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Sex Potion: My Crazy Mind Control Summer



© Copyright 2017, Veronica Sloan, All Rights Reserved


NOTICE: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If youre reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


Disclaimer: This story contains explicit content, including graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse. It is intended for adults only. All characters depicted are 18-years-old and older. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.


Author's Note: This is a work of erotic fantasy. The sexual situations depicted in this book are performed under the influence of mind control. In real life, consent is never an option. That's why I've written this story down, so we can enjoy being naughty together in the privacy and comfort of our minds. Thank you for partaking in my smut, and remember to bump uglies responsibly!


Cover created by Veronica Sloan. Cover Photo © Can Stock Photo Inc. / konradbak / bds.


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Chapter 1: Forgive Me, Ms. Phillips!


As I raised my fist to knock on the quaint cherry wood door, I lost my nerve. Frozen on the cottage stoop, my knuckles poised to strike, I was suddenly dizzy. "What the hell am I doing?" I murmured aloud. I should turn around, I thought. This would just make things worse. "No," I told myself firmly. "No, it's the right thing to do."

I heard her inside the house. She was talking to someone, laughing, carrying on like mature, adult women do. She had a life, I thought, and a thousand other things to deal with. She didn't need my bullshit on top of it. "Okay," I sighed. "Then that's that." I swiveled on my heel to leave, but it was too late. She'd seen me through the front window.

The door opened gently, and when she poked her head out, it was with the warm, casual welcome of an old friend. That was her default expression. Then she recognized my face. I opened my mouth to explain why I was standing on her Welcome mat, but her frantic yelp of surprise drowned me out.

Behind her square-framed glasses, Ms. Phillips' violet eyes went cartoonishly wide. "Kevin!" she hissed. Compared to a typical school day, she was dressed down, but Cassandra Phillips exuded class no matter what she was wearing. On this Sunday afternoon, her brown hair was swept back in a ponytail, her slender shoulders loosely covered by an airy cotton blouse. A gold locket wrapped around her neck, and matched the anklet that glinted beneath her calf. She was barefoot, casual, her beige skirt slightly askew. My former English teacher stared at me in wordless confusion, until a deep voice called from the kitchen.

"Who is it, honey?" the unknown man demanded.

Ms. Phillips squeaked over her shoulder in incomprehensible gibberish.

"Huh?" he called back.

My heart thumped like a tom-tom. I'd spent the last hour convincing myself this wasn't a horrendously stupid idea, only to chicken out at the last second. What little confidence I had left was melting down my back in a river of sweat. "Ms. Phillips, I-I didn't mean to interrupt but, I, uh--"

Her evil glare robbed me of my tongue. It flopped around my mouth like a dead fish. "You know what?" I finally stammered. "This was a bad idea. I'll go. Sorry. I'm really sorry--" I was halfway off the stoop when she grabbed my arm.

I made a pathetic "meep!" of surprise as she yanked me inside the house. Slim girl that she was, her grip was tenacious. She dragged me through the hall and shoved me into the nearest room.

"Babe?" the deep voice called from the other side of the house. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, honey!" she sang back to him. "Just remembered some notes I need to add to my lesson plan." She slammed the door behind her, and quickly spun around. There was hot fury in her beautiful eyes. She raised a finger in stern reproval, lips quivering--and winced when the deep voice floated back down the hall.

"Should I keep stirring, or what?"

Ms. Phillips slapped her forehead. "For God's sake! It's soup, Richard! Just keep it on the stove until it tastes good!" She grabbed the front of my shirt. "What the hell are you doing here, Kevin?"

"I'm sorry!" I blurted. "I didn't know you had company!"

"Richard is my fiancé! What the hell did you expect?"

"I didn't kn-- Look, I'm not trying to--I mean, I'm--I-- Congratulations?"

She ignored my idiotic sputtering. My shirt bunched in her tight little fingers, she pushed me across the little room in three short strides. I bumped up against a squeaky mattress.

I glanced behind me and realized for the first time we were in a guest room. The duvet on the little bed was a shade of green I'd never seen before, and boasted a floral design that had gone out of style when my grandparents were still young. Everything in the room, from the bed to the pillows to the sun-faded chair in the corner and the chintzy chest of drawers, was practically a museum piece. It smelled like a mothballed attic. The only sign of life in the little room was a roll top desk at the far wall, upon which were piled stacks of old notebooks, a glowing laptop, and another stack of dog-eared textbooks.

My frantic brain searched for something neutral to say, just to stave off the wild look in her eye. "I-it smells musty in here?" I blurted. I was doomed.

Ms. Phillips yanked me by the shirt. "I rent the cottage, Kevin. You know that. Just like you know I have a fiancé. Didn't you listen to anything I told you, during our after school chats?"

