The Gift of Orgasms - Aggressive

Author's note: This is one of two stories with the same concept and mildly different executions. Both stories have the same intro, the same general plot, and lots of kinky sex. The difference is that this story is geared more towards domination and humiliation, while the other story has more "heart"--while still containing plenty of sex.

If fucking to dominate is your kick, this story is for you. Otherwise, I would recommend reading the other story, "Gift of Orgasms -- Cheerful". Both stories are fun and are my personal kinks. For me, it is more a question of mood.

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Uncle Pete always had pretty girls around him. I would be lying if I said that wasn't part of the reason he was my favorite Uncle. At every family event, Uncle Pete could be counted on to bring along at least one hot, young, shapely girl. Sometimes, there were even multiple girls, all hovering around Uncle Pete, rushing to bring him beers, and all showing more cleavage than I had ever seen outside of the internet. As much as my parents tried to shield me, I always ended up hanging with Pete through most of the family gatherings.

It wasn't just the girls, of course. Pete was funny and I was quick to laugh. Uncle Pete took me to movies. When I failed math in sophomore year of high school, it was Uncle Pete that sat me down and told me to shape up and quit cutting class.

The memory that I thought of the most, however, was when Uncle Pete picked me up from a party at 3AM, hammered and sick, and took me back to his place. The next day, he took the heat, claiming that I was at his place all night and he was sorry that he forgot to call. Afterwards, Pete and I talked for a long time. He told me that what I was going through was normal. It was okay to call him and he would never be mad, but I should be careful not to let the partying and booze go to my head, because I could screw things up that would take the fun away. I promised him I would keep my head.

I was really going to miss Uncle Pete. The heart attack took him quick, at least.

I was now 23, just out of college and trying to figure out what I was going to do with life. Uncle Pete's death left me feeling even more like a boat without an anchor, just waiting for the next wind to push me along.

That being said, Pete was always the giver. His funeral was full of many of the gorgeous women that I had seen throughout the years and many more that I had never seen. They were crying, often in little pods together, and often very loudly. My family was there, too, and nobody quite seemed surprised to see the myriad of beautiful mourners. We had known Uncle Pete well enough to know the company he kept, even if none of us really understood why.

That confusion was redoubled now, looking back at Uncle Pete's life. As long as I could remember, he had never had a single, serious girlfriend, but had always been surrounded by dozens who seemed to wait on his every whim. Why? Uncle Pete wasn't an exceptionally handsome man, especially as he got older. What was his secret? I wished I knew. My last girlfriend had dumped me for a guy in her chemistry course that she had known for three weeks. We had dated for a year.

I listened to the eulogies, listened to the reverend, and watched a video montage that was accompanied by cheesy music. There was a blonde mourner to my right who had a way-too-short dress. She wept through the entire thing. I did my best not to look at her legs, as nice as they were. It didn't seem like the right time or place.

After the funeral, I mingled with my family, trying to figure out how much time I needed to stay. I missed my uncle, but he was by far the best part of my family. Now that he was gone, hanging with my family had lost a lot of the draw.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I found a tall, older gentleman. He asked me for clarification on my name, and I told him he had it right.

"Excellent," the man said. "I was your uncle's lawyer. As a part of his last will and testament, he wanted me to give you this." He outstretched an envelope, then gazed over my shoulder at my family, who was watching curiously. "It was your uncle's wish that you open it outside the company of others."

"Uh, thank you," I said. I was a little confused. Uncle's money had already been accounted for. He had distributed it among a few different charities. They were selling his house and had an upcoming estate sale for his stuff.

I excused myself from my family and stepped outside the funeral home. The air was crisp and someone was burning leaves nearby. Combined with the orange leaves crunching under my feat, it was a perfect autumn day. I loosened the tie around my neck, walked to my car, and leaned on the hood. I carefully tore open the envelope and looked inside.

