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TURNABOUT movie something Chris lunged
Turnabout
By Cicero and Wrestlr
[M/M, MC, hypno]
[Summary: Two guys. The Internet. A case of mistaken identity. Just
another of hypnosis gone awry.]
Disclaimer: There's sex, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions
in this. If you don't like that sort of thing, read something else.
Everybody in the is legal age. Parts of this may be
autobiographical, or it might be all fiction---who can say?
Cicero dedicates his sections to "m," and thanks to Wrestlr who always
gets you to reach for the best in writing or whatever else he's got. 8>)
Copyright - 2001 by Wrestlr and Cicero. Permission granted to archive
if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is
charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your
site, you can't use this without the express permission of (and payment to)
the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
Comments to wrestlr@iname.com or kysen1@yahoo.com (cicero).
Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:
o http://members.tripod.com/~Brock_J (MC and general M/M stories, plus
my home page)
o http://www.asstr.org/~wrestlr (MC and general M/M stories, mirror
site)
o http://www.asstr.org/~mcstories/Authors/Wrestlr.html (MC stories)
Cicero is posted at the following URLS:
www.mcstories.com and www.menonthenet.com
Turnabout
By Cicero and Wrestlr
One
I met him on that mind control site that's so popular. I was trolling
for someone like him and, after a lot of losers, struck gold.
We chatted for months, exchanged pictures and thoughts on mind control
and domination. He had never experimented with it, but I knew that he was
ripe to topple.
Since I lived pretty close to him, I arranged to meet him. That day the
humidity was intense even for a Southern city. I waited in an outdoor
café, trying to keep cool. He was slightly late and full of apologies for
the transit problems he had encountered getting here, but the sight of him
in those shorts was worth it. He mentioned that he had wrestled in
and still kept up with it in private club matches after he graduated two
years ago. It showed, all right! A strong, tight, naturally muscular body
that was revealed through the clothes he was wearing. He was proportioned
in just the right way: a little over 5'11'', with brown hair and a sensual
look in his dark eyes. Thanks to the humidity, which caused his
cling tightly against his frame, I was rewarded with a great view of his
chest development. He had a strong handshake. Excellent. This guy was a
prime universal type, all right.
He flashed me a perfect smile. I had to have him!
We talked through lunch. He was intelligent, funny, and a bit cocky,
but not so much it was obnoxious. Hell, with what I had planned for him,
that was a plus. Just before he was to leave, I swung the subject around
to our favorite topic--mind control. He was interested in it but he felt
it only worked, if at all, on weak minds. He obviously had a lot to learn!
I mentioned a cool screensaver program a friend had developed for me.
One that consisted of sparkling light patterns that shifted and glowed over
a repetitive ten-minute time frame. To commemorate our lunch, I gave him a
floppy copy to run on his computer, and told him to try it and let me know
his opinion of it. I also suggested he watch it at night, in a dark room
without any distractions, to get the full effect. He smiled and took the
floppy. As he slipped it into his front pocket, the material pulled
the floppy tight against his pecs. I imagined that it was my hand pressing
up against that chest.
Well, I mused as he got up and walked away, time for that later, if I
was lucky. He moved up the block with an athletic grace that one just
either has or has not. Yes, watching that hot butt moving away from me as
he went around the corner on those muscular legs, I smiled. What he didn't
know was that in the light show was a powerful hypnotic control
program that would enter his subconscious right through his brown eyes!
Yep, after ten minutes of staring, he'd be mine! When the programmed light
show had run its course, the lights would dissolve and my phone number
would appear with instructions to call at once. If it worked, he'd call! I
kept my cell phone close and waited.
The Other
So why did I meet him? He seemed like a nice-enough guy. I get a lot
of email from people who read my stories, and most of them are decent
guys--still, there are enough freaks showing up in my email that I have to
be careful. This guy was witty and smart. He sent me a couple of
he had written--they were pretty clumsy stories, because he wasn't really
paying attention to what he was trying to do, and I gave him some feedback
on how to improve them. When he revised the stories, he liked the way they
came out, so he added a "To B" dedication in this really obvious attempt at
flattering me. Still, I guess I was kind of flattered, deep down inside.
He lived near the city where I'm located, so when he asked if we could meet
for lunch I thought, well, okay, why not?
If he hadn't told me what he would be wearing, I'd have never recognized
him. I guess he kind of looked like the he had sent me months ago,
but it was a small, blurry photo. When I ran up to the little restaurant
where he was waiting--damn bus had been late again--I saw three or four
guys who might have been the one in his picture. They were all looking at
me, too. When you're as cute and built as I am, you get used to that.
So anyway, I was looking for a guy in a red-and-white striped shirt, and
fortunately there was only one of those in the place, so I headed for him.
Introduced myself. Shook hands. Sat down.
Sometimes when you're meeting someone in person for the first time,
there's that awkward moment where you both pretend to be really focused on
reading the menu. Yeah, right--like there's something on that menu that
isn't on half the other menus you've ever seen. It was a little awkward
for us at first, but I'm kind of the outgoing type, and I have no trouble
talking to new people. It's easy to start most talking about
themselves and what they do for a living. He's no exception--big stock
broker, blah blah blah; big opera queen, blah blah blah; been since
forever, blah blah blah--you know the drill. Pretty soon, he and I were
talking away like we'd known each other all our lives.
Listen, I don't mean to come off sounding conceited here, but I could
tell he was really into me. That's pretty much the situation everywhere I
go. See, I'm really good-looking and I've been an athlete pretty much all
my life. I'm and I've got a great body. It's pretty rare for me to
find anyone who's not into me. This guy--he was pretty obviously lusting
after me. He was practically drooling all over himself, and not because
his chicken-and-pasta special was so tasty either. No, that wasn't exactly
the meat he was wanting to be putting in his mouth right then.
I have to admit--being with who are that attracted to me kind of
turns me on. This guy was nice-looking too, and that was a plus. So I
flirted back, a little at first, then a bit more obviously as he opened up
to me. I'd run my fingertip along my jaw line while he was talking, or
lick my lips sometimes when I was looking him right in the eye as if I saw
something I really wanted to taste, or reach up to scratch my chest through
my tee-shirt, all lazy and slow, like I was kind of half feeling myself up
and wishing it were him. About halfway through lunch, I started throwing a
boner--hey, it happens when you're and full of cum, like me. I even
put my foot up on the chair between us. If he had leaned over a little, he
could have seen the rod in my baggy shorts. If he had leaned over a little
more, he could have probably gotten a good peek up my shorts-leg and seen
the tip of my cock there in the shadows.
When it got time to leave, he paid--they always do--and then he pulled
out this diskette. Handed it to me. Told me it had some special
"screensaver" with a "light show" that I'd really like. Uh-huh. Now,
we've all read enough mind control to know what an obvious ploy
this is--though, naturally, the in most mind control never
seem to realize this. So I could barely keep from grinning when I reached
for that disk from him and let my fingers linger again his a second longer
than I had to as I took it from him. Man, I was flattered that he'd go
through the trouble. So I looked him right in the eye as I slipped that
disk into the pocket of my tee-shirt--he wasn't looking at me, though; he
couldn't take his eyes off the diskette as I ran it along the fabric
covering my chest. And I thought to myself, yeah, I've got you, dude.
See, he was wrong about me not having any experience with hypnosis or
mind control. Truth is, I was way ahead of him on the learning curve.
I've learned there are many kinds of mind control and manipulation that
have nothing to do with hypnosis. And lust is one of the easiest.
