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POWER OF SUGGESTION-CHAPTER 5
The sounds of groaning passengers almost drowned out the captain’s voice on the PA as he finished explaining why they would have to deplane. Mechanical problem, not easily repairable, have to locate another plane, etcetera, etcetera.
Mike sat in the comfortable first-class seat, a wry smile on his face. He knew things had been going too smoothly to last.
The visit with his parents had gone well. He’d kept to his father’s oft-repeated guidelines—houseguests and fish start to stink after three days. After the third day he’d been a little itchy to head home, and his parents didn’t protest that he was leaving too soon.
Mike had behaved himself the whole time—he’d come alone, and had hardly said anything to anyone but his parents, except for maybe that hot blonde in line in front of him at the gas station around the corner from his parents’ house. He hadn’t had any in almost three days, and his rented SUV had tinted windows, so they’d been able to take care of business right quick in a nearby parking lot. Of course, that feeling of inner peace had disappeared abruptly when he’d been confronted by the idiocy of the TSA people in the airport, searching everybody but the people who looked like potential terrorists. Their incompetence caused a huge backup at the security checkpoint.
“You know what?” Mike had said, as he tried to get through the metal detector for the third time without it going off. He had absolutely no metal anywhere on him, why the hell was it going off? He addressed the two chunky black females in charge of the checkpoint. “Adjust this damn detector,” he told them, “and only search those passengers who meet the profile of terrorists. The line’ll move a lot quicker.”
“What would be nice is if they actually listened to you,” a harried-looking businessman said to Mike a few seconds later as they headed toward the gate. “But what are the chances, huh?”
“A man can dream,” Mike said with a smile, provoking a laugh from the guy.
Most of the stewardesses Mike had seen on his last few flights hadn’t been much to look at, but the one in charge of First Class on this flight was smoking hot, a skinny blonde with short hair and a tan. Her navy blue uniform blouse and skirt didn’t do a thing for her—she was hot in spite of what she had to wear. Mike wondered how hot she’d look in something sexy.
When the stew—he refused to use the term flight attendant—came by, Mike crooked a finger at her and whispered quietly in her ear for about a minute. She nodded and headed up the aisle toward the bathroom. He leaned back and smiled—just because she had to wear an ugly uniform didn’t mean she had to wear any underwear beneath it. Which brought forth memories of the time he’d joined the mile-high club. Now that had been a trip. Talk about flying the friendly skies. But his pleasure was short-lived, as the takeoff was delayed and then cancelled, as whatever mechanical difficulty there was grounded their plane.
There was a first class lounge but they put everybody outside the gate in the waiting area as they worked on finding a replacement plane. Mike wandered over to a kiosk and bought a Diet Coke and a magazine, then a book as well, in case it was that long of a wait. The clerk was perky and had a very pretty face, but was a little chunky.
“No snacks, no desserts, and only eat three small meals a day,” Mike told her, trying to be helpful. He was in that kind of mood.
The only vacant seats were in the middle of the gate area, and Mike found himself surrounded by a group of about fifteen boisterous high school girls, enough of whom were wearing logoed apparel for him to figure out they were some sort of team. Several of the girls were reading, and four of them were watching a movie on a laptop, but the rest were talking, some into cell phones, and not quietly. Boys, sports, clothes, boys, school, boys. Mike looked at the movie playing on the laptop.
Why didn’t I think of that? he thought. Two seats over from him a lanky brunette was scrunched into a seat, knees to chest, reading a People magazine.
“Volleyball?” Mike asked her.
The girl looked up, saw Mike was speaking to her. “Lacrosse,” she told him.
“Varsity?”
“Yeah, we’re all seniors.”
Mike looked around. “You’re all eighteen?” he said. “I must be getting old. They still do chaperones?”
The girl made a face and jerked her head toward the restaurant. The only likely prospects were a forty-something couple standing at the bar, looking irritated.
“Somebody’s parents?” Mike asked.
The girl made an even more unpleasant face. “Mine,” she said. She did not sound happy.
Mike snorted.
For the most part Mike read his book, and left the girl alone, but still, after an hour and a half, he knew her name was Ailee Thomas, the team was the Timberwolves, and they’d taken second place in the regionals. He also knew more than he wanted to about many of the other girls, having been forced to listen in on their conversations. Their comments about the movie playing on the laptop, a romantic comedy starring Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock, were particularly annoying.
Ailee’s parents checked on the girls once or twice but spent most of the wait bellied up to the bar getting lubricated. Mike watched them for a while and finally shook his head.
“They’re going to sleep the whole way back,” he said.
