Dear reader... I thought I'd have some fun. This is a silly mind control story. Please don't make it into something other than something fun to read. And if you get your jollies from it, that's great!
Please enjoy this silly story.
***********
Stu and Vicky have been married for ten years, as have their best friends, Paul and Linda. The four of them dated during high school, went to the same college, and settled into the same neighborhood. Paul and Stu both hold excellent jobs; Paul's in charge of multi-million dollar deals with a capital investment company while Stu is an electronics engineer specializing in medical equipment.
Paul is rough around the edges. It's what makes him successful at his job. Quick to make a decision, Paul's skills are admired by many. His flashing white smile and toned body certainly don't hurt his job.
Stu on the other hand never did anything without precise and accurate information. His skills in electronics earned him over a dozen patents, mostly in the medical field. Stu, much to the chagrin of Paul, gave away his patents so others could be helped. His hair is receding, and he is known around the hospital as a guy that will stop and tell funny stories to the sick kids. He's been the hospital's Santa Claus for the last five years. Money doesn't hold him prisoner. Methodical. Precise. Likeable. That's Stu.
Vicky works at the same hospital as Stu as a senior executive in charge of patient care. Vicky's shoulder length brown hair has just a touch of white in it. Vicky dresses like she is ready to meet the Queen of England. Always perfect—always. From her flawless makeup to wearing the latest fashions, Vicky epitomizes the upper middle class senior executive. Vicky's best friend is herself. There is an aura that surrounds her, letting everyone around know that her shit just doesn't stink.
Linda, however, seemed to relish the rougher side of life. She was drawn toward the bad boys. The ones that got into trouble at school, who made wads of cash, who rode the loud bikes, and could fight their way out of a bar.
Linda's hair, black as an un-lit alley, is usually tied into a ponytail. When she lets it down, it flows like a living river of black. Her hair picks up the light and reflects it around the room. Her eyes are pinpoints of black.
Linda works as a trainer at a local health club, and it lent her a look of a lean quick marathon runner. And while Linda was no taller than Vicky, Linda's legs seem to go on forever. Her gait, long and slow, she'd move across a room like a black Siamese cat looking for trouble—and usually finding it.
Neither one could be called stacked but, even in their mid thirties, men would ogle then as the girls walked by.
Although both have personalities that seemed to be one hundred eighty degrees apart, other than their hairstyles, they both have the same physical features and could almost pass as sisters. They are best of friends.
As was the custom, on the third Saturday of the month, they would make a night of it. Sometimes it was nothing more than a few drinks at a local sports bar down the road, sometimes a dinner date at a lounge. It was time to decompress and a time to enjoy life among friends.
********
"They should be here any minute now," I said to Vicky.
"I almost wanted you to tell them we'd be out of town this weekend. The last time they were here, God... the tension between those two was as thick as butter and permeated the air."
"I agree."
I watched my wife set the bar. Vicky had to work a bit later than normal, and had yet to change out of her office attire. I'm kind of use to seeing her dress like she does, but tonight she seemed more refined than usual with a white shirt, charcoal-colored pencil skirt and high heels. Of course, Vicky never went bare legged. She told me years ago that her mother always said, 'Hosiery is the finishing touch to a woman's apparel.' And today, mother would have been proud. Vicky wore a shade of hose that she called 'barely there.' It didn't add much color to her legs, but made her legs shimmer in the light. Knowing my wife the way I do, that was the effect she was after.
Although my Vicky and Paul's Linda have been close friends since high school, there's always been competition between the two. Vicky makes good money, while Linda's job is more of a hobby. Paul's the breadwinner in their household. We've never talked too much about our finances, but I'd guess Paul makes considerably more than me.
The girls play games. I have a gut feeling Vicky didn't change out of her office attire because she was running late. She didn't because she knew Paul would eye her up in front of Linda. Best of friends, but always trying to get a little dig in.
Linda has been growing increasingly upset with Paul's non-stop ogling of the ladies for the last several years. Their marriage had become rocky and cracks were beginning to show. Paul constantly commented about other women and how he'd like to have sex with them. Those comments festered in Linda's mind like a rusty nail.
We heard the doorbell, and soon the sound of Paul's voice filled the stairwell. "We're here," he yelled.
"We're down in the den."
As soon as Paul rounded the basement steps, I had a drink in his hand. He took a sip then raised his glass to my wife who sat on one of the bar stools. Her legs crossed. "I like your outfit." He put the glass to his lips, stopped for a second buying some time, and then lowered it. "Nice legs."
Linda was a few steps behind Paul, and when she enters our den, she's in sweats and sneakers. Even I felt she should have at least put on some nice dress pants.
Paul made his way down to our small bar and put his drink down. He leaned over to Vicky and pecked her cheek with a kiss. I noticed, as well as Linda, how his hand cupped around my wife's knee.
