The LIAR and the WITCH Bk. 01-03

I wasn't gay, was I?

If I had simply given Donna a hand-job in order to help her out, then why the hell had I cum myself? And why in the fucking hell was I still so hard, even now, more than a half hour after she'd left?

I tried to ignore my boner and just go to sleep, but it just wouldn't go away. Eventually, I succumbed to temptation, and in very short order blasted a load of my own cum all over my chest. Even though it was my second orgasm in the last hour, I still squirted more than I usually did, but not nearly as much as had Donna.

As I finally drifted off to sleep, I wondered if perhaps Anatolia had cast a spell on me to that made me more aroused at the idea of playing with other people's cocks.

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DAY 9

SUNDAY, EARLY MORNING

I didn't get as much sleep as I had hoped for, because Donna was pounding on my door around five AM. She didn't even wait for me to answer, and just swung it open.

I sat up and opened my eyes, but couldn't see her in the dark, even though I could smell her right away. Her arousal was so much more obvious to me now that I knew what to smell for. Reflexively, I breathed in deeply through my nose and my body began to respond again immediately. I guessed that, from the intensity of the smell, Donna wasn't wearing any pants, an assumption that was proved correct when she flipped on the light in my room to reveal her naked form, with what looked like a leaking fire hose protruding out from her crotch.

"Again," she said hoarsely. "Now!"

I shivered. The tone of her voice was affecting me again much sooner than last time.

"But..." I managed to stammer even as she closed the distance between us.

She seemed to soften a bit. "The arousal ... it's still soooo overwhelming, even after my orgasms last night," she admitted. "I woke up hard and humping my pillow. I was worried at first that I'd already cum, because the pillow was soaked, but it was just pre-cum."

At the mention of the word, I sniffed again at her musky scent, and my eyes actually rolled back in my head.

Was it getting stronger?

I could feel my own erection throbbing; feel my own pre-cum leaking out of it. My tongue snaked out to wet my lips, suddenly dry.

Fuck, why was this turning me on so much? Why was I so much more willing to "help" Donna out than I was before?

Then, she was standing beside me. Without a word, she pulled my hand up and placed it on her dick. Like yesterday, she whimpered at the contact and squirted a little.

I swallowed hard, trying not to look at what I was doing. I moved my hand up to the tip to gather some of her sticky secretion. Lathering the pre-cum over her shaft, I gripped it tightly, and immediately began stroking my wife's monster.

Like before, Donna started moaning right away, but this time, she started talking to me too. Encouraging me.

"Oh yeah baby," she said in that confident tone that had appeared as suddenly as her new appendage. "Stroke my penis... no, stroke my ... cock." I actually hesitated when she said it. She had never, ever used that word before.

"Nooo," she moaned. "Don't stop. Keep stroking my cock." I obeyed. "Yeah, just like that. See how hard you make me? She how horny I am for you?" She was saying the things that I used to say to her when the positions had been reversed and, even though they were humiliating and demeaning—God help me—they were turning me on even more. I was pleasing Donna, and that made me feel even more aroused, as if that were even possible.

"Stroke my big hard cock Randy," Donna continued. "Yes, just the way you stroke your own. I've seen you do it, I know you're good at it." She giggled. "Only, I'm so much bigger than you are, aren't I Randy? My cock is huge compared to yours, and leaks so much more pre-cum doesn't it?" Even as she said that, I watched as more and more of the sticky syrup poured out from the head of her immense dick.

Her cock was bigger than mine. I was staring at it now, at arm's length from my face, fascinated by its size, mesmerized by the way it pulsed in my hand, like it was breathing. Like it was actually alive. Like it was somehow speaking to me through my wife.

"You make me soooooo horny," my wife said. "Soooo hard, and soooo long. Look at my cock Randy. It's beautiful isn't it? Tell me how beautiful it is."

Without even thinking, I whispered what she wanted me to say. "You have a beautiful penis," I muttered.

"Penis?" she countered. "Penis? This isn't a penis Randy. It's too massive to just be a penis. This thing is a COCK! Say it for me."

"It's a beautiful cock," I answered, shuddering as I did so.

"I think you're starting to enjoy this. Look at how you're staring at my cock while you stroke it. Your eyes are wide in amazement." She moaned even as she reached out to run a finger down my cheek. "Oh, this is so amazing. You couldn't look away if you wanted to."