Ailee looked up from her Enquirer and followed his gaze. “Let’s hope,” she said. It was then that one of the airline employees got on the PA and announced that they would not be able to secure another plane for them until tomorrow, and the whole room erupted in groans and cursing.
Mike was on his feet and moving to the desk even before the woman was off the PA. “You’re securing hotel rooms for everybody, right?” he asked her.
“Yes, sir. But I—“
“Just do it, and
quickly,” Mike told her. He looked at
the other woman standing next to her.
“You too,” he said. “We’ve had to
wait around long enough.” Mike checked
his watch. Already almost
After a few moments in thought, Mike realized that Ailee’s father was one of the people in line clamoring to talk to the blue-suited women. Mike looked around, and saw Ailee’s mother standing just inside the restaurant looking out, a drink in her hand. Mike looked over where he’d been sitting, the crush of people standing, sitting, and sprawled across the seats, then headed toward the restaurant with a smile and a determined stride.
Mike checked his watch when he heard the knock on his hotel room door. Eight-thirty. He let in Ailee and a short, stout blonde who looked at him, and then Ailee, in confusion.
“Where’s the party?” the blonde said. “Who’s he?”
“I’m Mike,” he said. “The party’ll be here when you two go get the rest of the team, bring ‘em in here. Tell ‘em whatever you need to. What’s your name?”
“Cammie.”
“What about my parents?” Ailee asked. “They’re going to check on us at bedtime.”
“Trust me, I’ve arranged it so that they won’t be leaving their room until morning,” Mike told them. And your dad’s going to be a very happy and sore man in the morning, he could have added. He gave Ailee his room card. “I’ll be in the bathroom. Let me know when everybody’s here.”
They were back with the rest of the team in just a few minutes. Mike didn’t want to spook them until all the girls were in the room, and didn’t show himself until Ailee knocked on the door and told him they were all there. He could hear several girls asking where the alcohol was, they thought this was supposed to be a party.
“Who’s he?” several voices asked, as he stepped out. Even with half a dozen of them sitting on the double beds the room was packed with girls, it was nearly standing room only.
“Quiet,” Mike said as many of the girls began asking questions of him and each other loudly. “Trust me, we are definitely going to have a party.” He smiled, and took a good long look at all of the young faces peering at him. The lacrosse players were a rough-and-tumble bunch, some of the girls sporting band-aids and bruises from their time on the field. Some of them were short, some tall, a few thick with muscle, but they were all in shape and as a rule lean and long-limbed.
“No questions,” Mike told them. “Just do as I say and you’ll be great. Right now, though, you’ve all been sitting around in cars and plane and airport seats all day. Go back to your rooms, shower and wash up, shave like you’re going to be wearing a thong bikini tomorrow, and then come back here. Just dry your hair with towels, you don’t have to look perfect, and don’t worry about any makeup. I want everyone back here in half an hour. If that means some of you have to shower together, so be it. T-shirts and shorts are all you need to put on. Keep this a secret, and I’ll see all of you in a little while.”
They were all back in his room, hair damp and smelling of soap, within half an hour, barefoot and in baggy t-shirts and boxers. He looked at their expectant, fresh faces, at the bodies hidden under the loose clothing. None of them even needed bras, their tits were so high and firm. Talk about untapped natural resources. He made sure the door was locked, deadbolt thrown, chain across the crack, and turned to face the room.
“I’m going to get so wasted,” one of the girls said.
Mike smiled at them. “This isn’t a drinking party, it’s a fucking party. And you guys are going to have so much fun . . . .”
“I’m not gay,” one of the girls said with a frown.
“Maybe not, but until you leave this room all of you are bi,” Mike told them. “And the biggest, horniest sluts you can imagine—you can’t say no, to me or each other.” That got the girls blinking and looking around at each other with new eyes. “Tonight you’re going to do everything you’ve ever heard about, ever seen pictures of on the internet, and love every minute of it. It’s too bad you won’t be able to remember any of what happened in this room once you leave it, you’ll just think you spent the time sleeping. Now, everybody naked,” he said. “Throw all your clothes into the corner.”
The girls were soon naked, and Mike saw several of them already groping and kissing each other.
“What you don’t know I’ll teach you, if you can’t figure it out on your own. Don’t be afraid to experiment. Who here’s a virgin?” He looked at the hands and smiled. Philosophically he was opposed to Viagra, but that hadn’t stopped him from procuring a prescription last year, just in case. He’d popped one of the pills less than an hour ago.
