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Orbitofrontal Cortex 01

Author's note: I'd like to thank another Literotica writer, OrpheusRadius, for providing the story idea. I would recommend all of OrpheusRadius's work, but in particular, check out Christy Becomes a Bad Girl. That story inspired mine. Mine has a different style, a different plot, and different characters, but I must credit OrpheusRadius for its concept, "head injury that turns a good girl into a reluctant mega slut."

...



Chapter 1

She'd recently started taking birth control pills.

Her parents didn't care. Their protective angst had eroded while raising her three older siblings. And they were content, believing she'd grown to become strong-willed and responsible. No need to meddle.

Maybe they were neglecting their youngest child.

Certainly, they'd misjudged Richard. But he'd proven he loved her. He'd behaved like a fine young man. They could not have known what he would do to her, their sweet, conscientious daughter.

...



Richard was a twenty-one-year-old student, a junior at Carnegie Melon. Five months ago, when his girlfriend, Carrie Jenner, had turned eighteen, he'd begun hounding her to fuck. And she'd stood her ground like a good girl. Or at least, almost. In exchange for restraining his most carnal needs she'd shared oral sex with him. Electrifying blowjobs. They had tapped the wells of his ecstasy.

And they had doomed her. The entrancing warmth of her sexy mouth had lured the beast and ultimately provoked his crushing assault. Finally, she'd let him defile her virgin hole.

Unfortunately, Richard's solace came to a quick end. The very next day, he'd watched as Carrie celebrated, pirouetting around the room, an acceptance letter from Princeton University clutched in her hand.

Ten years of practicing ballet had shaped her tight round ass and her slim graceful legs. So Richard had already envisioned a worrisome future. During her college years, suitors would swarm to her beauty like insects to their queen. But Princeton? He hadn't seen that coming. The entire country lay between Mountain View and Princeton. She'd be studying at a school two thousand miles beyond his guard.

...



While waiting at a stoplight, Richard turned to admire the profile of Carrie's face silhouetted against the evening lights. With his eyes, he traced an imaginary bridge, overlaying the curved peaks from her forehead to her chin. Crossing over her pillowed mouth his gaze lingered. The seducing crevice framed by her glossed, rose lips touched his awe. And his torment.

For the last six weeks, he'd pleaded for her to reconsider, but she'd held firmly to her plans. Nothing could justify turning down the highly coveted opportunity in Princeton.

She'd insisted she would remain faithful. However, he'd foreseen it. His jealousy would destroy him. She would delay, responding to one of his texts, and he would agonize, wondering who was wooing her. While exploring a world of dance clubs and fraternity parties crowded with virile, Ivy League stock she would succumb to a better man.

The traffic signal turned green. Richard veered onto the freeway entrance ramp. A recurring thought crept into his head. If she leaves I'll lose her.

Onset of nausea stirred near his diaphragm, and for a moment Richard wondered if his dinner would stay down. He knew a long-distance relationship couldn't work. He just wasn't sure if Carrie knew it too, or if she was simply naïve.

He looked at her and broke the silence. "Carrie..."

She turned her head to show him a half smile.

As the car passed over a dip in the pavement, Richard felt the centripetal force pull him toward the ground. A single, brief pulse. In his peripheral vision he saw Carrie's boobs stretch an inch downward, spring back up, and jiggle. So his eyes involuntarily examined her blouse where her nipples drilled into the flimsy bra beneath. A small fire lit in his groin. It spread through his gut, burned away the nausea, and fueled his inspiration.

He locked his view onto the road's painted lines. "What if we were..." he started. "Have you ever thought about marriage?" Several seconds passed. Richard could feel her looking at him.

"Are you serious?" she asked. "Did you buy a ring?"

He wiped the sweat from his palm onto his pant leg. A ring... of course he hadn't bought a ring. He'd only been testing to find out how she felt, but now he was caught in the middle of an awkward proposal.

"Well...yes," he stammered. I'd be serious if you were. "I mean, no, I haven't bought a ring. I just want to know if you've thought about it."

"Richard," she sighed. "I'm only eighteen. I'm about ready to start college. You know I can't get married now." She tapped her fingers on the door's armrest. "Ever since I got accepted to Princeton, you've been different. It feels like you need to know what I'm doing every minute. We've seen each other almost every day, and--"

"What?"

She turned and grimaced at him.

His thoughts froze. "We...we..." He blinked a few times while he recovered. "We only have a few more months together before you leave." He tried to read her face. Where is she going with this?

She exhaled slowly. "I haven't had any time for my friends. I'm leaving them too." She curled the corners of her mouth into a sad smile, and then added, "I think being apart for a while could make our relationship stronger."

