Tommy’s Wife Turns Him Out

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Dear Reader:

Female dominant and forced (sort of) mind-control male-male sex. Skip if it’s not your thing.

Regards and blessings,

Adam Lily


“It just looks like acid,” I said.

Andrew, Laurie, Meg, and I were huddled over a coffee table, studying a postcard-size piece of white filter paper on a coffee table. It was Friday night. Meg and I had come to Andrew and Laurie’s house to try a new drug.

“A little bit like acid,” said Laurie. “But also different.” Laurie was a researcher at a pharmaceutical company. She was always smuggling out the latest psychoactive compounds for us to sample—usually pills or liquids or injectables.

“Different how?” asked Meg. My wife. She enjoyed our parties, but new chemicals always made her nervous.

“It’s more unpredictable. It affects everyone differently. Put 100 people in the same room and they’ll all have a completely different experience.”

I asked, “Any bad ones?”

Laurie sipped red wine and shook her head. “The worst thing so far is that a couple people got angry. Some other people just felt nothing.”

“Nothing?” asked Meg. “Like, no effect?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, that’s boring,” I said. “How about the fun ones?”

“Most of them were fun. Euphoria. Astonishing well-being. Sexual flexibility. A feeling of invincibility. Spontaneous orgasms. Enjoyable hallucinations—”

“Back up,” I said. “Spontaneous orgasms?”

Laurie swigged her wine, her eyes grinning. “Both men and women.”

“I’m in,” I said.

“Tom,” said Meg. She didn’t like it when I got too vulgar.

“It’s not guaranteed,” said Laurie. “Something else entirely could happen.”

“I’m still in,” I said. “If the worst thing that can happen is that I feel grumpy.”

“The worst thing so far,” noted Meg.

All the while, Andrew had been fidgeting—thrumming his fingers on the table and bouncing his leg. Laurie’s guy. He was as pale as you’d expect a stay-at-home software engineer to be, an interpersonal mess: social anxiety, depressive, occasional panic attacks. He burned off his negative emotions by working out compulsively, assaulting his senses with death metal, and boning the hell out of Laurie whenever he could. Which was often.

Part of me felt bad for Andrew. I kind of liked the guy. And, as a freelance technical writer, I’d worked for him a few times. But part of me was happy he was such a mess. He might be rich and have a lot more sex than me, but at least I was a functional person.

“All right,” I said, reaching for the white paper. It was perforated into 40 squares. “How much?”

“Just one tab,” said Laurie. “Place it on your tongue, let it dissolve.”

“Still like acid,” I said. “Bottoms up.” And I put the paper on my tongue. Laurie, Andrew, and Meg followed suit.

While the paper dissolved, I studied Laurie and Andrew’s home. Exactly what you’d expect when pharmaceutical and software salaries merge and stay childless: Oak and mahogany, granite and sandstone, silk and velvet. So different from my home—a cheerless box of laminate flooring and fluorescent bulbs. The best house a technical writer and high-school teacher could afford.

It’s why we always came here. Here, our drug parties felt daring and avant-garde. At my home, they’d’ve just felt seedy.

After a couple of minutes, Meg asked, “When are we supposed to feel something?”

“Soon,” said Laurie. “Works pretty fast. And it’ll last about eight hours.”

“That’s a long night,” said Andrew. He was probably anxious about getting anxious. But he’d stopped bouncing his leg.

“It’ll be fine,” said Meg. “We’ll be fine.”

“Weren’t you worried a few minutes ago?” I said.

The corners of Meg’s mouth turned down. “I’m feeling better.”

“Good,” said Laurie. She giggled. “I’m feeling great. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Although I’d worked for Andrew a few times, Laurie and Meg were our group’s fundamental connection. As high-school friends, Laurie had coached Meg through her chemistry homework, while Meg talked Laurie through her English papers. Dumpy, timid, and unpopular, they’d bonded to support each other against mean girls and console each other about indifferent boys.

But then they’d gone to different colleges, and their lives diverged. Laurie got fit and blonde and confident and a chemistry degree that led her to the corporate upper class. Meg lost weight, but she stayed mousy and timid and took an English degree and a meager public-school salary. Meg wouldn’t admit it, but I was sure she resented Laurie and envied her life. Or at least her house and her stuff.

Still. Meg and I, we loved each other. And our lives were good. I was happy, and she was, too.

“Whoah.” That was Andrew.

“What?” said Meg.

Andrew shifted a little and blushed. “Nothing.”

Laurie giggled. And then giggled more. “That’s not nothing. It sounds like sommmmmeeeeeething. . . . Tell us what something is.”

“Nothing, seriously.”

“Tell us what’s happening Bostancı Ukraynalı Escort to you,” Meg said, sounding uncharacteristically assertive. “Just say it.”

