The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Andrew, my regrettably straight roommate, was leaning over the liquor cabinet. It was a nice view. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. I could see his wedge-shaped, tanned, and muscled back. His thick, long blonde hair flowed well past his shoulder blades. He was facing away from me, I had an uninterrupted view of his round, firm bottom.

If I had to pick a word to describe my roommate, that word would be “shapely”.

Andrew had been my roommate for awhile. He was an engineering student at the state university. I had graduated from the same program a couple of years before. He worked part time, which brought him a little extra money.

Andrew was an ideal roommate. He was tidy, kept his things in his room, cooked, and cleaned up after himself. He was never late with the rent and didn’t throw parties. Plus, he was sexy as hell.

Not only was his body nice to look at, he also had a warm, bubbly personality. Friendly and engaging, he could strike up a conversation with anyone. He had a happy, smiling disposition. Generally fun to hang out with—people liked hanging out with him. He was invited to a lot of parties and beach trips, mostly because he was such a nice guy.

His only drawback, was that he was very straight—and was not sleeping with me.

While I was musing at how lovely the backside of my roommate was, he said something. I had been too distracted to listen to what he had said.

“What?” I asked.

“There is no liquor,” he responded.

I responded, “I don’t drink, so I don’t buy anything.” This wasn’t exactly true. I had a couple of bottles of $100 per liter scotch tucked away in my room, but I wasn’t going to let Andrew mix my expensive sipping whiskey with cola.

He ran his fingers through his long hair. I suppressed a moan. Damn, he was beautiful. A muscle-builder’s body with a surfer’s tan.

He stood and faced me, “Payday isn’t until Thursday.”

I replied, “It looks like drinking is going to wait for a couple of days.”

There was a moment of silence, while he worked out his options and I admired the front view of Andrew. I was very careful not to stare, I don’t think that Andrew knew how much I wanted him.

He blurted out, “I bet you could hypnotize me.”

I was completely surprised, “What?”

He explained quickly, “You are an expert in hypnosis. I have watched some videos about hypnosis. One of the hypnotists told his subject that a glass of water was a glass of beer. The subject got drunk.” He thought about that for a few seconds, “That would be perfect. I could get drunk tonight, and not have a hangover tomorrow morning.”

Five YEARS ago, I had taken one psychology class to fill the social science requirement for my degree. My term paper had been on hypnosis. In Andrew’s mind, this made me an “expert”.

I don’t even remember telling Andrew about my paper. My paper hadn’t been that big a deal. I had never even hypnotized anyone; I had watched a bunch videos, and done a lot of reading. I understood the basics. I remembered some of the inductions—but, I had never actually tried to do a trance induction.

I was about to decline, when I thought about my sexy roommate sprawled out on the sofa, with glazed eyes, and open to my suggestions. My dick, which is always sporting a chub when Andrew is with me, went full hard.

Showing more confidence than I felt, I shrugged, “Sure. If you like.”

Andrew asked, “What’s first?”

Good question. I had no idea. I thought, Confidence. Act confident. He already thinks you are a “expert”. Just act like you know what you are doing. “Sit on that sofa. Take off your shoes and socks.“

Andrew sat on one end of the sofa, took off his shoes and socks, and facing the center of the room. I sat on the other end of the sofa, facing him. “Pick a point on the ceiling. Any bit.”

I started with, “Easy. Take a deep breath. Easy. Exhale. Relax.”

I struggled with the induction. I tried to exude confidence, while I was struggling to remember some of the phrases that I could barely remember from five years before. I scrambled for words, trying to remember what the hypnotists would say at each point. I got the sequences mixed up. I forgot bits. I repeated things.

Eventually, I said, “If you are ready, put your hand up in the air.”

Andrew’s hand went up in the air. I sprouted a serious hard on.

Holy SHIT! It WORKED!

I was completely surprised. I just stared at him: eyes closed, head tipped forward, his face completely without expression, his body sagging into the sofa cushions, and his mind completely open to my suggestions. This completely wonderful man, vulnerable. I could do anything ... or, could I? How deep was he? How much actual control did I have?