He swallowed hard. There it was. He knew what she really meant. Her answer was, 'No'. She wasn't necessarily breaking up with him, but their relationship would be done after she left. She knew it, and she was ok with it. She was preparing to move on.

Where had he gone wrong? He hadn't realized he'd been suffocating her. "Carrie, can we..." He choked out the words. "If you could just--"

"Get over!" she screamed. "Rich-- stop, STOP!"

He turned his head. An old yellow pickup -- its hazard lights were flashing. The car ahead swerved to avoid rear-ending it.

He held his breath. His foot stomped on the brake pedal. His car slid, tires screeching. With a slam, its motion suddenly halted. Metal crunched and glass shattered.

Six days later...

Richard clicked the remote to cycle through the television channels.

While sitting propped up in her bed, Carrie spun around to fluff her pillow and then panted as if winded. Richard helplessly watched as her powder blue eyes lost focus and rolled back in their sockets.

Richard stood. "Are you ok?"

She sluggishly blinked at him. "Yeah, I was a little dizzy."

He ran his hand through his hair. He wished he could undo what he'd done to her. The accident replayed in his mind. Their disagreement. Her scream. The crash.

To avoid her dazed eyes, he bent his head to look at the floor. The doctor had released him only hours after having been admitted. However, Carrie had suffered a severe concussion. Her head injury had caused both anteriorgrade and retrograde amnesia.

"The anteriorgrade amnesia," the doctor had said. "It has erased from her memory everything that happened during the six hours leading up to the accident. It's not much to worry about, considering."

Richard wasn't worried about it. In fact, he was relieved. She had no memory of their last date, no memory that she'd rejected his botched marriage proposal.

"The retrograde amnesia is a bigger problem. She has lost her ability to keep new memories beyond two hours. Going forward, she will forget every experience only a short duration after living it. The good news is her disorder is only temporary. I expect Carrie to fully recover. The bad news is her recovery could take months, maybe a year."

Mr. Jenner had already arranged with Princeton University to delay her start until after the coming semester. No sense going to school when she couldn't remember anything she learned. Richard had privately celebrated. His hope had been renewed. He would have four more months together with Carrie.

A knock came from the door. A staff technician about twenty-five years old entered the room. Richard guessed the man to be Italian. His black hair looked tangled, though styled. He showed Carrie a big smile below his arched Roman nose, and his white teeth contrasted his bronzed skin.

"Good hoffter-noon-eh, Carrie." he said. Apparently, he knew her from prior shifts.

At first she turned her head to the side and looked at him through the corners of her eyes. Of course she didn't recognize the man. Nonetheless, her face gradually brightened and she sweetly returned his smile.

"Rhonda, your nurse-eh, she say it's time-eh for shower. She go 'elp Julie wit-eh intravenous. She hosk-eh me..." he paused and looked over at Richard. "...or 'e could-eh..." He paused again. "You need assistance-eh."

Carrie swung her legs off the bed toward the tech, turning her back to Richard. Her gown opened all the way down showing the alluring crack between her little butt cheeks. He craved to look at her full nude body. Yes, I'll help her.

"Oh. No, that's ok. I'm ready," she said. The staff technician took her arm, helped her from the bed, and walked her slowly toward the bathroom.

Richard suddenly felt out of place. Were they expecting him to leave? Maybe not, but the compulsion to hide came over him. Her gown hardly veiled her ass, yet he was the one who felt naked. He stood awkwardly waiting for them to clear from his path. Then after they disappeared into the bathroom he quietly let himself out.

Richard meandered toward the waiting area and took the elevator down to the cafeteria. Thirty minutes later, he returned to her room to find Carrie's parents and her nurse waiting.

Mrs. Jenner wrinkled her forehead. "Where's Carrie?" she asked.

Richard scanned the room's occupants as if trying to locate the girl among them. "I don't know. The tech was here," he said. "I thought she was taking a shower."

The nurse stood thinking for another minute, and then pursed her lips. "I'd better call my supervisor." She exhaled a frustrated puff, picked up the line, and waited for an answer. "Helen, this is Rhonda. Carrie Jenner -- the concussion patient with amnesia -- she's gone missing again."

'Again' -- what's that supposed to mean?

"Could you please alert the floor staff?" she continued. "I'm going to go look for her." With a quick assuring nod to Carrie's parents, she left.

Mr. Jenner gave his wife a long, concerned stare. "Let's go look," he said. "Come on." Mrs. Jenner and Richard followed him out of the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Jenner turned down the hallway to the right, while Richard turned left. After walking only about twenty paces, he heard someone just ahead. He recognized Carrie's giggling. He'd already found her, and from the sound of it she was not in any trouble.