My wife's voice continued in her special new inflection that, when combined with the intoxicating smell of her bodily fluids, made me even more compliant with every moment that passed. She was right, I couldn't look away from her beautiful cock. I could only do exactly what she told me to do.

"Use both hands," she commanded. I obeyed almost eagerly, wrapping both of my hands around her prick, one behind the other, stroking it in unison.

"Would you look at that," she said. "You've got two hands wrapped around my cock, and there's still plenty of shaft sticking out. Mmmmmmmm, I do have a gigantic cock don't I? A horse cock even."

"A horse cock," I answered reflexively, even though I hadn't been asked to comment.

Donna laughed. "A horse cock. A big, fat, horse cock, and you're jacking it off Randy. If Gary could only see you now." I flushed, but didn't stop stroking. I couldn't.

"I'm bigger than you are Randy," she taunted. "Your wife's horse cock is bigger than yours. It seems to me that that makes me the alpha male here doesn't it?"

I didn't say anything.

"Doesn't it?" she repeated. The commanding tone stronger now, impossible to resist.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

She laughed heartily as I continued to stroke her. Her breathing was getting more ragged now, more urgent. "My cock ... is bigger ... than yours. That makes me ... the one in charge..."

Oh no. Where was she going with this?

"You have ... to do ... ooooooh ... whatever I tell you to ... do. Right?"

I answered immediately. There was no use denying it. "Yesssssssss."

I was afraid I knew what she was about to say next, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to say no. Not the way I was feeling now. Not with her cock so close to my mouth already.

I was no fag, I kept reminding myself even as I pulled furiously on the huge cock in front of me. I stepped up my pace, and started stroking her harder and faster. Then, I took my left hand off her dick and quickly sunk two fingers into her pussy which, not surprisingly, was sopping wet. I moved them around in the way she had always liked, at least in the days before I had to reach under a couple of huge balls to do it. Some of the equipment may have changed, but I still had a pretty good idea of what to do to get her off.

If I can just make her cum before she asks me...

The effect was immediate, and exactly the one I'd hoped for. "Randy," she gasped. "What ... what are you doing? Oh, that feels so nice, but wait... I want... I want you... to..."

She was almost completely lost in her own lust. Still trying to get the words out, and trying to hold herself back from cumming so that she could.

"I want ... you ... to..."

She was so close. I had one final trick though. Donna had always had a weak spot for dirty talk, so I seized the moment, and spoke over her. "Cum for me Donna," I urged. "Feel my fingers buried deep in your pussy. Feel how my hands are stroking you big, hard cock. Cum. NOW."

That did it.

Her orgasm wasn't quite as powerful as it had been last night and thank goodness for that, because I hadn't been paying attention to where her cock had been pointed. All of my life, I had been turned on by the image of a man covering a woman's face with his spunk, but now that it was happening to me... well, even in my lustful stupor, I didn't enjoy the sensation.

Donna had unloaded several powerful spurts all over my forehead and cheeks, and even into my open mouth before I was finally able to angle her cock to aim her orgasm away from my face. Her cum was hot, and my left eye was stinging but, I ignored it because I was just now becoming aware of something else: I was in the middle of a huge orgasm. I hadn't even noticed it building but now, without even being physically stimulated, my cock was unloading its own healthy specimen of cum into my boxers. I gasped several times, involuntarily moving against the sheets that still covered me while still trying to focus on my wife's orgasm in order to milk the last few dreks of her cum out of her cock.

When it was finally over, Donna looked at me, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes seemed to clear a little as the dominant part of her appeared to fade away. "Oh Randy, I'm so sorry," she said as she turned and slipped out the door, dribbling a trail of cum out of the head of her cock on the floor behind her. She was back in a moment with a damp towel, tossing it from the doorway, but otherwise refusing to enter the room again. My wife looked at me quickly one last time before closing the door between us. I was sure I could see a hint of regret, perhaps even pity on her face.

Taking the towel, I began to clean off my face just around the same time that the veil of my own arousal and submission was lifting.

That was a close one. Too close.