So I shook his hand and we said our good-byes. When I turned and walked
away up the street, I could feel his eyes on my butt--hell, most of the
guys from the restaurant were still staring at me. See, there's thunder in
my walk, a little cockiness, a lot of promise of great sex. I always keep
that promise. No conceit there--just the truth. I look as good from the
back as I do from the front.
Yeah, it was an obvious gesture, but I was curious. When I got home to
the apartment I share, I went right to my bedroom and popped the diskette
into my computer and installed the "screensaver." All the while, every
clichéd hypnosis plot line was running through my head: "blah blah
blah, hypnotized by the light show; blah blah blah, couldn't resist his
commands." And I kept thinking, I'm way too cute to be a cliché.
Ten minutes, he had said. I figured I could give it that long. I was
already hard in my shorts--it was kind of a turn-on, you know? I
configured the screensaver and sat back. Black screen. Lots of colored
shapes. It was kind of neat, in a geometric kind of way. Nothing I
haven't seen in a dozen other legitimate screensavers, though. Every now
and then I'd kind of see something onscreen, like a flash words or
something? Subliminal messages, I though, though they were onscreen for a
fraction of a second and I couldn't tell what they said. After a few
minutes, this phone number started showing up at the bottom of the screen.
His, I figured. Nice try.
I found myself yawning. Not because I was sleepy or "falling into a
trance" or anything like that. No, I was yawning because ... well, it was
kind of boring. A nice try, and I was still hard from thinking about it,
but just ... nothing out of the ordinary.
I popped the disk out of the drive and put it in a drawer. I was
reaching for the mouse to deactivate the screensaver when I heard this
knock on my bedroom door. "Come in," I said.
It was one of my roommates, Chris. I live share this large apartment
with three other guys, all straight, though they know I'm and they're
cool about it now. Chris is and really cute--he was on the track
team in until we graduated two years ago--and he's supposed to be
straight too. Still, on two occasions since we been sharing this
apartment, Chris got really drunk and let me blow him. We never talk about
that though.
Anyway, I moved the mouse to disengage the screensaver. Chris stuck his
head in and said, "Hey, dude, I need to check my email. Can I use your
computer?" Chris' computer is this clunker that won't boot half the
time and he can't afford a new one, so he borrows my high-speed honker
sometimes.
"Sure thing," I said, reaching for my water bottle to disguise the
semi-hard-on that he might be able to see through my shorts as I stood up.
"Thanks, dude," he said as he took the chair and reached for the mouse.
"This'll just take a minute."
"Take as long as you want," I said. "I'm going for a run."
One
Well, I got the phone call I was expecting on my private line! Since I
had only just put it on the floppy that I given to him, I picked up the
phone totally assured in my mind that it would be his voice on the line,
ready to serve.
"Hello. Who is it," I asked, barely hiding my smirk.
"Chris," came a unfamiliar voice.
Who the fuck was Chris, and how did he get this number? "How did you
get this number?" I sputtered.
"Your message ... on the computer," the voice responded. Computer ...
the computer ... it was only then I noticed how dead his tone was.
Whoever this Chris was, he had seen my program and he was under my control.
What the hell is going on?
"You saw my message, Chris?" I asked, trying to make sure I was getting
this right.
"Yes ..," came a dull reply. "I needed to call you."
I stared at the wall by the phone trying to figure this all out. Well,
first I needed to find out more from Chris.
"Chris," I stated firmly. "I am going to ask you some questions, and I
want quick answers. Understand?"
"Answer you ... quick," the voice responded. It took only a few
minutes to find out who Chris was and that he was the roommate of the guy I
had given the floppy too.
Now I'm panicked 'cause it's got to be one of two things that must be
going on right about now. First scenario: instead of my original object,
this Chris idiot played the floppy first without telling anyone. Problem:
when my guy gets back from his run and sees his roommie in La-La Land,
he'll put two and two together and I'm screwed but good. Or second
scenario: the guy's on to my game, and my plan failed but good. This one
seemed more likely. My initial hopes that my original "victim" never
played the floppy seemed remote. He never would have left it around, and
no way this Chris would have just picked up the dammed thing and played
it--it wasn't even labeled! The only unknown was whether this guy set
Chris up or not. If he did, then ... why? If not, it came back to the
problem of that first scenario I had formulated. The guy is going to see
Chris and freak over what I did to his roommie!
Well, I had to improvise quickly so I decided to get Chris over to my
house fast and figure out a game plan. I gave him directions to my place
and told him leave everything, including the floppy, right where it had
been before he touched it. He told me he was alone, so I made sure he was
ordered to come at once and stay silent until he came here. When I hung
up, I was sweating and it wasn't due to the heat. My plan had backfired.
How badly was soon to be seen!
While I waited for "Chris" to make his appearance, I thought through my
options and the situation in general. The more I thought, the more it
appeared that the game was out in the open. This guy was smart and, until
now, I had underestimated him. So, time to stop being the one behind and
get to the front of the line! He had an ego--that fact was obvious during
our lunch. It was amusing watching him do the "body scratch body" and "leg
lift" acts. He was practically begging for me to react, so I played along
too. What the hell--he was hot so, why not play the slobbering fool for
the boy? It fed his ego, and he got off on that. Yeah, I noticed he was
sprouting boners during each "performance." He was so "turned on" to
himself and the supposed reaction he was getting, he never figured out that
he was being played! Okay, he had a flaw then. That self-confidence in
his own desirability was it. I just had to find the crack in that cool
self-assurance and then crowbar that bastard open!
Find the key, I thought. I needed to find something to stroke his smug
self-confidence to a white-hot high, then hit him hard just when he thinks
he's won! He would be defenseless against that unexpected hit. I'd only
get one shot, so his high had to be intense and my hit quick, unexpected,
and, hard. But what could I use? What key would open him up? Little did
I suspect that the "key" was not a "what" but a "who," and that "who" had
some great legs that were walking right up to my door just then!
I was so lost in thought, I almost didn't hear the knock at the door.
Imagine my surprise when I opened it to find a humpy there just
waiting with a blank, dazed look. This was Chris!
I couldn't believe my luck. He was a stunner. Obviously from his lean,
hard, muscular build, here was a guy who took care of himself and, judging
from those hot legs pouring out of those tight shorts, a runner of some
sort.
"Are you ... ahem ... Chris?" I muttered, still taking in that
hard body.
"Yes," he replied in that dead tone that showed his conscious mind was
dead to the world. Nice voice though, I thought. Sexy, very sexy indeed!
After first checking to make sure his roommate, Mr. Wonderful, had not
followed him, I had him come in quickly. Staring at Chris as he stood
silently in the center of my living room, my mind raced though a thousand
thoughts all at once. I not only had to figure out a plan to get "Ego Boy"
but also what to do with sleeping beauty here as well. Could I do both at
once? My mind raced through scenarios, and then it hit on one. I smiled.
Maybe, yes ... just maybe. But first, I decided a few questions were in
order. I started questioning Chris about his relationship with his
roommate. It did not sound promising at first.
"Chris, let me see if I'm clear on this, okay? You are not gay?" I
asked.
"No, I'm straight," he responded in that sexy voice of his. Even in a
dull monotone, he sounded hot!
"Damn it," I growled as I paced the room. This sucks, I thought. I
almost had a plan, and Chris being straight screws me out of it. I needed
Chris to be receptive to Ego Boy, and if he was straight it might be too
difficult to manipulate him into being my pawn. Many people think a person
under mind control is like clay in a sculptor's hands. The truth is, if a
person is averse to doing what you command them to do, they will fight it,
and your control will slip unless you are constantly present to reassert
your power. Being present was impossible in this case.
"Why can't you be attracted to him," I groused out loud.
"I am," he murmured, so softly I barely heard him.
