Chapter 1

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Mind Control, Hypnosis, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Cheating, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Polygamy/Polyamory, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Leg Fetish, .

Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Lilah is in love with Adam, but she feels his wife's in the way of their happiness, so she takes matters into her own (hypnotic) hands.



Lilah was the last person Adam expected to see on Waikiki beach and wrapped in a sarong.

When last he'd seen her she was in office casual and joking that it would probably look suspicious that they both had the same vacation time.

"Oh, Lovah," she'd whispered, "it would be fun to really give them something to talk about. Still, you'd better take lots of pictures with SSS to prove it wasn't a little getaway for us instead."


SSS. Silly, Silly Stacy. Adam's wife. The nickname bestowed upon her by Lilah when he'd mentioned over lunch that Stacy wasn't the most passionate woman alive. The lunch took place a few weeks after Lilah had started at the company and, while he found her very attractive, he was a very loyal husband. Nobody was more surprised than Adam when the conversation took several left turns and he shared his disappointment with his sex life with the attractive brunette across the table from him.

"That's silly. If you were mine I don't think I could ever get enough," Lilah said, running her finger along the edge of the salad plate, and then licking the ranch dressing off the tip. There was something about the way she did it... "You should tell Silly, Silly Stacy that if she doesn't appreciate what she has at home, others will."

"Are you flirting with me?" he said, with a wink. Better to confront it head on, and flirt back a little. She was pretty hot, and as long as they were solid that they'd never act on it, why not?

Suddenly Lilah looked confused and more innocent than her twenty-six years should allow. "No, of course not!"

Adam smelled trouble until he saw the laughter lurking behind her mischievous blue-green eyes. "Good ... my marriage might not be able to withstand the temptation."

That first lunch set the pattern. The casual flirtation became more intense, and it was hard to say when it became something more. They fell into a masochistic game of tempting one another. Masochistic because it was actually a form of self-torture to almost continually be that aroused and not act on it. They shared suggestive email exchanges daily-- at least as suggestive as the office spy-software would safely allow. The game was to say something outrageously hot, couched in euphemism, and surreptitiously watch across the office as the other person opened and read the message. Adam began to factor into his day the time he spent in the restroom relieving tension after a particularly good email exchange. Once in a while he would meet Lilah along the way, clearly with the same idea in mind, and she would say in a poorly-executed British accent, "Good show, Adam! Good show, indeed."

Adam soon realized he had a problem. He was quite possibly in love with Lilah. They'd never kissed, rarely got to spend time together, he still loved his wife ... and yet he couldn't get enough of the sexually-charged brunette woman. Public sympathies would surely not have been with him if he told anyone that he would have only flirted with her so much, or not at all, had he known the consequences.

Or would they? Lilah quite early on made it clear she liked the girls as much as the boys. He'd never known a lady who could get as aroused by an attractive woman as he could. Not outside of Penthouse letters, and certainly not someone as sexy as Lilah. She was so casual about (and unashamed of) her proclivities that it was like girl-watching with a best friend-- a best friend that you desperately wanted to lean over the nearest desk and bang. It was impossible to imagine that people wouldn't see the draw. "Yes, Adam, we can't blame you ... The woman was unconscionably hot. You're forgiven your adulterous thoughts!" Surely not.

Then there were the stockings. Oh, God, the stockings! It wasn't long into their friendship before he mentioned his love of attractive women in what he considered to be appropriate legwear. She asked him to elaborate and he did, while she listened on with a Mona Lisa smile. The next week she began to wear them, often needing to straighten a seam while in his immediate vicinity. The first time she executed this little maneuver, by the time she got back to her desk she had an email waiting that contained nothing but an ASCII approximation of a growl. He saw her grin and quickly start typing, and he waited for a response.

Why the growl, Lovah? Were you thinking of Katie as well? She sure looks hot today! I would love for her to kneel between these nylon-clad legs-- you did notice the stockings, right?-- and be a good little kitty licker!

And so began yet another trip to the bathroom.

The first time she saw the picture of Stacy on his desk she gave a mischievous smile, running a finger across the glass covering the image.

"Stacy is cuuute. And redheads are my favorite flavor," she pronounced. This was early on in the relationship, but already he stiffened, knowing exactly what she meant. "Does Stacy like to play with other girls?"

Ahem. "There was a time, before we got married, that I thought she might, but now she seems to have dropped that idea."

"Ah, do you wish she would?"

A roll of the eyes heavenward was Adam's only response.

"Stacy really is a silly, silly girl," Lilah said, moving a little closer than she ought in an office environment. "She has a sexy husband like you who wants to see her have fun with another girl, and she can't even be a Good Little Pussy Licker."

There was no doubt that Lilah liked variations on the phrase "Good Little Pussy Licker." Not that he minded. She was also fond of doing a credible job of playing the innocent, which he found even hotter because he knew better.

