The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“This is the last of it.” Janice said to Pat as she brought in a cardboard box, which had “Kitchen” scrawled upon it in Magic Marker.

“Thanks.” Pat replied. “You can set it down over there, next to the wall unit.”

“Sure thing.” She said as she set the box on the floor.

Pat looked around at all the boxes and furniture, that were stacked in the living room. “It’s amazing, all the stuff you accumulate. Then when it comes time to move...” She began.

“I hear you.” Janice replied. “I can’t believe that you are living all the way uptown now.”

“It’s not too bad.” Pat stated, making her way into the bedroom. “It’s only a subway ride, in the other direction, from midtown. I bet you any money that Gerry is glad to see me go.”

“No.” Janice replied, following her. “I doubt it. You were the one that bailed out of the relationship. But what gets me is, why did you choose this neighborhood? It’s not...you.”

“I know.” Pat stated. “I would have loved to stay in Park Slope, but my pocket couldn’t afford the rents. Don’t worry, I’m not living in Outer Mongolia. It’s only the Bronx.”

Recently, Pat had just broken up with Gerry, who was her boyfriend of four years. Reason for it being, was because the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. They started out as an energetic couple, full of life and pep and couldn’t get enough of each other. After the first year, of dating, they moved in together. It was like a new world, for both of them, togetherness, warmth, fun, and not to mention wild and passionate sex, at least five nights a week, (Twice a day, on weekends.)

By the end of their second year, living together, (Third year in relationship) somehow, the fire dwindled low. Maybe it was because Gerry, who was a trader on Wall Street, had gotten a promotion, which resulted in his working under more pressure, and longer hours, than he was accustomed to.

“Maybe we were getting bored with each other. That could be.” Pat thought to herself. “We literally went from one lifestyle, to one that was totally opposite. And the only thing that thrilled Gerry, these past few months, was getting up at 3am to check out the Stock Exchange statistics, on the Eastern Hemisphere.”

When Pat and Gerry were first together, their weekends were spent partying and club hopping, in the City. By the beginning of their third year they were at a point, where the only time they ever left the house on a Saturday night, was to grab a pizza, and rent a movie. Their sex life started to decrease, going from 5 + times a week down to 2. (If either one of them were lucky to be awake, at the same time.)

“Maybe it was my fault.” Pat said to Janice, as she untied a bundle of clothes, and hung them in the bedroom closet. “Gerry was a great man, we were financially secure, but I think I started to get bored with him. Lately, I’ve been feeling a need for some excitement, and Gerry was becoming kind of stale.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Janice replied. “You had to do, what was best for you. Gerry was getting kind of lame, these past few months, even though he did have money coming out of his ass.”

Gerry was a good provider, and he made fabulous money. Pat worked as a secretary, in a law firm, but her salary could never match up to his. With a dual paycheck income, Pat and Gerry were able to afford a two-bedroom apartment, near Grand Army Plaza, in Brooklyn.

They parted on amiable terms. Pat felt that she needed her own space, and a new life. She searched the Classified ads, in various New York newspapers, for an apartment in Brooklyn, but the rents were either too expensive for a nice apartment or too expensive for a rat hole. Finally, Pat hit upon a reasonably priced one bedroom, on Gun Hill Road, in the Bronx. It was in a pre-war building, and the rent was only $500 a month. It wasn’t in the neighborhood, of her choice, but it was close enough to the subway, and shopping area.

She was also glad that her brother David, and his girlfriend Janice offered to help her move, because with all the money, that she had lain out with the rent, security, getting locks changed, etc., she would have never been able to hire professional movers.

David entered the apartment. “Pat, are you here?”

“Yeah, Janice and I, are in the bedroom!” Pat called out.

David entered the room. “Pat, are you sure, you are going to be OK, living up here?” He asked. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you are the only...”

“I know.” She replied. “So, what if most of the people, who live around here, are from the Caribbean. I look at it as an interesting cultural experience.”

“Boy, if Dad were alive today...” He began.

Pat’s father wasn’t the best of people, when it came down to ethnicity and culture. He was a staunch Irish-Catholic, who believed that everyone should live with their own kind. Back in the 80s, Pat’s cousin Dana, took up with a guy from Trinidad, named Richard, when she was in college, and Pat’s father would rant on and on, about how she became a disgrace to the family. Anyway, the relationship worked out, for awhile. Dana got married, and then Richard dumped her, after the birth of their second child.”

“Well, he isn’t.” She replied.

“But you remember what happened with Dana?” He asked her. “She is trying to support her family on her own now, thanks to Richard.”

“Well I am not Dana.” She stated. “Anyway, even though I wouldn’t consider Caribbean men as my choice for lovers, but that doesn’t stop me, from living here. I can incorporate them as mutual friends, into my social life. Friends and lovers are two totally different things.”

“OK.” He replied. “Anyway, Janice and I have to be heading back to Brooklyn. It’s quite a bit of a ride, and we have to drop the U-Haul off, before the place closes.”