“Now,” he said, pulling off his shirt, as several girls began sixty-nining on the beds, “who here thinks they’re good at giving blowjobs?” Several girls raised their hands eagerly.
“Well, we’ll just see about that,” Mike said, sitting on the edge of one bed to take off his pants. “Just remember, it’s not a good blowjob unless you swallow. Luckily you all like the taste of come. Somebody turn on the TV, I think it’s going to get loud in here.”
The two agents on the plane hadn’t been able to sit close enough to Mike in the crowded lounge to hear what he was saying to the few people he talked to, mostly girls from some high school sports team, which was a big red flag all by itself. And the hotel was overbooked—they hadn’t been able to get rooms anywhere near the subject. They’d had to settle for placing one man in the lobby to watch for departures, while the other made periodic walk-throughs of the seventh floor hallway. The agent doing the walk-bys thought he heard female voices in the subject’s room once, under the sound of the loud TV, but he didn’t want to get caught with his ear to the door, especially when they weren’t ready to move on him yet. But it irritated both of them they couldn’t hear what was going on in his room, they were used to having bugs on him almost everywhere he went.
“Unhh, God!” Mike grunted, as he came, fist pumping quickly on his cock. The brunette on her knees before him opened her mouth wide and he shoved the head in past her lips and let the spurts fly. There wasn’t much, seeing as he’d already come four times in two hours, but that wasn’t the point. “Remember, don’t swallow,” he told her when he could talk. “Okay, now this’ll be another round robin,” he said, looking around the room at all the flushed faces. All the faces that he could see, that is. A few of the girls were still working on unfinished business. He helped the girl in front of him get to her feet. She held her mouth open like she was cradling a fresh egg. “You drool all the come and spit in your mouth into another girl’s. Drool it down, French kiss her and squirt it in, however you want to do it. She’ll taste it, then she’ll pick someone and put what’s in her mouth into the next girl, and so on, and so on, until you’ve all had a turn. It’s called snowballing. When it gets back to you,” he said to the girl with the full mouth, “it’ll mostly be just spit, but that’s okay, just swallow it, and that’s the game.” They’d all already taken their turns trying to deepthroat him. Two of the girls had no problem at all, but most had gagging issues. Later on Mike thought he’d rectify that, explain to them how cocks wouldn’t make them gag any more, but first he had another plan.
He looked around the room. “Okay, now who haven’t I fucked? Cammie, you slut, put your hand down, I’ve fucked you everywhere but your ears.” A lot of the girls laughed at her. “Just for that,” Mike mock scolded her, “you’re going to have to wash your mouth out with ass. Five minutes of tongue on everybody here, and shove it as deep as you can, but I’ll be nice, you can play with yourself while you do it, since I know how much it’ll turn you on.” While he was talking a skinny blonde with long hair in a ponytail got onto the bed on all fours next to two girls tightly wrapped up in a sixty-nine. Her pink pussy and tiny puckered asshole were plain for all the room to see. Then entire room smelled like sex, and echoed with moans, soft coos, gasps, and cries of pleasure. The room was wall-to-wall bodies, and the girls had been going at it hard and fast for hours He’d had to crank the air conditioning just to get the temperature down to a manageable level.
“You haven’t fucked me yet,” the girl told him, waving her ass back and forth. “Not in my pussy.” She’d been one of the deepthroaters, a skill she’d never known she had.
“Weren’t you one of the virgins?” Mike asked her. She nodded. “Lay on your back,” he told her. “Okay, girls,” he announced. “Gather ‘round, and I’ll show you how to have sex without worrying about getting pregnant if you forget to bring a condom. It’s all about fluid dynamics and gravity. Who’s got the baby oil?”
For a mere three days at his parents Mike hadn’t needed more than a carry-on, so as soon as he deplaned he was on the phone to Darla. She had the Hummer idling at the curb by the time he made it out of the building.
“How was your trip?” Darla asked him, as he settled into the passenger seat.
“Good,” he said. “I—“ he turned to toss his bag into the back seat and saw that Tits was sitting in the middle of the leather bench seat, naked, her arms outstretched to either side. It was a good thing he’d put that limo tint on the back windows.
“I told her she was handcuffed to the shoulder belt anchors,” Darla told him.
“Ah.” Tits’ tits seemed even larger than he remembered, hanging down almost to the tops of her thighs. “Did her milk come in?” Mike asked, and glanced at Darla.
A huge grin split Darla’s tanned face. “Yep.”
“No wonder you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” He looked her over. Darla had on a dark green camisole top—tight, no bra—over jeans and black high heels. She saw him looking at her and smiled, then tugged the camisole up, rolling it up to just under her armpits. Her breasts lay heavy and bare against her, bisected by the seatbelt. Darla put the Hummer into motion.