“Yeah,” Laurie cooed. “C’mon, lover. Spill it.”

“Well—uh. You see, I’ve got. . . ” Andrew trailed off.

“Andrew,” said Meg. It was her best classroom management voice. “Now.”

Andrew blushed furiously. “A boner. I’ve got a huge boner.”

Laurie busted out laughing, and I grinned. Part of me was happy Andrew was having a pleasant side-effect. Another part of me was glad he was embarrassed, the rich, anxious bastard. And still another part hoped the drug would affect me similarly. Or maybe Meg.

“Good,” said Meg. “This is promising.”

“Promising for what?” I said.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s promising for a good time. This is a good drug.”

“You sound kind of angry,” I said. “Is that the drug?”

“You’re an idiot,” Meg said. “It’s not affecting me at all.”

Meg was right. The drug wasn’t affecting her at all. What an idiot I was.

Laurie said to me, “Wha’ ’bout you?” Her words were breathy, lilty.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t feel any different.”

“You look different,” said Andrew. “Better, somehow.”

Meg’s eyebrows arched. “Better how?”

“Um,” said Andrew, and he squirmed.

“Tell us,” said Meg. “You think my husband looks better. Tell us how he looks better.”

Andrew breathed deeply, then exhaled. “Sexier,” he said. “Tommy looks sexier.”

It was true. I did look sexier. Hot damn. “Love this drug,” I said, stretch-flexing. Maybe I’d get laid tonight. Maybe we all would. I’d always wanted these parties to get a little freaky. Not that I’d mentioned that to Meg.

“Shut up,” Meg said sourly. I fell silent.

Laurie fell over on the couch. She was grinning and laughing in a stupid huh-huh-huh open-mouthed kind of way.

“For Christ’s sake,” said Meg. “Chemistry major. Look at the genius now.”

I didn’t like how Meg was acting, so I frowned at her. She spat back, “What?”

I tried to open my mouth to talk. And I couldn’t. My mouth stayed closed. There wasn’t any force keeping it shut, and my jaw hadn’t cramped or clenched. I just couldn’t open it. I pointed at my mouth and shook my head and made nnn-nnnn noises.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” said Meg. “Speak.”

That freed me. “That’s what was the matter with me,” I said. “I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t open my mouth at all.”

Meg peered at me. “Is the drug messing with your speech?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m speaking just fine, now. I don’t know what happened.”

Laurie breathed out something that sounded like a word. She was lolling on the couch, completely wrecked. Andrew put his ear by her mouth. “Say it again.” She breathed out the sound again. “‘Will,'” he reported. “That’s what she said. ‘Will.'”

“Will?,” I said. “Who is Will?”

Meg considered. “I don’t think it’s a who. I think it’s a what. Your will. Your self-control. Your self-possession.”

I laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Let’s see,” said Meg. “Stand up.”

And I did. Just like that. Up I went.

“Tell us what happened,” said Meg.

“I just stood up. I couldn’t help it. It just happened.”

Meg smiled. It was a weird, hungry smile. “‘Will’. . . . hunh. How do you feel?”

“Um. Well, okay, I guess. I can’t control my body. A little weirded out.” But I was lying. My pulse was racing, I was breathing shallowly, and cold chills ran up and down my back.

Meg saw it all. “You’re lying, Tommy. Tell us how you really feel.”

And although I didn’t want to, I said, “I’m scared. I don’t like this. I’m not in control of my body”

Meg snorted. “‘Not in control. Welcome to my life.” She turned to Andrew. “You say my husband looks sexy? What is that? Are you gay?”

Andrew shook his head. “I’m not gay. Like, not at all. But. . . .”

Meg smiled. “But. But right now you think he’s hot.”

Andrew bit his lower lip. “Yes.”

“Would you fuck him?”

Maybe I was an idiot, and the drug wasn’t affecting her, but something wasn’t right. I moved toward her. “Meg, something’s going really wrong—

“Stop,” she said, and I did. “There’s nothing wrong, everything’s fine. Now don’t say anything.”

I fell silent. She was right. There wasn’t anything wrong, and everything was fine. Good thing she stopped an idiot like me from making a mistake.

But if there wasn’t anything wrong, why was I scared? It didn’t make sense. Although, as an idiot, it wasn’t surprising I couldn’t sort things out. I hoped Meg would tell me.

Meg addressed Andrew. “So? Would you fuck him or not?”

“Yes, I’d fuck him,” said Andrew. He didn’t sound anxious anymore. “It’s the drug . . . but, yes, I’d fuck him.”

Laurie’s arm flopped against Andrew’s back. She was laughing and making sounds—yuuhhhh, yuuhhhh.

“What’s she on about?” asked Meg. “That yuuhhhh sound.”

