Jack and His Magic Pill

By Shane Roth

Imagine a secret formula that will turn any woman into your own insatiable sex slave for four hours. A special pill that will turn any man into the world's greatest stud.

But is this too good to be true? And will four hours of hot, mind-blowing sex be long enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiction4All
• Release date: Aug 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215703588

Book preview

JACK AND HIS MAGIC PILL

2023 Edition

Shane Roth

Published by Fiction4All (Silver Moon Books imprint) at Smashwords

Copyright 2006, 2023 Shane Roth

This Edition 2023

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s Note: All characters in this adult fiction story are at least 18 years of age.

CHAPTER ONE

The store, its shelves and tables cluttered with every conceivable form of trinket, smelled of plastic and leather.

Jack Wilson thought the leather scent was stronger, and for good reason. Ball gags, submission helmets, and silver chains dangled from shiny metal hooks sticking out of pegboards fastened to the wall. Leather harnesses, whips, straps, and accessories made from rawhide and cowhide hung from racks suspended from the rafters.

It reminded Jack a little of that feed store he used to go to when he was dating Carla a year or so ago. Carla was an equestrienne who competed in all sorts of horse events. She was always on the prowl for saddles and pads and kept several pairs of expensive English riding boots and half a dozen pairs of thick rubber muck boots in her closet.

Good thing she was a top saleswoman with her company and pulled in nearly six big ones a year.

The feed store had the same racks and hooks bolted into its walls as this place. It even had a similar rack suspended from the rafters. But instead of bridles and lead ropes and muck buckets hanging from hooks and rings, this place stocked accoutrements to decorate and control a smaller, much different type of filly.

The store’s name, House of Kink, Incorporated, said it all. It handled toys and gadgets for every conceivable kind of sexual activity. It provided hot entertainment for a hot evening--or a series of hot evenings--to be shared and enjoyed with a wild, adventurous female. The single, most difficult part of the program was finding a woman who actually enjoyed subjecting herself to the humiliation resulting from these highly extreme activities.

Not too many females working in the executive offices liked getting down and dirty with a guy who worked in the Mailroom. The babes Jack dealt with enjoyed long, romantic cruises ... and evenings on the beaches ... and extended weekends at a time-share in Vegas ... or Bermuda ... or Belize ... in the company of a rich, resourceful executive, of course.

Jack wandered over to a metal apparatus called the Love Machine. A weird-looking contraption, to be sure. Looked like a bunch of oversized handlebars soldered to one another at weird angles. Two bicycle-sized leather seats were fastened to its center. The instruction manual stuck to the wall behind it showed a shitload of positions a couple could enjoy on it, most of which he’d never seen before. The only one that looked like it wouldn’t hurt was the one where the chick lay on her back with the small of her back on one seat, her legs spread and her feet in the stirrup attachments, as in a doctor’s office. The guy could kneel or sit on the lower seat in front of her and chow down on her pussy or simply stand, grip the offered bars, and fuck her.

Using this machine without reading the instructions could cause you to spend some time and serious cash with the chiropractor for the next few weeks.

Anything turn ya on?

Jack turned.

The salesman was short and broad, looked like he might be around seventy, his curly white hair thinning on top. He also sported thick mutton-chop sideburns and a burly white mustache. He wore the sort of apron you’d expect to see on a hardware clerk carrying around nails, pencils, and a measuring tape.

Jack wondered what this old boy had in those pockets. Nipple clamps? A pussy ring?

Looks like you got just about everything the average pervert could want in this place.

Lots of folks go for this stuff, the old boy said. Some ain’t even perverts.

What’s wrong with being a pervert? I’ve been one for years. Jack kept his tone light. He knew to be careful about saying anything really stupid. Last time he was in one of these places, he’d asked the female cashier if she could demonstrate one of the peter pumps on display. He’d not only pissed her off, he was asked to leave the premises by her boyfriend, who owned the place.

The clerk grinned, showing off his dentures, which looked like two neat rows of Chiclets. Need any help, don’t hesitate. Just hunt me down.

Got a minute? Jack’s curiosity was about to burst.

The clerk shuffled right back.

You’ve got a lot of toys here.

Just about everything. Want something ya don’t see? We don’t have it in the back, we’ll try’n get it. Let us know, we’ll get in touch with our Scandinavian buds. Scandinavians? He chuckled. "They got everything. And I mean everything."

That’s cool. Really cool. Jack glanced around. No one was close, so there was no reason why he should be skittish about this. But he still found himself a little uneasy when searching for the right way to ask.

What’s on your mind, boy?

This stuff you’ve got here...

Yeah?

It’s okay--I mean, it’s really great. It’s great if ... if you’ve got a dynamite babe who’s interested in this kind of thing.

Yeah...

I guess what I’m trying to say is this. You can have all the cool sex toys in the world, but if your babe isn’t into any of that--

The clerk nodded.

You know what I’m saying, don’tcha?

Sure do. Yup. Sure as hell do...

Jack shrugged. "Got anything ... for that?"

For what?

You know. Get her in the mood. Make her more ... adventurous. Lower her inhibitions. Something that’ll turn her on and make her want to see how much fun she can really have.

Ya mean, like KY? They sell that stuff at--

I don’t mean anything like that. I guess what I mean is... Jack glanced around. They were still alone. Something ... stronger?

Stronger?

Yeah.

The clerk blinked. He put his hands on his hips. "Y’ain’t talking about that date rape drug, are ya? That pill they feed the ladies at those RAVE clubs?"

No. Nothing like that.

Good. The clerk scowled. We don’t carry that kinda stuff here. Ain’t right—know what I mean?

It’s not legal.

"That ain’t why we don’t have it, boy. It’s mean. Nasty. Lady’s out cold. What good’s that?"

"I know. I’d never do that." Last time Jack had bought something like that, the girl got sick and threw up. Nothing brings the evening to an end faster than a babe tossing her cookies in your lap.

The clerk was shaking his head, watching him closely. Who in their right mind wants to get off with a lady who’s unconscious?

"That is