This story contains scenes of non-consensual, reluctant, and mind-controled sex, including bondage, fetishism, male-female, and female-female sex. Readers below the age of eighteen should stop reading now.
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Chapter One
Michael's 'troubles' began when Miss Calvin moved in next door. Michael's father had died several years earlier, and Michael lived with his mother in a quiet suburban neighbourhood. The house next door had been empty for several months and it did not take too long for Michael's mother to volunteer him for the task of tidying up Miss Calvin's back yard.
Michael grimaced at the sight of it. It was summer; Michael was on summer break before returning to his final year of high school. The weather had been baking hot for the last week and the hot spell showed no signs of breaking. The yard had been a pleasant back garden, but now it was an overgrown mass of unruly grass and bushes. Even the paved areas were covered in straggling runners from the bushes in the border. Brandishing a huge pair of shears, Michael began trimming back plants.
Miss Calvin would appear at the back door every so often. Frequently there was a tray in her hands, a cool glass of lemonade resting on it for Michael to gulp down. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties. Truth be told, if Michael had been a little older he would have described her as stunning. As it was, his late-teen eyes were more concerned with the unattainable target of bedding Lucy Clayton than women almost twice his age.
Miss Calvin had high cheekbones and a firm jaw-line. Her pale blue eyes were striking and the overall look was dramatic, even slightly frightening. She had a body many models would have killed for. Firm, moderately large breasts, slim waist sliding into fuller hips, and long legs which she chose to show off by wearing very short skirts. This afternoon, her choice of garment was a figure-hugging mini-dress that pushed her breasts into a delicious valley of cleavage; which Michael was managing to not notice in his hurry to get the garden finished.
By five that evening, and despite as short a lunch break as he could manage, it was clear to Michael that he would never finish the garden today. At the very least he would be mowing the lawn the following day.
Miss Calvin appeared at the door while he leant on a rake, looking at the devastation he had wrought. "Not quite finished then, Michael?"
"Guess not, Miss Calvin. I'll come back in the morning and finish up."
"Would you like another glass of lemonade?" She was carrying another tray and Michael looked down at it. The glass had, it appeared, slipped on the tray leaving a trail of water where it had moved. It now rested almost touching Miss Calvin's breasts and, for the first time that day, Michael really noticed the woman who had been serving him drinks. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he had not been wearing a shirt for hours and that the dress she was wearing left little to the imagination. He was also uncomfortably aware that his jeans were beginning to tent alarmingly.
Flustered, Michael said, "err, yeah, sure," and grabbed the glass from the tray. As he did so, the backs of his fingers grazed the bare flesh of her left breast. There was an almost visible shock of static as their flesh touched. For a brief second Miss Calvin looked shocked before controlling herself. Michael almost dropped the glass. "Hey, wow! Static or something." He quickly began gulping lemonade to cover his embarrassment.
"Yes," Miss Calvin responded, "or something. You have a pleasant evening now. Just leave the glass on the step and I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and sweet dreams, Michael." Then she was gone leaving him with one last image of her lycra-clad bottom disappearing into her house.
Chapter Two
Michael dreamed of a date with Lucy Clayton. They were sitting on the back row of the local cinema and Michael had just managed to get Lucy out of her bra when someone sat down beside him. Uncomfortable with having someone watching him, he looked round... into the pale blue eyes of Miss Calvin.
"Hello, Michael," she said, as though absolutely nothing was wrong. "Don't let me interrupt you. I'll just watch the film."
Michael shook his head and turned back to the patiently waiting Lucy. Her nipples beckoned and he lowered his mouth to one of them. She groaned appreciatively, just the way he expected her to.
He stopped and looked around. Miss Calvin was still sitting there, dressed in a long, flowing, wrap-around gown in a blue that matched her eyes. She had to be wearing a bra, because her breasts were embellished with the same stunning cleavage as they had been that afternoon.
What was odd was that Miss Calvin seemed more real than Lucy did. He had never seen Lucy naked, and his imagination was taking care of the details from her neck down to her hemline. Miss Calvin appeared solid, almost as if she was physically there.
"Is something wrong, Michael?" she asked.
"Why are you in my dream?"
"You're dreaming about sex. You must find me sexy. Isn't that logical?"
"I usually just dream about sex with Lucy," he replied, indicating the silent girl beside him.