I expected--maybe hoped for--a check. There was none. There was just a single, type-written page inside. I carefully pulled it from the envelope and immediately smelled my Uncle's cologne. I pushed down the tears that sprang up from the smell and forced myself to read the letter. It was type-written and not very long:

"My dear nephew,

"If you are reading this, then I am dead. I hope it's long in the future, but however it went, I don't have any regrets. I lived life well and I hope that you are able to do the same. To help you with this, I'm leaving you my greatest treasure--the gift of orgasm.

"Trust me, I know it's a strange thing to say, but I don't have to remind you of the company I kept through my life. Those girls didn't want me for my great hair or warm personality--you know I had neither. They wanted me because I could get them off in a way that nobody else could.

"It's a magic of sorts that seems to dwell within one person at a time. The last holder of it picked me and I pick you. When I die, this magic will pass along to you. You will only have to command a woman in your mind and she will have the most powerful orgasm she has ever had--or ever will.

"I know you don't believe me. I felt the same way. The only way you will ever believe me is by trying it out. So go try it. Give a stranger the orgasm of her life. But please, DO NOT try it on a family member. Trust me, that's a mess you don't want.

"After you're done, I'm giving you a link to a page I've set up to learn more." Here he listed a URL to an obscure, strange page on the internet--obviously something he set up using a cheap web service.

"I love you, nephew. Pete."

He was right. I didn't believe him. This was Uncle Pete's final joke to him, a practical joke that would live on forever. But still, I couldn't deny that there were a hundred hot girls in that funeral. Pete had a way with women.

I got in the car, folding the letter up and sticking it in the cupholder. I knew I should say goodbye to my family, but I didn't want to go back in there. Especially with that nagging curiosity in the back of my head. Also, they'd want to see the letter and--joke or not--I didn't want that.

I went a few blocks through the suburb that Pete had lived in. I pulled into the parking lot of a coffee shop. Pete's cologne still hung in the air. His words on the paper, even if they were a joke, were the last thing I'd ever had from my uncle. I lost it for a moment, I'll fully admit it. I missed my uncle. And now I was going to go the rest of my life without him.

I got it together after a few minutes and took a deep breath. I stepped out of the car and into the coffee shop. The bell above the door jingled as I came in. The smells of overpriced coffee assaulted me.

I stepped into the line and looked behind the counter. There was a barista. She was pretty, in a hipster sort of way--the kind of girl I didn't mind picturing on her knees. Uncle Pete's words flashed through my mind: "Give a stranger the orgasm of her life". I quickly shook it out of my head. There was no way I was going to try to pick up a barista at a coffee shop. Family or not, I had not inherited Pete's sort of style.

The person in front of me stepped aside and I stepped up. I ordered my drink, paid (again, overpriced), and gave my name for the order. She smiled, a nice wide smile that I liked looking at. I didn't know if my eyes were still red, but she seemed kind. Again, I thought about my Uncle's advice. Come to think of it, Pete didn't say that I had to sleep with her. He seemed to imply that I could command her and she could cum. But there was no way in hell that I was going to say anything like that to her.

I stepped aside, waiting for my drink. I did my best not to keep looking at the pretty hipster barista. I did my best to not think about trying out my Uncle's claim on her. I also did my best not to think of the weeping blonde at the funeral hope with the nice legs. I realized that my uncle's letter seemed to say that I could command "in my mind". That didn't seem very pranky to me. I would expect my Uncle to have written out some magic line that would make me sound like a fool when I tried it out. If it was a prank, why have it as a mental command? I realized that this was actually a very low cost experiment, should I decide to pursue it.

I glanced again at the pretty barista. I tried to think of a reason not to experiment. I had nothing to lose, did I? And when it didn't work, I could go on with my life without my Uncle's "gift of orgasm".

Another barista called my name and handed me my drink. I took it, took a sip, and glanced one more time at the pretty hipster barista. Now or never. I shrugged, focused on her, and thought, "Cum."

Something weird happened to my head. It was like I could feel a sort of "whooshing" and my focus on the girl intensified. As quickly as it came, it was gone. If anyone noticed something odd about me, they quickly were distracted by something else.

