Hot Stories for Cold Nights (18 page)

Shocked, Dale said, “Only twenty dollars?” Dumb thing to say, he realized when the words were out of his mouth, but the guy could have charged him a hundred, or even a thousand.

“That's it. I would suggest that you use it sparingly. There's an interesting facet to this particular potion. Many men find that the effects last longer and longer each time. You'll have to see how it works for you.”

Still almost speechless, he reached into his wallet and handed Mr. Dearly two ten-dollar bills and walked out of the store, vial again lodged safely in his shirt pocket.
Maybe he does make his money on reorders,
Dale thought. After all, he'd certainly be back every week for more, and at twenty dollars a pop, he could easily afford it. How many other men arrived at the shop each week for reorders? After all, how much did it actually cost to keep up that tired little shop?

At home, he got ready for work, dabbing a little of the liquid behind each ear. Looking at his watch he realized that he'd only be an hour late. His boss might object but the hell with her. She'd been on his case for weeks and it didn't seem to matter what he did. But he needed the job.

He took the bus to his office and got into the elevator. Three women were chatting as they got on after him. He pressed the button for the third floor and looked at the women, asking with his glance which floor they wanted. The elevator doors slid shut and the car began to rise.

“That's okay, I'll get it,” one said, pressing herself against him as she reached for the button.

“I'll get it,” another said, pushing her friend out of the way and rubbing against him like a cat in heat.

“Get out of my way,” the third said, grabbing him around the waist and rubbing her pubic bone against his hip.

“Ladies,” he said as the door opened at his floor. “I have to get off here.”

As he walked down the hallway, he heard the women squabbling.
Damn, this potion does it to everyone. I'm an incredibly lucky man.

He entered his office and was greeted by several of the guys. “How did last evening go?” Steve asked.

All he did was grin.

“Mr. Conroy,” his boss yelled through the open door to her office. “Nice of you to show up.”

He crossed the room and entered her tiny office. “I'm so sorry, Ms. Tompkins, I had an errand to run.”

Without a word, she rose, crossed to the door, and closed it firmly. “That's fine, Dale.” She flipped the lock. “No harm done.”

She slowly ran the palms of her hands down the hips of her tight black skirt, then began to unbutton her bright blue blouse. Button by button the sides of the blouse parted, revealing a satiny, light blue bra, and the swollen nipples of her small, compact breasts beneath. She said nothing as she moved so her body pressed against his. He backed up slightly and found himself almost sitting on the edge of her desk, staring at her tits.

She reached behind her and unfastened the clasp and removed both her blouse and bra. She offered him one tit. “Suck,” she said simply.

He obliged, hands massaging her flesh. As her head fell back, he filled his mouth with her, inhaling the subtle fragrance of her arousal.

As he sucked, she unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor, followed by her panties.

“Leave the rest on,” Dale said, holding her from him and gazing at her dark stockings and high-heeled black shoes.

“Of course,” she whispered, voice husky with arousal. She quickly opened his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped until his slacks were around his ankles. She pushed him backward until he was lying across her desk and she was mounting him, one foot on the floor and the other knee beside his hip.

She pounded onto him, driving his cock into her body over and over, hands everywhere, rubbing his chest through his shirt, cupping his sac, scratching his inner thighs with her long, perfectly polished nails. They turned over and Dale fucked her with enthusiasm.

They each came twice.

Finally they straightened and she got tissues from her desk drawer. “We have to get cleaned up,” she said. “Then I guess we should get to work. Later?”

Totally flummoxed, he nodded, wiped semen and her juices from his body, and re-dressed.

“Did you get fired?” Steve asked when he emerged.

“Nope,” he said, keeping his own counsel.

He was almost attacked by a woman in the elevator on his way to lunch and several women followed him into the park and tried to sit beside him on a bench. He had to keep moving and ate his hot dog while walking. For a change, he wasn't interested in any more quickies. He kept to himself until mid-afternoon when he was called into Ms. Tompkins's office for another round of hot, steamy fucking.

As he left the office at five o'clock, he found himself looking around, making sure there were no women in the vicinity.
I'll have to use much less tomorrow
, he thought.
This is a little ridiculous.

The following morning, he thought about doing without, but he couldn't resist dabbing only a tiny amount behind one ear. After all, he had enjoyed the quickies in Ms. Tompkins's office. God, she was gorgeous and watching her get down and dirty was truly hot.

He entered her office and she again closed and locked the door. This time he wanted to see if he could get her to suck him off until he came. As she turned from the door, he unzipped his pants. He'd deliberately gone commando so there were no shorts to get in his way. He leaned against the desk and said, “Suck me off.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she said, “Of course.” On her knees she took him deep into her mouth and created a vacuum. Then she pulled back and sucked him in deep again. Cupping his testicles and scratching the tender area between his balls and anus, she kept sucking until he spurted into her throat.

“Do me, please,” she begged, pulling up her skirt and sitting on the edge of her desk. Like Sharon had, she'd left off her panties. Her pussy was swollen and glistening with her juices. “Please?” she said.

He was only too happy to oblige. He pulled up a chair and settled in, licking her engorged clit and fingering her hole. It took only a minute for her to come, clamping her thighs against his ears. He kept licking and she kept coming. Finally, exhausted, she pushed him away and slid off the desk, saying, “Later.”

