The Hypno-ray

He put her down and she shakily regained composure, pulling his hand out from between her legs. She didn't take out his cock. She didn't suck him. She didn't even turn around. She drew his hand to her mouth and sucked her juices off his fingers, off his wedding ring. Her long tongue slooping around each of his digits like five amuse-bouche blowjobs. Then she opened the lift doors and left.

#

It was four in the morning when Jane skyped Fred at his laptop.

"How're you doing, sweet pea?" she husked, the only person he ever had on auto-answer. Her screen illuminated her bed-head, starfished on the pillow. In the bottom corner, his lit-up face was washed-out and haggard.

"You should be asleep."

"So should you." She yawned. "Looking forward to having you to myself for a few days after, though. You all alone?"

"Yep. Clarice is... coming, in the morning, to give me a hand."

"Who's that?"

"The accounts girl."

"Is she pretty?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"You didn't answer the question."

Fred's head ground its gears.

Jane's voice lost its seductive sleepiness. "Ok. So you think this mysterious new girl is pretty. And you used her name. You didn't just call her 'the accounts girl'."

"So?" Fred said, intelligently.

"And you hesitated, before the word 'coming'. Shit, Fred, are you fucking her? Is that... Is that why you're there?"

"Seriously? My love, these days it takes all my energy just keeping up with you. I have all the fucking I need at home, thanks."

"Oh god. She sucks you."

"No! No-one sucks me." He banged the desk, gritting his teeth. "Ever."

"What does that mean?" She deepened her voice to a mocking growl. "Ever."

Fred pressed his lips. He swallowed.

Jane's voice sharpened. "You want me to suck you? Is that it? After all these years, suddenly you like it."

"I think you've made your point that you don't like it. Many times. "

"Is that a joke? Why do you think that? I love doing you, what are you talking about? After last time, you never once asked for it again. I thought it was me, being too, I dunno, slutty or—"

"I have to ask for it?"

"How else do I know what you want?"

"So that's your excuse, for eight years of neglecting my needs. You didn't know I needed it. You had no idea that it was tearing me apart; married to a woman who hated my..." Fred shut his mouth and shut his eyes. He sighed a long, shaky breath.

Jane went silent. When her voice came back, it was small, trembling. "I love you, Fred. I adore your lovely, fat cock. I want to do you, every way possible. Give you the best orgasms you ever had. You're my husband, why wouldn't I want that? I honestly thought I'd turned you off, that time. That I went too far, licking up all your... stuff. I had no—"

Fred hung up. Of all the lies, that was by far the most creative yet. Jane was really into it, and he was the reason she wouldn't do it. He was denying her! His fists trembled. Hanging up the call wasn't enough, he wanted to sling the whole bloody laptop out the window.

He marched off and shocked his tired senses with the office's bracing, constantly cold shower, scrubbing off his dark mood and the all-nighter staleness. Then he returned to his desk and threw himself into his work. He would knock this out, and when Clarice came in, he was going to get her naked. Zap her silly, Lick her. Fuck her. And let her suck him dry.

Only then would he go home, all the tension drawn from his soul, and cuddle his wife and tell her not to worry. It didn't matter that she didn't want to suck him, ever. She didn't have to lie about it to save his ego. He had all that sorted, now.

As the dawn lit up the towers around his window, flooding his office with light, the last thing Fred expected was the timid clearing of a throat, and a small: "Knock knock?"

He jumped to see Clarice standing in the doorway to his office, wearing eyeliner and a blush and absolutely nothing else. She smirked as he took her in, squirming under his hungry gaze. With her flawless skin and shaven mound she looked even more like a doll without her clothes, like some elegant mannequin. Or an angel.

She slinked over to him, every inch the supermodel, and stood beside his chair, the prominent ball of her bald mound level with his face and so close he couldn't get the nerve to take it in. His mouth was paper, his heart pounded up his throat. His midriff heated and tingled.

Clarice folded her arms, utterly in control of the situation even though she was the naked one. "Look what you do to me," she whispered, and pushed her hips toward him.

Clarice's sex was as neat as the rest of her, not deliciously thick and florid like his wife. Simple folds of pale skin and an almost hidden clitoris. However. She literally dripped with arousal; slavering, her inner thighs glistened with it. Fred guessed he wasn't going to need the hypno-ray this morning.

He took her hips and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to her warm labia and getting a kiss of moisture in return. She gasped. So he did it again, and again.