I spun on a dime and walked up to him. "Did I hear you say"--I paused,
hoping I had not misheard him the first time--"you are attracted to him?"
"Yes," whispered Chris.
Oh, yes!
"Tell me, Chris," I asked gleefully. "Have you and ... well, have you
two ever had sex?"
Chris stared silently ahead, and the room filled with silence for a
second.
"He ... I was drunk. I let him ..." He was embarrassed--how adorable.
"It's all right," I reassured him. "Go on."
"He blew me," Chris muttered, his face blushing at the memory.
"And you felt ... ?" I inquired.
"It was hot, but I'm not into guys," he replied quickly.
Curious logic, I thought, but one that would be useful. After further
questioning, I found out that Ego (I had decided that calling him that
in the future would constantly remind me not only to keep my eye on the
ball but also to restate what I needed to do to get him) was hot for Chris,
probably big time. Chris had noticed his roommie's occasional arousals
when they got together in intimate moments (he might think he was straight,
but that stupid he was not), but that he, Chris, had not let things go
farther than that one time. I bet deep down that had galled you the most,
I thought to myself as if I was addressing my prey directly. Here you go
down on your knees , Mr. Wonderful, the gift of God to , and suck
Chris off, probably expecting the guy would have an epiphany and spread
those muscular, sexy legs in gratitude for your sacrifice, only to get a
brush-off and then complete silence from the in the bargain. What
you more, I wondered, his failure to "give it up" to you, or his lack of
praise on your sexual techniques? It must be blowing your jets not to have
landed this hunk yet. You never fail! You think every guy is drooling to
hit the sack with you, huh, I thought. Here is a that you haven't
nailed yet, and deep inside your ego that must be killing you. I bet you
are also in a permanent semi-heat for him. Okay, Ego Boy, let's see how
you like this game plan.
I sat Chris down and fed him some instructions. Over the next few days,
he would blow hot and cold with his roommie. One minute, slyly seductive.
The next, cool and distant. Nothing too obvious; nothing suspicious or out
of the ordinary. Just a look, a slight touch. Subtle flirtation. Enough
to get under your skin and let you think you were finally getting to Chris.
Yet, I made sure Chris would go just so far and then pull back. Leaving
you burning in frustration. I bet you never felt that before for long.
Yes, Ego would think at each step he was just so close to finally
nailing, Chris only to be thrust back to Square One . Turn the sexual heat
up high, then lower it down quickly on him. Up, and down--heat on, then
off. I bet that Ego had never been denied his desires for long. Well,
let's see how he reacts to a long haul. That's the key to his mind. These
self-confident seducers are built to think that no one can resist them for
long. Chris will, thanks to my programming, and since he thinks he's
straight (yeah, right !) he will not need my presence to reinforce that
reluctance to "go all the way" with his roommie!
My plan was in full swing. As I thought out the next few days of
programming (Chris was going to check in with me with daily reports) and
the possible ultimate outcome, I was filled with excitement. Play me for
an idiot, huh? Oh, we will see now. I suddenly realized I was sprouting a
raging hardon! Well, I looked over at that prime meat in my living room. I
had been pumping him for information--why not let him return the favor? I
unzipped and reached for some lubricant. Chris might as well learn how to
give a proper hand job. After all, it might come in handy in the near
future!
As I felt his warm firm grip, I relaxed. Yes, after this I'd send him
back thinking he had just been out for a walk to relieve some tension. And
... sighing as I felt myself climaxing ... he certainly was doing a great
job at that right nowwww ...
The Other
So I did my stretches on the front lawn and then took off through the
city streets for my run. Running always helps me clear my head. Gets the
blood and the endorphins pumping, and pretty soon its like I'm on top of
the world and nothing's going to knock me off.
I ran down to the local park. It's pretty big, so twice around the
paths that run through it is a good distance. With the sun beating down on
me, I kept up a good, hard pace, occasionally checking out a couple of cute
guys where checking me out too.
In my head, I kept going back to that screensaver he had given me. That
had to be his phone number at the end, so obviously he wanted me to call
him. I was kind of--well, I was flattered he went through the trouble. I
knew what he wanted--the only questions was, did I want to give it to him?
I started throwing a rod in my shorts, just thinking about it. Had to
take off my and tuck it in the front of my shorts to let part of it
drape over my crotch and disguise my erection. Problem was, that gentle
pat of my hitting my crotch with each step as I ran felt great and
only got me hotter. Hornier. I needed to get off, and soon.
This cute guy on a skateboard slid past me again. As he coasted
ahead of me, he looked back at me. Cute guy. About 22. My height.
hair under that protective headgear.. Shirtless--nice body with a little
ring in one nipple. Navy-blue shorts. Elbow- and knee-pads. Good eye
contact. Yeah, he saw something he wanted, all right, and so did I. Good
timing, dude, I thought.
We were passing this little wooded area. He glanced over and saw one of
the trails. He looked back at me with a grin. Squeezed the lump in the
front of those shorts he was wearing. Flashed me a grin. Jerked his head
toward the trail. I figured, okay, buddy, let's put those knee-pads of
yours to good use.
I gave him a little nod, and he beelined for the trail, with me right
behind him.
The woods swallowed us up. Ten yards in, we might have been in another
world. 'Boarder came on strong, kissing me, groping my chest and ass
and hard-on. I gave as good as I got. He was hot for me, all right. I
let him press me passionately back against an oak's rough back. His mouth
left mine, at my neck, licked at my collarbone. His tongue found my
right nipple and started getting to know it. His fingers hooked in the
waistband of my shorts and he tugged them neatly down to my knees, one
quick motion. My wood popped up to say howdy, all friendly and ready to
play.
'Boarder wasn't much for preliminaries--he had his eye on the main
course. He was down on his knees, worshipping his way down my tight
stomach, heading for my eager rod. His fingers found my balls and started
stroking. Man, I was so ready for it, when his lips finally hit my cock
head, I nearly popped right then and there! His other hand roamed up over
my pecs, squeezing, teasing, trying hard to be pleasing me. He was a good
cocksucker--took my entire rod down to the base without gagging. Good
tongue-action along the underside and sensitive head of my meat, sending
these little zings of pleasure up through my body.
He had me gasping, bucking, panting, swearing. These words started
spurting out of my mouth: "Oh, yeah! Suck me, buddy. Suck that cock.
Yeah! That's right. Feels great. You like that dick, don'cha? Lick it.
Suck it. Suck it, dude." He had his own shorts down, pulling on his cock
with one hand. Good-looking cock, too, on a good-looking guy. He slipped
a finger into his mouth alongside my cock, then aimed that finger up under
my ass, heading for my hole. He slipped it up inside my ass, zeroing in on
my prostate like a guided missile. I gasped when he hit the target--this
surge of pleasure ran through my whole body, concentrating all up inside my
cock, then burning like feedback through every nerve, and I realized I was
cumming, and I yelped out some sound like an in heat, and I fired
off my own salvo of into his face.
I rode through the forest fire of my orgasm, finally settling back down
into the here and now again. I looked down at 'Boarder Boy. He was
grinning up at me, satisfied, my load still on his lips and chin. The
leaves between his knees were coated with his load. Okay, so we'd both had
our fun. I grinned back at him, slapped his check twice, playfully. I
bent down to pull up my shorts. He lifted his face to be kissed, but I
landed my lips on his forehead rather than his mouth as I tugged my shorts
back up into position.
"That was pretty hot, dude," he said. "I live a couple of blocks from
here--we should go another round. Whaddya say?"
"Thanks, dude," I say, noncommittally.