I didn’t violate his trust. Not because I didn’t want to—but because if I got caught, he would probably never let me hypnotize him again. I knew—from the reading I had done five years ago—that each time I hypnotized him, the trance would be deeper and my control would grow. I think. I wasn’t certain. I wasn’t really an expert.

I decided to take the safe, easy path. Make the experience a pleasant one, and give him what he wanted. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You feel good. You feel wonderful. My hypnosis makes you feel great. In a minute, I’m going to give you a glass. This glass will be filled with beer. The strongest beer you have ever had. One glass of this beer will make you completely drunk. Do you understand?”

Andrew sat there with one hand in the air, and nodded his head. He mumbled something, that could have been “Yes”.

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. I picked out one of Andrew’s favorite beer mugs and filled it with water.

I walked back and handed it to Andrew, “Here is your beer. Drink it straight down. This one beer will make you very drunk.”

Andrew took the glass with unsteady hands. I helped him hold the glass. He drank it straight down.

I know there were a bunch of things I could have done—testing the level of the trance, waking him and putting him right back under, deepening exercises—but I was uncertain how all that was suppose to go. I didn’t want to push my luck.

I took the empty glass from him, “When I wake you, you will still be completely drunk. You will still feel wonderful. You will thank me for the trance. You will have no hangover in the morning.”

That seemed to cover everything. I couldn’t think of anything to add. I took one last look at his hypnotized face, and said, “1. 2. 3. Wake now.”

Andrew sat up, awake. He looked around the room, and blinked, “Whoa! Wow! I’m drunk. It worked! This is great.”

I asked, “How do you feel?”

He responded with slightly slurred speech, “I feel great. This is wonderful. And, I’m drunk. Thank you. This is perfect.”

He thanked me several more times, then he bounded to his room to play some online game.

I went directly to my room, too. I needed to relieve some serious pressure. Seeing Andrew relaxed and vulnerable had kicked my libido up a couple of notches.

Afterwords, I took the trouble to dig out my notes from my psychology class, and reread my five year old term paper. I spent several hours doing some on-line research. If I was going to be an “expert”, I should have some basic knowledge.

Late that night, alone in bed, I once again pictured Andrew sitting on the sofa. Andrew with his eyes closed and his mind open.

I thought to myself, Next time, I’ll take a picture.

The next evening, Andrew was interested in being “drunk” again.

I had him sit on the sofa, and went through the induction again. Much more quickly this time, he slumped forward. I told him how much he loved my hypnosis. I used my phone to take several photos of him.

I gave him a trigger, so I could hypnotize him next time without a full induction. I woke Andrew and re-hypnotized him several times. Each time, he went under faster and deeper.

I fetched his glass, and within twenty minutes of having him sit down—he was awake and “drunk”.

Again, he thanked me several times, and staggered into his room to play some games.

I took my phone, with the precious photos, into my room. I had a good time by myself.

Next time—I wanted to spend some time with him after the trance, and before he vanished into his room.

Wednesday evening, Andrew plopped himself onto the sofa without preamble.

I didn’t bother with the induction. I went straight to the trigger. I woke him, and put him under several times. I told him how happy he was with the hypnosis, and how good it made him feel.

This time however, when I described the effect of the “beer”, I didn’t say “drunk”—I said “happy drunk”. And, I told him that he could hang out with me for awhile.

I told him that any changes to his personality wouldn’t be attributed to the hypnosis. Any changes would be a sign of his growing friendship with me.

Waking, he thanked me several times for making him drunk. He had a happy, silly expression on his face—and, a tendency to smile. We chatted a bit. When I went into the kitchen to make some dinner, he hung out with me. At one point, he threw an arm across my shoulders, in a friendly sort of way.

We shared a little dinner. Then, smiling, he went into his room to play some video games.

It was very pleasant. But, I knew that it was only the beginning. A handful of words dropped casually into his mind had held with me, for half an hour.

The key was to give him what he wanted. Make everything pleasurable. Everything fun and light. As long as he was having a good time, he would return again and again; at least, in theory.

Thursday. Payday. Andrew and his friends went out.

Friday morning, Andrew was hungover.

I joked, “Real beer. Real hangover.”

He smiled feebly, and went to school—not in the best of conditions.

I didn’t see Andrew again until Monday evening. He had been partying with friends. I had been busy at work, with a big project.