In the beginning he wondered why they never took the next logical step, but he had the sneaking suspicion that doing so would be the end of his marriage. People at the office were already talking, and making not-so-subtle remarks. If they were actually together he was sure they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret. At this point he had plausible deniability. He also knew that if she asked him he'd be unable to say no. But she never did quite ask. When it seemed like she might she'd end her sentence with, "But, no, your marriage doesn't need the temptation."

His sex life with Stacy got a little more interesting. He was attracted to her, always had been, but most of his new interest in her was fueled by fantasies of her being Lilah's little plaything. This wasn't helped by Lilah suggesting that his cock was really hers now, and she was just tolerating him sticking it in Stacy. He suspected this was true.

He still retained the upper hand, though: as outspoken as Lilah was, he believed her to be absolutely sincere when she said she loved strong men. He knew this because if he focused enough on the topic of her being bad and needing a spanking, she was the one who needed a restroom break. He found out early that she seemed to really like when he occasionally disagreed with her and refused to back down.

One of the topics they disagreed on was hypnosis. She was a lifetime fan of the concept, and believed from minor experimentation that she was good at it. He thought it was hooey. "People only do what they want to do."

"Maybe, but I can make them want to do whatever I wish."

She looked so adorable as she said this that he had to fight the urge to suggest they leave work and drive immediately to the nearest hotel/motel.

"So, is that why I'm so crazy about you?" he asked.

She gave a laugh "Ah, Lovah, no-- you wanted me from the start, and I wanted you. Hypnosis unneeded."

"So what are we waiting for?" he asked, the silliness of it all seeming suddenly overwhelming.

"Odd that you should ask. The time that we can finally be together is the time that you'll admit hypnosis is real. You'll admit this because your wife will be giving me a tongue bath and releasing you from your marriage vows."

Adam tried not to laugh too hard at the absurdity of her claim, knowing it was just another one of her ways to plant a sexy idea in his head. It worked, too, joining all the other Lilah-inspired fantasies taking up room in his head. If she had a hypno-fantasy, he guessed he'd have one too.

Adam had trouble being angry at her games and manipulations. He never saw her flirt with anyone else, not in any real way. If anything, she seemed incredibly devoted to him, and underneath the quips there seemed to be sincere feelings. When they finally expressed their love, in a late night computer conversation, it was almost redundant. It was obvious they were in love, and in a relationship that was both pulse-pounding hot, and completely platonic, if cock inserted in pussy was the criteria. It was understood that it was only kept platonic by a mutual agreement held together by a thin and frayed thread. It was also understood that if they got together they'd fuck until they passed out, and then upon regaining consciousness, fuck some more.

There was a time when Adam had tried to break off their relationship; it was the smart thing to do. He told Lilah, and on the surface she had seemed to take it well, seeming to understand, but he soon found out she'd left for the day, and he heard gossip about her eyes looking like she'd been crying. He felt horrible. His resolve to just be co-workers, friends at the most, didn't last long. Even in casual conversations it was too easy to fall back into the old routines and, as long as they saw one another at all, the temptation was too great. It was also clear from Lilah's continued hosiery wear that, while she'd accepted his decision, she wasn't going to make it easy.

It was less than a month before they were back to the same routine.

The first time Stacy and Lilah met, at the holiday party, it was decidedly odd. For one thing, his conservative wife looked hot, and was wearing stockings as a treat for him. The other thing was that Lilah, who definitely knew how to dress to impress and arouse, was dressed rather plainly. Underneath it all she was the same, looking at him and licking her lips with a glance toward Stacy at the first opportunity. Even though he knew the sky would rain locusts before his wife would consent to be with Lilah, he found it very erotic to have the two women so close, and knowing one of them would be more than willing.

The party, fantasies racing through his brain aside, went without a hitch and without his wife slapping Lilah and calling her a whore. Luckily none of his drunken co-workers had enlightened Stacy as to office rumors. There was also no tongue bath. Lilah did make sure that he was aware that, drab dress aside, she was wearing hose with miniature candy canes around the tops. He was a little nervous when his two women seemed to be having an intense conversation in the corner, with Lilah pretty obviously hitting on his wife. When Lilah feigned drunken light-headedness and rested her head in Stacy's lap, giving him a lascivious wink, Adam almost took the opportunity to head to the rest room, but if he stood up the executive he was having martinis with would surely notice the huge tent in his trousers. And, no offense to said executive, Adam just didn't think of him that way, and moreover didn't want him to think so either.

On the drive home he asked Stacy how she'd liked the party, and she responded in a tipsy little girl voice that it was nice. "The dress was a hit. Some of your co-workers were checking me out. In fact..." she trailed off with a giggle.

"In fact... ?" he prompted.

"I think that Lily girl was flirting with me."

"Lily? Oh, do you mean Lilah?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Really? It wouldn't surprise me ... you looked hot."

She giggled again. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? The thought of two women together, and you men get ridiculous. Yes, I could tell she was flirting."

"I'm sure she was, dear."

Stacy slipped a hand into his lap, very nearly causing him to swerve off the road. "It was nice. Not that I would ... not that I could ... but get home soon because I'm pretty turned on!"

