I still can't believe she did it--and he did it--and Marc and I did it! Ever since the first day of classes at the Goethe Institute in Prien in the south of Germany Kate had the hots for Jack. I'd seen that look in her eyes before. It was the look of the hunter seeing her prey and already imagining how good it was going to taste after the hunt and the chase and the kill.
Kate usually got what she wanted. Beautiful women do. And when they're beautiful and smart and rich and moving up fast in the company they ALWAYS get what they want.
Men are such pushovers for pussy. A beautiful woman like Kate can utterly control them--get them panting and doing her bidding thinking she'll spread her legs for them--then laugh and walk away, leaving them bent over to hide their arousal and shame. I suppose I should hate her or at least envy her because I'm not beautiful--well-built, but not beautiful. I don't hate her though because being her friend since college has gotten me more hard cock than I ever could have gotten on my own. That's worth something.
Anyway, Kate always did get what she wanted. I think she had her legs calibrated. She knew exactly how much to open them and for how long to get her demands met--then wham! They'd slam shut until the next sucker came along. Her cruelty worked wonders for me, because I could then move in on cute boys and offer them a shoulder to cry on.
Well, you can guess how that went. They were crushed and feeling awful about themselves, thinking maybe they were dorks. I would come along full of sympathy and understanding, and suggest they come to my room in the dorm to talk.
They never suspected anything from me, because I was everybody's sister. I had always hated that. Men somehow found it easy to open up to me and they told me all about troubles with their girl friends. It was Kate who helped me turn what I had always hated to my advantage.
I'd sit them down on the bed and sit across from them and with a few leading questions I get them almost crying. I'd move over to sit next to them and put my arm around them to comfort them. If they responded--and they always did--I knew I had them.
I'd bring a guy's head to my shoulder and press his face, now wet with tears, into me. Since I'm very well-endowed--even more so than big-titted Kate--they couldn't help but feel my pillowy breasts. I made sure of that.
Of course, they would get embarrassed and pull away, but I'd pretend not to notice and hold them tightly. Guys heads are so easy to fuck with. A guy'd be crying and feeling like he was worthless because Kate had dumped him, but with a woman's arm around him, her breasts pressed into his chin and soothing noises in his ear and within seconds there'd be a stirring in crotch.
It was such a kick to pretend to be this "caring sister," only interested in helping this guy get over his grief, while all the while looking down at his crotch, watching as things came to life. They couldn't even help it! Their cocks are such traitors! I love it! Kate taught me how to understand guys:
"It doesn't matter what's going on in their minds or hearts or anywhere else," Kate'd say.
"A woman can speak directly to their control center without their even knowing it. Make 'em think--even unconsciously--that you're gonna give 'em a little ass and they'll do anything you want them to do. Get to his cock. That's the secret. No man can refuse the insistent demands of his aroused cock."
Kate, as usual, was right. I just had to think "cock" and it was like I'd sent him a subliminal message that he couldn't refuse. So, I'd comfort the poor guy, who'd had visions of Kate's sweet pussy riding up and down his thrusting cock I'd give him just enough soft tit to pull the hidden string to his middle.
It always got me excited to watch those young cocks start to lengthen and thicken against their thighs as I held them so "sisterly."
I'd, of course, adjust my position frequently so that my hand would lightly brush across the top of their tightening pants. I'd feel his dick do a little leap like it had gotten an electric jolt when I touched it. It wouldn't be long before we'd be kissing and he'd be panting and growling, his hands all over me.
Kate would leave a guy so incredibly hungry that I barely had to touch him before his fingers were unbuttoning my blouse, my hands trying to push his away, trying to maintain my image as the comforting sister. I learned just how much to resist so that they always thought they were the initiators without their coming to their senses and getting up and leaving.