Dale stayed in and ate peanut butter crackers from the vending machine for lunch. Dodging women was becoming a pain.

Over the next few days, he dabbed on less and less of the potion until he stopped using it altogether. It didn't seem to matter. Women kept attacking him. Several catfights had broken out among women wanting to rub up against him. Every morning and afternoon he fucked or was fucked by his boss. He was unable to meet his friends for dinner because Sharon made more and more demands on him.

Amazingly enough, his cock was sore and he was getting tired of fucking. He couldn't even talk with a woman without dire consequences. And now the effect seemed to be permanent.

About two weeks after his first visit, Dale returned to the little shop. Mr. Dearly was behind the counter serving another customer. “It really works like that?” the man asked.

“It certainly does. Just ask this customer,” he said, pointing to Dale. “The irresistibility potion works the way I said, doesn't it?”

“It does, but—”

Mr. Dearly cut him off. “You see? And the first day's potion is free.”

“What would it cost from then on?” the man asked.

“Only twenty dollars a week. And sometimes you don't even need more. The effect seems to be cumulative. Right?” he said to Dale.

“In truth. I don't need to use any now,” Dale said, “but there is something—”

Again Mr. Dearly interrupted him. “So take this and see what happens,” he said to his customer, who smiled and pocketed his little tube.

The little bell tinkled as he left the store. Mr. Dearly turned to Dale. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I've got a little problem.”

Mr. Dearly's eyes widened. “Don't tell me it's stopped working.”

“Exactly the opposite. It seems permanent. I can't turn it off.”

“Is that bad?”

“It's getting to be a pain. I can't have any kind of relationship with women. All they want is sex. There's no way I can talk with them, go to a movie, bowl. It's getting annoying.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Can you turn it off?”

“I have a reversal formula. A sort of resistibility potion.”

Dale let out a long, relieved sigh. “That's great. I need some.”

Mr. Dearly shuffled to another shelf and took down a small bottle. “Just a few drops of this behind each ear will cancel the effects of the irresistibility potion.” He poured a small amount into a vial but he didn't hand it to Dale. “That will be five hundred dollars.”

“What?” The word exploded from Dale's mouth.

“You'll pay it, won't you?” He leered. “Of course you will.”

“But everything else was so cheap.”

The smile on Mr. Dearly's face was almost evil. “It's always the same. Men have no idea what irresistibility will do. And when they want it reversed, well, that's how I keep my little shop going. That's why my name is Pay Dearly.” His laugh was almost maniacal, but Dale paid.

The new potion worked as Pay Dearly had promised. Now Dale had a lot to think about.

S
COTT AND I LOVE TO PLAY GAMES. SEXY GAMES. WE'VE been married for almost three years, no kids, and at first we had a plain vanilla sex life. The change started about a year ago when Scott was surfing the 'Net and came across a website devoted to off-center sex activities. Although back then we were both pretty naive about the games people play, we were very open about discussing sex.

“Uh, Lynn, come in here and take a look at this,” he called that first Friday evening, a slight hesitation in his voice. Curious, I wandered into the den where our computer was set up. And I looked. Some of the pictures he flipped through took my breath away—and tightened my nipples and made my pussy twitch.

“Real people don't do stuff like that,” I said. The
stuff
on the screen at that moment was a picture of an ordinary-looking woman, leaning over the back of a sofa, naked ass already reddened by the hand of the man poised over her. “Do they?”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “This site claims to feature amateurs.”

“Riiight,” I said, not believing a word of it, but also slightly breathless. “Amateurs who get paid to do this stuff.”

“Who cares whether they're really professionals or not?” he said, still staring at the screen. “It's still really hot.” He paged forward to another photo, showing a different couple, a man, fully clothed, sitting on a straight chair with a woman draped over his knees. While she was dressed from the waist up, her butt was naked, positioned for spanking. His hand was raised and, if you looked closely (and I did), her rear was red as was his palm.
Boy, have I been living in a sheltered environment,
I thought. Whether these people were “just folks” or paid, obviously viewers enjoyed seeing photos like this. I was speechless, shocked both at the photos and my innocence.

Scott moved his mouse and clicked to another photo, one that showed a naked woman positioned over a bench, wrists and ankles tied to its legs, a man standing menacingly over her, a Ping-Pong paddle in his hand. This man was naked and his arousal was all too obvious. It was probably posed, but I had to admit that it was exciting me.

“You really think it's hot?” I said, a little tentatively.
Does he want me to participate in something like these photos show?

“Sure.” He reached up and tweaked one of my erect nipples. “And obviously you do, too.” He all but dragged me to the bedroom, stripped me bare, and, with no preamble, fucked me hard and fast. As I was about to come, Scott slapped my ass. Once. It wasn't a hard slap, but I both heard and felt it, and I came really quickly—amazingly quickly. God, I'd been so aroused. And the little bit of pain, and the surprise of it, threw me over the edge.

It was quite a while before I could speak a coherent sentence. “That was—quite something,” I said, trying to catch my breath and not exactly sure what to say.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, panting. “Quite something, indeed.” He lifted himself on one elbow and looked down at me. “And there's so much more, if you want to try some stuff.”

Enlightenment dawned. “I would guess,” I said, now calmer, “that this isn't the first time you visited that site.”