At the movies

Warm air caresses your skin as you guide the silver Audi convertible onto the dark asphalt pavement. The car rides smoothly and easily. It almost makes you forget how tumultuous the last couple of days have been for you.

There aren’t any other cars on the road, so you feel content to let yourself coast along, just enjoying the scenery. You never really took the time to appreciate the world around you as it flashed by at speeds the car offered.

“Having fun?”

A feminine voice draws your eyes to the passenger seat. Sharon Thompson is sitting there. Her dark, ponytailed hair is rippling in the wind. She’s wearing a set of large, rectangular sunglasses that obscure a large portion of the upper part of her face.

Her plump lips are tilted upwards into a small smile. You wonder what she’s thinking about right now as she sits in the passenger seat of her own car. The car you were driving because you’d taken advantage of her open, hypnotized mind to gain a measure of influence over her.

She doesn’t know that, of course, and you don’t think you’ll tell her until you’re absolutely certain that she’s 100% loyal to you, and only you. You imagine her sitting in her office with a MILF client who happens to fall into a trance during her therapy session. You picture her calling you and then handing the phone over to the woman who’d fallen into a trance, smiling as she helps you bring yet another hot mother under your thrall.

Yes, you think. Sharon will open up a plethora of opportunities for you, beyond even her own body and your much-needed **** against her son.

“Yeah, this is awesome. I’ve never actually driven a convertible before. I think I want my first car to be like this one,” you say.

Sharon chuckles. She reaches over to squeeze your thigh.

“That’s good. It’s healthy to have a goal to strive towards. So, your parents haven’t bought you a car?”

You see an intersection ahead with a red stop sign on the side of the road. You slow the car to a gradual halt.

“No,” you shake your head.

Sharon looks at you. She frowns slightly.

“Really? I’d have thought your mother would have been happy to buy you a car,” she said.

You nod.

“Yeah. Ever since Tiffany trashed her first car, my parents have been pretty hesitant to spend money on a car for me. I mean, I get their reasoning, but they never trusted me enough to give me a chance to prove I could drive safely.”

Sharon nods.

“Do you feel like you’re being punished for your sister’s behavior?” she asks, a pensive look on her face. You have a feeling she’s going to be listening to your next words very closely.

“Sometimes? No? Not really?” you shake your head. Honestly, you’d never really begrudged Tiffany for her clumsiness. God knows you were hardly perfect, either. What you couldn’t stand however was that your parents never gave you the same chances she’d had. And after she’d gone and messed up more royally than ever before, your parents had welcomed her with open arms while still treating you like an unwelcome houseguest. You sigh. “I don’t know. It just feels like no matter what I do, Mom and Dad never seem to be happy with me. I mean, Tiffany went and got knocked up in college and they still like her a lot more than me. I think they regret having me, honestly.”

Those last words leave your mouth like grime through a pipe. You feel an emptiness open up inside your chest. When was the last time Mom and Dad had just said they loved you?

“That’s a terrible thing to feel, John. A parent’s responsibility isn’t just to provide for their child. They have to raise them with love, too. Children who aren’t raised lovingly often feel resentment for their parents and the lives they live,” she squeezes your thigh again, but much more gently this time. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you before, but I am now.”

She smiles warmly, and again your heart flutters heavily in your chest. You remind yourself again that her concern for you isn’t real. You put it there. It’s all artificial. For a moment, you wish you didn’t believe that.

You step on the gas pedal again, turning right. The Audi’s motor growls pridefully as you hit the accelerator. The movie theater isn’t far, now.

Other cars pass by on the other side of the street. You notice a few of their drivers glancing at you and Sharon, and you smile, feeling powerful as you relish in the attention of men driving far less expensive cars and vans. Do they envy you, you wonder? That would certainly be a first.

You slide your right hand over Sharon’s thigh, but where she was soft with you, you are harsh. You enjoy the feeling of her toned thigh as it yields to your touch. She gasps, but doesn’t stop you as you **** your hated bully’s mother.