Linda took a seat and wiggled the chair up. "Say, Linda, you have such attractive hair, why not let it down tonight?" I slid over a Captain Morgan with a dash of Diet Coke.
"It's been a long time since I had someone tell me they'd like to see my hair down." She glanced over at her husband, his hand touching my wife's knee on and off.
Had that been another guy, I'd have to explain it to him. But Paul? That's the way he is. He's a friendly touchy-feely kind of guy. Touch is a very human thing. When you allow someone to enter your personal space and touch you, well you've lowered your guard. That's why Paul is so damn good as an investment broker.
Linda shook her head and her long black hair fell across her shoulders. "You're very attractive, Linda," I said. But instead of smiling, she sat fuming; and watched as Paul rested his palm on Vicky's knee.
I went over. Paul and I began talking about the economy, while the girls chatted about girl stuff. Never, not once, did Paul comment about his wife's hair. It's gorgeous—shinny and black as a shadow in the moonlight.
Before the second rounds of drinks, Linda began playing her games. She'd talk her shit about how much fun it would be to have sex with Vicky. And every time Paul would comment on it, Linda would lay into him.
The same conversation cropped up the last time we were together. I knew Paul wouldn't hesitate seeing Vicky and Linda with their fingers between each other's crotch. I pondered my position. If Linda was susceptible to the gizmo, then I could put things in motion—satisfy my curiosity that the gizmo worked on another woman besides my wife. And to watch Linda's tongue work on Vicky's pussy in front of us. It truly was a win-win situation—especially for me.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not into showing off my wife's body to another man. But I certainly wouldn't mind seeing Linda nude, either. I thought for a few moments.
"Here's another one," I said as I handed my friend a screwdriver.
"Not too many more," Paul said as he swirled the liquid around in the glass, "someone has to drive tonight."
"Ah, maybe we'll just stay here tonight. Order a pizza or something," I said as we walked over to a door leading to my workshop. "Besides, Linda didn't exactly dress for a night out on the town. Anyway, let me show what I've been working on."
Paul followed me into my small and tightly packed workshop that overflowed with all sorts of electronic test equipment, old hospital apparatus, and other electrical odds and ends. I was anxious to tell Paul about my newest project; except I wasn't quite sure how I'd explain what I had stumbled upon with my electronic tinkering. Before the door closed behind us, I stole a glance of the two women sitting in the adjoining den both nursing a drink and talking girl talk.
Paul looked over at what appeared to be miles of wire spread out across an old cracked card table. He didn't seem overly interested in my project. Paul's mind seemed to wonder as I tried to explain what the jumble of DSP chips and Intel processors were doing. Several small fans hummed in the background. I could tell Paul's mind was still out in the den and the conversation Vicky and Linda had.
"You know, Stu, sometimes that wife of mine can be a pain in the ass."
I moved a wire or two while half listening to Paul as I doubled checked a circuit path in my mind. "Humm, why do you say that?"
"She talks shit. Not fifteen seconds ago, she said to us all how much fun it would be to undress Vicky in front of us. Then when I said I'd enjoy the show she blew a gasket. What I wouldn't give to see your Vicky all prettied up like she is at work and then striped. I'd love to see Linda licking Vicky till she came. Bitch." He practically spat out the word.
I scratched my chin. "Which one is the bitch?" Opportunity knocked the second time. "How much?"
Paul raised his glass to his lips. "Linda—classic bitch." He downed the majority of this drink in a few gulps and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "You know it's hard to believe that cute little feminine girl I use to play stink finger with in high school could turn into such a bitch." Paul finished the last of his drink. "How much what?"
I jiggled a few wires. Satisfied that nothing was astray, I looked at my friend and smiled. "How much would you give to watch your wife undress Vicky and then lick her pussy 'till she came?"
"In your dreams."
"No, seriously, how much?"
"Right..."
I pulled a small green notebook from my breast pocket and jotted a few things down and turned back to Paul. "I always thought you're the guy that put his money where his mouth was. You were when you were younger. You're getting old, Paul. Would it be worth oh say two-hundred?"
"I'll show you where my money is." Paul opened his wallet. "Here's my money. One, two, three, four and five. Five hundred bucks. Oh, and we're talking my Linda and your Vicky. Not two hookers with the same names. It takes a lot of bullshit to bullshit me. I do this for a living."
I grinned ear to ear. "All right then. Let's write down the details—"
"What fuckin' details?" He grabbed my arm—hard. "All I want to see is Linda strip Vicky and then munch away on Vicky's snatch 'till she comes. I want to watch the whole shebang. What more details do you need for Christ's sake?"
"She's still wearing her office clothing." I tapped my pencil on the pad.