He gets the idea, and after his face falls for a second, he tries hard
to hide his disappointment. "Hey, what's your name? You wanna give me
your number? I can call you ..."
"It's in the book," I say as I pull my back on, and he know what
that means too. "Thanks. It was great," I say again, patting his shoulder
with a mask-like smile--both a gesture of thanks and dismissal.
We both got off. We both got what we wanted. Not my fault he wanted
more. See, they always want more--they always want a piece of me, and I
only have so much of me to give.
I pushed past him, heading back into the park, heading back home. The
run and getting off with that guy both helped me clear my head, all right.
Got my horniness out of the way for a few minutes and let me think.
Oh, sure, just thinking about that screensaver got me horny again in
practically no time. By the time I got back to the apartment, I had a
half-hard cock in my shorts again. Down, boy, I thought, grinning. See,
on the way home, I'd decided what to do about the situation.
Chris was nowhere around. Neither were my other two roommates. I
pulled off my and used it to wipe the sweat off my chest and face.
I'd shower later. Right now, I dropped myself into the chair in front of
my computer and fired it up. I needed to get his phone number off the
screensaver. I'd decided that if he wanted me to call that badly, I was
gonna call. I'd play along, act like I was in a trance, see what happened
next. Who knows--I figured at least I'd have some fun and maybe get off
again.
I was tired from my run, and in spite of my hard-on I was still feeling
all loose and relaxed from that blow-job in the park. The screensaver came
up. Pretty, I thought, looking at the colors. It kind of fit my mood
right then. All I had to do was wait until his phone number showed up.
Just a few more minutes. Just a couple more. Just sitting there, I
started realizing how tired I really was. The colors and patterns were
nicer than I remembered. I guess my run took more out of me than I
thought. Yeah, I was feeling ... feeling ... very ...
When his number appeared on the bottom of the screen, I didn't have to
think about it. I reached for the phone and dialed.
One
"Yeah, Chris, that's right," I moaned as my stud-pup moved his
palm over my slickened rod. This guy obviously had practice pumping his
own cock. He pistoned my throbbing rod at a slow and steady pace, expertly
keeping me boiling yet also knowing how to keep me from climaxing too fast.
Suddenly the phone rang. I tried to ignore it, but the dam ringing
continued. "Shit," I yelled to no one in particular. The mood was broken!
"Let me go, Chris," I growled. He released his grasp. The phone rang
again, and it hit me. It was the private line that was ringing. I picked
up the receiver and placed it to my ear.
"Hello?" I asked hesitantly, unsure of what to expect now.
"You said to call," came the dull reply. It was Ego Boy!
What the hell is going on, I thought. Had I bagged him? I looked at
Chris and decided to be cool and play out this hand slowly. "What was
that," I asked over the phone again as I listened intently the tone of his
reply and, importantly, his exact words.
"I played the floppy, and it said you wanted me to call," Ego
repeated again in a quiet monotone.
Okay, decision time. Either I had bagged him or, he was setting me up.
The thought that I had control over that sexy stud-muffin was tempting.
His ego aside, he was the hottest guy I'd ever seen, with a natural sex
appeal that you felt instantly the second you met him. The thought of bed
gymnastics with him was sending my mind reeling in heat. But, what if it
was a set-up? The guy was no fool; hell, it was his intelligence that
contributed to his appeal. I had to call it. Grab or release. Then it
hit me. He had used the words "said" and "want" in indicating his reasons
for phoning, while Chris had used "command" to indicate why he was calling.
Okay, it may be nothing but on the little things, as my professor used
to say, battles are won or lost. Fuck, I'd stick with Chris to get him.
"Hey, bro--hi," I replied in a high humor. "Great lunch. Glad you
called. What's up?"
There was a moment of silence. "You wanted me to call," he repeated.
The initial hesitation clinched it. He had been thrown; he'd recovered,
but he had a second of doubt and I heard it. I had been right. But
no harm in making sure. Fun and games--that's the plan now.
"Did I want you to call, bro? Hmmm, I forget why. Ah, hell, never
mind. Tell you what--let's get together for lunch next week. Meanwhile,
you sound sleepy, man. Better go to bed and get a good sleep. That's an
order now," I chuckled. "And try not to spend too much time dreaming of
sex with me and milking that cock of yours dry," I teased. "Later, bro."
Then I hung up.
Well, either way, he was about to be mind-fucked, I laughed. Yeah, this
was better. Strip him bare of his ego; then, after he is demoralized by
that, strip him bare of his will to resist; then strip him bare, period.
I looked over at Chris. Damn, he was good-looking. I was feeling even
friskier. A hand job was not going to do it now. "Chris, I want you to
stand and get out of those clothes."
I looked over at Chris. Damn, he was good-looking. I was feeling even
friskier. A hand job was not going to do it now. "Chris, I want you to
stand and get out of those clothes."
"Yes," he replied as he opened his and then unzipped his pants.
As I watched him drop his clothes, I whistled to myself. "Damn, Chris,
you are one built guy." It was true. He was in great shape. Nice,
muscular shape with not much more than light body hair. True, his
legs were a bit more developed, but running does that, and for me legs are
the best part of a man. Ego may be sexier, but Chris was no mere door
prize!
"Come here," I ordered. He came up close. I was in shape myself, but
he was something else. As I ran my hands along his smooth skin, I could
feel the muscular power only another guy can give to your touch. "Nice,
very nice," I sighed. "Let's see how you kiss." I pulled his mouth to
mine. I detected hesitation from him. "It's all right, Chris," I whispered
gently. "You're only dreaming. It's not real ... just a dream." His face
relaxed. A dream is harmless. He was not having a physical encounter with
a guy in reality.
"Just a dream," he sighed in relief. My opened his mouth and
instantly deep-tongued me like a pro. Our tongues explored long and
sensually. Making out was my idea of excellent foreplay, and Chris had
this all down pat--at times pulling back to gently flick his tongue on my
lips, then quickly re inserting his tongue in the next instant to suck my
very breath away.
I broke off and gazed into his heavy-lidded blue eyes. I was also
surprised to discover that he was spouting his own hard-on.
"That's my boy," I cooed softly as I stroked his hair with one hand and
his engorged cock with my other. I gently pressed his head to my chest.
"Suck my nipples, Chris. Remember--it's just a dream."
He needed no further encouragement and in seconds was slurping contently
away on each one while his rod leaked more precum. "Mummm," he muttered as
I pumped his stiff cock faster. He chowed down harder. Oh, yeah, he was
straight, all right!
I lifted his head, gazing at his glossy eyes and wet mouth. I kept
pumping on his meat, keeping him in heat.
"Fuck," he groaned out loud, licking his lips, deeply lost in my sexual
stimulation.
"My thoughts exactly," I whispered as I led him to the bedroom. I
gently lowered him on my bed.
He looked up at me, face slightly troubled. He was about to speak, but
I softly put my finger on his lips.
"Shhh," I assured him. "You're dreaming. That's all." His head rested
back on the pillow contentedly. I lifted his runner's legs and began to
kiss his inner thighs. His skin was soft but firm. I could feel his
powerful muscles moving under my hands. In a series of kisses, light
bites, and licks, I moved sensually, alternating between each thigh. His
flesh was warm, moist, inviting me on downward. Soon, I had worked my way
to his balls.
I glanced up briefly to see Chris' face. His eyes were closed, and he
was muttering contentedly to himself: "Just a dream. Oh, yeaaaah ...
dreammming ..."
I smiled and opened my mouth to suck in his balls. As I rolled his sack
in my mouth, Chris moaned. By the time I'd finished getting his nut sack
all hot and moist, he was ready for anything. I reached for the lube on
the nearby nightstand and fingered his rosy hole. He sighed as my fingers
worked him loose.
