The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The first snowfall of the season is always the prettiest.

When I was a little girl, some of my best memories were of sitting on the thick ledge in front of the big bay window, cup of hot chocolate in hand, staring out as the drifting flakes slowly settled on everything in sight: the street, the trees, the rooftops and (mostly) still-green lawns. Sometimes the flakes would waft almost straight down; sometimes the wind would whip them into whorls and swirls; every so often, the snow would come down fast and hard, in thick wet clumps that hid the world beyond my own front walk. My parents would find me still there hours later, the milky chocolate cold and only half-drunk, my delighted eyes transfixed by the amazing spectacle happening before me.

I have lots of wonderful winter memories. Tobogganing on the hills at the edge of town, skiing on fresh powder while away at college, the time I was trapped in that cabin with Marty Collins for two whole days after that freak blizzard—we made love for hours to the crackling of the fireplace and the howling of the winds. But nothing can compare to those joyful memories of being inside, all cozy and warm, while watching the first evidence of winter settle upon the land. It’s just so blissful and peaceful, I pretty much zone out for a while whenever I see softly falling snow.

That’s how Felicity Hochberg ensnared me.

Maybe I’d better start at the beginning.

Right after college, I got a job working at Hudsucker Industries as an office drone. Within five years, I’d moved up to administrative assistant—and to be honest, I was happy at that level. The pay was decent, the job challenging enough, and my nights and weekends were pretty much my own. And with one or two exceptions, I got along well enough with everyone in my circle.

Company policy officially prohibited dating one’s coworkers, but did encourage socializing with them. So more often than not, after work a bunch of us would head over to one of Manhattan’s many bars or pizza parlors, where we’d often drink and gossip—and sometimes work on a project—until we were shooed outside, usually half an hour after closing time.

I’d dated, but not all that often. I’d even once had a boyfriend who lived with me for the better part of a year—the sex wasn’t bad, and splitting the bills was kind of nice; but picking up after him and chasing him down for rent money finally got to be too much of a hassle. What I really liked to do every so often was to go clubbing; Felicity was one of the few from my crowd who was always willing to join me.

That’s where this story begins.

It was late November; the weekend after Thanksgiving. All the tourists and college kids that were in town for the holiday had gone back home; to celebrate, Felicity, Jackson, Bonnie and I had decided to hit one of the local hot spots. After about two hours, Jackson and Bonnie decided to take off; they left five minutes apart, and we all pretended that they weren’t actually going someplace else to hook up.

Around four a.m., and almost too plastered to find the subway, Felicity and I stepped out into the not-quite-dark that is New York City. And into a sparkling wonderland.

It must’ve just started snowing within the last half hour; the barest dusting had made it onto the sidewalk, and nothing onto the ever-busy streets. I froze, transfixed, as the gentle motes floated and danced before my eyes. My breath appeared in front of me in a soft cloud; I probably sighed with joy.

I heard Felicity calling me: “Mel? Melanie?” but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. My eyes danced from snowflake to drifting snowflake; my alcohol-addled brain tried to track each and every one. Somewhere near me, Felicity was making sounds; whether those sounds were actual words, I couldn’t tell you, even now.

Finally, she shook me. That brought me out of my daze with a drunken, “Hwuh?”

“What happened to you there, girlfriend? You had me worried; I’ve never seen you zone out like that.”

“Dunno,” I replied. “The snow ... it’s so pretty. I’ve always thought it was ... pretty....” Even as I said that, I felt myself slipping down the rabbit hole again. The thing was, I was so drunk, and had been caught so off-guard, I simply couldn’t resist.

Felicity made more sounds at me, and grabbed my arm. Wherever it was that she led me, I followed, putting up no resistance at all. My mind was being held hostage by the irresistible combination of one too many Cosmos, and the mesmerizing beauty of the falling flakes.

She could have been telling me I was silly, or that I’d drunk too much. But if I had to guess, I think it was probably more along the lines of how much I was enjoying the falling snow—and being in her company. Rather than take the subway, which would’ve been the more prudent thing to do, we walked the sixteen or so blocks to her apartment, arm in arm the entire time.

As we got closer, her noises became more insistent, somehow. I barely noticed; as we moved from streetlamp to bright streetlamp, lighted window to lit neon sign, my thoughts were occupied with exploring all the different colors and patterns of the snow. Whatever she’d said to me, I must have soaked up like a sponge, on some deep level I wasn’t aware of.

Because when we finally arrived at her building, I was completely unsurprised. In fact, the clearest thing I remember feeling was some sort of vague sense of anticipation—like I was about to try something new, but I still didn’t yet know what it was.

As soon as we entered the tiny hallway that passed for a lobby, Felicity unhooked her arm from mine and shook the loose snow off of her long coat. I just stood there, dazed, until she said some more words; then I found myself doing the same thing. The cozy little elevator was already at ground level; we took it up to the fifth floor in silence.

As soon as we entered her apartment, she said, “Give me your coat.”

Even as I did so, I could finally feel some of myself returning; I finally had the presence of mind to ask her, “Um, why am I here?”

“What a silly question, Mel. You’re here because I invited you.” She hung both coats, and then steered me into the cramped living room, lit only from the hallway. There was a sofa and a rocking chair; more importantly, there were two small bare windows, that looked straight out along Ninth Avenue.

Straight out at the snow.

I was a fly in amber, and I knew it. Now that I was indoors and warm, my rapture had returned, twice as overwhelmingly strong. Except for those two windows, everything else faded away: my surroundings, Felicity’s voice, even Felicity’s presence. There was a gentle buzzing behind me, a pleasant pressure on my neck and shoulders. The windows would gently roll up and down, up and down; it took me seemingly forever to figure out that it was my chair, rocking beneath me.