Monday evening in the kitchen, Andrew had a question about the hypnosis, “It works with beer. Would it work with marijuana?”

I considered. Andrew once mentioned that marijuana makes him “handsy”. I don’t think that he would get handsy with me—but if he did get “handsy”, I don’t think I would be able to stop him. More accurately, I don’t think I would be willing to stop him; which worked out to the same thing. I didn’t want things to be awkward with Andrew. I was getting used to playing with his mind. I thought about how nice it would be if he got “handsy” with me. With the new control I had over his mind, could I make everything “not awkward”?

One step at a time. Give him what he wants. Make it pleasurable. Then see how I can take advantage.

It seemed like I struggled with these thoughts for several minutes. But, actually, it was only a second or two.

I didn’t even wait to get to the sofa, I gave him his trigger while we stood in the kitchen; he was out like a light.

I told him, “You are very happy with my hypnosis. My hypnosis makes you happy. After each trance, you will thank me again and again. Any change to your personality isn’t because of the hypnosis. Any changes to your personality is because of our growing friendship.

Then, I told him that my finger was a joint. A joint with " ... the strongest, smoothest, and sweetest marijuana in the world ... “. And, that, “Two or three puffs will be enough to get you as high as he wanted.”

I had Andrew open his eyes and I moved my finger towards his mouth. Andrew gave three, long pulls on my “joint”. Holding the “smoke” in each time; savoring the experience of “getting high”.

He stood there with a blank look on his face. He was completely stoned. I told him, “When I wake you, you will still be high; and you can spend some time with me.”

“1. 2. 3. Wake now.”

Andrew was baked. Unbelievably high.

I asked him, “Is this what you wanted?”

Andrew giggled. He smiled broadly, and leaned back against the walk. His beautiful face was in a broad sunny smile. I slipped my arm under his shoulder, and helped him to the sofa. Once there, Andrew showed little desire to let go of my arm.

We talked for a bit. Andrew wasn’t exactly coherent. I enjoyed our talk anyway.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, I asked, “Do you want more?”

Andrew smiled, and pulled my finger into his mouth. He sucked on my finger, apparently without effect.

I told him, “You have to be hypnotized.”

He smiled at his silly mistake. He said, “Please.”

I game him his trigger, Andrew went right out. I gave him my finger. I told him, “This is the strongest marijuana in the world.”

He took a big “hit” off my finger. Held it for a long time, then exhaled with a happy grin.

Andrew was larger than I, taller, and with more muscled bulk. So, when he leaned up against me—he was a strong, firm, warm mass. One arm draped casually across my shoulders. He was warm. His hair smelled nice.

And, just as quickly, it was over.

Andrew thanked me for the twentieth time, then walked carefully to his room.

I retreated to my room—for some frustrated jerking off, and some careful planning.

Tuesday.

I took Andrew out for dinner. Being a student with only a part-time job to pay for “extras”, he didn’t get to go to proper restaurants very often. For him, dining out was a treat.

When we got back, we hung out for a couple of hours. Then Andrew asked for “marijuana”. I was more than happy to oblige.

I used his trigger, and had him “smoke” my finger. I added, if he wanted to get “handsy” with me, it would fine. It wouldn’t be weird. It would be nice. Getting “handsy” with me would bring him pleasure.

When I woke him, we chatted for a while. Andrew leaned against me, like he had the night before—but, he didn’t get “handsy”. He draped his arm across my shoulders, like he had the night before—but that was it. I was a little disappointed.

I thought about commanding him to be “handsy”. But, I remembered that my plan was to provided him with pleasure, so he would want to come back to me.

Wednesday.

Andrew asked for beer, not marijuana. I game him “beer”.

With beer, Andrew was a lot louder and boisterous. He was more dynamic. He moved around the room more. He was significantly less “handsy”.

Still. He was always fun to be with. On beer, marijuana, or sober; Andrew was very pleasant.

Thursday. Payday.

Andrew went out, drinking with his friends.

Like last weekend, our schedules didn’t coincide. We crossed paths for just five minutes on Sunday afternoon.

Monday. Andrew wanted marijuana again.