"Oh, God," he gurgled. When my finger finally entered him fully and hit
his prostate, he was so lost in sexual heat he took my finger without
anything more than a whimper. His cock sprang to its full length. I could
see its impressive head burning bright and pouring out precum like a
leaky pipe.
"Only dreaming, Chris," I stated. "It is not real ... just a dream.
You can jerk yourself off, if you want to."
He reached down and started to jerk his meat. Keeping him aroused would
help keep him receptive. "Dream ... Oh, fuck! Just a dreammm ..." He
thrashed his head on the pillow. He opened his eyes. He was out of it
now, in a white-hot sexual frenzy. After a few more finger fucks, his
pupils rolled back in his sockets. He was ready.
Feeling his burning chute tightly gripping my finger was pure bliss.
His insides felt warm and inviting to my thrusts. As I jerked myself off
with my other hand, I looked up to check his reactions. He was in heaven.
His moans echoed in the room. It was fantastic, but a part of me suddenly
visualized Ego beneath me and a thought quickly flashed by: I bet when
you're inside him, you feel pure satin gripping your cock.
The fantasy drove me over the edge. I thrust my finger one final time
into Chris and then blew my juice all over us both. He was sending himself
over the edge as well; he howled and shot his straight onto my chest.
We collapsed onto the bed and began to kiss. After all, it was only a
dream!
Chris lay there in my bed, looking adorably sexy with his hair mused and
his blue eyes showing that "post sex" glazed effect a guy gets when he's
fired all his bullets.
"Have fun, Chris?" I inquired.
"Yes ... great dream," he gasped, still being agreeable to what I had
originally suggested.
I chuckled to myself at how I had bagged Ego Boy's roommate before he
did. That thought had made the sex even hotter! I told Chris to shower
and dress and then sent my soldier out to do his duty. Over the next week,
Ego was going to feel what sexual frustration was really like!
The Other
So when that guy answered the phone, he asked me what was up. I wasn't
thinking too clearly--maybe that screensaver had affected me more than I
thought--and I didn't have an answer ready. That kind of snapped me out of
it. If I had been partially in a trance, I wasn't anymore. The guy was
blowing me off on the phone--and not in the good way, either--and that just
kind of annoyed me. I mean, why go through all the trouble of making up
that screensaver with his phone number and then giving it to me if he was
just gonna blow me off like that? I couldn't figure it out. First thing I
did, though, was uninstall that screensaver. I kept thinking to myself, if
he was going to blow me off like that, I was going to blow him off too.
So I didn't hear from him, not even an email message. Yeah, I guess he
was blowing me off for real, all right. Too bad--I'd thought he was a nice
guy when we met for lunch.
That night, I'm sitting in the living room with my three roommates,
shooting the shit and watching some tube. Chris was on the couch next to
me. He had his legs pulled up on the couch, sitting cross-legged. Every
now and then his knee would nudge my leg. Nothing special--just touching
me once in a while, like he was making sure I knew he was there. Like it
was an accident or something.
The next day, I was in the shower when someone knocked on the bathroom
door. "Can I come in?" Chris hollered through the door. "Gotta take a
wicked piss, like now!"
"Sure," I yelled back.
I had a head full of shampoo, working up a lather. I heard Chris
pissing like a stallion. Guess he did have to go bad. I heard his stream
trickle off, but I didn't hear him leave. When I rinsed and looked over at
the toilet, I would have sworn he was standing there looking at me through
the translucent glass, but that must have been a trick of the light--if he
was actually looking at me, he turned away quickly.
A couple nights later, Chris and I were sitting on my bed, talking about
some band or some or something. Chris lunged at me and we wrestled
around for a few minutes. He's pretty strong, but I'm stronger. We rolled
side to side, grappling, straining muscle against muscle. I won, of
course--I always do. I had him pinned on his back under me, his arms
trapped by the wrists over his head. Chris got this look on his face like
he wanted me to kiss him and then all of a sudden he looked all grossed
out, like he couldn't believe he had just thought that. As for me, like I
said, Chris was cute but he just didn't do it for me.
Suddenly, we're both rolling apart--me going one way, him going the
other--and the moment, the tension, is gone. Whew!
Still, I've got a boner in my shorts. Maybe he did too--maybe that was
what brushed my hip as he rolled aside. Maybe he was horny and was trying
to hint that he wanted me to blow him again. Straight may be this big
"gay fantasy" thing, but they can be such a pain sometimes--why can't they
just come right out and ask for it? Chris was cute and all, but he just
wasn't my type. Plus, he was my roommate, and I didn't want the hassles of
fucking around with someone I had to live with. But the biggest thing was,
well, I'd already had him--twice! Been there; done him.
So anyway, I rolled off the bed and pretended to be busy taking off my
shoes and dumping my keys and wallet out of the pockets of my shorts. "I
need to get some sleep," I told him firmly. "I'll see ya in the morning,
Chris." He got the idea, said good night, and slunk out of my bedroom. I
pushed the door shut behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, I was
horny, but not for Chris. I just wasn't interested in blowing a guy who
wasn't going to reciprocate. I still had that boner, but jacking off alone
was better than jacking off while blowing some guy who was too straight to
return the favor. Hey, I'm the real prize--I deserve some attention too.
Over the next week, thought, I caught Chris staring at me sometimes.
He'd always have this expression on his face like he was lost in thought or
daydreaming. Once or twice I thought maybe he had a boner too. Weird, I
thought. See, Chris had never really looked at me like that before. Sure,
I'd blown him twice, like I said before, but that was mostly just to say
I'd nailed another straight boy. Chris wasn't my type.
I was in my room at my computer, reading this new posted on a
mind-control site. It was kind of late at night, almost time for
bed. Speaking of beds, Chris came in and sprawled out on mine. "Can I
check my email when you're finished?" he asked.
"Sure thing," I said, closing my browser before he could see what I'd
been reading and pretending to be interested in scanning over the new email
messages that just downloaded. "Gimme a minute." I had an email message
from that guy I'd met for lunch last week--the loser who blew me off. I
skimmed it: "blah blah blah, just saying hello, blah blah blah, let me know
when you're online sometime." I wrote up a quick three-sentence
noncommittal message saying hey and that I had to cut things short because
one of my roommies needed the computer, then I hit the Send button. "All
yours," I said, turning around.
Chris was stretched out on my bed, on his side. Bare chest. Boxer
shorts. Not exactly looking at me, but looking in my general direction and
definitely scratching his balls through his boxers.
"You got crabs or something?" I said, grinning.
He appeared to snap out of whatever he was daydreaming about. "Uh ...
nah ... just-- Never mind."
"Whatever. It's all yours, dude." I vacated the chair.
"Thanks, bro," Chris said, which struck me as kind of odd too--Chris
never called me "bro."
In fact, come to think of it, the only person who ever called me "bro"
was that guy I'd met the week before. The one who had given me that
screensaver. That made me chuckle--I hadn't thought about that loser in a
long time, and suddenly here he is in my email at the same time Chris says
something that reminds me of him. I mean, what a coincidence, right?
So I went out to the living room to give Chris some privacy while he
checked his email. No big deal. Leafed through the new issue of a
magazine and paid half-attention to whatever was playing on Network
at the time. Chris was sure taking his time. It was getting late, and I
wanted to finish reading that before I went to bed. It was pretty
hot--it made me horny, and a good jack-off session was just what I needed
before going to sleep.
I finished the magazine, picked up another one. The show on ended
and another one started. Chris must have gotten a lot of email messages, I
thought, feeling a little irritated. Yeah, well, it was my own fault since
I knew he couldn't afford a new computer, and I had told him he could use
mine.
