Hypno Harem 2: Harem-Scarem! Read Free

steeled herself, pressed her lips tight around his shaft and began to suck fast— faster, faster!— sliding her mouth up and down, up and down, up and…
    He cried out and a thick spurt of man milk gushed onto her tongue. She forced herself to keep her mouth around him. Hold on, girl. Don’t pull off! No matter how ick—
    And then…
    Oh my God! she thought. It’s just like… I can’t believe it. Tastes just like…
    She’d barely gulped down the first flood of cum when another came pouring out. She eagerly swallowed it too. Yum! Yum, yum and yum! Keep it coming, Doc, old boy! I’ll take all you’ve got! Oh my God, my God, my God, my God, my…
    Minutes later, when she finally pulled away from him, Woody’s cock was limp and pink. Addie grinned at him, her lips smeared with cum. Woody fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
    “That was an… incredible blow job, Officer Porter,” he mumbled. “Did you find out what you wanted to find out?”
    “I sure did,” said Addie happily. “Cum tastes like chocolate! It’s not icky at all! I LOVE it!”
    “Tastes like chocolate?” Woody said. “I didn’t know that.”
    “It does to me,” Addie said happily. “Yum!” She looked in the rearview mirror and wiped herself carefully. “I’d leave it on but I’ve got to get back to work and I don’t think drivers would take me seriously with cum on my face.”
    “Don’t forget my ticket.”
    “I’m tearing up your ticket, Dr. Goodman. The least I can do!”
    Woody smiled as he zipped up. Transcranial Influence was turning out to have all kinds of uses.
     

Tourists
     
    A slip of a moon palely illuminated the waves that gently splashed on the shore of Matagorda Island, a hundred miles from Houston. Set aside as a wildlife refuge, no humans disturbed the long sandy beach, the rolling grassy dunes, the island’s shy wild creatures. No eyes but those of a long necked whooping crane and alert sand fox saw the rubber raft float past the breakers, saw the three wet suited figures jump out and haul it ashore.
    No human eyes saw them flash a signal light to the submarine lurking two miles distant in the quiet Gulf waters. No but a lizard’s saw them drag the raft over the narrow island, then paddle across the strip of water between it and the mainland. No eyes but a roving owl’s saw them shed their wetsuits for tourist apparel, then bury their gear and deflated raft on a deserted strip of beach.
    No eyes but a feral dog’s saw them hotwire a rundown van on a remote stretch of road. No eyes but those of weary truckers saw the van putter down the highway between the coast and the distant giant metropolis as the red sun rose above the horizon, a foretaste of the day’s heat.
    No eyes but a homeless alcoholic’s, heavy with sleep and drink, saw the van park in a seedy section of downtown, saw three Orientals—Japanese? Chinese? Vietnamese?—scramble out, cameras dangling from their necks, to stroll down the cracked sidewalk, soon lost in the city’s pedestrian populace.
     
    L ouis and his buddy Georgie were hanging out near the Lone Star Bakery when they saw the tourists, two men and a woman, halt and stare at the bakery’s neon sign. One of the three, a skinny guy with graying hair holding a camera, approached them. “Excuse please, you take picture?”
    “Yeah, sure,” said Louis. The tourists posed, the two men on either side of the woman, with the sign just behind them. “You want that sign in the picture, right?”
    “Yes, please,” said the gray-haired one with a big smile. “Let friends know we in Lone Star state.”
    “Okay.” Louis aimed and took several shots. Wacky trio, he thought. Where did they get those duds? One guy was wearing a lime green leisure suit with platform shoes, the other a Stetson and fringed buckskin jacket while the woman had on a tie-dyed top, miniskirt and white knee-high boots. Out-of-town? They looked like they’d stepped out of the 1960s or