They had a better night than they'd had in a good long while, and he'd be liar if he said he didn't enjoy it ... especially when she teasingly mentioned that she wished "Lily" were there. "Really?" he'd inquired.

She had moaned a "yes" at that (and at the shafting he was giving her). "When she had her head in my lap, I was getting wet at the thought of her face so close to ... you know..."

"Did you want her to eat you out?"

"Unh hnngh..." she assented.

"Would you do the same to her?" he asked, thrusting her hard. "Did you want to lick her pussy, too?"

"I ... I think so," was her shy answer, the little girl voice back again, and her hips thrust up to meet his rhythm.

Yes, definitely a better night than usual.

His wife was back to normal the next day, if a little embarrassed, at her momentary interest in sapphic pleasures. He had to smile at Lilah's seductive abilities extending to the whole family, but also had to believe the wine Stacy had sipped while talking to the sexy brunette had more to do with the matter. He also had to admit that the women looked great next to one another. In lap or otherwise.


Back at the office things were deliciously normal. One day, after a heated email exchange, Lilah came over to visit after a trip to the ladies room. "Adam, you have something on your lip!" she said, running her finger under his nose, and leaving the distinctive scent of aroused femininity on his upper lip. Her eyes sparkled in amusement and lust. "Well, you do now." All he could do was breathe in deeply, fighting the urge to lick his lip right then and there. He grinned at her utter depravity and took another break of his own.

When he told Lilah he was taking Stacy to Hawaii, she'd just smiled and asked when. A few days later she mentioned that she also had those dates off, and what a funny coincidence that was. "Without us here, they might as well close down the place," she quipped. He thought it odd that she hadn't mentioned having those same dates off before, but did it really matter?

"I'll miss you, doll," he said. "I'd prefer to take you."

"You can always sacrifice Stacy to a volcano!" she suggested. Lilah could sometimes be a little bitchy in regard to his wife-- it'd used to take him aback, but as time went on he noted that he was secretly a bit flattered when she let her jealousy show.

When he asked what she had planned for her time off she had merely said she had a few things to put in order, and refused to elaborate.


Whatever he'd imagined her doing, it didn't involve her showing up on his vacation. But here she was, approaching them and acting like she was surprised and pleased to see them there. Adam did his best not to stare, although he had many reasons to do just that-- including the fact that whole new body parts were exposed to his gaze in a manner quite unlike the standard office garb.

At first Stacy looked annoyed, even suspicious-- and with good reason!-- but she relaxed when it was clear that Lilah didn't plan to stay long. Soon the two women were gossiping and talking about the sights. If Adam hadn't known better he'd think he was utterly forgotten.

After several minutes, Lilah shyly asked them to join her for dinner-- her treat-- and he heard his wife accepting, though he could tell from her tone of voice this was out of politeness and nothing more.

His brows furrowed as he contemplated this and barely restrained himself from mouthing What the fuck are you doing? at Lilah, but Stacy was turning to him just then for confirmation and he needed to play it cool. "Sure, hopefully we'll have time. We have a lot of activities planned."

Stacy had not missed his look at Lilah, though perhaps she'd misinterpreted it as ogling. The other woman's bikini briefs were quite ... brief. "Yes, well, we'll let you know."

Lilah wholly understood the exchange, and smiled demurely to defuse it. "Oh, don't trouble yourselves about it, I know you're on vacation. I'll just leave you my number. I'm staying at the Four Seasons, room 581. It's not much, but it does have an ocean view. Give me a call or a visit and we'll set a date."

"Sure we will," Adam muttered, and they made their goodbyes. He couldn't stop himself from glancing back, as he caught Stacy's hand and walked away. Lilah looked on, smirking, with an arched eyebrow. Sweetness dropped along with the shyness, her eyes filled with promise. He narrowed his eyes at her and looked away.


Adam knocked on the door of room 581. The sounds of the television muted, and he heard rapidly approaching footsteps. The eyehole darkened for an instant, and he restrained the absurd urge to look back through it. Before he could even decide, the door threw itself wide and the quirky smile of Lilah filled his sight.

"Hi," she said cheerfully. "Come on in."

He entered her suite. "Ocean view" appeared to be a misnomer, as the only way he could imagine you would see the deep blue would be by standing to the left of the television and craning your neck toward the bathroom window. Still, it was bright, airy and smelled of flowers. And of freshly bathed girl He watched her move across the room, and the light shining in from the lanai made it apparent that the sheer white cotton robe she had on concealed somewhat less cottony undergarments beneath. He shuddered as he realized that the satiny prizes below were dedicated to his preferences ... the straps of the suspender belt were apparent, as were the sheer nude nylons. The impractically high-heeled slippers, refugees from a Victoria's Secret catalog, made her walk from the door to the sitting room entrance a thing of astounding beauty.

"How do you like the room? It's a bit small, I know, but it was so expensive to upgrade. If I want to see the real ocean I can put on a bikini and walk the beach, you know?"

He stared very pointedly at her outfit. "How did you know I was coming?"