Even as I stared, I felt something come over me. My eyes had at some point closed, but I could still see the snow: drifting, blowing, swirling. Falling. I was falling. Like the snow, I was settling upon the ground.

And I was warm. Not turn-down-the-thermostat warm; just so comfortable that I didn’t need to move. Didn’t want to move. Couldn’t move.

My nipples were hard.

Of course they were. While I was watching the snow fall from behind my eyelids, someone had unbuttoned my blouse, unhooked my bra. They were fondling my breasts, running their thumbs over my raised nubs, standing behind me and cradling them, as if their hands were going to be my new brassiere.

It felt wonderful. The soft buzzing told me just how wonderful I was feeling; it was right.

It was always right.

Some time later, even though I knew I was still falling, I also felt myself rising upward. Was I standing? A while after that, I seemed to be moving sideways; was I drifting? Or was I walking?

I floated, apparently at random, to a different place. A brief buzz in my ear, and I halted. Another, and I found myself removing my half-opened clothes.

Then I removed my unopened ones. I was naked, and at peace, and still just as comfortably warm as before.

At the buzzing’s insistence, I drifted backward and down, until I found myself laying on the softest, warmest bank of freshly-fallen snow. Next to me was a snowdrift, covering my left side from shoulder to ankle. The snowdrift was naked and soft; wherever it—she?—was touching me, I found myself tingling.

And the snowdrift smelled wonderful. Even as I was watching the snow continue to fall, even as I felt it settling on top of my reclining form, I was taking deep breaths, inhaling her scent. Memorizing her scent. Loving her scent.

How odd. I’d never fallen in love with a snowdrift before.

The buzzing resumed. The snowdrift had a name; she was called Felicity. ‘How pretty,’ I thought. ‘I have a friend with that name, too.’

As the sounds continued, I discovered that Felicity wasn’t made of snow; she was made of flesh. A woman. A very lovely, and lonely, woman. Who had secretly been in love with me for the longest time. And she was glad, very glad, that I could finally love her back.

How odd. I’d never fallen in love with a woman before, either.

But this time, it felt right. And even more so, as soon as the snowdrifff—the wommnnn—Felisss—my new love began to kiss me. Her lips brushed against my still-closed eyelids; her tongue tickled my cheeks with the briefest of licks. Her fingers circled my closed lips, causing them to part slightly. As soon as they did, her mouth latched onto mine, and her tongue extended into my mouth, searching for its opposite number.

My mouth being taken care of, her unoccupied hand felt free to explore my unresisting body. It drifted along my shoulder and down my arm; across my gently rounded stomach and to the topmost edge of my lower forest; until finally wrapping itself around my soft and sensitive breast.

My limbs stayed frozen; my eyes, shut. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even see the drifting snow anymore. But I could still feel.

Oh, how I could feel!

My whole world was sensation. Her tongue wrapping around mine, inviting it to dance. Her warm breath filling my lungs, even as mine was filling hers. The sharp arousal at the very tip of my breast, as her soft hand stimulated my tender nipple. A certain wetness down below, that I’d felt only recently of late—and never before with a woman.

And then she broke the kiss, and the buzzing—almost a whisper, really—sounded once more. My eyes opened.

To the amazing sight of my darling Felicity, lying half on top of me. She was absolutely beautiful; I’d never seen her hair fall to the front of her face like that before. Then again, I’d never been lying beneath her before.

“How do you feel, my love?” she whispered. They were the first words I’d actually understood, in, in ... I wasn’t exactly sure how long.

“Wonderful.” I stretched, enjoying the double sensation of waking up my muscles, and brushing up against her. Coaxing her on top of me, I grasped her face with both hands and brought her in for a proper kiss. A shared kiss.

Somehow, while my hands were roaming her back and cupping her perfect bottom, her thigh had slipped between my legs and had started pressing against my very moist and sensitive juncture. I cupped her bottom harder, thrusting my womanhood against her leg, grunting and driving my hips until I finally exploded with a blissful climax.

And as soon as I stopped trembling, my hands tugged at her bottom, encouraging her to scoot all the way forward onto my upper chest, to where my willing tongue could happily return the favor. She climaxed even more quickly than I had, but with just as much fervor.

This went on for hours. It was a good thing that it was a Saturday.

When we awoke, much later that afternoon, most of the snow was gone—except within a few pockets of shade here and there, hiding where the sun couldn’t quite reach. But that was okay; it had done its most important job: bringing us together.

Within a month, Felicity moved in with me. As far as old Hudsucker knew, we were just great friends, rooming together to share the bills. Of course, that was only a fringe benefit. But we were careful not to hint otherwise, at least not around our coworkers. And we behaved ourselves while at work; no use giving the security system operators a cheap thrill—or the bosses any justification to let either of us go.

Eventually, as was her dream, Felicity made upper management. I found myself transferred to her department and given a raise; though to avoid temptation, I rarely reported to her directly while at work.

At home was another matter. Sometimes, just for variety, my love could bliss me out just by having me recall our first night together. And whenever I was in that state, I would happily agree to do anything she asked of me. Not that I wouldn’t have, anyway—but sometimes Felicity liked playing with me when I was, shall we say, even more compliant than usual.

It’s been ten short and loving years. We now have joint ownership of our own private home in Nyack, thirty minutes north of the city by train, and less than an hour away from the closest of the upstate ski resorts. It’s beautiful there all year round, but especially so in winter, where we average almost five feet of snow each season. And after all this time, there’s still one thing on which we both happily agree:

The first snowfall of the season is always the prettiest.