I wake up in bed. I don't even recall passing out. I'm tucked under the covers. I blink a few times in the darkness. There are no clocks in the room. It's still dark out the window. The ceiling fan emits a faint buzz as it spins, but at least gives off a cool breeze. Even still, I'm damp with sweat. I kick off the comforter, sit up, and then realize I'm naked. I plop back down on the pillow.
God, that was so intense!
I blink again. I'd think the whole thing was a dream, except I'm in this bedroom that's not mine. I look at the door, and briefly think about escaping. Running. These women are crazy, right? Who knows what they'll do to me. Visions of Elizabeth appear in my head. How close her face came to mine. Those beautiful eyes. Then I picture Lily. That latex outfit.
My cheeks puff with a big exhale. Sex has never been like that before. Was it just the serum? I'd never felt such an urgent need.
Everything in the world fell by the wayside. And I had no control over my body. It was just reacting to the pleasure. I was powerless to stop. I don't think I could have even conceived of stopping. I was completely enthralled.
The thought is a bit unsettling. Except that it felt so incredible! Already, I want to experience those sensations again! I could feel another pulse of desire forming inside of me.
Oh god. Is this what addiction feels like? I'd never in my life felt beholden to anything addictive. Not booze or cigarettes. Not coffee. And I avoid drugs, except weed a few times sparingly.
A sense of fear flashes-- but then abates. It was just one dose. Plus, it was just really great sex.
Really
great sex. And who doesn't love that? Or want it all the time?
I reach down and gingerly squeeze my dick. It's sore. My touch causes a flash of arousal to radiate out from it, and a renewed sense of horniness stirs within me.
Oh fuck! Why did I do that? I can feel my cock hardening again. I've got to control myself!
My mind goes back to relive the experience. I see vignettes and moments. The reflectiveness of Lily's latex legs. The sweat running down her body. The bounce of her tits. Her hands gripping my thighs and ass. The carnal look in her eyes. And the hallucinatory trip I had as I peaked.
Those orgasms! The unreal intensity of the feeling. It was as if my brain was melting from the pleasure!
That last thought spurs a dormant memory. A sexual encounter, years ago. A woman I was dating. After a session of particularly great sex, she mentioned losing mental control. I didn't think deeply about it at the time, but merely took it as a compliment.
***
I met Sarah through a dating app. She worked in administration at a small art gallery. The first few dates were pleasant and innocuous. Coffee, dinners, museum, walk along the pier, cocktail bars. We didn't even kiss until the end of the fourth date. A quick good-bye hug turned into a long kiss, and turned into a make-out session, and turned into eagerly making plans to meet up the very next night.
That date was a hasty dinner at a local tapas restaurant, and then the pretense of a low key night with some drinks at her place. I'm pretty sure that we both anticipated having sex. Netflix and chill if you will. And sure enough we were soon stripping down together on her couch. We didn't even bother with the drinks or turning on the TV.
She positioned herself under me as we laid down. Her lips hungrily met mine after I yanked off her jeans. She was already topless, and now down to her panties.
Sarah had straight, chestnut hair that reached down the middle of her back. Her facial features were soft and small, but cute. She wore wire-frame glasses that were too large for her face, which really turned me on. I don't know what it is about glasses, but I find women twice as attractive when they wear them. Maybe I have a librarian kink.
Several inches shorter than me, Sarah was slim with slight curves. Her breasts were soft and perky. She had pale skin with hints of freckles on her shoulders and chest.
Once we broke through the barrier of physical touch, Sarah proved to be ravenous. We fucked frantically. Twice that first night. Then without fail every time we met. Soon, all other reasons and activities fell by the wayside. We'd go out to dinner, but then skip the concert to go home and have sex. Eventually, even the meals were skipped. We would just meet up to fuck.
One Saturday afternoon, we forced ourselves to do something outside of the apartment by going to an art museum. But as we made our way to the subway station, we noticed that weekend service was disrupted because of construction.
"It's going to be over an hour before we even get there." Sarah sighed.
"When does the museum close today?"
"Five o'clock," she replied. "And I heard there are lines for this exhibit. We'll probably have to rush through it."
We looked at each other for a beat. I grabbed her hand and led her out of the station, towards her apartment.
Back in her bedroom, I led her to the side of the bed, still unmade from when we were naked in it just an hour before. "Where do you want me?" she murmured.
I discovered already that Sarah was the very submissive type. I'd never dabbled in bondage, and wasn't particularly comfortable being aggressive. But I was willing to play along because she clearly enjoyed it.
"Come here," I commanded softly. "Undress me."
She approached me obediently, and lifted my shirt over my head. She planted light kisses on my chest and stomach as she made her way down to her knees. She unbuttoned my jeans, and pulled them down to the floor.