The barista cried out, squealing in a high, earnest voice. Her whole body shook and the notepad she was holding dropped to the ground. Her eyes bulged and she slammed her fists down on the counter, apparently unable to express herself in any other way. I watched, fascinated and horrified at the same time. The coffee shop wasn't full, but now every eye inside was focused exclusively on her. Her squealing finished and her face quickly grew red.

As much as I wondered how she was going to talk herself out of a situation that I had put her in, I was more terrified than anything else. I took my drink and left. I peeled out and drove, doing my best to put as much distance as possible between me and the coffee shop.

As I drove home, clutching my uncle's letter in one hand, an errant thought appeared in my mind, "Huh. She was a squealer. I never would have guessed." I knew I would be jerking off to the thought of her squeals real soon.

---

"Nephew,

"By now you will have realized I'm not bullshitting you. This also might help explain the girls around me. You were my favorite nephew and as much fun as I had, I never had any kids of my own. You can imagine the various creative methods that I employed in pursuit of that goal.

"To be clear, the gift you have will be better than anything else the girl could ever hope for outside of you. The best nights of her life will pale in comparison to what you can do with just a thought. Be warned, it can be rather addictive.

"I don't know where this magic--I can think of no other word for it--started. I know that you choose who it goes to after you. I know that I got it when I was thirty and it never dulled throughout my life. I also know that I picked you on your 18th birthday. Whenever I pass--and if you're reading this, I have--you'll get that magic too.

"I hope you use this gift the same way I have, to fill your life with the pleasures that most men can only imagine. Your power only works on women, so you can't give yourself orgasms, but once women have a taste of the delight you can provide, they tend to be very happy to return the favor.

"Let me be very clear--you hold all the cards here. You owe nobody anything. Women can be masters of guilt trips, but you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Remember that. If she wants something, let her earn it. This sounds crass, but just wait until they're knocking on your door at 3AM begging for a release. You'll learn very quickly that you provide a service and it's not unreasonable to ask for something in exchange for that service. They're using you for pleasure. Return the favor.

"I'm tempted to leave you with a list of numbers of girls that I have found especially agreeable, but I think that you'll have no problem finding some of your own favorites.

"Have fun, nephew. God knows that I have. And make sure you pick an heir for the power. You can change it as you go through life, but don't let it die with you.

"I love you. Uncle Pete."

The webpage was cheaply-made and short, but it got the job done. I had a little lockbox--something cheap I had bought when I suspected a college roommate of stealing from me--and I stuck the envelope inside. I read the web page again, thinking. I thought back to the hipster barista. It had been easy to give her a command. It had been very impactful. I wondered if my Uncle Pete was right. Would she have... um... paid for those services? My mind started to fill with fantasies of what that might mean. The words "let her earn it" floated through my mind.

Perhaps I should have sat down and thought through a plan, but my mind was too filled with possibilities. I now had the ability to blow a woman's mind. I just had to use it in such a way to get her to blow my mind. What was the old phrase for motivating someone? A carrot and a stick? I had the world's best carrot, but what of the stick? Of course, this phrase put into mind images of spanging a girl with a riding crop, which weren't exactly conducive for logical thinking through.

My mind drifted to the blonde who lived down the hallway. Her face--as pretty as it was--was not her best asset. That was definitively her phenomenal tits, which tormented my imagination as they paraded about in form-fitting crop tops. She entered my mind and I quickly placed her in a few appealing scenarios--on her knees with her hands tied behind her back, or riding me with those fantastic tits bouncing in the air, or bent over while I drilled her from behind and pulled her hair. The possibilities were endless.

I made a snap decision. The barista at the coffee shop was fine, but the blonde and her tits were the real deal to me. If I wanted anyone hooked on what I could give, it was her. I opened my door, walked down the hall, and wrapped twice on her door.

She was wearing a red tank top that I hadn't seen before. Her generous chest pushed out again the fabric, creating a dark cave in the middle that I found very promising.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hi," I smiled. I decided to just swing. I looked at her and thought in my mind "Cum". Some part of me was terrified that maybe this all was still some sort of joke. Maybe this was where I was made the fool. But those fears were short lived. There was the "whooshing" in my mind and she started.