“Sure.” Pat stated. “I’ll be fine. I’ll probably call up and have some Chinese food delivered, and then I’m taking a hot bath, and calling it a night. I have a lot of unpacking to do, tomorrow.”

“OK.” Janice replied, giving Pat a kiss on the cheek. “Call us.”

“I will.” Pat replied.

David and Janice left the apartment. Pat unzipped a suitcase and started unloading the contents into the dresser drawers.

“Hello!” She heard a male voice call out, in the kitchen. “Anyone at home?”

“Oh my God!” She yelled as she felt a cold shudder race through her veins.

“Hello!” The voice called out again.

“Who the fuck managed to get into my house. I bet my stupid brother walked out of here, and forgot to close the door.” She thought to herself.

She picked up a curtain rod, (What good will that do.) and made her way back into the kitchen, where the entrance to the apartment was.

There was a man, standing in the doorway. He was about 5′10, and was somewhat lanky. His hair was in dreads, and he had black cotton shorts and a gray ripped T-shirt on. A fringe of black beard, framed his chin, and he was holding a cardboard box, which had “Books,” written on it.

“I’m sorry if I frighten you.” He said in a thick Jamaican accent. “But I found this in the hall. I think it belong to you.”

“Thank you.” She stated. “Just set it on the table.”

He placed the box on the kitchen table. “You move in today?” He asked, looking around the room.

“Yeah, I just moved in.” She replied.

“Welcome to the neighborhood.” He said. “My name is Raymond. I live with my sister down in apartment 3A.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Pat acknowledged the greeting. “My name is Pat and I live here, in 5E. You’ll have to excuse me, but I just moved in, and I’m trying to get organized here. I would love to chat, but I’m kind of hungry and I haven’t had any dinner yet.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem.” He said. “You are more than welcome to join me for supper.”

“Thanks, but I hate to put you out of your way.” Pat replied.

“No problem.” He flashed a toothy smile. “Come down and join us. Margaret would love the company.”

“Are you sure?” Pat asked him.

“I’m sure.” He said. “Come on. Supper should be ready, now.”

“What the heck.” Pat thought to herself, as she locked the apartment door, and followed Raymond downstairs to his apartment. “A new life, in a new neighborhood, means time to make new friends.”

Raymond unlocked the door, which led into the apartment that he shared with his sister, Margaret, and turned on the light.

Margaret wasn’t home, because she had left a note on the kitchen table, with a five-dollar bill, attached to it.

“Went to visit with Lorna. Be home later. Here’s money for food.” The note read.

“I guess, she decided not to cook.” Pat stated.

A toothy smile spread across Raymond’s face. “Come in the other room. I want you to listen to something.”

Pat followed Raymond into the small living room, which also served as his bedroom. A double bed took up one wall of the room.

Raymond popped a cassette into the small boom box, which was on a shelf, next to the TV. Moments later, a reggae beat emerged from the speakers, and a male voice was singing and rapping, in his Caribbean-style lingo.

“Interesting music.” Pat stated.

“This is my Cousin Desmond music.” Raymond replied. “He play in a reggae band, back home in Kingston.”

“Oh really.” Pat remarked. “It must be really cool, to have a musician, in the family.”

“The women back home think so.” Raymond replied. “His music make them hot.”

“That’s what they all say.” Pat thought to herself. “Men are all alike. They’ll say just about anything, to get a woman to join them, in the sack.”

Pat looked around at the room, as the music was playing. A tapestry, which was done up in a leafy pattern of browns, greens, yellows, and oranges, hung on the wall, over the couch. The couch itself was olive green, with slipcovers, fitted over it. There were some photographs, of various family members, hanging on another wall.

“Dance.” Raymond stated, diverting her attention, back to him. “You can’t appreciate good Jamaican music, if you don’t dance.”

Pat’s mind reverted back a few years, to a vacation, which she had spent with Gerry, in a resort, down in the Bahamas. There was a Junkanoo celebration, going on by the pool, one night, and a calypso band was in action. Pat spent most of the evening sitting on a chaise lounge. Finally, toward the end of the night, she and Gerry attempted to dance to a somewhat lively number, but felt as if she was maneuvering like a pogo stick, in wet cement, as opposed to dancing.

“I can’t dance to this stuff.” Pat replied. “I’m the worst dancer, in the world. I’m lucky that I can do the Hokey Pokey, in a timely fashion.”

“Don’t worry.” Raymond said in a smooth calming voice. Then his body went into motion. “Just move your hips, like me. Go with the music. Follow the beat.”

Pat started to sway, with the beat of the drums and guitar. The music had a sensual feel to it, a throbbing, pulsing, rhythmic sound. The heat started to rise within her body, as she watched Raymond moving and thrusting his pelvis, in front of her.

“Oh, Man.” She sighed, as Raymond put both hands on her waist, and guided her toward him. Her hips bucked as she felt the outline of his member through the thin cotton shorts, he was wearing.

She wanted him badly. She needed him, with a fervent desire to feel his chocolate-colored cock, up her pussy. She wanted to spread her cunt like a bitch in heat, and have him ram and fuck the living shit out of her, until she was aching and raw.