"I didn't. I hoped you would, but hope is just a fantasy you think may actually come true. Isn't that what you wrote?" He had. A long time ago, and she had remembered. God, this woman... "So I made sure I was ready for the fantasy at all times. Lord knows what the room service guy thought. You like?" She used her arms to indicate her whole draped body with all the over-exuberance of a game show hostess.

"I don't need to answer that. You know damned well what effect ... that ... has on me." And could doubtless see it was true; his shorts did not conceal much.

"I confess I might suspect a little." Now she was looking directly at his crotch. Did her eyes cross, slightly? "Well, a lot."

"I know. Listen, I don't have time to flirt shamelessly with you for an hour, as hot as that might be. I told Stacy I'd go out to pick up her contact lens solution, and this place happens to be on the way." Well, okay, so it was significantly out of the way. This was hardly the time to quibble. "We need to talk."

"Oh?" She looked amused.

"Look, I'm serious. I don't know what you're playing at, coming here on our vacation and messing around with my head, but I want you to stop it. Stacy is still my wife, no matter how much I love--" Dammit. He didn't need to get into this right now. "No matter what you and I feel about each other. Maybe some day that will change, I don't know, but right now I need you to not ruin this vacation for her."

"For her?"

"I could care less about Hawaii, you know that. I wanted to go to Vegas. But she loves it. She's been singing that Don Ho song so much I could fucking shoot myself."

Lilah laughed at that, and Adam admired the effect that it had on the view. Lilah was the kind of girl who laughed all the way down. He'd never realized that a woman's thighs bounced quite that way when she laughed. He wondered what laughing did to the shape of her ass...

She noticed his regard and struck a pose, tipping forward in her slippers. His throat made a noise which was either a purr or a precursor to a bite; even Adam was not sure which. "Well, here, let me tell you something." She walked forward and placed a single finger on his chest. "This is my vacation, too, darling, and I don't give a rat's ass about her or what she wants. She treats you like a hired hand, sending you out on errands like this, and--"

"They're not errands. I am doing her a favor."

"You don't even want to be here, you said it yourself."

"I ... this isn't about that."

"We've had this conversation before, though, although then it was her kitchen tile instead of your swimming pool. And her grand piano instead of your home theater. And she doesn't..." She stepped forward into his personal space, her breath rustling his hair. " ... even..." Now her hand dropped to his waist, the only thing keeping her from being on top of him. " ... give back what you most desire." She looked down then back up at him, waiting for her cue to drop her hand lower.

It hurt to answer. "She does, just not as often as..."

"Lovah," she interrupted, "I'm not here to make this a good vacation for her. This is my vacation and I'm going to enjoy myself. With or without her involvement."

"Enough," came his voice, deepening with a mixture of lust and anger. "You will do as I ask because it's what I want. No other reason. No more arguments. Do you understand me?"

Her nostrils flared, though anger didn't seem to be the cause. Her breathing intensified, in fact. This was not in the plan...

"Yes, Adam, I understand. I won't ruin this vacation for her. But I'm not doing this for her, I'm doing this for you. Because I will always give you what you want." Her nipples were busily making the subtext of her comment perfectly clear.

He pretended to misunderstand. Unsuccessfully. "Huh. I don't know if I believe you."

"Dearest, don't you trust me?" A nervous giggle, betrayed by eyes wide with potential hurt.

"No. Yes. Probably." He sighed. "I don't even know if I trust myself."

"I would never hurt you, you know that."

"I do. But your idea of my best interests might not coincide with my own."

"That's for sure."

"Promise me."

"Promise you what? That I'll refrain from wearing naughty garments that would put SSS on her guard?" She indicated the ill-concealed lingerie beneath her robe. He barely heard the rest...

"That I'll keep from sliding my hand under the table and massaging your cock? That I won't finger myself while I'm sitting across from you, in between requests that you pass the salt?" She grinned. "I promise. Well, all except the last one. That might be fun."

"The ... the last one, too. Be good."

"Well, okay, the last one, too. Although I can't be good. I will act good, though. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout. And that's the wrong number of fingers, anyway."

"Really? I had no idea. In my days doing Girl Scouts, that's how many fingers they used on me." She looked at the body parts in question, then spread the middle and forefinger and slid them down her belly. Slowly, destination obvious.

Adam watched, fascinated, and reflected on the fact that this was the only time they'd been truly alone together since a car ride from the restaurant to work before the flirting had actually begun in earnest. This was by design, of course, since he knew his hormones could be counted on to override things like logic, honor, and even commitment. And having forgotten that caution this one time, in an effort to get Lilah to play nice, he now knew himself to be in trouble.

He wanted to leave, but was incapable of doing so once her hand parted the folds of the cotton overlayer and plunged into her panties.