The blonde let out a short groan, then gasped. She grabbed onto the door frame for support. I watched while her hips bucked and shook. She was trying to keep her mouth closed, but soon failed. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" came in sharp, forceful breaths as she shook. The hand on the door frame was steady, but the one holding the door waved back and forth as she shook. The door moved with her, occasionally banging against her side.

Then, it was done. The blonde continued to breathe heavily. She looked at me with wide, embarrassed eyes. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed watching that.

"You can owe me one," I said, riding the high that the power rush gave me. "If you want to pay me back or try to earn another, I'm in apartment 414." I smiled, I turned on a heel, and left her standing in the hallway to catch her breath.

It took her about twenty minutes. I don't actually know how I resisted jerking off while I waited. I spent a long time revisiting the quaking of her tits as she came. I also spent a lot of time envisioning the ways she could pay me back. I knew I didn't have her yet, of course, but I wanted her. If Uncle Pete was correct about how addictive these could be, then I knew it was only a matter of time.

Just as I was about to break and jerk off, there was a tentative knock on my door. I opened it and saw the blonde, standing awkwardly in my doorway.

"Hello," I said with a smile. "Would you like to come in?"

"I... uh... yeah, okay," she said. She stepped past me.

I introduced myself and she gingerly took my hand. "I'm Niki," she said.

"It's nice to meet you," I said. "I've seen you around the building."

"Yeah," Niki said, still looking at me warily.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked. I was still feeling the adrenaline high and was a little manic. Never before had I had the upper hand in talking to a hot girl. It was a strange feeling.

"What did... what happened? Earlier?" Niki asked.

"I'm a little new to it, but I am pretty sure I gave you an orgasm," I said.

Niki blinked. Then again. She pursed her lips and said, "But..." She paused, blinked again, and said, "What?"

"Apparently I can do that," I said. "I can think and give you an orgasm. Again, I'm new to it myself."

"That's insane," Niki said, a little bit of anger creeping into her voice.

I shrugged. "Do you have another explanation for earlier?"

Niki's angry eyes faltered slightly. "Well... no. But... come on."

I shrugged again. "Well how about we make a deal? If I can't make you cum again, I'll admit I'm lying and this is all bullshit. But if I can make you cum again, you return the favor."

I watched a series of emotions pass through her eyes. The first was a sort of hunger. Already, she wanted what I had given her again. The second was an indignation at the prospect of "returning" the favor. The third was a genuine curiosity, presumably to test if I could do this at all.

"And what did you have in mind?" Niki asked. "You know, if you can do it?"

"I figure you strip down to nothing and suck me off," I suggested.

Again, indignation flashed through Niki's eyes. "If it's as easy as you say it is, that's hardly a fair deal."

"It's not about how easy it is," I said. "It's about how good it is. My Uncle said that it was the best orgasm you have ever had or will ever have. And it doesn't lose potency the more it happens." He hadn't actually said this, but I took a little bit of a liberty. "If that's true, then a blowjob with a view actually seems like a pretty good deal. If it's not true, then I'm sure you can get what you need somewhere else." I let my eyes drop to her tits, still nicely supported and displayed by that tight red tank top. She could see me leering at her, but I didn't care. Pretenses were more or less thrown out the window by now.

"Fine," Niki said. "I don't really believe you can do it."

"But if I can, you'll strip down to nothing and suck me off?" I pushed.

"Yeah, whatever," Niki said flippantly.

I shrugged. I looked at her and commanded in my mind, "Cum". She did. For the second time in an hour, I watched her body shake and gyrate, while she moaned. It lasted longer this time, possibly because she wasn't trying to stop it this time. It lasted almost thirty seconds. I sipped on my water and watched the busty blonde orgasm in my living room.

After, she put a hand on the wall for support, quivering. "Oh my god... oh my god..." she muttered.

I smiled sweetly, sipping my glass of water, and then set it down on the counter.

"Do you believe now?" I asked.

"I... oh my god," she repeated.

"Well take a moment, catch your breath, and then we can get started," I said.

Niki's eyes locked onto mine. I could see the after-effects of pleasure disappear and sudden realization fill her eyes.

"What?" she said.