A couple of times, I thought I heard him talking to someone in there.
Not loud enough to hear what he was saying--just kind of aware of his voice
like a sound in the distance. Was he talking to himself, or was he on the
phone? Hell, he could use the phone in his room! "Yo, Chris!" I hollered.
"Hurry it up, dude--I got stuff to do in there." No response. "Chris? You
hear me?"
"Yeah ..." he said, sounding kind of distant, like he was concentrating
on something on the screen.
"Let's go. Hustle it up, dude."
"Okay ..."
I went back to browsing through the magazine. Nothing really caught my
attention, though. A few minutes later, Chris came shuffling out of my
room. "All yours," he said, sounding like he was pretty tired himself.
Yeah, well, that was Chris' life, and this was mine. I put down the
magazine, hopped up, closed my bedroom door behind me, headed back to my
computer chair.
Chris had left his email up. Yeah, whatever, I thought to myself,
closing it. Like I cared who sent him email. There was also a floppy in
the drive. I popped it out and set it aside. He could get later. I let
out a sigh; Chris was starting to act like my computer belonged to him. I
just hoped he wasn't loading a bunch of software onto it. I mean, you do
not mess with a dude's computer, right?
So I fired up my browser and called up that again? Where was I?
Oh, yeah, I was just getting to the part where the evil hypnotist puts his
plan in motion and starts hypnotizing all the horny frat brothers.
My screen flickered. Not much--just a blip. It went black for, like,
less than half a second. I was thinking, What the fuck--don't tell me my
monitor is about to blow? But all it stayed on and seemed okay. Oh, well.
So I'm reading on, and I'm getting to the part where one of the frat
boys escapes and runs to the campus police station, only to find that the
evil hypnotist has already put the head of the campus police under his
control, when it happens again. A fraction of a second longer this time,
it seemed. I'm thinking, Just hold out long enough for me to finish this
story, okay?
This was kind of a nuisance, but it wasn't worth rebooting. I kept
reading, and it happened again. Then again. The screen didn't really go
blank for long--it blinked just enough so I knew it was happening. A
couple of time I thought I saw something on the screen when it blinked, a
little shape or something, but I couldn't tell for sure.
Anyway, in the story, I'm up to the part where the guy escapes from the
hypnotized campus policemen and meets up with his best friend. The evil
hypnotist has caught up with him and the guy feels the hypnotist's control
taking hold on his mind again, and he has to watch helplessly as the
hypnotist also starts lulling the best friend into a trance. This part is
pretty hot, and I didn't pay any attention to the screen's flickering. I
just kept reading.
I did kind of notice that the flickering was coming faster, maybe
lasting a little longer too. I kept kind of re-reading this paragraph,
because I couldn't quite make my eyes focus on the words. My body was
feeling kind of different too. Not strange exactly, but ... well, just
different, you know? I felt really comfortable. Like my body was floating
instead of sitting in the chair. Just kind of drifting in place. Very
relaxed. Comfortable. Too relaxed to even reach out to move the mouse or
scroll down the page. I just wanted to sit there and enjoy that feeling
and keep my eyes on the screen. It was soothing. Peaceful. Just to sit
there and relax.
I just let my body float there in that chair. My breathing was getting
slower, deeper. Pretty soon, the screen was staying dark longer and
longer. There was a little dot of light where my eyes were aimed, moving
back and forth slowly. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I sensed someone behind me. Chris' voice, in a low monotone, said,
"That's right. Keep your eyes on the screen. Let the messages relax you."
He was right--I was aware of little flashing messages, almost too quick to
notice, like something subliminal appearing on the blank screen, then
vanishing.
Chris was behind me, talking to me in a soft, low voice. "Relax. Focus
on the screen. No fears, no worries. Just a pleasant, floating feeling
all through your body." He put his hands lightly on my bare shoulders.
"Focus on the screen. Feel it help you relax and concentrate."
He moved his hands. I heard him pick up my phone and dial it. "Yes,"
he said into it, then, "Yes," again. He put the phone next to my ear and
said, "Listen closely to his voice. Feel it help you relax and focus."
And I listened.
One
Well, the initial reports from Chris on the realization of my plans for
Ego were not encouraging.
"He is not responding to me sexually," Chris replied dully during this
latest phone-in with me.
"Are you sure you gave him a bit more encouragement this time?" I
inquired testily. After Chris' last call, I had directed him to drop the
furtive stares and subtle body-brushes and become slightly more physical.
"We wrestled just like you suggested, but he didn't seem to respond any
better," came his response.
Damn, I thought, this was not how I'd visualized things. I had assumed
that Ego would be in a state of perpetual heat and sexual frustration
by now, and it was blatantly obvious that he was not even interested in
Chris. Could he be getting action elsewhere? Maybe that was it! The son
of a bitch had a boyfriend or fuck-buddy tapping his testosterone. For
some reason, the mere thought of someone else with him caused me to feel a
rush of anger. "Is he seeing someone?" I shouted over the phone.
I was stunned by my vehemence. Shit, I was losing it. I had to get a
grip. "Chris, I'm sorry," I said quietly in a level voice. "Is he seeing
someone?"
"No, bro," Chris replied softly.
Cripes, I thought, he had picked up my favorite phrase. I'd have to
correct that, and I filed that job away in my mind under a future "to do"
list. I had bigger things to get done.
"He's been acting kinda pissed this week," Chris continued. " I
overheard him talking with a friend on the phone about how annoyed he was
that you gave him the brush-off and silent treatment."
"Is he now?" I found myself gleefully asking. Seems that having Chris
monitor Ego Boy's calls had been a good idea. I smiled slyly. This was
interesting. "Tell me more!"
"Well, he told his friend he liked you, and he thought that you were
interested in him since you had tried to hypnotize him with that floppy
..."
"So Ego mentioned the floppy program, huh? You're sure?" I
interrupted briskly. Shit, I had been right to suspect a failure.
"Yes, he also told his friend the second time he had watched it he
thinks he went slightly under, but after you brushed him off, he 'popped
out of it' fast. Those where his words, bro," Chris eagerly replied.
Damn--that word again. I'd have to correct that later, but it was cute
having this straight wanting to please me so badly!
"I almost had him," I stated out loud to myself. I visualized Ego
under my control. Serving my every whim, breaking his spirit to my mine. I
noticed my mouth had gone dry by now, and I had sprouted an erection. I
wanted him! "Anything else," I asked hoarsely.
"Just as I told you--he hasn't been with anyone lately," Chris insisted
once more in an effort to please me. "In fact every night, he's reading
mind control porno and jacking off. I know 'cause I took your
advice"--yeah, advice, I chuckled to myself--"and I check his computer's
history every day, pretending that I need to use it for e mail."
"And how do you know about the jerking off? " I inquired, as I
attempted to understand how he knew that little gem.
"He ... uh ... well, my bedroom's next to his and he, uh, moans a bit
and pretty loud just before he cums," came Chris' answer.
I gripped the phone tightly. The image of Ego moaning while he
stroked his cock sent my mind into overdrive. "I'll call--no, you call
later," I said in barely a whisper as I hung up without even waiting for
Chris' goodbye. I visualized my quarry reading some mind control story.
Their plots were all the same. Some hunk is hypnotized by an evil genius.
I could see Ego as the victim but with me serving as his savior from
the villain's clutches. He'd be so grateful that later he would come to
me. I sat down and rubbed my crotch.
As my arousal increased, my mind spun out the fantasy: There was a knock
at my door. When I opened it, he was there. "I had to come," he said
softly while gazing at me with that diluted blank look of one who has been
put under hypnosis. That look couldn't be faked. He was under! "You
saved me; I am yours."
