Orbitofrontal Cortex 01

She ignored him and so didn't see his scowl.

"You still don't remember anything about that night?" he asked. "You don't remember our dinner or what we talked about in the car before the..." He trailed off. He watched her closely for the slightest reaction, but she simply puckered her puffy lips to think for a few seconds. She looked at him and innocently shook her head.

Richard's heartrate accelerated. Look at those lips. He couldn't help thinking of her blowjobs. Although she'd been resistant to fucking him after she turned eighteen, she'd been more than willing to suck his cock nearly every day for five months. Now she was willing to suck another man's cock with no worries about her boyfriend.

She didn't know what rejection or humiliation felt like.

He hid his clenched fists behind his back. Holding her gaze, he put on his best poker face. "I wasn't sure the best time to bring this up," he said. He took a step closer to her. "But that night, in the car, you said something. I guess you forgot." He mustered control and forced his fingers to relax. In an attempt to gain her confidence, he took her hand. "You told me you wanted to marry me," he said. He watched again for a reaction. And he saw one.

At first her body stiffened from surprise, but then she pulled her hand away from his and backed up to sit on the bed. She looked down and began scanning the floor, like a child looking for an excuse not to do her chores. Finally, she shook her head at him. "I don't want to marry you." She spoke matter-of-fact.

He held his hands up to stop her from saying more. Goddamn! Don't bother trying to sugarcoat it.

Ignoring his protest, she continued. "You're the only one I can remember," she said. "I'm going to Princeton. If I marry you, I'll never have the chance to be with anyone else."

Adrenaline flooded his brain shutting down all reason. You'll never have the chance to be with anyone else? What the fuck?

"You're not going to Princeton," he shouted. "You have brain damage!" He scoffed and left the bedroom.

As he paced between the dining room and the living room his mind spun. He was going to be stuck with her for the whole summer. Day after day, her slutty face would taunt him. She'd hurt him, and he wanted to hurt her back.

That cunt. She wanted a better man, but no decent man would want to marry a damaged whore like her.

Richard finally relaxed his clenched jaws. He stopped pacing and rubbed the side of his face. Dark thoughts crept into his mind. An idea came to him.

Carrie strolled into the living room and sat. Richard slunk onto the couch next to her and put his hand on her leg as if to make peace.

"Carrie, do you like giving blowjobs?" he asked.

She blinked and jerked her head back, but then smiled. "Yes."

"And you always swallowed," he said. "You like to swallow cum, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

She looked around the room trying to think of the right words. "You told me how much it turns you on," she said. She looked down at Richard's lap. She ran her hand up his leg and let it rest on his inner thigh.

An inch from her hand Richard's penis began to fill and he felt pressure against the inside of his pants.

"That's what I want," she continued. "To feel sexy, and the more I get, the faster I get it, the sexier I feel. It makes me feel so good to cause you that much pleasure. The semen in my mouth proves your ultimate pleasure. I love it. It really turns me on."

Richard stood. He wanted to prevent her hand from putting an end to his wicked train of thought. He walked to the opposite side of the coffee table and turned around. He tilted his head back and gave her a cunning look down his nose. "How about... Would it make you feel sexy to seduce a complete stranger and give him a blowjob on the spot?"

She paused for a moment as though picturing it, raised her eyebrows, and then nodded.

Richard raised his eyebrows too. Wow! That was easy. She was in, but now what? He began pacing again. Where could he find a complete stranger that would be open to it?

After a minute, he stopped. "You know that bar over on Persian just off Southbay, Candy Land? I'm going there tonight. I want you to come with me," he paused to make sure he had her full attention. "You've never been to a strip club. It'd be fun? We could find a stranger there and you could give him a blowjob." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I dare you to actually do it."

She raised her eyebrows higher. "You don't think I'll do it?" She watched him for a few moments trying to justify his skepticism. Then with purpose she nodded slowly. "I'll do it."

Richard mimicked her nod. "Alright, alright," he said.

He had to think. He put his hands on his hips while working out the next step.

"We're going to have to make you look sexy," he said. Of course she was already sexy. She wore a cute, tight skirt and a tank top, but he wanted to step it up just a little. "Take off your shirt and give it to me."