You trail your hand upward.

“We-we shouldn’t be doing this in the car. Someone could see,” she says, and you ignore her.

She opens her legs anyway, and you place your hand between them and start rubbing. The beautiful older woman moans. She presses her clothed pussy into your hand. She stares at you from behind her dark sunglasses. You can see the outline of her wide eyes as she lets you do something she probably never allowed her own husband when they were still married.

“Sharon,” you say, returning your gaze to the road. You don’t think you’ve ever driven a car more smoothly. “Touching you makes me feel good. It helps me forget about my parents not wanting me. You’re really nice for letting me do it.”

She bites her lip, placing a hand on top of yours, pressing it harder against her clothed cunt.

“I’m just doing my job. I’m here to do whatever it takes to help you with your recovery,” she mumbles, and you barely hear her over the wind. Her pants gradually grow damp under your ministrations. She moans and gasps, then clenches her thick thighs around your hand, trapping it against her pussy.

“Ooh, right there,” Sharon hisses, a funny contrast to her earlier protest. Her resistance to you seems to be minimal in most aspects. Something to preserve the illusion of her propriety, but she’ll apparently happily allow you to do whatever you want to her, just as long as it isn’t fucking. You’ll fix that soon. Sharon is going to fall into a trance at some point today, and you know she hasn’t since you gave her a command ensuring that she would notify you when it happened.

You grin wolfishly. You spend much of the rest of the ride like this. The vibrant green trees and cookie cutter houses on the side of the road peel away into gray concrete commercial buildings and sprawling asphalt parking lots which teem with cars that sparkle in the late morning sun.

Slowing the car to a crawl, you flick your turn signal and turn off into a parking lot. Beyond, the AMC movie theater towers like a giant, eclipsing most of the other buildings in the strip mall.

You find a parking spot in a shaded area near a tree and ease the car into it.

“You’re a pretty good driver, John,” Sharon says. A small smile on her face. “Your parents would be cruel not to trust you after seeing the way you drive. I know I’d trust you with a car if you were my son.”

“Seriously? You’d buy me a car if you’d had me instead of Jared?”

Sharon nods.

“Absolutely. You’ve turned out to be a much nicer man than he is and far more responsible. I only wish I’d known how horribly my son treated you before Doug and I bought him a car of his own. I could have made him pay for what he did to you,” she says, her lips curling angrily.

You rub Sharon’s clit through her pants. Her body shudders and she bites her lip.

“It’s okay. There’s still time for you to punish dear old Jared. And in the meantime you can keep doing whatever it takes to make up for his bad behavior.”

Sharon squeezes her thighs around your hand. Her crotch has grown incredibly damp, and she’s begun rubbing herself against your hand like a whore **** for your touch.

“T-that’s right. I’ll do whatever it takes to help make things right,” she says. “Oh fuck… You’re more than worth it, John. Your parents are short-sighted for not realizing how incredible you are.”

A smile spreads across your face, Sharon’s words affecting you more than you anticipated. It’s an outrageous thought, to be sure, but some small part of you wishes you’d been raised by someone as concerned for your wellbeing as Sharon is now.

“Thanks,” you say simply. You glance upward and see no clouds. Only the endless blue sky. You take your hand out from between Sharon’s legs. She lets out a low whine of protest. “So, how do I put the top up?”

Sharon stares at you for a long moment before shaking her head.

“Let me show you,” she takes her seatbelt off and leans over you, but doesn’t do anything right away. She makes a show of fumbling with the controls near the steering column. Your eyes fall to her cleavage which is mere inches away from your face. Her large breasts jiggle and wobble slightly with her movements. Feeling bold, you grab a handful of her right tit through her blouse and start squeezing.

Sharon moans.

“Oh. What are you doing, John?” she asks. She doesn’t pull away, however.

“Nothing. Just squeezing your tit. Did you know that touching your big breasts is incredibly therapeutic for me?”