"Shh," I answered back as I led him by the hand to my bedroom. He came
with me willingly. As we stood face-to-face in that room, we embraced.
His hard body pressed closely against mine. Our lips touched soon, and his
tongue slipped slowly into my mouth. A thousand nerves came alive. I
pulled back, and my mouth roamed along his neck, savoring the tender flesh
behind his ear. As I nibbled on his right ear, he ground his swelling
crotch tight against me. Gently I flicked my tongue along the outer ridges
of his earlobe and was rewarded by a sensual sigh of surrender. As I
licked down the side of his throat, my hands quietly unbuttoned his shirt.
His muscular upper body was slowly revealed: perfectly portioned with a
well-developed chest leading down to a cut six-pack--his wrestling past was
obvious. I ran my fingers down his muscular chest, enjoying the sensation
it gave me. I massaged his upper torso then, bending my head, I moved my
lips along sculpted lines and explored his finely developed chest in a
series of kisses. He gasped as my mouth tasted each of his nipples.
Lightly nibbling, my tongue stroked each one in a rhyme, at times gentle,
at other times rough. I slowly continued nipping at their eraser-like tips
until at last each was firm and aroused.
"Oh, yes," he hissed as I deeply each one. "More--more," he
growled sexily. I moved to the center of his chest, kissing his warm
flesh, finally licking sensually down the center of his pecs until I
reached his navel. His hands squeezed my shoulders as I tongue-bathed that
hole, getting it moist and hot. I could hear his breath quickening as I
orally ravished that hole. His hard stomach muscles yielded as I worked
his navel and the surrounding area. Every so often, a deep sigh would
escape from him. But I had just begun. With a quick movement, I
unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor. I knelt before his
crotch and proceeded to suck aggressively on the outline of a cock that
even now was straining against his underwear for release.
His moans intensified. "Ahh--do it--more!" my entreated. He was
ready. Standing abruptly, I guided him toward the bed and gently pushed
him back onto the mattress. He gazed at me through heavy-lidded eyes while
I undressed and climbed onto it with him. I slid off his underwear,
freeing his impressive prong. After a few licks on his manhood, I buried
my face between his legs, licking his hardened nuts while running my tongue
along its skin, tracing that center divide. Every so often, I'd stop to
run my tongue over his cock head, taking time to tease his slit with
kisses.
"Yeah--oh, yeah," he muttered as his breathing increased. I his
balls into my mouth as my tongue rolled his nuts, getting them wet and
moist. Reaching up, I grabbed his stiff rod and continued my strokes. He
spread his legs wider, allowing my tongue to burrow behind his balls and
get to that soft, sensitive spot where his sack met the crack of his ass. I
was unstoppable now. I licked the area, getting him hotter before I
proceeded downward until I reached his chute and began to tongue-ravish his
hot, moist hole.
His cries grew louder, and the hand holding his meat grew wet from his
flowing precum. His outer ring muscles rippled as my tongue penetrated
them. When I felt he was loose enough, I reached for lubricant. He gazed
at me as I slowly lifted his hard muscled legs, rested them on my
shoulders, and entered him. I could sense him accepting my invasion. His
hole was warm and inviting. Soon the bedroom was alive with our cries of
pure lust. I gazed at his smiling face and drove in deeper, while my hand
pumped his stiff cock, all the while experiencing growing excitement. As
my own dick thrust inside him, his chute tightly gripped my rod. My whole
cock found itself in a soft cannel that gave me the sensation of being
encased in satin!
With each thrust, we both came closer until at last his moans grew so
loud I knew he was going to climax. I looked at him and then felt my own
eruption was imminent as well. In one final thrust, I climaxed with a loud
groan.
My mind broke from the scene to see my arching outward onto the
floor. I gulped in air, still feeling the effects of my fantasy. "I guess
I zoned out a bit. Oh, well--sexual arousal does confuse the mind," I
said, laughing.
Then it hit me! I cleaned myself off and raced to my computer. After a
few hours, I had a new program. Later that day, I had Chris come by to get
the floppy and receive his instructions. When he saw my e-mail to Ego Boy,
he would act. It was my last shot, and I knew it. For the rest of the day
I paced the room, waiting, wondering, hoping.
The call came early evening. It was Chris. He was in the bedroom with
the floppy. I instructed him how to set up the program. When he hung up,
I was a bundle of nerves. Would it fail? An eternity passed. Then the
phone rang. It was Chris again, but this time he passed the phone to
someone else. It was Ego Boy!
My blood raced as I spoke to him. He responded dully. I was inside his
mind. If I was successful, it would soon be inside something more than
that! After I hung up the phone, I sat back in my chair and waited.
There was a knock at the door. When I opened it, he was there.
"I had to come," he said softly, gazing at me with that diluted, blank
look of one who has been put under hypnosis. That look couldn't be faked.
He was under! "You saved me. I am yours."
"Shhh," I answered back as I led him by the hand to my bedroom. The
prior fantasy of our encounter played itself out exactly as I had imagined
it. Later, while lying in my bed a few hours after he had gone, I made
future plans. He had been mine physically, but that was not enough. Ego
boy had to be stripped of his ego. I had to break him down to own him
completely. I visualized what would occur in a few hours. He would wake
up in front of his computer, thinking he had just fallen asleep there.
Following my instructions, before he had even gotten back from visiting me,
Chris would have already removed the program he had put into the computer
earlier that night. An unsuspecting Ego had come back into his bedroom
to finish his reading. Running my mind control program in conjunction with
the porno he was reading was a stroke of genius. The key was getting
deep into his mind and gaining control while his conscious brain was too
occupied to realize or resist. How easy to do that while it was
experiencing sexual arousal! How fitting that it was a mind control
as well! A direct link into his subconscious while his conscious thought
centers were preoccupied and stimulated had been the secret to the success.
Chris had been of great use. As a reward I had instructed him, after he
had completed his task, to spend the rest of the night in his bedroom
jerking himself off while he fingered his ass. I smiled as I contemplated
my gift to him.
My instructions to Ego would kick in tonight. Starting tomorrow, he
would experience a compelling need to meet with me coupled with a strong
physical desire for me. This hunger would increase as each day went by.
(His prior dream of me as his "savior" from evil would unconsciously
re-enforce this attraction). I could visualize him setting up another
meeting, confident in his seductive allure, only to find me indifferent to
any sexual encounter. I imagined his surprise at his unexpected failure to
seduce me and the resultant growing desperation he would feel to get me in
the sack. This frustration would only inflame his lust for me. After a
sufficient period, his growing hunger for me and constant inability to
accomplish it would shatter his self-confidence. I could see him, ego
broken, pleading with me to fuck him. I would own him at last.
Yet, even now as my own want for him seared inside me, I was not sure
who was truly the controller and who was the controlled? I pumped my
stiffening cock as I remembered our recent sexual liaison and let the
images of him flood my mind. In my psyche, there was only thing I knew for
sure--his insides felt like satin!
The Other
Maybe, while I was sitting there at the computer, after Chris handed me
the phone and I was listening to that guy talk--maybe I had been in a light
trance. Maybe! But then he started going on about this shit about how I
was supposed to think some people were after me, and how he wanted me to
think he had saved me from them ... Well, even if I was in the early
stages of a trance, I sure as hell woke right up, then and there, when he
started telling me that shit.
It's like--it's like listening in on some sort of phone sex fantasy.
Not my fantasy, sure, but I can tell that guy was really getting into it.