"Steady," she said, "I'm on a hair trigger and I want to cum with you."

But Fred was lost, he wriggled his tongue between her lips and ran it along her groove, unzipping her with is tongue. Her knees wobbled. She sighed. "Well... maybe just a little licking would be allowed."

She pushed his laptop aside and sat on his desk in its place, pulling her feet up and letting her long legs flop open. Fred lunged and she yelped, quickly covering herself.

"Fred, I'm serious. I don't know why, and I know it sounds nuts, but I need to suck you. I can't believe I'm even saying it. But I've thought of nothing else and need to get it out of my system." She dropped her voice to the tiniest whisper. "I want to cum with your cum in my mouth."

Fred laughed, pulled her hands aside, and sucked her hot, wet flesh into him. Clarice screwed his hair in her long fingers, her jaw dropped and watching him eat her. Whether she was holding him in place or preparing to pull him away, he couldn't tell, but he just relished her slippery little lips in his mouth for as long as she could bear it. Also, now the moment of his final release was almost upon him, he wanted to tease himself with it too. The more he licked this woman, the harder he got.

Her fingers tensed at his scalp and her hole pulsed at his lips, so he stopped licking and – opening her labia like the pages of a fascinating book – watched her juices roll from her glossy pink slot, down the gutter of her bottom to spill onto his desk. When her inner clenching, and the whimpers that came with it, died down, he settled his tongue back to work.

"Yes..." Clarice hissed. "Is this making you hard?" she opened her lips delicately so he could suck at her nub.

"Painfully," Fred said into her hole.

She growled. "Let me see."

Fred stood, wiping his hand across his chin. He flexed the bizarre tent in his trousers.

Clarice cupped her sex in both hands and squeezed. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm way too horny. I've got to cum." She leant between her splayed knees, grabbed his waistband and hauled him toward her. "I've got to cum, now."

She tore at his belt and buttons, unzipped him and yanked his trousers and underwear down. Her eyes widened as his cock nodded proudly to attention beneath her smile. Fred had been naked for no-one but his wife, and couldn't decide if Clarice's approval was exciting or saddening. He put all downer thoughts out of his mind and clenched himself proudly under her gaze. She hummed and took him in two hands, unsheathing him, then lightly rubbing. It was his turn for his knees to tremble.

"Sit down," she said, climbing off the table and settling on her knees between his. She toyed with him for a moment, squeezing his balls and shaft, then sighed and leant forward. The flat pad of her tongue curled out, her breath rolled over his tip. He braced himself.

"Fred, it's me." The laptop burst into life, Jane's face popped up on the screen. Damned auto-answer. Mercifully Clarice wasn't in view. All Fred could see of the office on his screen was the top half of his own head.

Clarice slapped her thighs, and scowled thunder at his cock. She crawled away, then stomped out of the room.

Jane frowned. "Listen. I've been thinking about your days off. I've booked us into a spa retreat. We need some dedicated us time. No distractions. What do you reckon?"

Fred discretely pulled up his trousers. He was going to have to zap Clarice again, for sure.

"What does that mean?" he said, surprised at the bitter tone to his voice.

Jane melted. "My love, don't be like that. I'm saying I want to get rid of all the misunderstandings between us. Start again. You know. Get super spa clean, so we can get good and dirty?"

Fred sighed. Don't get your hopes up, he told himself. She's done this to you before. You'll lick and shag her to multiple orgasms then she'll toss you off onto her tits or something, and it will be great, but not what you need.

"Ok. Cool. Gotta go." Fred ran off in search of Clarice.

He found her in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and putting on her bra. He stood opposite her, offering himself, but she shook her head and reached for her panties. With a heavy heart, Fred aimed the ray-gun and fired again.

For a second, she scowled at Fred's tiny ray gun while it flashed and crackled in his fist. Then she blinked. Then her cheeks pinked. Then she smirked and dropped to her knees.

She had him back out in her hands in a second. "Just so you know? I like lots of cream with my coffee," she said, running her tongue around Fred's rigid flesh. He clenched his fists and she pulled him into her mouth

Clarice worked him with long hums and a quick fist. This was not a slow sensuous act of love. This was a frenzy of need. Her spare hand was curled underneath her, between spread knees as she worked herself in time with him.

She seemed closer to cumming than Fred, who suddenly became aware of his cock's numbness; how Clarice's eager mouth seemed to not quite connect with him. Her hand felt vigorous and compelling but it was almost as if something wasn't letting him experience anything more. A lack of resolution.