In delicious agony he watched her pointer and ring fingers each exit through a leg-hole of the tiny garment, and the conspicuous absence of the digit between them made it evident where the missing one had ended up. The way she licked her lips and rolled her eyes upward made it impossible to deny, even had he wanted to. "Mmmmm..." she moaned, reopening her eyes and looking straight into his. "Sorry, was thinking about my Girl Scout. Well, she was actually my cousin, too, but let's not be ... unngh ... too pedantic. Besides, I'm sure you don't want the details about how we would..." she breathed, " ... eat each other out in the attic when we stayed together at my uncle's cottage. Surely you don't--"

Adam didn't know when or how he'd wrapped his arms around her, but it wasn't until he silenced her filthy lips with his own that he realized he was pressed up against her. He could feel her moan into his mouth, a release of months of pent-up desire for him, and she softened against the wall, snaking her hand around his waist. She tried to join it with her busy hand, but the second she removed it from her soaked panties he took hold of her wrist and jammed it right back in. "No," he growled. "You keep fucking yourself." She pulled back her face from his to examine his eyes. "It's what I want."

She smiled into his lips again, melting at that. Let there never be a doubt she was eager to please, and this certainly was a method of pleasing which did not cause her undue distress. He cupped her breast through the robe as he invaded her mouth with his tongue, panting between kisses. His other hand fell to her ass, cupping it. Every second he would feel her pulse her finger in and out of her opening, sometimes so deep that her exterior fingers would touch his hand. He pressed his aching cock against her thighs ... so near to her hand, so near to her pussy ... and her strokes continued until she cried, "Adam!" into his ear in an eager, high-pitched climax.

What now? he thought. His hands and arms were ahead of the game, however, as they picked her up and ungently tossed her to the bed.

He was about to follow when his cell phone rang, snapping him out of his lust-driven motions.

Adam stared down at his phone, breathing heavily, as the third ring came and went. It was Stacy, of course.

What he had done and what he'd been about to do now hit him in the groin like ice water. He hit the answer button somewhere in the middle of the fourth ring as Lilah looked on in frustration.

"Yeah, sweets, what's up?"

"Can you pick up some of my lotion, too? I'm all out, and it's doubling as my sunscreen. And I really don't want to have to wear a lot at the beach, wouldn't you agree?" She giggled, but it only made him feel like a heel. Rightfully so, he thought.

"Sure. What was it called, again?"

As Stacy gave him the details, Lilah looked at him and began to lick her fingers off like a preening cat, suppressing moans but not failing to wink at him. He turned around in order to avoid her distractive influence.

"Okay, I'll make sure I pick that up, too. Or call you if they don't have it ... I will ... I love you, too." He ended the call.

"I love you, too," Lilah echoed into his ear as he set down the phone. He almost turned at the smell of her shampoo and perfume and conditioner and whatever else she was wearing that wrapped up together spelled "woman", but resolutely stepped away. He knew if he looked at her and saw the sincerity-- not mockery, surely not mockery-- in her face that he would lose himself in those eyes.

"I have to go." He grabbed his keys and strode to the door. "Remember your promise."

He walked down the hall toward the back entrance. How can you expect her to, when you're so keen on violating yours?


Stacy was just getting out of the bath when he returned, and was happy to receive her new lotion. "Can you put this on my back?" she inquired, and he was happy to do so. It was good to touch her, to reacquaint himself with his wife's body, reconnect with her. It helped him to forget his near-betrayal in Lilah's hotel room, though the tiny voice in his head persisted in demanding How was kissing another woman not a betrayal of your wedding vows? Or falling in love with her in the first place? He silenced it: now was the time to focus on Stacy, as some sort of secret penitence for his indiscretions.

She eased herself onto her stomach, her nude form half-covered with a towel, her back bare to his gaze and to his hands. "Mmmm..." she moaned as the cool creamy stuff touched her flesh and was distributed across and into her skin in slow circles. "That's nice." He liked the sounds she made when he gave her pleasure, and he stiffened in response. He moved down her shoulders to her arms and the backs of her hands, then moved to her ass, though there was little danger of sunburn there. The noises she made were encouraging, so he continued down her thighs and calves, and back upward. He attempted to be subtle when he returned to her center, giving her an opportunity to bow out (as she tended to), but this time she was willing to accept his fingers in her cleft. He carefully, gently massaged her mons, from time to time riding her wetness up to the clitoris and giving it mild stimulation, and it wasn't long before she not-so-elegantly flipped over, with a sleepy mumbling which contained the phrase "do my front". He started to go for more lotion, but she shook her head and pulled him close. "That's not what I meant."

Ah. Well, good. He lowered himself to her lips, nibbling on the lower one the way she liked, and she kissed him back with fervor but without tongue. It was one of those nights. Gotcha. No oral, then. Stacy's signals were subtle, even bizarre, but he had eventually figured them out. Despite his near-need to go down on her he relented, using his fingers instead. That worked to moisten her, though she made it clear that was his only purpose down there right now. She arched her back to push her tits toward his mouth, and he replied by suckling one of her nipples like a newborn. She loved this, apparently, as she swatted away his hand and spread her legs invitingly. "Now," she whispered.

