The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“It is so hot to have sex on the floor of a teepee,” moaned the young blonde as she gripped her sex partner’s tan, pert breasts.

“Heep big squaw wants white women’s tongue in snatch, ugh,” laughed the young woman, wearing an Indian headband with a feather on top of her head, but nothing else as she writhed on the bearskin rug.

“What’s the Indian word for ‘69’,” the blonde whispered before kissing the breasts of the Indian.

“Don’t know, while we do it, I’ll think of one,” said the Indian girl. “Oh Tara! Until you came to the reservation I never knew what good sex was.”

“Good sex? You mean great sex,” said Tara with a grin. “Now flip over and be prepared for some really great sex. Custer is ready to charge.”

The Indian girl’s body was soon heaving, as the blonde woman was obviously an expert at this. Her tongue flicked in and out of the red-colored snatch while her right hand rubbed gently the clit.

The Indian woman was more direct, burying her nose into the blonde-trimmed slit and giving long, hard strokes to the inside.

Soon, the Indian woman gave a soft mewl and her back quickly arched. Cum started pouring out of her sex but Tara just licked harder, making the orgasm become even bigger and longer lasting.

“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!,” shouted the Indian woman as she had to withdraw from the blonde’s sex as spasm after spasm of joy was coursing through her body.

But she had done her job good enough, feeling the Indian’s cum on her face combined with her licking had turned on Tara enough where she sighed and began feeling her own orgasm.

“A woo—, woo-woo-woo-woo!” said Tara gleefully, making a bit of good-natured fun of her sex partner’s heritage, as she then began moaning loudly as she felt the orgasm continue.

At that moment, the flap on the teepee opened and an older Indian man, dressed like in an old Hollywood movie, in full headdress and wearing clothes made of feathers and skins, rushed in.

“Come Many Feathers what’s wrong, I heard shouting,” said the man who then saw the two young women grinding on the floor. “Oh my!! What is this! What is going on my daughter!!”

The two women looked up and seeing the man quickly lost their state of bliss, as their faces took on a look more like terror. They quickly jumped up and ran to the chair that held their clothes.

“My father, I have done nothing wrong, we are just having fun,” said the Indian woman as she threw on her leather bra top and slipped on her matching brown leather short skirt.

“Fun, you call this disgusting display, it’s immoral,” said the man. “Imagine, Chief Fulltown’s daughter engaged in lascivious action with another woman, and a white women to boot. This is not acceptable behavior.”

“Tara, you better go back to your room, this is between me and my father,” said the Indian woman.

The blonde woman needed no incentive as she quickly dashed out of the teepee.

“Father, I was hoping I could break the news to you gently but it really doesn’t matter, you know now,” said Come Many Feathers. “I like having sex with women. I don’t want to have sex with men anymore. I’ve never felt joy at having sex until this summer when Tara and her college friends introduced me to the wonders of having sex with other women.”

“It’s all their fault,” thundered the chief in a booming voice. “You were a nice squaw who was going to be a prize for any warrior in the tribe. These four white girls arrive from college with crazy ideas and seduce an innocent young girl like you. Can’t you see this is insanity Come Many Feathers.”

“You are wrong father, these four women have come to introduce me to the most pleasurable feelings I have ever had,” said Come Many Feathers, her red skin getting a shade darker as she got more agitated. “I thank the Buffalo gods they came and liberated me to see a way to enjoy myself sexually.

“Face it father. See me as I really am. I am a lesbian. And to be honest, being 19 and frisky, I consider myself to be a lesbian slut. I want to have sex with as many pretty women, white and Indian, as I can right now.”

“This is not acceptable, not acceptable at all for the chief’s daughter to be a lesbian slut,” said the chief. “I will immediately banish the four white devil women who have obviously placed a curse upon your soul.”

“No you won’t!” shouted Come Many Feathers. “These aren’t devil women, these are nice girls, very nice girls actually, you know all the good they’ve done here. They are just doing what comes naturally. And it comes naturally to me too. I know that now.

“If you throw them out before their term ends, I will leave father and you will never see me again. You will lose a daughter.”

Chief Fulltown stood there and fumed. Having his daughter leave the tribe would be very embarrassing and his wife would never forgive him for driving her away. But he couldn’t have a lesbian Indian princess, that was something he could not deal with.

But he could see his daughter would not budge. She was like him, he thought, unbending in her principles when she thought she was right.