“I don’t know,” said Andrew. Bostancı Üniversiteli Escort “I think maybe she’s saying ‘yes.'”

“Yes to what?”

Andrew brought his ear to Laurie’s mouth and listened. It took a bit for him to figure it out. Finally he said, “She wants to see it. She wants to watch me have sex with Tommy.”

Meg barked out a laugh. “The fag hag,” she spat. “Always was one. Trying to be friends with the cool gay kids in high school, and they just made fun of her.”

“I’m not gay,” insisted Andrew. “I’ve never even been curious. But it’s the drug. I want to have sex with your husband.”

“All men? Or just my husband?”

Andrew considered. “Just your husband. I think. I don’t know. Maybe if there were another man in here I’d know.”

Laurie made a slurry squeal. Multiple men. She was clearly happy as hell about the whole idea.

Meg stood up, breathed deeply, and studied me. She was evaluating me. “Well. I suppose it’s about time you were useful.”

I might not be the brightest bulb, but that irked me. “I am useful. I write, I bring in money—”

“Noooooo. . . .” said Meg. “I bring in the money. You sometimes get a little, but not nearly as much as me. Believe me, you’re a burden. Someone who has to be supported. By a fucking high school teacher.”

My wife’s words sliced into me, hollowing me out. It was all true. I wasn’t useful at all.

She continued. “It’s like taking care of a human pet. A fucking dog, but a dog that eats and talks and walks like a man. And it’s killing me. It’s your fault that we’re poor.”

A dog that pretends he’s a man. My fault that we’re poor. So true. I was so sorry. I loved Meg. I loved her so much, and she was only telling the truth. I started crying.

“Ahhhhh!” said Meg. “Stop it! Shut up. I can’t stand it.” And my tears dried up, just like that.

“Please,” begged Andrew. I doubt he even knew what he was saying now. “I need him. Please.”

Meg considered. But some mental calculation flickered in her eyes. She addressed me. “Are you still scared?”

I nodded vigorously. Nothing was wrong, but I was still scared. It was so weird.

“Good,” she said. Then she addressed Andrew. “Money,” she said. “You want my husband, you pay cash. All right?”

My heart dropped into my stomach. I gave a closed-mouth scream. Meg smiled but didn’t shush me.

“Yes,” Andrew breathed. “Anything.”

“Anything? Okay. One thousand dollars for my husband’s mouth. And only his mouth.”

“It’s a deal,” said Andrew. “Please.”

Meg stalked over and hissed in my ear, “Tell me how you feel.”

My mouth freed, I said, “Scared. Meg, I love you. I’m sorry I’m such a worthless idiot. But please—”

Meg brought a finger to my lip. “No more talking, Tommy,” she said. “You’re always talking. Talking me into marrying you, talking me into thinking our life is great, talking me into believing the money will come. Fuck you. It’s my turn to talk. Time to earn your keep, your hubby.”

Yes. Yes, it was time to earn my keep. Whatever that might take.

Meg returned to the coffee table, refilled her wine glass, and sat in a chair. She held her wine glass regally, like a queen. “Let’s make a night of it. All four of us.”

Laurie groaned, and Meg said, “Yes, you too, sweetie. You’ll get something, too. Soon.”

Meg locked my gaze. In a firm, clear, certain voice, she said: “Go, hubby. Go pleasure that man’s cock. Right now.”

I knelt and crawled over to Andrew. I unbuckled him, and unbuttoned him, and opened up his pants, and yanked down his underwear. His erection popped out and flicked across my lips and bopped me in the nose. Big, and wide, and pale as the rest of him, except for the purple head and the bluish veins running down its length to his balls. And his balls—completely hairless, completely smooth, soft like fine leather. He smelled vaguely of . . . what was that scent? It reminded me of uncooked pizza dough. Not unpleasant, but certainly surprising.

And just like that I opened my mouth and took his cock into my head and started bobbing up and down on it.

“Ow,” said Andrew. “Ow!” And he pushed my head off his cock.

“What’s wrong?” said Meg.

“It hurts,” said Andrew, talking to me. His stare told me he wanted me to continue, but he didn’t want it to hurt. “He’s not any good at it.”

“One more thing he’s not good at,” said Meg. “Shit. All right. This is his first cock, after all. Isn’t it, hubby? Your first cock?”

And I shook my head.


I shook my head again. I couldn’t speak. She’d told me not to.

“Tell us,” she said. She was almost shaking with rage.

“Once when I was a teenager. Summer camp, a guy and I were out in the woods. I just blew him. And then college. A couple of parties, the big parties off-campus. I was drunk, and horny, and there were a few guys—”

“College,” she said. “Was it while we were dating? Did you do these ‘few guys’ while we were together?”