This wasn't near enough foreplay for Adam, frankly-- he'd been "taught" by an older girl in high school, and the exciting lessons had stuck-- but his body was on automatic and didn't require the extra caressing and tonguing he desired. His cock was completely willing and able to part Stacy's folds and slide inside ... and by the evidence of Stacy's sharp intake of breath she was quite willing and able to take his cock as well.

A slow, steady rhythm built between them, gentle nudging that intensified into almost harsh grinding of her pubic bone against his, mashing her clit in between them. He kept to the stroking motion-- he knew from experience that any deviation, any distraction right now would be the end of the session-- and contented himself with taking alternating nipples into his mouth while he pushed into her as deep as she would take him, but not deep enough to hurt her. Finally, her breathing halted, her pelvis pushed up at his for an instant, and she sighed and pooled into a gelid mass of satiated girl. She grinned up at him, thanking him, and he smiled down at her. He kissed her cheeks, and ears, and her eyelids fluttered toward naptime. Usually she noticed when he hadn't come, but this time she was apparently too tired, and she just commented that she was starting to feel uncomfortable "down there". Adam kissed her once more, on the lips, and pulled out, rolling over to his side of the bed.

Whir, blur, thank you, sir, he tried not to think. Being disappointed in her stamina was nothing new, and he was long past feeling guilty about it. Her multiple orgasms had gradually faded with her familiarity with him, and nothing he could do or suggest seemed to stave off this depressing trend. Concerned, he'd discussed it with her, suggesting that some kind of variation might be warranted, perhaps, but she'd seen it as an attack on her sexuality and it had just made her paranoid enough to avoid sex with him entirely-- and to not come at all during the sex they did have since she spent the time analytically wondering if she was having enough orgasms for him. When she'd told him this he'd dropped the subject like a hot potato-- the last thing they needed was more analysis and less climax. Honeymoon's over, was how he'd heard people put it. He missed the honeymoon.

He grabbed a novel while he waited for his erection to fade.


"We don't have to go."

"Well, I said we would."

"You said we'd let her know. Call her and let her know we're busy."

"But we're not busy. She's alone and we're her only friends here."

"You're not her friend!"

"Adam, come on. She's your friend-- or so I thought. Why don't you want to see her?"

"I'm just ... we're here to get away from it all. That includes people from work. Even people I might ordinarily enjoy seeing."

"Methinks the lord doth protest too much."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I saw the way you looked at her in that bikini. You want to avoid her because you don't want me to see you drooling over her. Tough. Suffer. I want to see how dedicated you are to me."

"Are you seriously saying that you want to go to dinner over there because you want to watch and make sure I don't ogle her? Do you realize how fucked up that is?"

"Actually, I just want to avoid spending a hundred dollars or more on dinner. I do the finances, remember?"

He shook his head, forcing himself to calm down. He really was protesting too much. Even he thought he looked suspicious. "Fine. But we're bringing a bottle of wine. It's not nice to make her pay for dinner and get nothing in return."


The first thing Adam noticed when they got to Lilah's room (other than that she looked gorgeous, and that a day in the sun had made the freckles across the bridge of her nose more apparent) was that she was ever-so-slightly tipsy. The wine they'd brought might be gilding the lily.

"Come in," she said, leading them to an elegantly set table on the lanai. Three wine glasses were next to the place settings, one with a quarter-inch of sparkling gold liquid at the bottom. "I started in on the wine-- I was a little nervous."

"Nervous, why? Everything looks lovely, doesn't it Adam?"

"Yes, er, lovely." It was a little disconcerting to see Lilah be less than in control. Was her nervousness real, or just another ploy? And was that the perfume she always wore?

"I suppose I wanted to be a good hostess."

Stacy put a comforting hand on Lilah's arm. "It looks perfect."

"Well, I can order carry-out with the best of them," Lilah said with a laugh. "I hear you're quite the cook. I've overheard Adam bragging about it. Men always take credit for the accomplishments of their wives."

Stacy blushed. "I try. You look great. Your sundress really shows off your legs!"

"Me? Look at you! I've spent a lifetime at salons trying to manage the hair color that you come by naturally."

Adam gaped; he would never fully understand women. Their odd bonding rituals.

Soon they were seated, enjoying their meals, which Lilah made a point of saying she'd selected carefully from the menu of Leilani's. Stacy, in a bid not to hurt the hostess's feelings, asked Adam if she could trade her lamb for his mahi-mahi with ginger sauce. Stacy knew Adam hated mahi-mahi, but so did Lilah ... She also knew he loved lamb. Sharp of Lilah to allow Stacy to preserve her ignorance of how well he and their hostess really knew each other. His cock hardened ... whether at her cleverness or because she was just so damned sexy sitting there all demure when he knew what a slut lurked beneath." Extra points given for making sure, in a roundabout way, that he got a meal he liked, even though he knew she was not keen on people eating animals she would consider as pets.

When Lilah went to pour wine into Stacy's glass his wife demurred. "None for me. Adam and I are trying to get pregnant, and I want to do it the right way. Water would be absolutely fine, really."