We were in the kitchen. I didn’t bother moving to the sofa. I used his trigger. Three puffs on my finger made him high. Again, told him if he wanted to get “handsy” with me, it would fine. I reassured him that it wouldn’t be weird. Being handsy would make me happy. I added, “We have become very close. Any change to you isn’t because of the hypnosis. Our relationship is changing because we are great friends.”

Awake, Andrew drew me in close. He held me in his arms.

You forget how big someone like Andrew is, until they hold you. His height, the reach of his arms, the mass of his chest—all encompassed me. When a man as big as Andrew holds you, you are definitely held. I forgot everything as my face was pressed into his chest. It was wonderful. I didn’t have a care in the world.

It occurred to me—Andrew was not only much larger than I, he was much stronger than I. If he wanted to, he could hurt me quite badly. His drug clouded brain could get confused, and crush me. I got lost in the idea of Andrew handling me roughly or out of control.

One of his hands wandered down my back. The other hand played with my hair. He said, “You have the softest hair.”

I murmured my thanks. The way he held me, I couldn’t reach very high up his body. I managed to stroke his sides and back, but I could not reach his hair.

He stroked me and let his hands wander a bit. Andrew started a casual conversation. It was the strangest thing. He was stoned out of his mind while he was handling my body in a very familiar way—then he started a conversation about how school was going, and told me some random details about his friends’ lives.

I was thinking how soft his long hair felt against my face, when he let go of me. He kept talking, as if nothing weird was going on. We talked for another fifteen minutes—then he went into his room to play some games.

Perhaps I need to be more aggressive with my suggestions?

Somehow I knew that that would be the wrong approach. The key was pleasure. The more pleasure, the more he would be drawn back to me.

And, I had some notion that I didn’t want to violate his trust. Using hypnosis to compel contact didn’t seem right. Making him comfortable with contact seemed fine. Confusing him, so he didn’t think that hypnosis was causing these changes to his personality ... was some sort of “gray area”.

Tuesday.

Andrew had a term paper due on Friday. It was mostly done, but he still had a lot work to do. He spent all of Tuesday, Wednesday, and most of Thursday alone in his room, working on it. He was up early and worked late into the night, there was no time for fun.

It was an extremely frustrating time for me.

Thursday, right as I finished dinner, Andrew handed me a copy of his term paper and a red pencil. He asked, “Would you read this?”

It was a reasonable request. I had graduated from the same program he was currently enrolled in. I was a professional in the field that he was studying. So, I proofread his term paper.

Andrew had written an outstanding paper. The text was clear, concise, and showed good understanding of the material.

I sometimes forgot that there was a brilliant mind inside Andrew’s beautiful body.

Although the text of his paper was excellent, the graphics were less than sterling.

I showed him a report that I had just finished for my job. I compared my (professional) report, with his (student) report. I made a few recommendations, “Add an image to the cover”, “Make this image smaller”, “Put these three images side by side”, “There are too many types of fonts”, “Without copying, use mine as a guide ... modify the graphics.", etc. I told him, “The text is great.” I made a few, tiny recommendations about how he had worded the paper.

Andrew vanished into his room with the marked up paper. His final draft was finished two hours later.

He hardly changed any of the text, but the graphic changes made the entire document much more professional looking. His new version was obviously better. Andrew thanked me profusely. He was very grateful for the help.

Term paper finished, he was ready for some relaxation. He asked for “marijuana”.

Before I could trigger him, he said, “I’m sorry that I got so ... um, ‘handsy’ last week.”

I told him that it wasn’t a problem.

He said, “Marijuana makes me handsy. I just start touching. If it bothers you, I’ll contain myself.”

I smiled and said, “I didn’t mind. I actually liked it. I don’t mind when you touch me.”

He went on, “I have never touched a guy before. It’s a new thing. I’m not certain what is going on.”

I was getting ready for him to mention the hypnosis as part of the change, but he never did. Possibly because I had previously told him that any changes were because of our growing friendship, and not the hypnosis.

I smiled, and said, “Ready?”

He nodded. I triggered him, and he went under.

I had him “smoke” my finger. He gave my finger three good long drags. He held each drag nice and long. To my surprise, he took a fourth, partial drag. I made sure he was stoned.