She complied. She lifted it over her shoulders and handed it to him.

"Ok. I need to make a slight alteration to this. Go ahead and take off your bra too." He walked into the kitchen to find some scissors. When he came back to the living room, he stopped in his tracks, surprised by the dopamine that rushed to his brain.

Carrie was still sitting innocently on the couch, naked from the waist up. Her petite frame carried perfectly shaped breasts. Richard knew they were C-cups, but he noticed, next to her narrow waist and skinny arms, they looked bigger than their true size. They hung straight. Even with her graceful posture, her shoulders back, their inner sides nearly touched in the middle. Because they were slightly fuller below the areolas than above, their nipples aimed up toward his eyes.

Like a zombie, he staggered toward the couch and slumped next to her again. He gave each of her boobs a compulsory, admiring squeeze. Then with a shake of his head, he roused himself back to the living.

He held the shirt in front of her body to eyeball a measurement. He mentally marked a line about three and a half inches below her tits, laid it on the coffee table, cut it, and held it up again. "Perfect, try that on."

While she reached up to loop the shirt over her head, her breasts raised and wobbled. She tugged the cropped edge to cover them.

"Ok, now stand over there," he commanded.

She stood. As she walked around the coffee table he watched the subtle joggling of her tits with each step.

"Put your arms over your head."

She held both arms straight up. The bottom edge of her altered tank top teased him, revealing the bulbous flesh below her nipples.

He exhaled through puckered lips, almost whistling. "That'll work. Let's go."

...

When they walked through the strip club's front door, Richard's body stiffened from the sudden change in his surroundings. The aromas of cheap perfumes abruptly inundated his nose. He felt the loud music thumping through his body, and it took a minute for his ears to slowly adjust.

Carrie grabbed his arm. He noticed she was adjusting to the shock as well. With her hand over her mouth, she stared disbelieving at the naked dancer on stage. Richard nudged her, and eventually she turned to look at him with sparkling, excited eyes. He gestured with a nod to move on, and they began making their way through the bar.

In an instant, he realized Carrie's braless outfit had added an unnecessary effect. Every man Carrie walked past ogled hungrily at her. Of course, why shouldn't they? It was a strip club. Unfortunately, their attention would challenge Richard to execute his plan discreetly.

He and Carrie scouted, until they found an archway leading into a room that appeared dim and deserted. The room contained a long dining table with seating for about twelve. Obviously, the club currently hosted no dinner groups, so Richard figured they wouldn't mind if he borrowed the room for the duration of a blowjob.

He spoke directly into Carrie's ear so she could hear him over the music. "After we find a guy, bring him here."

She looked around the room, back at Richard, and then nodded.

He motioned for her to follow. They walked back out into the main area, found a table, and sat. Richard surveyed the establishment's patrons. Everywhere he looked, men noticeably watched Carrie. Richard would just have to hope nobody would interfere when they saw her disappear into the other room with a guy.

He wanted to find someone alone and approachable, but unfortunately most of the customers were with other friends or they were busy feeding dollar bills to the current dancer.

Eventually he spotted a blond man, about thirty years old, sitting alone at a table about ten feet away from the stage. Richard watched for a few minutes, and noticed none of the girls went near him, apparently marking him as a man on a budget who had come to Candy Land simply to watch. He will do.

He looked at the clock on the wall and calculated it had been about forty-five minutes since Carrie had agreed to the adventure. He leaned close to speak in her ear. "Do you remember why we're here?"

Her eyes shifted to one side while she searched her memory.

"You agreed to come here, find a stranger, and give him a blowjob," he briefed.

She began nibbling her fingernail, and then nodded.

You're not going to go through with it, are you? He studied her face for a moment and then turned toward his selected target. "Do you see that blond guy sitting alone?" he asked. "I want you to go over to the empty table right next to his. Sit in the chair closest to his."

Carrie spotted the man.

"Strike up a conversation, and then seduce him. Tell him you don't work here and that you're not a prostitute." Richard thought for a minute. "Tell him you lost a bet and you have to give a blowjob to a stranger. Make sure he understands you'll suck his dick for free."

She simply nodded to verify she understood.