“OK, Come Many Feathers, I will not banish the college girls, at this point they are involved in too many projects that will help the reservation to leave now anyhow,” said the chief. “But please reconsider this lifestyle decision. You are a princess after all.”

Come Many Feathers smiled. She knew her father loved her deeply and also knew she could wrap him around her finger when needed.

“Yes father, I will think about having sex with men, but no promises,” she said as she went over and gave him a hug.

Come Many Feathers thought the storm had passed as the chief left her teepee but she did not see the glower on his face as he walked away.

“My daughter will not walk with other women,” he muttered to himself. “As sure as the Sun God shines every morning, this activity will be ended, soon.”

Sandy quickly whipped off her tank top and pulled down her pleated, plaid skirt. With her field hockey uniform lumped on the floor, she lay on her dorm room bed in her pink bra and panties and let out a sigh.

“Finally, I’m back where I belong,” said Sandy as she spread her arms and legs out, her sinewy, pale white form now covering every corner of the bed. “And now I can get back with the ‘Pots of Sex’.”

She knew the fact her college field hockey team had been able to take a month-long tour of Australia was certainly a once in a lifetime experience she did not want to miss.

Sandy had worked as hard as anyone on the fundraising for it but as a result of the trip she had missed the first couple weeks of the fall semester and she knew she was behind both academically and socially.

“Wonder what the girls are up to,” thought Sandy, who them giggled to herself. “Or more likely, how many girls have their tongues been into.”

Sandy was grateful to have found such a set of super best friends who were so attuned to each other’s likes and dislikes.

All were very attractive, liked to have a good time but were not into the drug scene, got good grades and looked to be on a path to bright futures when they graduated college. And, oh yeah, they all absolutely loved to have as much sex as possible with other women.

She knew there were girls in her situation, liking to sleep with other girls, who led lonely and isolated existences.

Hearing how much fun Sandy had with her group, several of her teammates had asked her if they could get together with her friends as well. Sandy hated to say no but they had made a pact the year before to limit the group to five and, OK it was a bit selfish, but why spoil a good thing?

“Hey, I’m first one to sign up for volunteer work,” thought Sandy. “You gotta let me slide with ‘The Pots of Sex’.”

She giggled again at the name they had come up with for their little band of sexy Sappho sisters.

A very prissy straight girl had come up to Tara, the tall, long-legged blonde, and said if she had just liked guys like a normal person she could be a sexpot.

“Well,” she had replied. “Sorry, I’m the opposite. I like girls. So I guess instead of a sexpot, I am a pot of sex.”

The girls had liked that line so well, they decided to adopt it as their official name.

What stirred the drink in the group, Sandy had decided, was how diverse the background of the girls was.

Sandy was the jock, a 5-foot-10 redhead with six-pack abs and a body seemingly carved out of marble. Sandy did nothing halfway. She played hard, studied hard and pursued other women even harder.

Tara was almost as tall as Sandy but definitely no jock. She cried when she broke a fingernail. A definite “girly-girl” she was drop, dead gorgeous and already was working on the side as a model. No one doubted when she left college she would make a fine living walking a runway full-time.

Lara was the intellectual. With her granny glasses and the pageboy cut of her dark hair framing a cute face, she looked the part and her ‘brainiac’ persona proved alluring as she might on a given week sleep with more girls than even Tara.

Joanie was the stereotypical college militant feminist, except when she was with the ‘Pots of Sex’.

She wore fatigues and tight vests that showed off her large breasts and firm stomach and unless it rained she usually went barefoot.

She was always protesting something but when she was with the group she magically transformed into a warm, fun-loving person who was a riot to be around. Sandy decided after being mad at the world all day, the group was Joanie’s chance to kick back and just enjoy life and let off some steam.

Becky was the “artsy” one. Always wearing weird multi-colored thrift shop clothes around her very cute body that probably had breasts too large for her small-boned 5-foot-2 frame. She always seemed in a positive mood and life basically was a hoot to her. Rumor had it that Becky’s family was worth millions but no one in the group had dared to ask her.

Thinking about her friends reinvigorated Sandy. She had not seen them since the spring semester ended and was anxious to know how their summer had gone.

They had decided as a group to take up an offer a sociology professor, Dr. Miriam Oxmis, had given selected students of working on an Indian reservation in Arizona for the summer. Because of the isolation, the outside workers there wanted to go away for the summer and they were in desperate need of educated people to help run things.

It promised to be an interesting experience, the pay was very good, and when Oxmis also said they could earn college credit by working there they had jumped at the chance.

