Chapter 1

Mark put down the book to rest his eyes for a minute. He had been reading for hours, it seemed. The book on hypnotism methods had been a joke, he thought, when he sat down to skim through it. As he began reading, it was if some sort of spell had fallen on him.

As he looked around, he realized that he was not the only one. His entire family was arrayed around him, with glassy eyes and boneless postures. His wife was across the room, leaning back against the sofa. Her skirt was rumpled and she had a hand under her sweater, obviously cupping a breast.

His teenage daughter, Lucinda, sat on the floor in front of him, Indian style, as she toyed with the lips of her thin slit--over and over and over.

To top it all off, his youngest daughter was leaning against his leg with her eyes closed and a huge smile creasing her face.

What the hell!

He had ordered the book on-line as a lark. After all, if it had been the complete farce he expected, 99 cents would not put much of a dent in the family finances. Another look around the room told him it was not a farce. He wasn’t sure just what it was, but no definition of “farce” seemed to fit.

“Now what?”, he wondered. He had no idea what he had done, if anything, to cause the present situation to exist, so had no idea how to go about replicating the events if it turned out to be desirable.

First things, first. He closed the book very carefully and placed it on the side table. Time enough to ponder imponderables after seeing to the welfare of his family. His wife, Cheryl, was the least stable of the group, it seemed. Her somewhat precarious posture could cause her to fall over if she awakened from what appeared to be some sort of trance. Better put her to bed and let her wake up in a safer situation, he surmised.

Mark helped his semi-comatose wife to her feet and led her to their bedroom. She wasn’t unconscious, but was definitely not fully aware. At least she could shuffle along with him as he put one of her arms over his back and made their way up the stairs. Laying her on the bed, he began undressing his beautiful wife. No matter how often he saw her nude body, it never failed to excite him, even after all these years.

Mark had never completely mastered the secrets of the bra hook, but managed to get it unhinged without drawing blood, then pulled it from her limp body while he admired her magnificent melons that stood so proudly before him. He couldn’t resist bending to suckle those wonderful nipples that dared him to take a nip.

Cheryl moaned a bit and seemed to be trying to tell him something, but her eyes never opened. After removing all of her clothes, he was trying to maneuver her under the covers, but she was squirming around too much, seemingly trying to get him to do something that he could not identify.

In desperation, he quit trying to understand and simply stood by the bed, watching her sort of flop around. He was still working on a theory of some sort when her flailing hand fell against his thigh. Some sort of triumphant moan came from her quasi-somnambulant form as her blind fingers searched out his fly and dove for his junk, after she worked his zipper down.

This was getting weirder and weirder every second. In the first place, Cheryl never, ever, ever initiated any sort of sexual contact with him. If he wanted to have sex with her, it had to be a pursuit on his part, quite often of the somewhat aggressive type. She did not fight against his advances, but made it clear that he was pursuing his goal, not hers and that the sooner he was finished, the better for everyone. This relationship had been a disappointment to him in an otherwise blissful marriage.

Two beautiful, intelligent, sweet daughters had blessed their marriage and if not for the less than ideal sexual component, it would have been ideal all round. Needless to say, oral sex of either type had never even appeared on the horizon. Plain missionary style was the pinnacle of success, given Cheryl’s discomfort with sexual matters. Of course Mark had considered divorce or the adoption of a more aggressive style, but he dearly loved his wife and cut her a lot more slack than he might have given anyone else.

This made his shock a bit more acute when it became clear that his effectively frigid wife was very actively going after his dick in a manner that caused him to realize his full cooperation would be the best course of action, given the sharpness of zipper teeth. He quickly undid his belt and dropped his pants, together with his shorts.

In her trance, Cheryl moaned with satisfaction and worked her way closer to the side of the bed, mouth as wide open as a baby bird in the nest, hungering for a worm. It struck him that Cheryl was hungering for a worm and not just any worm, but the one that he had fantasized feeding her, many, many times. He did his best to aid her in her quest, by leaning out over her face and guiding his quickly stiffening prick toward her hungry jaws.

Mark was still trying to come to terms with the possibility that this was all a fevered dream brought on by dust inhaled from the old dusty book when his wife’s hot mouth closed over the long neglected head of his straining cock. A powerful surge of emotion coursed through him as she drew the flat of her tongue slowly down the length of the good part, before pulling a ten inch vacuum on his painful erection.