Let me tell you, I'm getting kind of hard and horny listening to him. He
tells me I owe him some kind of thanks for "saving" me. He's telling me I
need to come over there and let him fuck me. Something about my ass being
his reward. Then he starts rifling off his address. At first I'm
thinking, like, I don't fucking think so, but hell, now I'm horny as shit,
and I remember thinking he was cute enough, and he was sure into me. So
it's either jack off alone or head over to his place ... So I figure, what
the hell?
Hell, there's no way anyone could have stayed hypnotized all the way
over to his place. He lives a good twenty minutes away, and getting there
is no easy thing. If I'd been in a trance when I'd started, no way I'd
have still been in one when I got there.
So I ring his doorbell. If you've ever been hypnotized, you can figure
out how to fake it. So I make my face go all slack. When he opens the
door and sees me standing there looking like that--shit, man!--it's like
Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one. "Dude ... I had to
..." I say, real vacantly, "... you saved me ..."
And his face lights up, and he's saying, "Shhh. You're safe now." Shit
like that. It's all I can do not to burst out laughing, but I manage to
keep my face slack and expressionless.
He takes me by the hand. Takes me to the bedroom. Good--I like a
who gets right down to business. I guess he figures hypnosis is some kind
of permanent brainwashing, because he never does any deepening exercises or
even checks to see if I'm really in a trance. My act wouldn't have fooled
a professional, but this guy is an amateur. Still, he is cute, and he's
leading me into his bedroom, and he's taking me right where I want to go,
just like I expected. So you tell me who's in charge.
He hugs me and kisses me. By this point, my hard-on needs some serious
attention, and his body feels good pressed against it through my pants. By
this point, I don't care if he sees through my act or not. He kisses me,
and I kiss back, easing my tongue into his mouth. He starts nibbling and
kissing my ear, which kind of turns me on, and I sigh. He must take that
as some kind of encouragement because he starts grinding his crotch against
me. I grind back, determined to give as good as I get.
He starts by unbuttoning my shirt. I've got a great body, and I can
tell from his expression that he appreciates every inch of skin. I doubt
he has ever had a jock as built or as cute as me before, because he's
touching my pecs and licking my nipples like they're his keys to Nirvana.
When he goes down on his knees and starts tongue-bathing my navel, I nearly
laugh out loud--it tickled!--but I manage to keep it down to a sigh.
He tugs at my pants and finally gets them down and off of me. When my
stiff cock nudges him in the cheek, he gets the idea, pulls down the front
of my briefs, and starts it for me. I have to admit--he has a
mouth made for cock-sucking!
I decide to drop the "I'm in your power" act. So what if he figures out
I wasn't hypnotized? No way am I going to let him stop what he's doing
now!
He guides me to the bed and pushes me down onto it. I watch him
undress. He pulls my legs up and slaps that tongue of his against my balls.
He laps at them, occasionally pausing to give my cock some affection before
going back to my sack. I let him do what he wants because he is doing
exactly what I want anyway. The good thing about control is this: you
don't always have to use it to have it.
It feels great! I'm moaning and groaning, muttering little
encouragements like, "Oh, yeah, dude!" Panting. Twisting my head side to
side. He has to know I'm fully aware of what's going on, but he doesn't
seem to notice. Maybe he thinks being in a trance is always like this.
Amateur!
Then he's grabbing my stiff cock and stroking it, and I'm spreading my
legs. He catches on right away, and I'm thinking, Good boy! His tongue
burrows back along that sensitive little ridge of skin that leads from my
balls back to my butt hole. I pulled my legs up tighter against my chest
to give him better access, and he hits my like a champion
sharpshooter. His tongue slobbers at my hole, then pushes at it. I make
myself relax, and his tongue tip penetrates my tight ring of muscle.
He's stroking my meat and tonguing my ass. I don't normally leak
precum, but I'm so turned on that he's got my dick oozing like crazy.
He puts my ankles on his shoulders, and man, am I ever ready for it! He
pulls on a rubber and slathers it with lube, works plenty into my hungry
hole too. I like to top as much as I like to bottom, but right now all I
want is to get fucked, and fucked hard.
He seems ready to oblige. He enters me hard, makes me yelp. But I'm as
good at getting fucked as I am at fucking--I know how to take a cock, and I
know how to take this. He's pumping away at my ass, in and out, in and
out, and he's jacking me off as he fucks me. He's gasping and moaning, and
I'm panting and groaning. This is the part where some porn writer would
say something cheesy, like "Soon the bedroom was alive with our cries of
pure lust."
Yeah, whatever. He's shoving me several inches of nice, hard cock into
me, and I couldn't ask for more. Sure, he knows zip about hypnosis, but he
knows how to fuck. "Making love"? No--this is pure
fucking--nothing more, nothing less. He keeps going on about how my ass
feels like satin inside, and at first I'm thinking, Just shut the fuck up
and fuck me, but then I'm thinking it sounds kinda hot, the way he's so
into me, and I start getting into it. It's like sex is his way of
worshipping me.
We're rutting like animals, pure, ravenous hunger for pleasure. My
body's letting me know it's time to cum, and I clamp my ass down hard on
his cock. His hand, jacking my rod, ups the tempo, and suddenly I'm
there--I'm there--I'm at the edge--tipping over--cumming--cumming all
over--his hand--my chest--my tight abs. And he's giving this howl and
throwing his head back, and I can tell from the way he's convulsing: he's
filling that rubber with inside my ass. We're both reeling from our
orgasms when he crashes down on top of me.
He just lies there on top of me. If he was a little older, I'd be
worrying he had had a heart attack or something. But he's breathing okay,
so I figure he's just dozed off or something. After a few minutes, he
rouses up, climbs off of me. He mutters something about how he must have
zoned out--I'm thinking, No shit--and he stumbles off to the bathroom and I
hear the shower come on.
This is my chance!
I sneak out of bed, dig the diskette out of my pants pocket. Fire up
his computer. Install his hypnotic screen on his own damn computer. See,
either way, I'd win. Sooner or later, he'd be at his computer and his
screen saver would kick in, and there are two options how it would play
out. First, maybe it wouldn't work, and it wouldn't hypnotize him--then
he'd know that it hadn't worked on me and that I was on to him. Or, it
would work, and it would hypnotize him--then he'd keep trying to call that
phone number, his own phone number, and he'd keep getting a busy signal,
but at least he'd be caught up in that and wouldn't be trying to chase
after me anymore. Either way it panned out, I'd win. Either way, he'll
know nobody messes with me and gets away with it.
Installing it takes just a couple of minutes--it's a pretty simple
program. I pop out the diskette, shut down his computer, get dressed, and
get out of there, all before he cuts off the water.
Twenty minutes later, I'm sauntering through the front door of our
apartment, still feeling the glow of success and a good fuck, and making a
mental note to get my phone number changed, just in case.
It's late, but Chris is sprawled out on the couch, thumbing through a
magazine. "How'd it go?" he asks, yawning, barely glancing up.
"Like clockwork," I say. "Just like we planned."
He grunts. "So did you have sex with him?"
I shrug. "Sure. It was pretty good." Chris is straight, so I don't
bother with the blow-by-blow description.
"I still don't see how you could have sex with him after what he tried
to do."
"Hey, getting off is getting off. He tried to use us, and I used him to
get off. Sounds fair to me."
Chris blushes. He still hasn't looked up from that magazine. I'm
wondering if there's maybe more to the than what he's told me.
As I'm disappearing into my bedroom for the night, I turn and ask him,
"So did you and that guy ever do anything? Did you, like, let him blow you
or something?"
"No," Chris says adamantly into his magazine, blushing again, brighter
red, maybe revealing more than he thinks.
I grin and say, "Uh huh," then close my door for the night.