“Yes. But Bostancı Vip Escort just blowjobs. But, Meg, please—” In the meantime, Andrew had started rubbing my face with his cock.

“So you’ve always been this way,” she said. “I’m not just making you act gay. You are gay. You’ve always been gay. It’s not just the drug.”

Her words warped through me like earthquake waves. It was true. I was gay. I’d always been gay. How had I not known? I was such an idiot. But I wasn’t scared, anymore. I was horny as hell. My cock swelled up in my shorts. I couldn’t wait to set it free. I couldn’t wait to let Andrew fuck me.

“I’m not just making you do this. You want to do this. You want to suck cock.”

Yes, god, yes. I want to do this. I want to suck cock. I’d want it even if Meg wasn’t controlling my actions.

“Well, go ahead,” she spat. She sat down in a large, plush chair. “You’re still making me money. But go slow, and get better.”

I turned back to Andrew’s wonderful white cock. I went slow, just like Meg said. I wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it pulse in my palm. I gave the head a long and loving kiss while gently squeezing his shaft. I was careful. I didn’t want to hurt him. I needed to learn.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laurie watching us, drool running out of her mouth and into a puddle on the couch. Her face was slack, but her eyes were grinning and thrilled. She couldn’t move, but she was having a grand time, watching her best friend’s husband blow her boyfriend.

This was fantastic. Laurie was happy, I was pleasuring Andrew and I was making some money for Meg. If I could have pulled myself off Andrew’s cock, I’d’ve thanked Meg for teaching me the truth about myself.

Andrew moaned. He was feeling good. I wondered how much of it was because of the physical sensations and how much of it was because it was me. After all, he hadn’t known whether he’d feel this way about any other man. So maybe Andrew wasn’t bi or gay. Maybe the only gay guy in the room was me. I didn’t know. I was an idiot, so there was no way for me to figure it out.

I glanced over at noises coming from Meg’s chair. She shucked off her shorts and panties, spread her legs, and rested them on the immense arms of the armchair. With one hand she gripped her wine; with the other, she began lightly playing with herself.

“I think the drug’s finally gotten to me,” she announced. “It’s effect on me? I no longer give a flying fuck. About my fag husband and my rich cunt of a best friend and her sad, weird boyfriend. And it feels goddamned great. Everything feels great.”

I couldn’t help but agree. Everything did feel great. Meg was absolutely right.

We stayed like that for a time. I worked Andrew’s cock, trying different things, flicking the tip of my tongue around the ridge, licking up and down his shaft, kissing his fat, soft, hairless balls, listening for the yeahs that would tell me when I was doing something right and the ows that would signal when I was causing pain.

It was obvious I had a lot to learn—that I’d wasted a lot of time by not learning when I was younger, by pretending I was straight, by pretending I was anything other than a cocksucker.

It was sad. But at least I was pulling my weight, now. One thousand dollars for doing what I loved.

“Try deep-throating him,” Meg said. “Get that cock down your gullet.”

I opened my throat and lowered my head on Andrew’s cock. As soon as the head hit the back of my throat, I gagged and pulled off, gasping.

“Again,” said Meg. “You have to get good at this if you’re going to be of any use to me.”

And so I tried again. And again. And again. A lot of choking and gasping. One time I almost puked. But eventually my throat relaxed enough that I was able to impale my whole head on Andrew’s cock. I could feel his pulse in my esophagus. I was so happy.

My wife said to Andrew, “What do you think? Will you be able to cum like that? With just his mouth?”

“No. He’s not good enough. I’ve never been able to cum from head, anyway.”

“Hunh. Only pussy?”

“Yeah,” said Andrew. “Or—” He stopped, and looked at Laurie. She smiled in wordless delight.

Meg got it quickly. “Yeah, that figures. You always were a little screwed up, Laurie. Why I stayed friends with you so long I’ll never know. All right.” She considered. “Five thousand. For his ass.”

Five thousand? Hilarious. I’d’ve given up my ass for free. But Meg was the boss. And I owed her the money. But why the hell would Andrew pay five thousand dollars for fucking me in the ass?

“Done,” said Andrew, and I realized: The drug. It just took away all his discretion. He was as helpless to his lust for me as my body was to disobey Meg.

“All right,” said Meg. “But this is going to be special. You want my husband’s ass, you listen very carefully. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

Andrew and I got completely undressed. We moved the coffee table out of the way, our fat cocks happily swaying with the effort. Then we pulled Laurie’s dead weight off the couch and onto the floor. We laid her on her back, arms and legs spread as if she were making a snow angel. I thought maybe we’d remove her clothes, but Meg didn’t ask for that. Laurie’s eyes were still smiling, but the gleam was tempered by curiosity.

Andrew left the room to get something.

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