The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“He doesn’t look like a football player to me,” I said casually.

Belle rolled my wife’s eyes.

“He doesn’t play football. Duh, Da—…”

She cut herself off, and quickly tried to recover.

“…aaaffodill. Daffodil. He just hangs around the game, and, uh…”

“Sells drugs?” I quipped, and the look on my wife’s face told me that I’d inadvertently guessed it.

Jesus. What had our daughter gotten into?

“Just pot,” she quickly informed me, before going slightly red as she realized what she’d said.

“You’re such a good Mom,” I said, deciding to let her off the hook slightly. Not that she deserved it—dating a pot dealer? What the hell was she thinking?

I intertwined my fingers with hers and continued. “I don’t know half of what goes on under our roof.”

“That’s my job,” she replied thoughtfully. “To keep track of what’s happening in…our daughter’s life.”

The ‘confrontation’ was short, and uneventful. Lacey tried to kick sand in Belle’s eyes, and fell over in the process. My wife used our daughter’s body to point and laugh—Spike sneeringly stayed out of it, and before long he’d taken his bimbo and left.

I suggested we go home, but I was immediately shot down. Apparently the real football players were coming, and “Mary” wanted to show our daughter off to them.

Something told me this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t work out how to get everyone back in the car without drawing suspicion, and so I bit my tongue.

My instincts were right.

As soon as the football players arrived, my wife started showing off our daughter’s body. She touched their arms, laughed at their jokes, and before long one of them had an arm around her.

Even from across the beach, I could tell she was enjoying the attention. Even from across the beach, I could tell she was getting far too much enjoyment out of the teen’s lusty gazes.

“Isn’t she popular?” Belle said dreamily, and that’s when I realized I was the only one here who was going to stop what was happening.

“That’s it!” I said, standing up. “We’re going home!”

The entire car-ride home, I was met with a barrage of complaints. Neither my wife nor my daughter wanted to leave—for, I’m afraid, much the same reasons. Belle used my wife’s lips to berate me, with Mary using my daughter’s to join in.

I held fast, however. Tracking my daughter’s orgasms was yet another item on the ‘never wanted to do this, horrified that I have to’ list, yet there I was, knowing that she hadn’t cum for at least five hours.

Based on what she’d told me about how her school days had been, staying at the beach would have quickly led to her sneaking off with a football player, and…

…well, I didn’t even want to think about what she’d have done with him.

Didn’t want to, but was unable to prevent myself from doing so.

When we got home, I fully expected them to both go to their rooms and slam the doors, but my wife surprised me.

“Mom,” she said, making fine use of Belle’s blue eyes. “Can you go to the store for me?”

“What?”

“I’m out of pink lipstick, and I need some more.”

“Can’t your father go? He was the one who wanted to end Family Day early.”

“God, Mom. Think about it. You want to send DAD to get lipstick. Please, Mom—I have a date tonight.”

Apparently those were the magic words, because (visibly thrilled that she got to drive the ‘big car’) my wife’s body was almost immediately out the door, and on the way to ‘Sephora’, whatever that was.

Not sending me was a smart move.

The moment I heard the car peeling out of the driveway (making sounds that were loud enough to be slightly alarming), Belle’s body was on my lap, her lips on mine.

“Oh my god, Andrew…”

“Honey, we…—“

“Oh, god, shut up and kiss me. Did you see all those eyes on me today? Me! They were all looking at me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but it was immediately filled with my daughter’s tongue.

“Touch me,” my wife moaned, pulling my hands to Belle’s breasts. “Oh god, Andrew, touch me…”

“How far away is Thesaura?” I asked.

“Twenty minutes. We’d better be fast!”

I’d spent the day unwillingly staring at my daughter’s bikini-clad body, so it was difficult to mentally replace her with ‘Ellen’.

Still, I did my best. Anywhere I moved my hands, I was met with soft teenage flesh and loud, impassioned moans. Avoiding her ‘swimsuit areas’ meant that I was running my hands over my daughter’s bare skin, and Mary seemed to be doing her best to push inappropriate body-parts into my hands.

“I can’t,” I said, as—for the third time—she twisted our daughter’s body to get her large, firm tits into my hands.

“I need to be touched, Andrew, please. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh please. Please, honey. Touch meeee…”

I glanced at the clock. Holy shit—had it been thirty minutes already? We needed to speed things up.

Mary took advantage of the distraction to, for the fourth time, manoeuvred our daughter’s bikini-top into my hands.

Considering the time pressure, I gave in, and set my mind firmly to Ellen.

Kneading my daughter’s teenage boobs, I desperately pretended they belonged to my wife’s fictional sister.

“Harder,” she moaned, and I unwillingly obliged.

“Cum for me,” I said insistently, trying to ignore the needy tone in my voice. “Oh, god, cum for me…”

“Yesss!” she erupted. “Oh touch me touch me touch me touch me TOUCH me.”

For the next thirty seconds, I stared anxiously at the door, praying to god that I wouldn’t see my wife’s face before my daughter’s climax had finished. The entire time she came, twitching against my hands, she kept on repeating it.

“touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me…”

After what felt like an eternity, she came down from it, she pulled back, and stared at me lovingly. It was a look that I was familiar with from both my daughter and my wife…although admittedly, it hasn’t been one that Belle has given me lately.

“Andrew, you’re…fuck me, you’re a god.”

“Language,” I said with a watery smile.

“Honey, come on. We have one more week. We might as well enjoy this.”

Before I could respond, we heard the sound of the car re-entering the driveway.