"Please," she said, her brow wrinkling, and eyes imploring, "Please cum." She rubbed harder and faster, slooping that great long tongue around his taut bulb, up and down his underside, over his balls. Her motions got jerky and her abdomen trembled.

"F-fuck," she gasped, her lips loose at his joggling head as her hand blurred up and down, quick sloppy noises coming from between her legs. "F-fuck!" she said again and Fred could not hold back. A woman like this was cumming with desire. For him.

He erupted into her waiting mouth and she cried out, clamping her lips and fist to his pumping end, holding still and nasally gasping in desperate, orgasmic yelps.

Fred watched the scene like a low-res download. Clarice's elegant little mouth locked to him, whimpering, almost mewling, as her body twitched on her quick fingers. Her eyelids drooped as she received his jets. His ejaculation drawn from him invisibly, neatly, and almost completely without sensation. No head-rush, no high, just a mechanical squirting from him, into her. It reminded him of sleeping while needing to piss, dreams of gushing and gushing but finding no release.

Her breaths lengthened, and calmed, and her hand pulled slowly at his last pulses. With one last shiver and a squeeze she pulled off him and, holding his cum in her mouth, stood to spit it into the sink. She turned the tap on full blast to wash it away, cupping water into her mouth and swilling that clean, too.

She turned to him and smiled, pressing one last kiss to his unsatisfied, rigid, manhood. "Thanks" she said. "I badly needed that. Weird huh?"

They dressed in silence, avoiding each other's eye.

#

Jane insisted on paying for the fancy spa with her own royalty money, not the joint account, and Fred was glad. It had the simple sparse luxury that cost a fortune. But the last thing he deserved was a treat. He had been sullen all the way there, even though Jane couldn't keep her hands off him while he drove. Even though all she'd wanted to do was talk about how silly they had both been about the "sex-thing" and how today was a chance to "just let it all hang out. No holds barred."

The morning had provided no relief at all, only regret. Fred was still ragingly hard, and looking forward to washing Clarice off his skin. He only wished he could rinse out his soul the way she had her mouth, under some great cleansing faucet.

For some reason, this made him think of his brother. The minute Fred was alone, he rang him.

"So," he whispered, hiding behind a pot of black-bamboo while Jane filled out the check-in forms at reception." I know this is, like, a really dumb question, but does your gun have some kind of reverso-ray feature? I mean something that can undo what's been done?"

His brother went quiet, then huffed a long sigh.

"I know. Sorry. Stupid question," Fred blustered, "Sorry to bother–"

"Actually, Fred. There is. In fact I can do better than that. Pull the hypno-ray out, now, and point it at your head."

Fred patted his pockets, but couldn't find the familiar little lump of metal anywhere. His vision tunnelled. No. He couldn't have lost it.

"Got it?" his brother said.

"Umm... I can't–"

His brother blared laughter, so loud it distorted the speaker. "Moron!" he shouted, "There was never any bloody hypno-ray! Like that could ever happen! I hypnotised you, little brother."

Fred's knees turned to jelly. He flopped against a wall. "Fuck."

"Fuck, Indeed. So you're in the clear Freddy-boy. Whatever sick little tryst you engineered, didn't actually happen."

"But Clarice..."

"Not real, either. I put you under and told you to fabricate an ideal mate, an angel, someone who takes pleasure in your pleasure."

"Bollocks. No way. That woman was real. What she did was real."

"All of it? Describe her."

"Beautiful, blonde, kind of Grace Kelly looking, no. Kind of more... more like..."

"Jane?"

"Now you mention it, yes. But taller. Sort of smoother."

"Idealised, yes. And the things you did with her. All the same things you do with Jane?"

Fred thought he might faint. He wedged his head to a cool marble wall. "Ah, yes all of them. Except one, and I couldn't feel that– Ha! Wait. Her... bits. They were way different. Smaller, less, I dunno. Showy."

"Her breasts, too, I suppose. That will be your subconscious guilt, Frederick, diminishing the parts you take most pleasure from."

Fred's skin tingled, his fist clenched. "That's why I didn't feel it. When I came in her mouth."

"Oh Christ, spare me."

"Bastard. Why would you do that?"

"To help you manifest your need, obviously. Face it. I could see you and Jane weren't happy, because you, specifically, weren't sharing what you needed. It's better between you now, yes?"

"Well, yes. Much. I zapped her."