Then, I started with the suggestions: “Being handsy with me is not weird. You can touch me if you like. I like when you touch me. When you touch me, I experience pleasure. You are free to take as much pleasure from my body as you like. You can thank me by using me. I would like that. Feel free to use my body as much as you like. Use me for pleasure, if you want. I want to pleasure you. Use my body to take as much pleasure as you would like. When you wake, you will thank me—by using my body, if it will bring you pleasure. I like it when you use my body. When I wake you, you can thank me by using my body for your pleasure, if you want.”

I was careful that nothing was a command. Nothing I told his open mind betrayed his trust in me. I made it clear that I would enjoy having him use my body, but he was free to make up his own mind. I “turned up the pleasure”, but everything was in his control. Nothing we did together was “weird”. I combined the idea of thanking me to the idea of using me. So, he could “thank me” by taking his pleasure from my body, if he wanted to.

I wanted him to enjoy himself, but I may have overdone the suggestions about using me for his pleasure.

Out of trance, the change from his natural “easy go lucky” attitude to sex-starved mammal was instantaneous. Stoned, naturally “handsy”, wanting to thank me, and free to use my body for his pleasure—Andrew was beyond “sexually aggressive”. Bigger than me, stronger than me, and with a much longer reach—he quickly had me pinned against the wall. Not that I was complaining. I enjoyed the contact between his body and mine. But, I was caught between the two contradicting experiences of “lust” and “fighting to breathe”.

He was making no effort to pleasure me. It was was all about him. He enjoyed kissing? He kissed. He enjoyed grabbing my dick? He grabbed. His fingers went into my mouth, because he wanted to.

I had no right to complain. I was doing this on purpose. I had the long term goal of having him crave my hypnosis; crave the pleasure I give him. What happened in the short term was worth that end goal. And, truly, I was enjoying having him use me.

He dragged me to the sofa. He didn’t walk me over. He didn’t ask if I wanted to go. He walked, pulling me after him—and I slid across the carpet after him.

Sitting me on the floor, with my back to the sofa—he shoved my head back onto the sofa cushion. He towered over me. A mass of blonde and muscle. A brilliant scholar and an engineer in training—his normally brilliant mind was a tangle of drugs and lust. He freed his dick from his pants. I had never seen it before. I was amazed at its size. Before I could comment on exactly how huge his dick was, he was shoving his dick in my mouth.

Experience took over. I opened my throat as best as I could. But still, his dick choked me. With no subtlety or finesse, Andrew shoved his dick all the way in.

This was, by far, the biggest dick I have ever had down my throat. Choking, mixed with the realization that I was the cause of all this, made for an interesting experience. He held my head onto the sofa cushion with viselike strength.

He stayed, choking me with his oversized dick, completely motionless for half a minute. Lack of air was becoming a concern. I looked up at his face. The smiling, laughing face of my roommate was gone. In its place was the relaxed, tranquil face of someone who was completely at peace with the world.

He slowly pulled half way out. Frantically, I breathed as many times as I could, as fast as I could. He slowly pushed back in. Again I was choked by his dick. I realized the trap I had caught myself in. With him not caring about me, and me not able to use my voice to trigger him, I could suffocate while he pleasured himself.

Then he thanked me.

When I entranced him, I had told him: “You can thank me by using me. I would like that.” and “When you wake, you will thank me—using your body, if it will bring you pleasure.” and “When I wake you, you can thank me by using my body for your pleasure, if you want.”

Andrew thanked me by speaking to me. And, he thanked me by using my body.

He fucked my mouth, faster and faster. All the while thanking me for helping him with his school work. His voice was calm and well measured; a complete contrast to the relentless pounding he was giving my mouth. “Thank you for helping me with my term paper. It is much better now. Your report from your office proved to be a good style guide; professional reference material to work from. A good example. The graphics in my term paper are cleaner now. The fonts are easier to read. It is a much better paper.”

He went on like this for awhile. Mildly telling me about how much he appreciated my help, while my face was being repeatedly and violently penetrated. I was snatching breaths on each of his “out strokes”.

