's face. Fuck.

"Why do you..."

"Miranda." I ran two fingers over my cockhead, collecting plenty of the copious amounts of the sticky precum pooling there. I held up my fingers in front of her mouth again. "Open."

She did without a second thought, and I put my fingers on her tongue.

"Suck."

She moaned at the word, closing her eyes in bliss at the taste and the feeling. I let her take a few deep sucks, enjoying the aesthetic and visual of her suckling on my fingers. Against my instincts, but at my better judgment, I pulled them from her lips. Her eyes flashed open, and I returned my free hand to my cock, stroking it slowly in front of her face as I returned the phone to her line of sight.

"Unlock." I repeated. She acquiesced in a heartbeat, tilting the phone in my hand to register for the face ID. "Put your earphones in," I gave her the AirPods case to handle, turning her phone back to me and tapping to FocusTunes in uncontrollable earnest now, my thumb vibrating over the screen as illicit energy cracked through my veins. I noticed a dull ache in my shoulders -- I had been holding them clenched in anxiety for minutes now.

I looked down to see Miranda with her AirPods in, awaiting her next instruction. I figured this was as good a spot as any to draw my limit, and dropped my eyes from her phone long enough to point my cockhead back to her wet and inviting lips, leaning forward to finally give her what she had worked so hard for.

"Good girl." The words were out of my mouth before I could think about them, my brain still scripted on the dominant persona that had made Miranda dance for a chance to taste my cock once again. Miranda was pleased as pie -- she moaned her pleasure at the cock in her mouth and the compliment from the man giving it to her. She had been a good girl indeed.

The FocusTunes interface was fairly straightforward. There was a dropdown menu in the top corner and a lower menu to toggle through different recommended playlists. One was titled "Studying: Brain Boosts and Memory Maximizing." Odds to evens, that was our culprit.

I swiped over. There was a descriptive paragraph describing the science behind the playlist that I was absolutely not going to fucking read now. I side-eyed Miranda, who was diligently bobbing away, seemingly indifferent that I was scrolling through her phone as she blew me. I thumbed through a series of songs with dumb fucking titles, like Helping Your Hippocampus and Priming The Prefontal Lobe. Horseshit stuff.

Well, not really horseshit. I knew that better than most.

There wasn't any indication that Miranda had played one particular song, on my scroll-through, so I just said a quick prayer to the deity of sexual manipulation and hit shuffle.

There was no sound.

Well, wait -- of course there was no fucking sound, it was in her headphones. God I was so fucking amped up right now. I double-checked -- yep, BlueTooth connected -- and watched as she continued going to town on my dick. I wasn't sure what response I was looking for, but I figured there had to be a sign when someone's brain went from "man, calculus is tough" to "I will do whatever fucking thing someone tells me to do."

"Is there a reason you want me to listen to shitty music while I suck you off?" Miranda asked from below me, running her slender fingers along my frenulum and making me shudder. Well, this song definitely wasn't right, then. I hit skip and turned down to her.

"I'm just testing your limits to see how far this want goes." She stared at me blankly for a second as I kicked myself, realizing I may have just invited resistance. "Do you, uh...do you still want to keep going." She smiled coyly, blowing some saliva to her pursed lips and rubbing my cock over that slick, soft bed.