"O-of course I did," I said. "It's just that, right now, my brain's a little--I'm sorry."

"For what?" she growled.

"For what happened. At the school. Us. Together. I just wanted you so much and--"

"I almost lost my job, Kevin!" Her voice rose in a hoarse whisper. "There were rumors for weeks! Some of the students already thought I was sleeping with you."

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I'm so sorry. But, you didn't lose your job, right? You'll be back next year?"

"Yes, but that's not the point! You could have told me how you felt, like an adult!" Her face was so close to mine that I felt the cool flecks of spit that fired off her tongue.

"Yes!" I agreed. "But I was greedy! I...oh, you'll never believe this, but, it was a magic potion. A sex potion."

"Ha!" she laughed in my face. "Is that what you tell yourself? That that's the only way you could get what you wanted?"

I choked when she reached down and squeezed my crotch.

"You could have been a good little boy and asked nicely," she growled. I was terrified, but my penis couldn't refuse the warm clutch of her fingers. I grunted as she coaxed a stiff erection from my terror. "You know I want to fuck your brains out," she whispered against my lips. "Why did you have to be so risky? You could have had me anywhere..." Her mouth was hot, and tinged with the spice of whatever she'd been cooking with her fiancé. She moaned as my penis filled her hand.

"M-ms. Phillips!" I gasped between her ardent kisses.

"And now Richard's home," she groaned. Her nails slid down my chest. "Why do you always do this to me, Kevin? Why do you force me to be so bad?" Her fingers quickly undid the button, the belt, and the zipper on my pants.

"Whoa!" I shouted. "Cassandra! Stop! This is not what I came here to d--" I shivered when her fingertips brushed my foreskin.

"Mmm," she purred. "Still so big, and ready for me..." Ms. Phillips pulled the glasses off her nose and flung them to her desk. "This is the last time we can do this, do you understand?" She tugged on her beige skirt until it bunched above her hips. I groaned again when I saw the cute pink and white striped panties underneath. They were simple cotton--neither sexy nor scandalous--but it was their simplicity that undid me.

For a year this woman was my ultimate erotic fantasy, and every sway of her slender hips, every arch of her eyebrows, every glimpse of her small, unfettered breasts, aroused my teenage lust. Her enchanting eyes, her pert lips, the fact that she was an older woman--if only by a handful of years--transformed her every action into a forbidden invitation. She was far beyond my league. I was her student, which made me so much less than a man in her eyes. Fucking her on her desk did not diminish that insecurity. She was still the unattainable fantasy.

But those panties. Those pink and white panties that hugged her delicate mound, were proof that she was a real woman. It was a Sunday afternoon; she was barefoot and casual in her own home, wearing the kind of casual, girly panties that any young woman wore. Behind that thin cotton was her sex, its smooth and delicious lips, her soft and succulent vagina...

Instinctually, I reached for her mound, and pressed my palm against her warm labia. She purred like a tigress. "God," I murmured. "I can't stop wanting you."

Ms. Phillips rolled her vulva into my hand. "You like groping your teacher, you dirty boy?"

"Yes," I gasped.

My skin moistened as she ground herself harder into my palm. My sweat, her arousal. She looked ridiculous, skirt over her hips, toes dug into her carpet, humping my hand like a mindless animal, and it mesmerized me. Those violet eyes wanted one thing, and they wanted me to give it to her. "You know, when Richard fucks me late at night, sometimes I imagine it's you," she whispered.

My cock throbbed in response, and she licked her lips at the sight. She quickly dropped to her knees. "Promise me you won't come back," she said, as her fingers tightened around my shaft. "Promise me we'll end this, Kevin." Violet eyes locked onto mine. I thought it was fury that made them shine, but it was lust--always lust. She dragged her bottom lip against my pulsing cockhead. "Promise me you won't make me be so bad..." With a feral moan, she descended on my penis. Wet tongue slid underneath my vein, warm lips squeezed the skin.

I dragged my nails through her dark brown hair. "C-Cassandra..." I gasped. "No, this...this isn't right..."

It wasn't. There were so many reasons why it wasn't. First of all, we were doing the very thing I'd come here to apologize for. Second of all, she was cheating on the man she was going to marry. Third of all, that man was right down the hall!

Yes, these were three very good reasons why my teacher shouldn't suck my dick, and I wish they convinced me. However, there was a fourth reason--possibly the most relevant reason--why my teacher shouldn't have been blowing me in her guest room, and kissing my inner thighs, and licking the sweat off my balls. I wasn't using mind control!



Chapter 2: Fuck Me, Ms. Phillips?