"If he agrees, take him over there into the dining area. I'll follow you into the room a minute later so I can watch and make sure you actually do it."

She raised an eyebrow incredulously.

He set his jaw and exhaled a quick puff through his nose. She was ready to do it. He put his hand on her back with a gentle push to give her the go ahead.

Carrie slowly rose from her chair and shuffled over to the empty table and sat exactly as Richard had ordered.

Oddly, the blond man pretended not to notice her. Carrie sat next to him. She stared at him, but he simply kept his eyes toward the stage.

Eventually, she looked down at her table top and began pulling on strands of her hair. She's getting cold feet. She isn't bold enough to just make a move.

She looked across the room at Richard with an apologetic, downturned mouth and shrugged. She rubbed her hands on her skirt and stood, but she never got the chance to walk away.

As she stood, a tall gray-haired man, about fifty, tapped her on the shoulder and gestured for her to sit back down. She did. He'd been watching Carrie from his five-top booth. While she'd been staring at the blond man, he'd finished his drink, winked at his friends, scooted off his worn leather bench, and sauntered around her table. He and his friends wore button up shirts and slacks. One still had a tie around his neck. So Richard speculated they had come to Candy Land straight from the office to blow off steam.

The gray-haired man sat next to Carrie, and leaned in to speak in her ear.

In response, she did the same to him.

As she spoke, his eyes widened, and then he pulled his head away to stare at her face.

She smiled, put her hand on his thigh, and spoke in his ear a second time.

The man pulled his head away again.

They both looked across the room.

Richard's neck tingled with shame, so he pulled at his collar to hide it. Of course he couldn't be sure what she'd said to him, or why they were looking at him. Did the man think he needed Richard's approval? Not sure what else to do, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

The man looked back at her and wrinkled his forehead.

She pulled him toward her face, and as she spoke in his ear for the third time, he pursed his lips decidedly.

He placed his hands on the table to stand and then walked toward the dining area.

As she stood too, Richard's stomach hardened. Then he watched in disbelief as she followed. After Carrie disappeared through the archway, his stomach hardened further until he felt a burning jealousy growing there. She was actually going to do this.

A lot of men in the club had been watching her. What if someone else went to interfere? What if they got caught? What if the man was a cop? Is she breaking the law? Then he thought of something worse.

What if he hurts her? His stomach burned hotter, began churning, and evolved into a panic. He needed to think of a reason to abort the mission.

He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. No, they were in public. The man wouldn't hurt her with so many potential witnesses. After a few moments he calmed himself.

He Richard looked at the clock. A minute had passed since they went into the room. He would be too late to stop it now anyway. It was on. He slid from his chair and crossed the room as inconspicuously as possible.

Richard entered the dining area to find them kissing in the most hidden corner of the room. The man's back was against the wall. Carrie, about six inches shorter than him, had to bend her neck backwards to reach his mouth. Their lips parted and closed, intermittently exposing their entangled tongues. She was rubbing her palm up and down along the bulge in his pants, delicately squeezing with her fingers each time her hand paused underneath his crotch.

Over the song drubbing through the walls, nobody could hear the growl that escaped Richard's throat. An urge hit him, to step forward and pull them apart. She was making out with a gray-haired man about the same age as Mr. Jenner -- the same age as her father! Surely the man's breath smelled like bourbon. Yet she loved it. From the looks of it, she loved this man. Her heat typified the passion she'd offered only to Richard when she'd loved only him.

He turned around. He paced a few strides away from them and back. It was alright, all part of the plan. He was curious if she would go through with it, curious if she would actually give a blowjob to a man she met only minutes ago.

Noticing Richard, the man pulled his face away from Carrie's. "So you're here to watch while your girlfriend's with another guy?" He was barely audible over the music. "I can't believe you don't get jealous."

She continued rubbing the man's bulge.

"She's not my girlfriend," Richard bellowed. She's my slut.

Carrie stopped and narrowed her confused eyes at him.

"I'm her chaperone. She lost a bet. I'm here as a witness, to make sure she follows through."

The man flashed a disbelieving smirk at Richard and shook his head. "She's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen." He scoffed and looked back at Carrie. With a shrug, he placed his hand on top of her head.