Miss Calvin stood up, slid one leg past him, and ended up sitting on the back of the chair in front of Michael, her legs straddling his. Her dress was forced open below the waist where it tied, revealing that, while she might be wearing a bra, she was not wearing any other underwear. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a dark patch above her pussy and Michael found himself able to do little more than stare.
Forgotten, the dream-Lucy faded away in the chair beside him.
"Perhaps," Miss Calvin began, reaching down to unzip Michael's fly, "you want something a little more experienced than little Lucy." She reached into his pants and withdrew his rapidly swelling cock. "Perhaps, you just didn't realise that something better might be living next door." She bent, from the hips, to wrap the head of his cock in her lips. He let out a groan. She slid his cock, slowly, achingly, into her mouth and he knew that he would come at any instant, but he did not. She slid her way back up his shaft and straightened up. "What do you think, Michael?"
He couldn't answer. All he could do was nod. She smiled and slid her knees onto the chair on either side of his hips. Her hands reached down to slide him forward on the chair a few inches. He gasped as she slid his cock into her pussy with no more warning than that.
"Yes!" she hissed as she drove down onto his shaft, lifting immediately only to slide back down. She kept up the same constant rhythm for several minutes (hours it seemed to Michael, lost in a world of pleasures untold), until he felt her vaginal muscles tighten around him and knew that she was going to cum. His own orgasm began with that realisation and suddenly, as her muscles began milking him for all they could get, he came into her for all he was worth.
He woke up, sweating and sticky, his body still in the throws of the orgasm that had claimed him in the dream. "Jesus Christ!" he stammered when he had the breath control to speak at all.
As he cleaned himself up and changed the sheets on his bed he had one overriding concern. How was he going to look Miss Calvin in the face having dreamed of fucking her brains out in a cinema?
Chapter Three
Miss Calvin was not going to make things easy for him. She greeted him the next morning dressed in a black, mesh cover-up over a bikini that Michael thought looked quite small. She had erected a lounger on the (now clear) patio, and it seemed obvious that sun bathing was the order of the day. She thanked him for coming again and vanished into the house.
Michael heaved a sigh of relief, only to have Miss Calvin emerge a minute later with a tray of lemonade, and without the cover-up. The bikini was as small as he had imagined and his cock responded to it in the time-honoured fashion. The bra consisted of two small triangles that more or less covered her nipples, connected together with string. The bottoms covered (barely) the area Michael remembered as having pubic hair over it with thin cord stretching from the top corners of the lycra triangle high over her hips. As she turned to set the tray down, he could see that the cords joined with a third cord that disappeared between her buttocks. From the back, she could have been naked.
Michael thanked her for the lemonade and attacked the garden with considerable ferocity in the forlorn hope that he could forget about the naked woman lying in the sun a few yards away.
"Michael." It was Miss Calvin calling from the back door of the house. He looked up and saw her standing there, the cover-up back in place. "It's after midday. I told your mother I'd get your lunch today, come on in when you're ready."
Michael swallowed hard and tried to span out picking up a few loose twigs for as long as he could; which turned out to be about a minute. Then he trudged up the garden and in through the back door.
There was a sink to his left and he washed his hands and face there before moving on into the house in search of Miss Calvin. He found her seated at a table in what he took to be the dining room. In front of her was a large plate of sandwiches and two large glasses of lemonade. He sank gratefully into another chair and, as she waved for him to tuck in, reached for a sandwich. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he had disposed of half the plate while Miss Calvin was just starting her second.
She laughed and made a comment about growing boys. "You eat up. All I've done is lie on a lounger all morning." She pushed the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth, chewed for a second, and swallowed. "Just wait there, I want your opinion on something," and with that she stood up and went out through the door leading into the rest of the house.
A few minutes later her voice made him turn. "What do you think of this?" This was a black gown that clung to her body from the high-collar neck to her ankles. She was wearing four-inch stiletto-heeled sandals which added to her already considerable height. The dress was largely opaque lycra, but the midriff and the chest panel above her breasts was made of black stretch mesh such that the top and bottom of her breasts, and her stomach down to about three inches below her belly button was visible. She raised her arms straight above her head and turned to reveal that the back was mesh down far enough to expose the top of her buttocks. If that had not given the game away, the dress was too tight to wear anything under it; she was naked under the gown.
"Well?" she asked. He looked blankly at her. "I'm going out tonight. To a special party. Do you think I look good in this?"
Michael swallowed and tried to regain some composure. If the bulge in his jeans did not tell her what she wanted to know, he did not know what would. Mind you... "You look great," he said, "really sexy."