Then, he went on to thank me for other things, “Thank you for renting me a room under the market rate. Thank you for occasionally taking me out to dinner, and giving me other “treats” that I couldn’t otherwise afford. Thank you for hypnotizing me with the illusions of beer and marijuana. Thank you for looking at my body with desire, making me feel good about myself. Thank you for using hypnosis to bring me pleasure and joy. Thank you for being a good example of a professional engineer. Thank you for being a good example of a responsible adult.” This went on for about ten minutes. Back and forth. Thanking my for helping with his paper, then thanking me for being a good guy. All with a calm measured tone. While his body took pleasure from my body.

A measured tone that ended erratically with him shouting and trembling—while his convulsing body shot hot jizz down my throat.

He sank down on the carpeted floor, recovering.

Gasping for breath, I said the only thing I could think to say. I said, “You’re welcome.”

I didn’t see Andrew all weekend. On Monday, he was apologetic for using me so violently.

I laughed, “I wanted to pleasure you. Did you experience pleasure?”

He mumbled something that might have been “Yes”.

I replied, “Then it was exactly what I was trying to do.”

He asked, “I used you so ... um, violently. You’re ok with that?”

I smiled warmly, “Definitely.” I continued, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

He didn’t answer directly, “It worries me that I was so ... violent. I don’t want this to affect our friendship. I took advantage of you. I could have hurt you.”

While it was true that he could have hurt me, he wasn’t taking advantage if me. While I was doing my best to not betray his trust—if anyone was “taking advantage”—it was me, not him. I didn’t want him stop because of some false sense of fair play. I needed to be more reassuring with my words in the trances. I needed to reassure him that I wanted to be used, that using me was fine. I didn’t want him to worry about ... well, I didn’t want him to worry about anything.

I would have to move our relationship along. Maybe, if I played up the friend angle. After all, I had used hypnosis to tell him that all these changes were because of our growing friendship. I said, “I enjoyed myself thoroughly. I am so happy that you are my friend.”

He smiled.

Before he could change his mind, I asked, “Ready?”

He nodded. I used his trigger. He slumped against the wall.

I said to his open mind, “I like it when you use my body. I like bringing you pleasure. You bring me pleasure. Your dick brings me pleasure. I find pleasure when I’m with you. You can thank me, by using my body, if you like. I enjoy that. I enjoy having sex with you. I like it when you thank me. I like it when you thank me with sex. When we are private, fuck my mouth whenever you like. These changes are because of our growing friendship. I like it when you kiss me. You can thank me by holding me and touching me. I think that it is good, when you fuck my mouth.”

I went on like this for awhile; repeating myself several times. After five or ten minutes, I ran out of things to say. After a pause, I added, “For our safety: when we have sex, you will always be certain that I can breathe and that I am able to speak to you.”

With nothing else to add, I said, “1. 2. 3. Wake.”

Andrew grabbed me and kissed me. He half drug/half carried me to the sofa and propped against the sofa. It was a repeat of Thursday, except this time he was being careful to see that I could breathe.

Andrew violently used my mouth. I happily opened my throat for him.

Once again, he started on a slow litany of all the things he was thankful for. His slow recital was in sharp contrast to the violence he visited upon my body.

Since I was not as concerned about suffocation—I used one hand to explore his body, while I used my other hand to masterbate furiously. As he kept my body immobilized against the sofa, it occurred to me that this was the first time I had shown arousal in front of him. All the other times, I had kept everything hidden.

I edged, as my beautiful roommate fucked my mouth. When he finally came down my throat, I squirted at nearly the same time.

This time, we both needed to recover.

Like last time, I said, “You’re welcome.”

That set the tone for the next week.

Half the time, I never even hypnotized him. I would come home, we would hang out for a while, then he would grab me and fuck my mouth. Usually against the sofa, occasionally in the kitchen, once in the hall. Sometimes two or three times a day.

Each time, when it was over, I would tell him, “You’re welcome.”

I got very good at detecting when he was about to shoot down my throat. We would almost always cum at the same time. I still couldn’t tell when he was about to grab me.

Sometimes I would make him “drunk”. Sometimes I would make him “high”. Mostly we just hung out together. He still had classes and homework. I still had work. So, we were being responsible adults about everything. But, since he was spending much less time getting drunk and stoned with his friends, he had plenty of time to get all his school work finished, and still had time to aggressively “take his pleasure” from my mouth.

