"Oh my," our neighbour commented, breathing heavily. "That was... Oh, my."
Donna winked at me, her wasted expression nothing short of divine. With a glance to her left, she backed away from me, twitching as I did while removing the dildo from both our well satisfied pussies at once. She actually staggered slightly, as though our physical connection had been holding her steady until she'd removed it. Margie's jaw was still slack and, with a leering smile for me, Donna raised the dildo and deftly popped her end right into Margie's unsuspecting mouth with an evil giggle.
"Slup-pp!"
Margie expelled, totally shocked at this.
Margie's first reaction was to back up, raising a hand to push it away, but Donna's other hand landed at the back of her head and Margie's only rested on the black haired beauty's wrist, hesitantly relaxing as she allowed it to be inserted further, her lips spreading around the wet girth of our forbidden toy.
"Uwww... Hmmmmppp... Mmm..."
"Margie likes it," Donna sleazily observed.
"(Giggle!)"
I deliriously agreed.
She sucked it clean and Donna removed it, turning it end for end so she could pop my end into Margie's mouth as well. This time, my neighbour opened wide, her tongue protruding just a little in invitation. Her eyes closed as she took it in again, humming and lewdly slurping until that end was also clean.
By this time, my hand was down the front of my thong, slowly flicking my clitoris as I watched her with probably much the same leer as the one on Donna's face. Margie looked as though a time bomb was ticking down inside her head, and she didn't seem to know what to do next.
"So, did you need something, Margie?" Donna politely asked, somewhat obviously teasing the poor woman.
"Huuh... Uh, I... don't remember... I really should get back, though, I... left something... something turned on..."
After a hasty goodbye, she hurried out the back door. Donna and I looked at one another, low, horny laughter slipping from our throats.
"She's going home to masturbate," Donna quietly asserted.
"I hope she doesn't hurt herself," I giggled.
We shared a little more horny laughter before she bent over, her hips between my spread thighs, to passionately make out with me.
My feet seemed to have gotten used to walking in my regulation heels. It may have only been the four day break from walking in them, but they felt much better as I strolled the streets of North Central that Wednesday morning after Donna accosted me in front of Margie. As usual, I was looking for opportunities to meet new people, greeting faces I'd met previously and generally making myself known.
But, what was I really doing? How was this ever going to help? Yes, I'd made known my presence in the hood, had invited people to drop by, but for what? These people, despite their problems, seemed capable of taking care of themselves. They had their dreams like anyone else, they knew what they needed and had their tried and true methods of attaining those things, so what good was I? What purpose did the Rae Street Mission truly serve? Of all the people I'd met, the only ones who dropped in were the Bennetts and the Rahmans from across the street.
And both those families were first acquainted with Donna, not me. Again, I pondered her curious way with people, smiling a little as I compared it to 'Hypnotized Sex Slaves'. Of course, that comparison was silly. That was nothing more than a smutty fiction, and this was the real world.
But, the more I thought of it as I walked along, the more realistic it seemed in the sense that there were so many unrealistic instances concerning my assistant and her ability with people. Leaving aside the incident with the
Value Village
employees as slightly strange, one couldn't be so offhanded about her treatment of the hotel manager and the two guys that wanted to keep us company while we were speaking in the hot tub, the ones who she'd told to wait in the pool should she want them. Those guys were still there when we finally left, simply standing in the shallow end, somewhat confusedly looking around themselves while obviously waiting to be called on as she'd told them, and that was very odd.
And what in hell happened with Haley and Darren that day in the Mission's kitchen? As I thought about it while walking along, dropping the incident into the pool of other odd events, it struck me much differently than it had. I wondered if I was simply so horned up at the time that I couldn't see the unlikeliness of the situation, or was it that my mind had become so poisoned by all the pornography I'd seen that I really had lost the ability to differentiate fantasy from reality? I mean, what were the chances that a girl would want to stroke and suck her own brother's cock? That whole scene between the four of us was unlikely enough on its own, but that particular aspect of it was totally implausible. I mean, sure, incest happened; I knew that, but it just seemed so suspiciously irregular.
Joel allowing me to suck his cock wasn't particularly irregular, or unlikely as lots of men cheat on their wives, but me actually doing it? That wasn't like me. You might think otherwise based on what I did at the Funraiser but, as Donna had pointed out, I was partly motivated by fear of what Hurdle would do if I didn't cooperate, and even if I did want to participate, I never would have without that threat. Sucking Joel Bennett's cock was far different. Yes, I wanted to, but that in itself wasn't sufficient cause for me to actually do it, something that was very much outside my moral landscape. He was a married family man and I've never had any respect whatsoever for a homewrecker.
And then there was the miraculous conversion of Debesh and Sumitra Rahman, all done up in one morning and while I wasn't there. The East Indian couple really didn't even have much to say about it, Donna answering most of my questions herself. At the time, I chalked it up to an unfamiliarity with the English language and, as far as that went, I was soon too excited about the positive effects their conversion would have on my career to care much about the details anyway. But now, after the fact when hindsight was all there was, the whole event was unlikely. Impossible, or at least implausible? No, but highly unlikely.
Last, but certainly not least, was that odd, indefinable darkness in Donna's eyes, the darkness that was, but wasn't there. I remembered my reaction to it when I'd first seen it in the picture of her on my phone, just before I dropped it in the tub. I'd seen it again at the hotel, in the hot tub, but just for a bare instant, not quite long enough for it to affect me the way it had when it was there in the still picture, captured and frozen for close inspection. Her eyes were remarkable enough as it was, the way they drew my attention, their sparkling colours in their pretty shade of golden hazel almost bedazzling in their own right. I'd never seen eyes like that before, not on anyone. But beyond that, how could I love someone who could cause such a reaction of revulsion and fear?
Adding to all this was the fact that I knew so damned little about Donna Liski, considering the feelings I had for her and the short amount of time in which they'd come about. I mean, I'd never even been to her home. Yet, from the very beginning, there was something there between us, at least for me. It was as though I already knew her, was already comfortable with her.
I'd never even had any lesbian leanings in the past, aside from being turned on by the sexual situations that lesbianism presented me in porn, yet it could easily be argued that I'd seduced her that day when I returned to the Mission to find her topless, removing my own blouse, then taking her to the kitchen where one thing led to another. And that also was very much unlike me. At least it was at the time, but there I was, having sex with Donna less than a week after having met her and loving it,
in
love with her very soon after. I supposed the sexual aspect of our special relationship was attributable to my supersexual status, as Donna herself would put it, the two of us naturally falling into bed with one another as she shared that status, but that couldn't account for the way I felt about her, how I'd come to feel that way so quickly and without even knowing anything about her.
And what, I finally had to wonder, was I really thinking about? As I strolled along the sunny, tree lined streets, was I seriously pondering the possibility that my assistant, friend and lover had the ability to control people's minds? Because that's what it came down to, didn't it? I was suspicious of how she seemed to get her way with people, how she seemed to have an incredible ability to make others do what she wanted, in effect, to serve her needs and wishes. And that meant some sort of mind control, no matter how laughable and ridiculous that sounded. Yet, some of the incidents surrounding her would sound just as ridiculous and laughably implausible to anybody who hadn't been there as witness to them.