She smirks.

“Is it more therapeutic than when you, um, ate me out last night?” she whispers the latter half of her sentence. Her cheeks flush slightly.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” you say in a mock-accusatory tone.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t,” she sighs. “It’s been so long since I… since a man did that for me that I almost forgot what it was like. Are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

You give her breast a pinch. She hisses, but doesn’t pull away.

“Nope. You’re my first.”

She giggles.

“That just makes it all the more impressive, then. Did you know I haven’t dated anyone since Doug and I split? Before that he barely paid any attention to me. I was proud of him when he became vice president at the company he works for, but then he just started spending less and less time at home, and when he was home he was usually on the phone with one or more of his colleagues.”

“That’s cruel of him,” you say. “Even if you’re responsible for your son bullying me, he should still be looking after his wife. I know if I were him, I’d never have let that divorce happen. I’d be fucking you so often you wouldn’t even be able to think about leaving me.”

Sharon’s cheeks redden. She looks away for a moment before gazing at you again. You keep groping her breast, smooshing it against her chest before pushing it upward, exposing more of her pale, creamy cleavage to your gaze.

“You’re sweet. I’m sure you’ll make whichever girl you decide to settle down with very happy,” she says quietly. She turns and presses a button near the steering column. A low mechanical whirring emanates from within the car. The back shifts, revealing the black top of the car which slowly slides overhead and into place with a thunk. Shielded from the sun, the passenger compartment of the convertible is much darker now. She settles back into her seat. “Neat, right?”

You nod, and you aren’t just referring to the car.

“Ready?” you give her breast one last squeeze before removing your hand from her.

Sharon frowns for a moment, as if disappointed that you’ve stopped groping her. “Yes. Let’s go.”

The two of you exit the car. You walk towards the theater hand-in-hand, like a couple would. You pull her towards you slightly and smile as she presses her curvy body against yours.

You smile as you open one of the glass doors of the theater and step inside. Cool, popcorn-scented air wafts into your nostrils. The interior of the building is rather spacy, with the ceiling stretching beyond twenty feet above you. You hear a cacophony of voices from the thirty-or-so people milling about the theater lobby. Some of the girls here are good-looking, but none of them can hold a candle to Sharon despite being a decade or more her junior. One blonde girl a year or two older than you catches her boyfriend eyeing up Sharon and elbows his side.

You notice Sharon walking right past the ticket stand and voice your concerns.

“Don’t worry. I already bought the tickets online. We’re in theater number six, which is down to the right of the concession stand.”

You chuckle and give Sharon’s ass a playful slap, eliciting a sharp look from her. She takes off her sunglasses to glare at you directly with her sharp blue eyes.

“John, you shouldn’t do that in front of all these people,” she whispers.

You shake your head.

“Relax. To them, we probably look like some couple. I doubt anyone here actually knows us.”

“Maybe,” she concedes. “Still, I don’t want to attract any attention, so keep your hands to yourself, at least until we get in the theater and the lights turn off.”

You sigh and shake your head. Apparently, she was fine with you groping and rubbing her out in the convertible, but giving her a light smack on the ass in public was a bridge too far. Whatever. You’ll have more than enough control over her soon that she’ll never refuse any request you make again.

“Fine,” you say.

She gives your hand a squeeze.

“Thank you. Sorry if I was a little a harsh there, but we do need to be careful. If someone found out that I was letting one of my patients touch me like that, I could lose my practice.”

You nod. You hadn’t thought about that when you’d influenced her to take you on as a patient.

“It’s okay, I get it. Better safe than sorry. As soon as those theater lights dim, though, you’d better be ready for me.”

Sharon chuckles.

“Oh, I will. I think I’ve gotten a pretty good idea what to expect from you,” she says. “So, before we go in, is there anything you want to eat or drink?”