"No you didn't. You told her what you wanted. You zapped yourself."

Jane turned from the reception desk and caught his eye while fiddling with her purse. She threw him a cheeky wink. He thought he might explode, right there and then, with joy.

#

"Turn over." Jane finally stopped massaging the moisturiser into Fred's hard buttocks and gave them a stinging slap. He could hardly manage the manoeuvre, his body was so relaxed. Most of it anyway. Jane smirked as his hard-on bobbed beneath her gaze. She squirted the hundred-quid lotion liberally over his chest, abs and the front of his legs, finally daubing it, cool, over his hot cock like ice-cream sauce.

"You're a silly bugger," she said, working the packs of muscle on his shoulders and chest. She had sped up her massage on this side, working him more briskly. Fred didn't care, it still felt delightful, his naked wife's little strong hands groping him all over. Accompanied by the casual graze of a nipple, or the press of her mound as she straddled his stomach.

"Hang on, why am I a silly bugger?"

She swung off him – living a distinct chilly patch on his abs – and rubbed hands up both his legs at once, blowing hair from her face and talking to his nodding phallus. "Imagining I had some problem with this lovely brute." Her hands slid up his thighs and converged between his legs. Her tongue curled out as she slipperily kneaded his balls. He groaned. She chuckled and wriggled a finger underneath them; probing cheekily between his buttocks and making him wriggle and leap about like an eel.

"Don't tease me, Jane. It doesn't matter if you're not keen, you don't need to pretend. I'm cool– Oh yes."

Her hands slid the cream around his length, he groaned again, and she hummed. "Like I said. Silly bugger." She dipped her head and licked under his tip. "Lemon sherbet, yummy. Your turn." She tossed him the bottle.

She stretched out on her front, and Fred tried to quell his feverish doubts. She did this every time; got him believing he was in for the blowjob of his life, and so overexcited that, when it came down to it, he wouldn't care how he came.

He squirted expensive lotion down her spine and legs and over her bottom. She sighed and wriggled in anticipation. Today might be different, though. If he could conjure Clarice sucking him off, and she was only the subconscious projection of his wife... maybe it was trying to tell him something. Something he dare not admit for fear of being hurt again.

Either way, today Fred rubbed his wife as if for the first time. Compared to his phantasm she was so real, so vital in his hands. The elegant arch of her neck, the snake of her back, as she lifted onto her elbows so he could carry his slippery fragrant hands over her breasts. Sharing a deep, breathy kiss as he rolled her hardening nipples under his palms, resting his cock between her bottom cheeks. And that arse, round and pert even when she lay on her front. He kneaded at it like dough, enjoying the flashes of her pink knot and her crinkled flesh beneath. Then her legs, the bouncy strength in them, all the way down to her babyish toes, he enjoyed every inch of her. Once done, he sat back, knelt at her feet, harder than he'd ever been and admiring his handiwork. One seriously relaxed and, he hoped, excited woman.

She sighed and croaked, "Thank you. But--" she opened her legs in a wide Y "--you missed a bit."

Fred laughed, and squirted the lotion between her legs, even though she evidently didn't need it. He rubbed gently, adoring the fleshy resilience against his fingers and the glimpses of her glistening interior as he worked, from the outside, slowly in. By the time he got to her clit it was already wet from her own spillage. He dabbed it gently, sliding a thumb effortlessly into her hole.

Fred had no idea she was so close, two thrusts of his thumb and the briefest tickle of her clit had her bucking on the bed, panting and swearing. Then covering herself and giggling. He sat back and sucked his thumb, while she smouldered at him.

"Done?" he said, licking her off his fingers, a delicious mix of salt and sweet lemon.

She shook her head and tipped up her bottom, face still pressed flat to the pillows. She pointed to his tongue.

Fred dipped behind her and tried to hold back his own orgasm while he licked his wife to her second. He also tried to keep it slow and sensuous and loving but it seemed they'd gone beyond that, and quickly he was devouring her as she pushed her hips back at his face. He sucked her throbbing clit like a great fat grape into his mouth and wriggled his tongue at it, while she spread her lips so wide she created a flat surface of flesh for him to sucker too. She growled and grunted, her vagina pulsing inside, rolling juices over his lips and making him moan into her, desperate for her to cum, or for him to cum, anyone. Then, mercifully she puffed three times and laughed insanely into the pillows, clawing and slapping them, screeching "Yes! Yes! Yes!"