“Did yesterday suck with the flight getting cancelled and all that? I hate fucking airports.”
Mike smiled. “I was able to keep myself entertained.” The memory of laying spreadeagled on a bed, fifteen eager wet mouths working him over from fingertips to toes, popped into his head.
Darla looked at him, and as the Hummer hit a bump he watched her tits jump. “I bet you were,” was what she said.
The Viagra had kept him hard until he was actually too sore and tired to fuck anymore. He’d forgotten how tight teenage girls were. He was pretty sure he’d been in every hole in the room, and come at least six times. Finally he’d propped some pillows against the wall and reclined on one of the beds, his sore penis cradled inside Cammie’s soft mouth, his balls inside another girl’s, and watched those girls still awake going at it until close to six a.m. Then he’d shooed them all back to their rooms and told them to shower before the chaperones came and got them. He’d slept the entire plane ride back and he was still dragging. But it had been worth it.
Darla drove through the traffic for a while, then offhandedly remarked, “I sure notice the bumps a lot more with this buttplug.” She didn’t look at him, just kept staring out the windshield, both hands on the wheel as she navigated airport traffic.
Mike couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “It is good to be back.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tits. “Cunt.”
“Dammit, we need more people on this,” Perkins said. He’d had to sprint through the airport to make it to the chase car in time to keep up with the Hummer.
“It’s too sensitive,” Troley, driving, said. “You know how it is. If it’s off the books, they can’t use too many people or spend too much money or someone’ll pick up on it.”
“They could say he’s a suspected terrorist or something, justify it that way,” Perkins responded. He could just see the roof of the Hummer ahead. One surveillance vehicle was several hundred yards in front of it, and the electronics van was caught in traffic behind them, but still close enough to the Hummer to pick up the feed from its dash bugs.
“If this guy is what they think, at some point they’re gonna want to erase all of this, make everything, all the records, disappear. The less there is, the less chance they’ll miss something. They figure we’ve got enough people to do the job, and they’d give us more bugs if we wanted them.”
“Hell, we’ve got every phone, every room of his house covered,” Perkins said. “Plus the vehicles. But something like this, I’d hate to lose the guy because of manpower issues, and this guy, if he was interested in making trouble the way he is money and sex, he could be king of the world.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Darla said.
“Yeah?” Mike replied, half listening.
They were sitting on a low brick wall, eating ice cream, watching people going in and out of the big movie theater complex next door.
“Do you ever wonder why?” she asked him.
Mike’s eyes moved back and forth as he followed the teenage girls and their mothers. So many women, and only one of him. It hardly seemed fair. “Why what?”
“Why you? Why not somebody else? If there’s a God, then this didn’t happen by accident. So why you?”
“I go out of town for less than a week and you get religion?” Mike said with a smile.
“Yeah, I’m a model fucking born-again Christian,” she said. “The next dildo I get is gonna be in the shape of a cross. No, really. Think about it. If there is a reason, why you? Are you supposed to do something? Or is it you because you’re not interested in becoming President and nuking everybody?”
Mike shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but . . . .” He shrugged again. “Who’s to say? I just want to have a little fun if I can, get some money in my pocket. I mean, you’re right, I could do a lot worse things. You see her?” He nodded at a busty teen in hiphuggers who was hanging on her boyfriend. “I could tell her to blow me live on Regis and Kelly and she’d be happy to do it. I could also tell her to buy a hatchet and chop up a bunch of toddlers at a daycare and make a stew out of ‘em, too, and she’d tell me it’s delicious. It’s, I mean—“ he shook his head. “I try not to think about it, you know? Because it can get pretty fucking scary. Maybe that’s why I keep to the sex and the cash, I’m afraid of fucking something up, something serious. I already mess with people enough. Can you see me as some sort of superhero? Shit. I tried to do one good deed, and it got the FBI knocking on my door, can you imagine what would happen if I was some crusader for world peace or saving the whales or something? It’d be a disaster. All I can say, if God has some larger purpose in mind for me, he needs to be a little less subtle with the hints, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” Darla sat looking over the parking lot, at the people walking back and forth, living their lives. She finished her ice cream cone and licked her fingers clean. “You want to see a movie?”
Mike looked up at the marquee, read what was playing. “Something light, a comedy,” he said.
“Sure,” Darla said with a nod. “Blow you in the car before or after?” she asked him.
A wry grin split his face, and he gave a little chuckle. “Why not both?” he asked.
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