I don't know who it was that I saw in Donna's eyes in the rut of passion earlier, but it certainly wasn't the woman I fell in love with. Although the old Donna may have returned after her orgasm, she had still been so close to losing control completely. What happens in the future if she ever does succumb completely? I clearly won't be able to control myself, not when I'm under the influence of her pheromones, or whatever the hell gets into my head. No, I'd be jumping at the chance to obey every single one of my wife's perverted whims.

She could make me do things. Really gay things...

I was no faggot, and there was no way in hell that she was going to turn me into one. It was time to consider getting the hell out of here...

The LIAR, the WITCH, and my wife's new WARDROBE

BOOK THREE:

THE ESCAPE

by

CHARLES P. LINGHAM

DAY 9

SUNDAY, MID-MORNING

I washed as much of my wife's cum off my face and neck as I could with the damp towel that she'd given me, and then stepped into the shower to take care of the rest.

Now that the heat of passion had dissipated, I was actually starting to feel a little guilty. Not more than ten minutes ago, I was wanting to leave the situation, before my wife's new dominant personality forced me to do things I didn't want to.

Gay things.

But now. Well, I still didn't want to be turned into a faggot, but I was also realizing that I had a responsibility to my wife. I mean, if I just suddenly took off, where would that leave Donna? She still had a good three weeks of her curse to endure, a curse for which I was clearly the one at fault.

She was suffering this humiliation because of me. Because I hadn't been faithful, and some kind of magical gypsy bitch had given her a huge wang with a libidinous mind of its own, one that was now driving her crazy with lust. If she could last the rest of the month without masturbating it herself, then the cock would disappear on its own but, if she couldn't...

Well, then, she'd have that extra, unwanted appendage for the rest of her life.

The problem was that, here it was just nine days into the curse, and she'd already caved. My wife, who had never once, in our entire relationship, had anything approaching a sex drive. Who regularly turned me down for sex. Who had only masturbated a handful of times in her entire life, had broken down, consumed by lust.

Twice. In the past twelve hours no less!

I'd helped her out both times and, although I had somehow been affected by the pheromones her cock had been giving off, it was still one of the revolting things I'd ever had to do, even though my own body told me otherwise. I didn't want to have to do it again, but... well, I couldn't just abandon Donna.

I was coming to realize that it was my matrimonial duty to continue to get her off. But only to a point. I will have to talk to her frankly today. I will lay down the law with her and tell her that I will help her out, but I absolutely draw the line at hand jobs. If she makes the slightest suggestion about me putting that thing in my mouth—or anywhere else for that matter—then I am definitely out of here!

After my shower, I threw on some track pants and a t-shirt, and went upstairs to find Donna in the kitchen. She had also showered, and was dressed in a loose-fitting bath robe with her hair up in a towel. I was a little stand-offish and she must have picked up on it.

"Want a coffee?" she asked me gently, holding out an empty mug.

"Thanks," I responded quietly. I took the proffered mug, and poured coffee into it as she sat down at the kitchen table. After I stirred in some cream and sugar, I joined her at the kitchen table.

She sipped from her mug as she looked at me. Her eyes were soft, the way they always used to be. Any trace of the domineering she-male from earlier was gone. I relaxed.

"So..." she said.

"Yeah, I know," I answered.

She smiled. "Listen, about earlier," she started. "I wasn't ... well, I wasn't quite myself."

I laughed sardonically and sipped some of my coffee.

"I want you to know that I'm still angry at you," she continued. "But... well, we have to come to some kind of agreement. I need your help. When this ... thing ... takes over, it's like I'm in heat or something. It's like there's a second personality that comes forward. One that's dominant. One that wants to be in control of you as well as me."

I swallowed hard.

"Most of the time, like now for instance, I can control this other part of me even though ... well, there's no easy way to say this, but I'm always horny now. Almost always hard. It's just not always as bad as it was last night and this morning. If I let the horniness build up too long, well, then the beast that's inside me takes over." My wife seemed to flush as she said this, and I could hear that she was breathing a little heavier than before. "Fuck! I'm getting aroused just talking about it!"

I let her compose herself a little and didn't say anything.

She took a deep calming breath and continued. "There's more going on here than just the ... new ... um, penis. It's like it gives off pheromones or something, and I've seen the way you respond to the smell."

I blushed at her mention of it, and tried to hide my reaction by drinking more coffee.