It had been a week since Jayla Winters' party. That was one week since Brit and I double-teamed Clarissa, one week since Jayla fucked me in her bedroom, one week since Sean instigated an insane orgy and the cops busted it up and I took Erika's virginity. It was also one week since we'd finished off the potion...and the strange, toad-like postman made me vomit blood.

Weird things were happening.

I was seeing things in my shadow. Not when I looked straight at it, but when I glimpsed it from the corner of my eye. Sometimes it seemed like a vine, growing in an endless spiral, growing and thickening and reaching. Sometimes I could smell it. It overpowered the scents of the real world with the wet rot and fragrant crush of a jungle. Sometimes it didn't look like a vine, though. Sometimes it looked like a hand, reaching out...

Strangers were smiling at me in the street. They'd stop what they were doing and stare as I passed. Their eyes fixed on me, their lips curled up in plastic joy. I was sure it was just my imagination, until one day I couldn't pass through a crosswalk because everyone in the crowd wanted to shake my hand.

I avoided crowds after that, but the spirals in my shadow were inescapable, as was the sinking feeling in my gut. I was convinced the postman was following me. He said he'd return, and that I'd face some kind of "judgement." I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. Maybe that's why I saw the things I saw. I thought of that word, "judgement," and what it entailed. Did I deserve to be judged? Was I supposed to feel guilty?

I'd been horny for so long, and the potion was sweet release. Together, Brit and I achieved our dirtiest fantasies. We knew the power was addictive, but there was only so much of it. And we gave it up in the end! Of course, we had to. We drank it all... Were our crimes so foul? The pleasure and the potion were intertwined. Yes, Clarissa may have despised me, but her orgasm was real. Jayla came like a hurricane, Melanie like a typhoon; the storms of their lust consumed me as surely as I blew through them. And I blew, load after creamy load, inside them and on them and in their mouths…

And Ms. Phillips was blowing me. Why was she blowing me? And why was she blowing me with such fervent desire?

As I stood in Ms. Phillip's musty guest room ("wobbled," would be more accurate to say) with my hands planted on her bobbing head, I experienced both confusion and liberation. It had been a week since I'd been inside a woman, and though I'd spent 18 years in that exact situation, to go without after all my amorous adventures was torturous. The blood emptied from my brain and filled my erection. It swallowed up every ounce of sense, and drained my rational protests.

Cassandra couldn't be doing this of her own free will, yet the potion was gone! All that remained of that delicious elixir was a desperate horniness that put my prior lust to shame. I thrust my cock into Cassandra's mouth, and moaned as her saliva trickled down my balls. It fell from her lips in thick, dancing ropes.

"Where have you been all summer?" the woman gasped when she finally pulled back. She grabbed my cock and stroked it with mad purpose. "I've been waiting for you, Kevin." Sticky fingers snapped open her blouse. The buttons pelted my chest, and her little tits swung free. She rose, and sighed as my teeth encircled one rosy areola. I filled my palm with the other pale breast, smaller than an apple but tantalizingly soft. "Didn't you want me?" she breathed into my neck.

My wet penis slid against her belly. "I wanted you so bad," I groaned. Her cum-smeared lips in my ear, her breath caressed my skin...

"Take me now," she demanded.

"But, but your fi--"

"But this," she said, and bent over the bed. Those adorable pink and white striped panties, she pulled them down her tight little ass, and wiggled for me. Her buttocks were so much smaller than Melanie's, her hips narrower than any girl I'd been with. If I mounted her, would I snap her petite pelvis? Would I destroy her tight little body?

I gazed at the pink lips of her vagina, swollen and smooth and trapped between her creamy thighs. "I...shouldn't," I breathed.

She gazed at me over her shoulder, violet eyes bright. "But you're hard."

My palm glided over her ass. "But..."

"--but I need you inside me," she moaned.

I had no rebuttal. I grabbed her hair, I grabbed my cock, and filled her beautiful pussy. Tight muscle swallowed me up. Juice spilled down her thighs. She was incomprehensibly wet. Her vagina audibly squelched when I penetrated her. It was obscenely loud, and so was she.

I should have cared more about that. I should have restrained myself, or at least covered her mouth. But how could I? My English teacher was bent over this bed, her cotton panties twisted around her knees. Her authoritative voice, stripped of all authority, was demanding--no, begging--me to fuck her senseless.

My blood boiled inside me hotter than any potion. It screamed in my ears as I made that first, joyous thrust. Ms. Phillips coaxed me on with something like a junkie's sigh, like my cock was the demon drug she'd fought so hard to resist. My naked cock dove through her, and we grunted like animals. Sobriety was for quitters. My hands wrapped around her petite hips, and I rapidly fucked her again.


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