Chapter 8

Despite finding the magical waveforms that would work on me, and both Rebecca and I had spent the afternoon proving that it did work, we wanted further proof that it would function on a large group of couples at the same time. We had spent some time playing with the power of the waves generated, and found a level where I could orgasm easily enough with the same explosion of intensity that was so incredible, but still enable me to retain a level of control.

Maisie teased, and suggested that we try a packed commuter train, but two people with strange devices on a London Underground train would more likely see us shot by the terrorist police than encourage an orgy, so I suggested a Blind Date night.

A local restaurant had teamed up with a dating agency, and was offering the candlelit meal and the date (who matched your interests) for a mere £35 each. Both Rebecca and I joined the dating agency for their "meal deal" on the same day and filled in our forms so that they were considerably similar but not identical; we didn't want them to know we knew each other or they probably wouldn't match us!

Maisie and I built zappers which were like small tealights, and that projected the signal for a wide 270 degree arc. I tried to ensure we wouldn't be affected but knew we might be: our dignity would be respectable casualties in the name of science and capitalism! It had occurred to me if the zappers affected just me, as in it was my unique pair of frequencies, I would have dozens of single women to screw, but filed this under the "pipedream" category in my fantasy store.

Rebecca and I arrived moments apart and we were introduced to each other with forced smiles. How they didn't work out that we were living in the same house I will never know; we looked ridiculous and were seated in the corner of the restaurant.

The food was mediocre at best, and our conspiratorial chatter and laughter wasn't helped by the organiser continually coming up to us to check we were "OK." I wanted to zap them all by the end of my starter as I was bored, but we promised each other we would wait, and sat back admiring all the suited gentlemen desperately trying to impress the well-dressed women.

After the soggy tiramasu was devoured I steadied my device under the table and raised my eyebrows at Rebecca. "Before the coffees?" I asked and she nodded, reaching into her handbag and looked as though she was searching for her phone.

"Ready?" She asked, and we turned to watch the room as we both brought our devices into the open restaurant and pressed the small buttons on the top. I had fitted much larger batteries to the devices to ensure that the frequencies would reach the back of the restaurant, and held my breath, anxiously waiting for a response.

The waitress, carrying a tray of dirty plates, walking past our table squealed and screamed, dropping the crockery with a screech and ran to the toilets, grabbing her crotch. It was a good start, and I looked at Rebecca beaming. "I think it'll work," I whispered as every single woman touched their crotches, while men had glazed expressions on their faces. It was incredible; men and women frantically disrobing as they grunted and communicated with lustful eyes and sinful intentions.

We hadn't expected to hit the waiters, waitresses and barstaff with the zapper; I don't know why we thought we wouldn't, we just hadn't considered them. "I think you should join them?" Rebecca muttered gleefully with a cheeky smile and snatched the male zapper from my hand, and put them both on the table, in front of her. My heart skipped a beat and I bit my lip, watching her fingers nervously as she hesitated. "Yes?"

I glanced at the teenage barmaid, cross-legged behind the bar, tears streaming from her sapphire eyes and nodded. "Do it," I snapped and stood up from the table. Rebecca smirked as she saw my eye-line focusing on the young black-haired girl, frantically trying to maintain her dignity. She was resisting; her trembling hands clamped onto the bar, as she leant onto it, affording me an excellent viewpoint of her tender bosom.

I felt Rebecca zap me as I neared the bar; we had discussed what might happen and both agreed to assist with other people, affected by our actions, if we needed to. It would be a great test to prove that when struck with the lust-induced zapper, that they moved passionately towards strangers and not just their own "partners."

My cock swelled instantly and I clenched my fists; my body was seized by a rush of arousal, welling up from my balls and gripping the pit of my stomach. Rebecca hadn't hit me with a big dose as I was uncomfortably horny not uncontrollably consumed with lust, but my blood was up and I was ready for passionate sex. My cock oozed pre-cum and my mind blasted with a fierce desire to bring the pretty barmaid, still frantically trying to resist her sexual urges, to repeated climaxes. "You need to be fucked," I told her brazenly and she looked up at me, vulnerability pervasive in her expression. Her eyes were puffy and misty, and her hands desperately gripping the beer mat on the bar from the local brewery.

She shook her head and she took deep breaths; in all my use of the zapper I had never seen or expected the ladies to fight the inevitable so badly. I guess, I knew it was a certainty that I would be screwing her over the bar within a handful of minutes; she didn't. I stared at her darker skin and pained grimace, her anguish evident. I felt a pang of guilt, but stepped onto the bar and stood behind her. "I can't," she begged and gulped.

"Look around you," I muttered as a tear rolled from her cheek and dropped onto the bar. Surrounding her was rampant sexual activity. The couple nearest to the door – a dumpy women with a weird haircut and a previously disinterested man – were actively screwing over the table. Her dress had been ripped from her shoulders and her underwear abandoned as she was pounded from behind, pushing her pendulous breasts into the leftovers of the creamy desserts. She was screaming, crying loudly as her "stud" rammed his tiny cock into her. "What's your name?"

"Eva," she squealed as my hands rubbed her rear, covered in a short white skirt with a mass of pleats. I patted it; it was pushed out invitingly for me to caress and I felt her resolve weaken as I squeezed her buttocks. "What's happened?"

My eyes glanced to another set of tables; one woman had ensnared three men; each slightly overweight and the wrong side of thirty, but she was enjoying the yells of degradation aimed at her by them; shrieking into a dick rammed down her throat, she squealed with every thrust of a cock into her pussy. Her fingers danced over her clit as she orgasmed, her screaming echoing in the small intimate Italian eatery as her cunt was filled with seed. She beckoned the third man, clearly eager to accept any cock offered to her.

"They are very horny. How old are you?" I asked, my touch tracing the curve of her pert bottom and gently rubbing her cleft that was contained underneath. She panted, my indecent touch making her breathless and I slid my hands around her waist, spying Rebecca out of the corner of my eye.

"Eighteen," she sniffed, mewing as my hands skimmed her waistband and delved into the elastic. She sighed, gasping at the scene in front of her.

"Dirty little..." I muttered as we watched a middle-aged man frantically undressing to reveal a pair of lacy, pink knickers. His eyes looked at his date, smirking in disgust and delight and grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him over a chair. His rotund frame, and wide hips, stretched the female underwear but his well-dressed date slammed her open hand on his lacy buttocks while openly playing with her clit. "I bet your underwear looks much nicer," I whispered, and pushed my hand into her waistband while my left hand caressed her bosom; she wiggled her buttocks into my crotch and shuddered.

"Hmmmm," she hummed, her eyes focussing on the table by the door.