After fifteen years of marriage, you would have thought that Mark would have been able to hold out a bit longer, but his absolute most devotedly wished for fantasy had just played out with no warning whatsoever. A blast of hot cum nearly staggered him. Where did that come from? Yes, he knew all about the technical aspects of sexual fluids, but never before in his life had he produced so much, so quickly and so unexpectedly.

For a moment, he wondered whether he should be concerned about potential dangers to Cheryl. What if she drowned on his cum? Would her airways be closed in her trance state, to prevent his torrent of cum from going directly into her lungs? Would she awaken while he was still erupting and hate him for taking advantage of her unconscious state? Of all the possible outcomes of this situation, all the possibilities he could imagine, save one, were disastrous for him. That one outcome (outcum?) more than made up for the potential dangers until some blood began returning to his brain.

By that time, however, the crisis had passed. His prick finally stopped pulsing, Cheryl kept swallowing and pumping his prick for more and there was a huge smile on her face, although she showed no signs of awakening.

Holy shit! What the fuck brought that on? Obviously, there was some connection with the book, but what was it and what would it take to understand and cope with all the unknowns? Mark was seriously concerned for Cheryl’s long term health, both mental and physical and prayed for her well being after having a chance to sleep it off. What if she didn’t awaken normally? Shit!

Well, no time for dwelling on the unknown, for the moment. He had two other females to care for and returned to see what he could do for them.

Suzy was still leaning against his chair, as he had left her. She still had a huge smile on her face and appeared to still be in a similar sort of trance to the one that held her mother captive. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have the same sort of need that Cheryl had exhibited. That would be pretty damned awkward. He gathered her small body to his own and carried her up to her bed. It was no problem to undress her and put her favorite sleepwear on her lifeless body. Thankfully, she gave no sign of having the same needs her mother had exhibited. Mark tucked her in and returned to check on Lucy.

Mark had to take a moment and admire his beautiful daughter while she was out of it. It was so hard not to stare at the beauty she wore so unconsciously. He tried not to stare at her around the house because he did not want to make her uncomfortable, but he never tired of gazing at a picture of her on his computer that had been taken at their pool a few weeks ago, Her blonde hair streamed behind her as she reached for a beach ball someone had thrown to her. Her outstretched arms caused her chest to be thrust forward and the sheer vitality of her personality, together with the way the sun was striking her body, made it appear as if she were some sort of goddess, toying with humans because it amused her.

Lucy had been an ideal daughter, doing everything she should and nothing she should not. The visceral need he felt for her almost made him sick, but he knew it was the combined effects of the affection he felt for her and simple male biology that made her affect him so powerfully. Sometimes it was almost more than he could deal with. At those times, he had to leave her presence as the only means of controlling his natural attraction. He had begun some projects in the garage that meant nothing to him other than an escape from a temptation he knew he could not resist on his own.

Now, he stood looking at his own private goddess as she made all of her treasures known to him. She had removed her little flimsy panties and had pulled her knit top above her rock hard breasts. One dainty hand pinched a strawberry colored nipple while the other continued to trace a line around the periphery of her vagina. There was nothing hurried or frantic in her actions, just a slow, sensual exploration of the parts of her body that cried out for sensation.

Mark simply sat awhile and adored his dream girl, lost in the beauty of her being. He wanted so badly to take a picture, but knew that he dared not be caught with such as that in his possession. In addition to the legal ramifications, there was also the very real possibility that it could cause an irreparable rift in their relationship that caused him to abandon the thought.

So, as the shadows lengthened, Mark simply sat and admired his perfect offspring until he stood and scooped her into his arms and held her in his lap, tightly wrapped in his protective arms. He had no idea what was going on or what, if anything, he could do to affect things, so he simply decided to go with his feelings, bound only by his innate goodness and love for his daughter.

He pulled a blanket over both of them and sat in the growing dusk without lights, holding her close to him and muttering soothing noises. He stroked her hair and arm, but kept himself from touching places he assumed she would not want him to touch. For all he knew, she was fully aware of her surroundings, regardless of how deeply trancelike her demeanor was. If he concentrated on reinforcing her trust in his protectiveness at a time when she was totally defenseless, it would demonstrate his love for her.