He approached a door on the right with a sign above it reading, "Lecture Hall", and peeked through its small window. Her laugh came from inside, but he could see only darkness.

Wait a second. He shuffled backwards. She was laughing, but why in a dark, empty auditorium? Richard tweaked his lips between his thumb and finger, shaking his head, trying to block out the answer he felt in his gut.

Carrie's parents appeared, walking his direction from the end of the hall. He considered heading back to meet them, pretending he'd never heard anything, but his focus immediately returned to the door. From the other side, he heard a hushed voice. "Ooooooh-oddio," a man groaned. "Cavolo-ahhhhhh."

Richard's abdomen contracted rigid like ice. Hesitating, he shook his hands as if to dry them. He couldn't think straight, so disregarding logic he just opened the door and stepped into the room.

The hallway light beamed through the doorway like a spotlight. There, with his pants down and his hands braced behind his butt, the staff technician was leaning against the back of a chair. He was in a state of oblivion, head tilted back and eyes closed.

Richard had missed part of the orgasm, but he saw enough. The man's dripping pee hole continued spurting. It shot two thick streams of cum in the direction of Carrie's mouth, paused for a second, and then ejected two final, weaker squirts.

Sitting on a seat in front of him, her back to Richard, Carrie was holding the man's uncircumcised cock. While peeling back its foreskin with one hand, she was slowly massaging its shiny, bulging head with the other. Continuous churning squishes broke through the dull quiet of the vacant auditorium. It taunted Richard, the solo rhythm of her kneading little fist, wet from saliva and semen.

When Carrie's parents stepped into the room, the technician registered his audience. Avoiding eye contact, he fumbled with his pants to put his cock away, and rushed out of the room.

Carrie turned around to watch him leave, her mouth open and full of cum. Several liquid white streaks clung to her lips and her chin. A wayward strip of semen dangled in her straight, light brown hair. So much, evidently Richard had witnessed only the tail end of the man's ejaculation.

Giggling, she scraped her finger over her top lip to push cum into her mouth and then swallowed the load in a single, deliberate gulp. Her mouth formed a big, devious smile as her excited, wide eyes connected with Richard's. Then she looked pensively to the side.

"Salty. A little bit gritty. It always makes my tongue feel kind o' tingly and numb," she observed. "It tastes a little different than yours," she added turning back to Richard. "It was a lot more than I'm used to."

Feel numb... His entire body felt numb. He couldn't remember how to breathe. Carrie's dad said something, but Richard's brain failed to distinguish the words. How could she be so nonchalant about it? For God's sake, her parents were standing right there.

Her dad reached over the row of chairs to grab her arm. He ushered her from her seat, to the aisle, and toward the door. As she approached, she held out her arms to Richard.

He jerked his head back. What the hell? You've got to be kidding me. You want to hug?

Inches away from closing for an embrace, her dad's grip stopped her short, and her hair swung like a pendulum.

A scent began to suffocate Richard. Cum. Reeking like chlorine mixed with pancake batter, the cloud of another man's lust was floating around her head. Rage dimmed his vision for a moment, but he slowly regained focus and stared at her wide-eyed. He put a hand on her shoulder and shoved.

Her upper body reeled. "Ow! Hey!" she yelled.

He turned, exited the auditorium, and stomped down the hall.

A week later...

Mr. Jenner sipped on his coffee. He looked at Richard's half-eaten pastry. "Can I get you something else?" he asked. "You know it's my treat. I'm just so glad you could meet us here." He shot a glance over at Carrie, who sat quietly nursing her iced mocha.

Richard had spent the last week holed up in his apartment. It had begun with excessive drinking, sleeping, and weeping, but for the last couple days his thoughts had turned to revenge. They had begun to worry him. He feared losing control of his anger. So he'd finally decided she would be safer if he stayed away.

However, today Mr. Jenner had texted to invite him for coffee. He'd said it was important.

Richard sat back in his chair to abandon his pastry. "No thanks," he answered. "I'm really not hungry." He glared at Carrie.

"I know how you must feel," said Mr. Jenner. "That's why I thought someone owed you an explanation." He and his daughter looked at each other. "And she can't..." He turned back to Richard. "I mean, I have to tell you. After that incident at the hospital --"

Richard's face twitched.

Mr. Jenner set his coffee on the table and held his hands up. "Just hear me out," he continued. "After that incident, we knew something else wasn't right. We took her to see a specialist. They did some tests."

Richard leaned forward.

"It's a little hard to explain. You see, the specialist said she suffered trauma to her medial orbitofrontal cortex. They studied other cases for the consequences, which they confirmed in her." He paused.