When Andrew got his term paper back, he was ecstatic. His professor had told him that it was one of the best papers he had seen in a long time. This professor was an engineering consultant, and was active in the industry. Engineering companies were always after him to refer students for internships. Based on Andrew’s work during the semester, and his term paper—Andrew’s professor wanted to refer him for an internship. This was a huge opportunity.

Andrew thanked me again and again. He told me, “I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Which was only partially true.

I told him that his work had been, " ... wonderful before. All I did was help a little with the graphics.” Which was completely true.

I don’t know if Andrew believed me. I do know that ten minutes after he started telling me “Thank You’, he grabbed me dragged me to the sofa. The look on his face was one of complete thanks.

He propped me up.

I opened my mouth.

I triggered him.

He didn’t go completely under. He had a funny look on his face. Confused. Like he couldn’t believe that I would interrupt him thanking me. I used his trigger again. I had to use his trigger five times, and do a partial trance induction—before he went completely under, and his face went slack.

I told him, “You can thank me with a face fuck. Or, ... you can thank me by fucking my ass.”

Andrew’s face developed a concerned, confused look.

I went on, “I would love to get fucked. If this ‘thank you’ is extra special, you can fuck me in the ass, if you want to. You don’t have to fuck in the ass. You can fuck my mouth. We don’t have to do any fucking. Fucking my ass will bring me great pleasure. I enjoy being used. No matter how you use me.”

Andrew’s face had a pleased look on his face.

I continued, “If you want pleasure, if you want to thank me—use me as you want to use me. You get all the choices.”

Briefly, I wondered if that was strictly true. Did I have complete control over Andrew? Did Andrew have complete control of himself?

I looked at my blonde giant, and said, “If you want to fuck my ass—you will take me to my room, you will wear a condom, you will use lube on your dick and my ass.”

Andrew gave a little sigh. I had a good idea what his subconscious mind had decided.

I said, “1. 2. 3. Wake up.”

Andrew woke with a start. For a moment, I thought that I had overplayed my hand; that I had gone too far. Then Andrew grabbed me and dragged me to my room.

He threw me onto the bed, put on a condom, and squirted lube.

There was no subtlety when he entered me. He thrust inside, like I had told him to. Then he fucked me. In. Out.

When he started, I could tell that he was liking it. Liking it too much, maybe. Almost immediately, he was fucking with all his strength and speed.

I needed to be more careful in the future with what I said when I had Andrew’s mind open.

His oversized dick pounded me, mercilessly. He filled me, over and over.

The best part for me, was the knowledge that my formerly “straight” roommate doing this because I had been “nice” to him over the past month. And, did all of this by giving him pleasure. Bringing him joy. Pleasure was key. Never commanding. Always friendly.

I was having trouble keeping my thoughts clear. My building orgasm was making it difficult for me to concentrate. I wasn’t certain what I was supposed to say or do.

Suddenly, Andrew’s pounding was replaced with one final thrust, as he filled that condom. With a shout, I squirted up onto his chest.

Spent, he collapsed onto me. We lay tangled, both recovering.

Before he could get up and leave my bedroom. I wrapped a blanket around us both. Creating a warm little nest out of blankets, pillows, and our limbs.

Cuddling up to Andrew’s chest, I said, “You’re welcome.”

Afterthought:

Did I take advantage? I never forced him to do anything. I allowed him to use my body for his pleasure. I made it “ok” to use me. I made it “ok” for him to get “handsy”. But, I never compelled. I never ordered. Did I? Was I wrong? Was I right?

He was the first to suggest hypnosis. The whole thing was his idea. He wanted me to use hypnosis so he could become “drunk”, then “stoned”—for me to bring him pleasure.

The only time he raised any concerns ... is when he thought I was upset with him; the first time he fucked my mouth. I freely admit, that I increased the pleasure he feels when he uses my body. But, is that wrong? I do know that I didn’t compel him. I do know that he kept coming back to me, almost every night. I don’t have any answers to these questions.

Many months later, he still comes to me night-after-night. He continues to use my body—and, I’m ok with that. He seems to be ok with using my body. He certainly never objects.

In the mean time, he experiences as much pleasure as he wants. And, I get to sleep cuddled up to his chest every night.