However, due to the Australian trip, the field hockey team was practicing all summer so Sandy had not been able to join them, and she badly wanted to find out what escapades she had missed.

Sandy knew the easiest one to find of the group was Joanie. When not in class, she could always be found in her Women’s Alliance office at the Student Center.

But when she walked into the office, she saw a short blonde woman in a man-tailored suit.

“Can I help you?” said the woman with a bit of lust in her voice as she eyed Sandy’s cut body.

“Um, I was looking for Joanie Collins, is she around, I’m a friend of her’s,” said Sandy.

The blonde woman immediately got a sour look on her face and looked downward.

“She…she no longer is a member,” she said.

Sandy’s eyes bugged out slightly. Joanie not a member! The Women’s Alliance was Joanie’s baby. She had sweated buckets building it up into a force on campus.

“What do you mean she’s not a member,” said Sandy finally. “Joanie IS the Women’s Alliance, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Oh, I know, I agree,” said the woman. “My name is Randi Barley and I was her vice president. She just came into the office one day a couple of weeks ago and said to me, “I’m quitting, you’re in charge now”, and later that night dropped off all her records in my room and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

“But why would Joanie just up and quit?, I’ve known her a while and I thought she loved running this,” said Sandy.

“Yeah, I know,” said Randi is a soft whisper that became even softer. “She said the club was just taking too much time away from her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend!!,” said Sandy in a near shout, so shocked was she to here the word ‘Joanie’ and ‘boyfriend’ used in the same sentence.

“Yes, boyfriend, I had the same reaction as you,” said Randi. “I mean, officially, our organization is of course open to women of all sexual preferences but, if you’re a friend of her’s, you know there was never any doubt which team Joanie played for.

“Until now. She’s dating some good-looking, for a guy, history major. They met first week of class in the library and have been a couple ever since.”

“Well…I..I don’t what to say,” stammered Sandy. She would have believed the Earth was flat before Joanie would be interested in a guy.

“Neither do I, strange huh,” said Randi. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Sandy went out of the office in a daze. Joanie the quintessential man-hating radical lesbian was dating a guy?

She walked around the school quadrangle trying to get her thoughts together,

She saw walking towards her Todd Hunter, the best player on the baseball team. Sandy had never been a man-hating lesbian like Joanie (had been?), she had nothing against men, she just felt no desire to have sex with them

Todd was in several of her physical education classes and had dated Carol, one of her teammates on the field hockey team, but they had broken up right before the team left for Australia. But he seemed to have gotten over it just fine as he strided purposely her way with a big smile on his face.

“Hey Sandy, you guys back from Down Under already,” said Todd with a toothy grim.

“Yep, got in last night, tiring but fun,” said Sandy, glad to think of something other then Joanie’s seeming conversion to heterosexuality. “Never played in front of a pack of koala bears before.”

“Great,” said Todd in a chipper voice. “Uh, how was Carol? I guess you know it wasn’t a good breakup.”

“We spent a month in Australia, every girl on the team knows the details Todd,” said Sandy. “It happens. Carol’s fine now. The trip did her good.”

“Well that’s nice, Carol is a decent person and I don’t want anything bad to happen to her,” said Todd, still looking like the cat who ate the canary. “I’ve moved on and I hope Carol finds someone nice and does the same.”

“Really, who’s the lucky girl?” asked Sandy.

“Actually, I think you might know her, she has mentioned your name once or twice,” said Todd. “Her name is Tara Butler. What a knockout! And she is so nice.

“Actually, we’re meeting for lunch and I’m late. Gotta go Sandy but tell Carol I hope everything works out. I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Tara!! Her too!!

Sandy woobled to the nearest bench and flopped down. She was too floored to even think about getting up.

Her mind was numb with the information that two of her closest lesbian friends, well, we’re no longer lesbians.

“This has to be a dream, maybe I’m still in Australia and I had a bad vegamite sandwich and I’m passed out in my hotel room,” said Sandy as she ran her hands through her short, curly red hair. “This is too weird.”

She knew sometimes women experimented sexually in college before settling down with a man.

But this was different, Joanie and Tara had never expressed a single bisexual vibe in all the time she had spent with them.

They just didn’t have sex with other women, they reveled in it, totally consumed with girl-on-girl sex. It was part of their very being, very soul. They were, as Tara had put it, pots of sex. Girl sex.

After an hour on the bench trying to compose herself. Sandy finally got up.

“I’ve got to find Lara and Becky,” she thought, “and find out what the heck happened to Tara and Joanie while I was away.”