Adam had read that women were better than men at picking up on body language. Still, he would bet anything that Stacy, not knowing Lilah the way he did, missed the near-imperceptible tightening of her jaw. He could hardly take the opportunity to say to Lilah that this was news to him. They'd discussed it, certainly, but nothing had been decided; he definitely wanted children, but for some reason he didn't feel comfortable having them right now, and had put off the decision. With Stacy's agreement, he'd thought. He wondered if Stacy was just staking her claim on his ejaculate. It was pretty clear she wasn't seeing Lilah as a threat, but it wouldn't surprise him if she hadn't shared that tidbit as a "just in case." He was also pretty sure that it was the most incendiary thing Stacy could have possibly said.

Lilah gave a bright smile, and only Adam-- who knew how her eyes sparkled when genuinely happy-- knew it was a mask. "Oh, well, congratulations! But all the more reason to have some fun tonight. This might be one of the last hurrahs. It's not like you're going to have a lot of time to relax and sip some wine after the baby comes. Not unless you have a nanny."

"Oh, we couldn't afford that-- not yet." Stacy glanced at Adam. "Some day."

"I couldn't afford one either-- but I won't have children until I can have one. I know my limits! So relax, enjoy some wine, and the beautiful night, and the companionship of those who are potty trained. Besides, you brought a bottle, and it would be a shame if you didn't partake."

Stacy giggled. "Oh, okay. One glass!"

"One glass," Lilah echoed, "or two..."

"Not two!" Stacy said, trying to sound stern, but still grinning. "Adam-- tell her just one!"

Adam held up his hands. "Leave me out of this!" He hoped to hell that Lilah knew what she was doing. Or was even sober enough to know what she was doing.

As Lilah poured the wine, the sunset reflected in the liquid and the effervescence made the fluid seem lit from within. "Tiny Bubbles ... in the wine..." Lilah began to sing under her breath, and soon Stacy was joining in. Anyone seeing the women would think they were the best of friends as they crooned to one another, even camping it up a little until they were practically hugging one another in their amusement.

Adam rolled his eyes, but he couldn't deny that Lilah had a way with Stacy. He'd never seen his wife make friends with someone so fast-- friends and something a little more? At one point in the meal Stacy had leaned over and used the tip of her little finger to remove a crumb of food from the corner of Lilah's mouth. It was unusually intimate. As soon as she did it, she froze, clearly embarrassed, but Lilah merely continued talking as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

As if the females hadn't bonded enough, soon they were discussing Oprah's Book Club. If the women weren't so easy on the eyes, and if he didn't have recurring flashbacks of what had happened mere yards away, earlier, Adam might have considered throwing himself into the ocean.

"I like Oprah, but how could she have not suggested The Princess Bride, which has the best quote ever!" Lilah said, working herself into a mild outrage as she moved her glass in a circular motion, urging the bubbles to dance a slow hula.

"'As you wish'?" guessed Stacy. She seemed a little flushed, as if the wine was beginning to go to her head. She had always been a lightweight.

"Mmmm, that is a good one. Especially the way you say it." Lilah licked her lips lasciviously ... or just removed some wine. It was an ambiguous gesture, unless you knew her like he did. "Perhaps that's the second best quote," conceded the brunette.

"Okay. I give up," Stacy said, staring at Lilah's glass with a lazy interest, smiling slightly.

"Okay, ready? 'If your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches!'"

Adam loved Lilah madly, but had to admit that all of her doubletalk, games, and implications left him needing a scorecard. If he was not mistaken, Lilah in thirty seconds had-- without looking at him-- as much as said that she wanted Stacy to be her love-struck servant, and that she loved Adam more than Stacy ever could.

"I think about that quote a lot," Lilah continued, still making the wine swirl. "How some people just love more deeply than others, are able to surrender totally. How rewarding that must be, don't you think?"

Stacy nodded. "Yes. Rewarding."

"The breeze feels relaxing. Have you ever loved like that?"

"No. I've always been a little scared to."

Adam's eyebrows came together and he almost said, "Thanks a lot!" but he wanted to see where this bizarre thread of conversation was going and hesitated to break the mood.

"That's sad. I can see why you might feel that way. I once loved someone that much, but he was with someone else. She didn't love him or appreciate him nearly enough, but she got him for holidays, and she got to wear his ring, and she got to take his name. It hurt, I won't lie, but it was worth it just to feel that alive."

"You let the woman have him?"

"Oh, she never had him in any real way. What should I have done?"

"Taken him from her." Stacy's smirk was perhaps the most evil expression he'd ever seen her use.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes. Really. If she didn't appreciate him, and couldn't keep him..."

He was surprised to hear this opinion coming from his strait-laced wife, who had always made it clear that she respected the sanctity of marriage. He wondered if it was because Lilah had tapped into her romantic side. Girl talk.

"If we'd been friends back then, would you have supported me and helped me?"

"We are friends-- of course!"

Lilah removed her hand from the glass and placed it on Stacy's arm. "Because true love should conquer all, right?"