The room started to feel hot. Raymond had both arms around her now, and they were gyrating with the beat. “Free yourself.” He whispered, his warm breath on her ear was sending a surge of electricity down her spine.

“Yes.” She moaned, as her hands found the tie to his shorts. Quivering, she managed to get them undone, and they slid to the ground, around his feet. Raymond’s hands found their way under her T-shirt, then slithered around to her back, and unhooked her bra, freeing her from the shackles, that most women have to incorporate into their daily dress routine.

She stopped to remove her T-shirt, sneakers, and stretch pants. Her pussy was aching for him, the wetness emerged and was oozing its way down her legs. She looked down at Raymond’s enticing black cock, and she noticed that he was hung like a horse.

The tempo of the music changed and steel drums were being incorporated into the song. Raymond took off his shirt, exposing a hard midnight-black chest gleaming in silvery droplets of sweat.

She started to taste the salty sleekness of his sweating torso. Her tongue slid freely across his heaving chest, sweat mingling with saliva, coating him with a transparent film of liquid essence. He tasted of sweet coconut oil, and salty sweat, a balanced harmony of carnal masculinity.

“Dance for me, my Island princess.” She heard him say.

The beat of the music was somewhat monotonous, now. Six drumbeats followed by a short guitar riff, then back to the six beats, again. Closing her eyes, Pat began to gyrate, feeling Raymond’s tongue up her snatch, probing, and licking her.

The throbbing of her snatch-hole sent a pounding feeling to her brains, like they were going to explode. Raymond was down on his knees, giving her head. His beard was scraping against the insides of her creamy white thighs, giving off a ticklish sensation.

She started to move her pelvis with enthusiasm, keeping her eyes closed, as his long maroon tongue kept swirling, tasting and probing her womanhood. Raymond would stop every so often so he could give her clit a small bite, sending a high voltage current up her spine, and through her nerve endings, causing her to shake with a heat of passion.

“AHHH! Yes!” Pat screamed out from the combination of pleasure and pain that was bestowed upon her.

She spread her legs even wider, straddling his big ebony face, as he proceeded his act of cunnilingus. She felt her juices leave her pussy, and enter his opened mouth.

“Come to me, my Island Princess and I’ll show you how us natives dance.” She heard Raymond say.

Then Pat found herself lying spread-eagle, face up on the bed. Raymond climbed on top of her, and proceeded to shove his ebony rod, up into her cream colored pussy, watching him,as he parted her dark brown pubes, and drove his way in.

“Ahhhh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, Baby!” She moaned with delight as Raymond administered one penetrating thrust after another, and another. Her cunt-hole was throbbing with the sensation of being pumped. Another orgasm overtook her, and she felt her whole body tremble. Raymond let out a hearty laugh, and proceeded to ride her faster.

“Black and white, Yin and Yang. Perfect balance.” Pat thought to herself, as she climaxed again. “You can’t have one without the other.”

Her legs tightened around him, and she grabbed his nappy dreads with both hands, trying to keep up his pace. She met his eager thrusts with the soft pillow of her womanhood, cushioning the ferocious blows that he administered.

“Yeeeeeeee! Baaabyy!” Pat screamed out as she felt a throbbing force as he came inside her.

“Now, my Island Princess, it’s time for you to partake in a drink.” She heard Raymond say. “It’s an elixir that has been in my family for centuries. It will cool you down, after a night of dancing.”

Pat was now face to face with his flaccid cock, coated with cum and cunt juices. She proceeded to lick him off, tasting the saltiness and sourness, of the result of their pleasure.

Raymond grabbed a hold of her hair, and thrust his pelvis in front of her, bringing her mouth closer to the base of his hardened cock. Her inner thighs were slick with his cum that had oozed out of her pussy, which was also raw, from hard fucking.

Pat let out a low moan and proceeded to suck him off, holding the head of Raymond’s pounding rod, in the back of her throat.

She proceeded to drink from him, but to no avail. The pump was dry. Pat reached up and started to fondle his balls, all the time, as her mouth and tongue slid up and down his shaft. She heard Raymond moan, as a thick gooey substance entered her mouth. She drank of this new essence, swallowing with such eagerness, as it flowed down the back of her throat, leaving her with a cool and calm feeling.

“Raymond, I told you before, I can’t dance.” Pat said to him, as he hit the STOP button, on the boom box. “My eighty-five year old grandmother, could dance better than me.”

“You did fine.” He replied. “All you have to do is keep the beat. Follow the music, and let your body go.”

“That music was way cool, though.” Pat stated. “It kind of gets the blood flowing, even though I can’t dance for shit.”

“It will come with time.” Raymond assured her, as he walked her to the front door of his apartment. “You were pretty good tonight, for a person who can’t dance.”

“Oh, Thank you.” Pat replied, reaching for her keys, which were on the kitchen table. “Anyway, I have to get going now. It’s late, and I have to start unpacking tomorrow.”

“No problem. My Island Princess” Raymond stated.