This is the sixth installment in an ongoing story, in which our hero, Ed, got really sick during the pandemic, then woke up to find two evangelical church ladies knocking on his door. Without understanding fully what was going on, he quickly learned they thought anything he told or asked of them of a sexual nature was perfectly normal. Since then he's fucked a barista in a coffee shop while her boss hung around, then ass fucked a redhead who had just accepted a proposal in a park, with bystanders wandering around, before going on to various other perverted adventures. I suggest you go back and read the first three installments before reading this one, or just jump in. This is the longest installment of the story so far, and I'd love to hear what y'all think!
***
Before I left my apartment, I did a search through my email in-box. I've got a bad habit of not deleting things, so a simple word search soon turned up a Christmas invitation sent out to "all employees," back when I was still working from my then boss, Mr. Edmonds. I memorized the address, noting without surprise that it was in a ritzy part of town, then grabbed my keys. I left my apartment feeling kind of weird. My sister Sandy was a pain in the ass, but she was also right. I needed to get back to work before I ran out of money. Oh, I also felt weird about having her blow me, but at least I didn't fuck her. Sure, I'd thought about it, but I didn't. I rationalized that she hadn't minded blowing me, and it's not like it's sex, right?
This was going through my mind as I drove down a beautiful tree-lined street in a neighborhood where each house was as big as my entire apartment building. I thought about how the people living in these houses probably didn't even know how good things were for them—it was just normal. Well, it wasn't normal for me. I lived in a shitty apartment and had trouble paying my bills, especially since I'd been furloughed due to the pandemic, leaving me out of work for months, and now the government had dropped the ball on the extra unemployment money that had been keeping people like me afloat. I needed to do something fast.
As I slowly drove my shitbox Honda down the street, peering at numbers as I drove by houses, I was thinking about how ironic it was that I had gained the ability to control minds after I'd gotten sick with the coronavirus, or at least that's what I thought I was sick with, but I hadn't been able to figure out how to make any money off my mind tricks. Apparently, I could fuck anyone I wanted... well, any woman I wanted, I hadn't—and wouldn't—try fucking guys, but if I asked for money, free stuff, or whatever, people balked. I had no idea why. Well, I had an idea—I thought it might be because sex and sexuality are such primal emotions, that orders dealing with sex had more impact. Or that it was just because I had always been a pervert, so I was just tuned into sexual orders more. Whatever the reason, so far, I'd had very little success with orders or suggestions of a non-sexual nature, but my success rate with orders and suggestions of a sexual nature was 100%. Hell, it even seemed that the attitudes my power instilled stuck with people after I'd left. After all, the barista at Starhut not only hadn't called the cops after I got her to blow me, but when I came back acted like the whole previous episode was nothing but normal.
Still, I had to be careful, as my new ability clearly had serious limitations. But that didn't mean I couldn't use it for things other than sex. Or at least I hoped that was the case, which is what I was thinking about as I saw the number I was looking for on the big house I was approaching.
I was glad I hadn't deleted the electronic invitation Mr. Edmonds sent out, in spite of the fact I had no interest in attending the office Christmas party. I had a plan, or at least I had something adjacent to a plan, as I pulled into the driveway, but I really wasn't sure how viable it was. I knew Mr. Edmonds was pretty big on his Christian identity, like a lot of businesspeople here in the South. He'd had a big cross and several placards about Jesus on his wall, posters around the office, and even opened meetings with a prayer of all things. I also knew that he was big on helping his friends rather than just anyone, and rather than seeing that as contradicting his Christian identity, he somehow saw it as being part of it. Maybe the Apostles were the first "old boys network?" Whatever, it didn't really matter to me how he squared that circle, if I could figure out how to make it work for me.
I pulled my beat-up old car into the Edmonds' driveway, and got out wondering how I was going to clear the first hurdle of getting into the house. Apparently, I could mind control someone to fuck me, but I doubted if I could use that to get through the front door. As I thought about this problem I realized I could hear a woman's voice from around back. Could this be the bit of luck I needed?
Instead of heading to the front door, I walked around the side of the house and saw a gate that led through the privacy fence. Finding it unlocked I walked through and found a huge pool, an even larger back yard, and a gorgeous blonde in a bikini next to the pool. I'd seen her before, and she wasn't the sort of woman I was likely to forget. She was a bit taller than I usually went for, probably only a couple of inches shorter than my 6 feet, and though she was probably in her forties and thus old enough to be my mom, she was clearly in better shape than me as she had very little fat on her. Her blonde hair was probably as fake as the big tits her bikini strained to cover, but both her hair and those jugs were well done and looked real enough to me. I knew that Mrs. Edmonds had been a cheerleader at a Big Ten school back when she met the future Mr. Edmonds, who was a linebacker on the team, and she would still clearly look great in a cheer uniform.
As I thought all that, it hit me that I should have paid more attention to the old invitation, as I had no idea what her name was besides "Mrs. Edmonds." However, it was too late to look the invitation up again, because as I stepped into the backyard, she ended a call she was on, and turned to look at me as she said, "yes?"
She was wearing a big floppy hat and shades to protect her against the hot Southern sun, but in spite of that I could tell she was merely curious, rather than alarmed, by me walking into the backyard. I hadn't bothered to put my mask on—after all, I hadn't exactly been practicing social distancing while I mind controlled women to fuck me—so I put on a disarming smile instead. I said, "Hello Mrs. Edmonds, my name is Ed..." realizing at that moment how close my name was to their last name, then forged on, "I don't know if you remember me or not, but I worked for your husband?"
She nodded and said, "Oh yes, of course," but I could tell she had no idea who I was, which was fine. "Is Tom expecting you?"
Tom! That was his name. I kept the smile up as I walked toward her and said, "No, but I have some ideas I wanted to run by him. Go ahead and take your bikini off."
Without changing her expression, she raised up and reached around behind her to unhook her top as she said, "Oh, okay. Well..." her top popped off, revealing two glorious tits. Fake or not, they looked real enough to me, either big C cups or small Ds, with cute pink little nipples. She stood up as she continued speaking, "I think he's in his study," and leaned over, letting her tits hang as she slid her bikini bottoms down, then stood back up. I was disappointed to see she had a trimmed, but still furry, bush, but was pleased to see that the carpet did in fact match the drapes, so she was a real blonde after all. I admired her tan lines as she asked, "do you know where that is, or should I show you the way?"
I stepped closer to her as she stood unselfconsciously nude and felt up her tits. They were very firm but still felt nice in my hands. Her nipples responded to my touch, so I pulled on them as she cocked her head to await my reply. I said, "spread your legs a bit," and she did so, allowing me to fondle her pussy a bit. It was slightly moist, but probably from sweat or pool water, so I said, "it turns you on to be felt up."
The effect wasn't quite instantaneous, but close enough; as I felt her pussy juice up she moaned a little. I slid a finger into her slit, while I worked one of her nipples with my other hand. I could feel my cock springing to life in spite of the fact that my sister had sucked a load out of me not that long ago. Thinking of that I said, "Mrs. Edmonds, how often do you and your husband fuck?"
She was flushed now, as she said, "A couple of times a week, usually."
I slid another finger into her cunt and finger banged her a bit more earnestly, as I asked, "Do you like sex with him? Do you fuck anyone else?"