Stacy's seeming trance was broken as she gazed into Lilah's eyes and smiled. "Absolutely."

Lilah pushed a strand of hair from Stacy's face, brushing it behind her ear. "I hope you saved room for dessert ... Oh, crap! The dessert ... the chocolate raspberry truffle cake! I was supposed to pick it up from Leilani's. I can go get it, if you two will just--"

"No, it's okay ... Adam can go get it, and ... and I'll help you clean up! In fact, you've done more than enough already-- I ... I'll clean up."

"If Adam doesn't mind... ?" Lilah glanced over at him. He frowned back at her smile. What was the brunette scheming about? Was she going to tell Stacy what they'd done this afternoon? What they'd almost done, he meant. Was that what this husband-stealing stuff was all about? He'd just opened his mouth to protest when the matter was taken out of his hands.

"Of course he doesn't!" offered Stacy. "We're just boring him with all our Oprah talk anyway, aren't we, dear?" She didn't even look to see that she was right. And she was, except...

"Okay then-- it's up the road next to the Fishermen's Wharf. Ask for Kani. And thank you!"

Adam got the distinct impression that both women wanted him gone all of a sudden. In fact, for a man who was supposedly loved deeply by both women at the table, he felt ignored. If he let his imagination get away from him, he might think the two women wanted him to leave for a reason. And from the state of his erection, his imagination had gotten away from him. Damn Lilah for planting impossible fantasies in his head and making him interpret everything through promises she couldn't keep. She might have made friends with Stacy in record time, but there was no way his wholesome wife would consider partaking of the rather wicked activities that Lilah surely had in mind.

"No. Of course I don't mind. I'll be back soon." Adam made a point of giving Stacy a kiss, and, when Lilah puckered her own lips a little, he gave her as much of a warning look as he dared. Could he really live with such an impossible woman anyhow?

The quest for the truffle cake convinced him that he didn't know the half of it.

When Adam got to Leilani's and inquired about the dessert, Kani looked at him in confusion. "I told Lilah that my cousin over at Six Palms would make her one-- she was supposed to pick it up there." Several minutes later Adam got to Six Palms, asked for Kani's cousin, and found out that His Favorite Brunette had picked up the damned dessert right on time, hours before.

When he arrived back at the room, annoyed with the game, the two women were sitting close together on the sofa. His wife was quite clearly suckling Lilah's finger, her eyes closed in seeming-delight. Both women looked up when he entered-- Lilah in amusement and Stacy in a momentary confusion that gave way to a blush. Adam felt like introducing himself to his wife. Hi, I'm your husband. Who the fuck are you?

"Honey, look what Lilah found! The truffle-- it was here all along!" She indicated the two plates on the coffee table.

"Imagine that."

"And it's really good..." There was mouth-gasm in that "really".

"Yes, delicious," agreed Lilah. She dipped her finger into the truffle, and offered the digit to Adam. "Want to taste?"

"Um ... no..."

"Oh, honey, it's okay-- go ahead. Taste," said Stacy.

Adam looked at what was quite possibly his fantasy come to life, and did what any man would do... "Stace ... not feeling well here, maybe we should go back to the room." Okay, perhaps not what most men would have thought they'd do, but his world was a pretty unrecognizable place right now, and it wasn't like there was a snowflake's chance in Kilauea that his Lilah was going to be dissuaded. And if he'd misread the situation his wife could be putting him in a whole world of hurt AKA Divorce Court.

"Hey, don't blame me-- I had it catered," quipped Lilah. "I'm sorry you two can't stay, but I do understand! Why don't you two go ahead and get a good night's rest, and perhaps we can get together tomorrow."

Adam's wife, who had previously just been polite in spending time with his co-worker, seemed delighted at the suggestion. "Yes, yes, we'll do that!"

"We have the luau luncheon tomorrow," Adam reminded her.

She looked, if anything, disappointed, despite the fact that he'd had to fight her tooth and nail to try to avoid the damned thing. "Oh, yeah, right. And it's reservation-only. I'm sooo sorry, Lilah."

"Oh, it's okay, Stace," was the response, and her eyes glittered as Adam noted her use of his wife's diminutive. "If you like, we can get together before the luau. The Regency has the best spa, I'm told, and it's right next to your resort."

"Yes! Adam's going scuba diving in the morning, and I was just going to be bored anyway. Let's get together. Our room number is 1723. Come by around ... was it nine, dear?"

He grunted suspicious assent and dragged her toward the door. As they left, he looked back meaningfully at Lilah, who blew him a kiss and looked pretty and innocent.

All the way home, Stacy gave the distinct impression that there were two people in their marriage in love with Lilah. When, finally in bed, he reached for her-- expecting a repeat of the post-holiday party fuckfest-- she muttered something about it not being a good idea. Which was not merely odd but also frustrating, because later that night, when she must have thought he'd fallen asleep, he got the distinct impression that she was masturbating. He didn't have to wonder too hard who she was thinking about. He was thinking about the same person, and wondering what her game was.



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