"Well, those pheromones affect me too. It seems to make that other part of me stronger somehow. The smell goes straight to my brain, and lets the beast out. When I'm like that, I know things that I never knew before. I know for example that you will do anything that I tell you to do. I know that you're in some kind of suggestible state."

She took another deep breath.

"Donna..." I interrupted, concerned.

She held up a hand. "No, I'm OK," she replied. "The beast unlocks my dominant nature, but it also puts thoughts in my head. It's like being tempted by the Dark Side. It's like Anatolia said on the phone the other day, it gives me appetites. Desires. It makes me want to do things. It makes me want to make you do things."

"I know," I said.

"I figured you did. This morning, all I wanted to do was tell you to... to..." She broke off, breathing heavily again. "Hell, I can't even say it without the risk of losing control. I'm throbbing hard right now, and I can feel my juices flowing in two places."

After a few calming breaths, she was able to continue. "I need you Randy. I need you to work with me. If you can help me relieve the tension whenever it's just beginning to ramp up, then we should be able to keep the beast at bay. I promise that I will do everything I can to control this beast." She looked me right in the eye, an indication that she was about to deliver her trump card. "In return though, I need regular hand jobs from you."

I shifted my gaze, staring into my coffee cup for a time. Finally, I looked back up. "You read my mind," I admitted. "I was thinking the very same thing earlier. I know that this is my fault, and I'm sorry for putting you through this." I took a deep breath before continuing. "I'll get you off whenever you need it." She visibly relaxed, exhaling loudly. "But I draw the line at blow jobs! I'm not gay. And don't try and control me again..."

She stood up and walked over to me with her arm extended. "Deal," she said. I took her hand in mine and shook it. Then, we both looked down at the immense bulge that was tenting her bathrobe. The implication was obvious.

I sighed. "But you just came."

She was actually kind of sheepish about it. "I know," she said, sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear, "but all this talk has kinda worked me up. Would you mind?"

I knew I couldn't very well say no, especially after our discussion just now. It's just that, well, each of the previous experiences happened when I was under the influence of some kind of drug my wife was secreting. If I did it now of my own volition, then I was one step closer to doing it willingly. Still, if I didn't do it, then the beast that Donna referred to might eventually appear and compel me to do something worse. Helping her out was definitely the lesser of two evils.

"Fine," I said through a forced smile. "Let's go upstairs to the bed."

She nodded her head, turned on her heel, and practically sprinted up the stairs.

If she'd shown this enthusiasm for sex before I tried to cheat on her...

I took a final sip of my coffee, and walked after my wife. When I got upstairs, Donna was already in our bedroom. She had taken the towel off her head, and was now laying face-up on the bed, patting the comforter invitingly beside her. As I lay down, I realized that we were both very nervous, like it was our first time all over again—and it kinda was. She was also breathing raggedly already, clearly very horny. Again.

Good. Hopefully that means that this won't take long.

I reached down with my right hand and pulled her robe off her cock. Her dick sprung free immediately, pivoting quickly to stand proudly erect.

"Ohhhhhhhh," Donna said, in response to what I could only assume was the feel of air on the sensitive skin of her newly exposed cock.

My eyes locked with Donna's for a moment. Before I continued, I wanted to see who was in charge. She met my gaze with one that was filled with lust, but also a measure of shyness. It wasn't an expression that wanted to control me, it was one that simply wanted my help. I could live with that.

At the same time, both of our gazes drifted south to Donna's fully engorged cock that, even now, towered imperiously out of the fold of her bathrobe. It was already twitching in anticipation of the coming attention, seemingly oblivious to the two orgasms that it had already had in the last twelve hours alone. I could see and smell her pre-cum as it dribbled out of the tip, weeping down the shaft like drips of wax from a candle.

I blinked a few times as the pheromones hit my brain and could feel a tingling in my balls, signaling that my own body had begun to react. Donna had sensed it as well. She was also taking a deep breath and moaning in response. She was running her hands up and down her torso, and had even spread her legs a little.

Now was the time to act—just in case the smell brought out her beast. Very gently, I gripped her cock mid shaft, and lightly pulled up towards the head. As before, my wife reacted immediately, moaning out loud while her cock lurched and spit out some brackish liquid onto the back of my hand.