Your eyes flick over to the concession stand. There are a few people around there, including two women who look to be in their mid-to-late thirties. One of them is a brunette with mid-sized breasts and a magnificent bubble butt that stretches the thin material of her yoga pants. The other is a blonde with larger breasts. Both of them are chatting animatedly about something or other. Too bad neither of them had fallen into a trance.

“I could go for a bowl of popcorn, I guess, and a soda to go with it. Want me to pay? I think I’ve got some cash on me.”

Sharon shakes her head.

“Out of the question. This trip is my treat to you so I’m happy to foot the bill for it and anything else we do together. So don’t worry about the money, okay? Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.”

“Nice. I want a big bowl of popcorn then and a large soda.”

Sharon nods.

“Sounds good. Let me go get them and pay. Why don’t you find us seats?”

“Theater number six, right?” Sharon nods. “Alright. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“See you,” with a parting grin, Sharon turns and walks towards the concession stand. Her big bubble butt jiggles and sways with her every step. You can’t wait until you finally have her bend over in front of you so you can fuck her doggystyle. You don’t know how the fuck her idiot husband could have let her get away. You certainly won’t be repeating his mistake.

You turn and make your way down the expansive carpeted hallway to the right. Bright red digital signs hung over double doors that lined the hallway, displaying the theaters by number.

Finding the sign that reads “6”, you make your way over to the double doors which are propped open by metal doorstops. A few people ahead of you enter the theater. You follow them in through a dimly lit hallway which leads to the front of the theater. It seems half the theater is already occupied. Most of the center seats are taken, predictably. That would usually irritate you, but you don’t really care about getting seats with a good view today. All you’re really concerned with is getting seats that are out of the way where you won’t be disturbed and you can grope Sharon in peace.

With privacy in mind, you decide to walk up the stairs to the unoccupied corner in the top right section of the theater, where it’s unlikely you’ll be disturbed unless the theater becomes completely full.

“Mom, are you all right?” a boy’s voice draws your eyes to a rightside row halfway towards the seats you’d picked out. While the row has room for eight people, you see only four there - an African-American woman in her late thirties, two boys in their late teens, and a man with short, salt-and-pepper hair who looks to be in his mid-forties. All four of them have mocha-colored skin and are sitting directly next to each other, with the woman occupying the seat furthest away from the wall.

The woman draws your eyes immediately. She’s somewhat plump, with a rather large frame that dominates that chair she sits in, but most of her fat seems to have gone to her breasts, hips, and thighs. Her tits in particular are utterly massive, larger than even Veronica’s. They stretch the material of her long-sleeved pink blouse, displaying her expansive cleavage through the blouse’s almost scandalously short neckline. She’s also wearing a pair of tight gray sweatpants that cling to her thick thighs and wide hips like a second skin. Her dark brown eyes are glazed over in a way that excites you in the deep, dark recesses of your mind.

“She’s fine, Steve. Mom’s just in one of her trances again, right Dad?” the other teenage boy says, a knowing look on his face.

“That’s right,” the older man replies with a grin. “You two know you’re supposed to leave her alone when she’s like that.”

The first boy, apparently named Steve, sighs.

“Yeah, we know. You’ve told us this like a million times,” he grouses. He stares at his mother again and cringes.

“And still you keep asking,” the father shakes his head. “I know. Why don’t the three of us go grab some popcorn and drinks? By the time we get back, Mom should be back to normal.”

For a moment, you get excited.

“But who will save our seats?” Steve decides to rain on your parade.

You open your mouth to speak. What are you going to say? That you’ll save their seats for them? You’ll have to concoct a pretty good lie to get them to leave the woman alone with you. Maybe you’ll tell them your mother often falls into her trances in public and you wouldn’t feel good leaving her alone? Even if they believe you, there's still a chance that Sharon could walk into the theater at any moment. Yet if you say nothing, at least one member of that family is going to stay behind with her, and you’ll probably never have the opportunity to influence the woman again. Your eyes fall to the woman’s huge breasts again, and you can’t help picturing how they’d feel with your face buried between them. Decisions, decisions.

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