Taking the cue, she knelt.

While she got settled on her knees at his feet, he unzipped his pants and pulled them down around his thighs. In front of her face, his penis flopped out, mostly erect.

She smiled up at him, then looked back at his genitals and slowly replaced her expression with an open-mouthed stare. She reached her left hand behind his scrotum, circled her thumb and index finger around it where it connected to his crotch, and gently tugged. His testicles strained against his shaven skin so his ball sack looked like two balloons about to pop.

Her left hand in place, she used her right hand to pet the vulnerable orbs a few times, and then to begin stroking the full length of his cock to the head, to the base, to the head. The erection responded by filling straight and hard, seven inches long.

From the pull of her left hand on his balls, the shaft slanted downward from the height of her eyes to the height of her mouth. She grabbed it at the base, and there her right hand remained in a locked grip next her left hand, squeezing like a cock ring. The man's circumcised head swelled to look like a big, polished, pink rock.

Looking up into his eyes, she opened her mouth to stick out her tongue, and leaving it out, she glided forward submerging half of his shaft. She started bobbing her head backward to the tip, and forward to the midpoint. Her plump lips formed a glistening 'O' while her tongue rhythmically massaged the bottom of his penis.

Elbows out, the man pressed his hands to the sides of his neck. He stared down at his engorged cock and balls in Carrie's clutching hands, at her eyes, at her lips, at her tongue, at the pretty face that was fucking him. "Look at that," he mouthed the words. "Look at that. Look at that."

She added a slight side-to-side swivel to the motion of her head, all the while looking up at his face. The man looked back at her, but soon his eyelids began to droop as though he were dazed. His hands slowly descended leaving his arms hanging limp at his sides.

Richard should have felt satisfaction because Carrie was taking her first step toward becoming his slut. Instead, he felt a yearning. He couldn't help wishing to swap places with the man. Dozens, maybe a hundred times, she'd done the same thing to him. In fact, she'd perfected the tongue massaging technique under his tutelage.

He recalled her glorious, breakthrough blowjob. He'd loved watching her lustrous, salmon pink tongue slithering underneath while her silken fleshy lips dragged up and down his shaft. Like the sound of a spoon churning in yogurt, his penis had sloshed in her mouth. Soft, warm, it had felt like she was sucking his entire tingling midsection inside her, eliciting his ejaculate in less than a minute. He'd praised her as a master.

She continued bobbing for about a minute. The man's mouth hung open. His breathing quickened. "You're gonna make...," he mouthed. "I'm...". He placed his hands on Carrie's shoulders as if to push her away.

She retreated from his cock, and then stared up at him, unsure, young and innocent. The dim light of the room glimmered on her damp, pillowed lips. The man gawked at her beautiful mouth. A half-inch from it, the bloated head of his cock throbbed.

He couldn't take much more. He'd separated her face from his penis because he didn't want his fun to end so quickly.

Removing her hands from his cock, she touched her bottom lip, and a comprehending smile slowly returned to her face. She grabbed the base of his shaft with her left hand and spit into her right hand. Then she started jerking him off. Looking into his eyes again, she stuck out her tongue and opened wide to show him the back of her throat. Aiming his cock down so its tip just touched her tongue, she continued pumping for about fifteen seconds.

The man's mouth hung open again. He held up his hands inches from her shoulders, his fingers splayed.

Carrie switched to slow-motion. She tightened her slippery right hand. For the next ten seconds, five short, snug strokes throttled the top inch of his cock. Its head rubbed against her waiting tongue. Each wringing pull of her fist compressed and darkened it to taffy.

The tip puffed and blanched. Semen leaked from its small hole into a white pool on her tongue. Then it burst, in rapid-fire mode. It expelled three big ropes of cum that plunked against her throat. A little more semen leaked from it into the white pool, and finally, in a slower single-shot mode, it squirted four smaller ropes into her mouth.

Carrie twisted and squeezed her hand to coax out the last few dribbles of semen. The base of the man's cock twitched with each of her strokes. His leg muscles spasmed. Realizing he was drained, she sat back on her heels. She brought her right hand to her lips, closed her mouth, and swallowed the contents.