"What consequences?" Richard asked.

"Well, the oversimplified version is, a person uses that part of the brain to determine what is right or wrong based on feedback to their actions."

"What does that mean?"

Mr. Jenner briefly looked at Carrie and back again. "When it's injured, the victim loses their ability to empathize. And worse, judicious self-control is lost. It typically leads to any of several disinhibited behaviors, like compulsive gambling or drug use..." He hesitated for a moment, and then raised his eyebrows. "Or it could lead to hyper-sexuality."

Richard leaned back in his chair again.

"Look, Richard. She needs help. She's not well, and the problem is we can't right now. I mean, her mother is leaving the country in two days. Her company is opening a new branch in Hong Kong.

"I'll be here, off and on, but my project has blown way out of proportion. For the next three months, I have to spend half my time in Irvine, and we'll be putting in ridiculous hours." He sighed.

Richard waited.

"For the last year, Carrie has been closer to you than anyone else. You've been great. They said she'll recover. But right now, Richard, she needs help."

Richard looked at her through the corners of his eyes. That bitch doesn't want my help. He looked back at Mr. Jenner. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I know you're a good man, Richard. I was hoping you could forgive her for what happened at the hospital. We need for someone to watch her closely, very closely for the next few months while she recovers," he said. "Can you do that?"

Richard narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't quite adding up. He wants to shut in his hypersexual daughter with me? What is he thinking?

Mr. Jenner could sense his confusion. He bent his head to look long at Richard through his eyebrows. "We know Carrie has been taking birth control pills," he said.

Richard's blood flow increased, warming his ears and then the heat spread to his cheeks.

"She's not herself now," he continued. "And we trust that you will treat Carrie with respect. We trust you will keep her best interests at heart."

Richard looked at her and struggled to keep his expression from showing his contempt.

"In her state," Mr. Jenner said. "If we don't take caution and protect her, she could destroy her future."

Richard closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment. This is bullshit. Her dad didn't know she'd rejected him. Her dad didn't know he was the absolute worst choice in the world to babysit Carrie. Then he opened his eyes again, and offered a faint nod. "Yeah, I'll do it. I'll watch her."


Chapter 2

"I boxed up some of my clothes and put them in the closet," said Richard. He pointed to the bottom drawer of his dresser. "You can use that one." Carrie began transferring clothes from her bag to the drawer.

He couldn't believe her parents were letting their eighteen-year-old daughter begin spending nights with him. He'd underestimated how little they would protect her. They didn't have time for parenting anymore because they had lofty career goals to achieve. The time had come for their fourth and last child to leave the house.

Whatever the reason, Carrie would be staying with him for most of the next few months. So strange, considering Richard had just decided to avoid her completely, to try and forget about her. Mr. Jenner had forced her on him.

Richard summoned images from his memory and watched her again, jacking off the man in the hospital auditorium. He shook his head. He was supposed to forgive her. Mr. Jenner had said her injury could cause hyper-sexuality.

"Yeah, I guess so," he muttered under his breath.
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.
Richard's ears burned. During the last five months, her cock sucking had always felt like coming home from a long journey. However, he had never considered she would make other men feel that way too. Tonight, despite her brain injury, she remembered everything -- everything he had taught her. She remembered how much he had loved her blowjobs. Now she was ready to give it away.

Smiling, she looked back and forth between the man and Richard.

While the man pulled up his pants, he just stared at her, slack mouthed, shaking his head. "Wow!" he mouthed. "That was... Wow!" He looked at Richard and raised his voice a little. "My friend, do you know how incredible she is?"

Richard looked at her, his mouth went barren, and suddenly he found it hard to swallow. Yes, he did. He squared his shoulders to the man. Dude, you're nobody special. You're too old for her anyway! Don't go thinking about asking her out or something.

"She's a slut," he yelled over the music. "She'll suck anybody's dick."

Carrie crossed her arms and pinched her face at Richard. "I'm not a slut," she said, but then laughed. "I'm just horny."

Still staring at her, the man tilted his head, considering for a while. "Would you like to suck another dick right now?" he asked. "I'm here with my buddy who just went through a divorce."

Carrie looked at the man with a blank face.

No, you wouldn't... Would you? "Yeah, she'll do it," yelled Richard.

In response, Carrie swung her head to face him, her expression still blank.

You're not really going to suck another cock right now, are you? Richard ignored the burning pain in his chest. With an affirmative blink and a slow dip of his head, he gestured approval.

She pressed her lips tightly together, but then slowly turned them up into a closed-mouth smile and raised her eyebrows. She gave the man a nod.

To be continued...
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