The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1:

I couldn’t believe it when my brother asked me for help. He’s always seemed so in control of things—he’s about five years older than me, and…well, he’s one of the coolest guys that I know. He’s in pretty good shape, he’s smart, funny, blah blah blah. He’s always seemed so good with women, so when he told me his problem, I was a little bit skeptical.

We’d just been hanging around on the couch when he’d told me—it was a psychological thing, he said, and it had begun to seriously affect his relationships. He told me that coming to me for help was one of the hardest things that he’d ever done, but he didn’t know what else to do.

My mouth was open the whole time he spoke, and when he was done I was utterly speechless. On one hand, I loved my brother and wanted to help him out however I could (and I could certainly see why he’d come to me)…but on the other hand, it was by far the strangest thing that anyone had ever asked me.

He said that he’d give me a few days to think about it, and when he left, I must have sat there in shock for like twenty minutes, just absorbing the information I’d just been given.

My brother had told me that he couldn’t…”achieve climax”…when he was with another person. No matter what. He could “peak” by himself, but as soon as someone else was there he just got far too anxious, and ended up losing his erection. It had put a crimp in every relationship he’d ever had, and no matter how supportive the girl, they always ended up feeling like it was their fault. Ever since my brother started dating, he’s pretty much never been single, but this certainly explained why he so often had a different girl on his arm.

He needed a girl that he was utterly, utterly comfortable with, he’d told me—someone who he trusted unconditionally not to laugh, or judge him in any way. It helped, too, that he didn’t see me in even a remotely sexual light (something that I was extremely glad to hear, as you can imagine) because it meant he didn’t run the risk of feeling “pressured” or like he was going to offend me if he didn’t perform.

It took me a few days to give him an answer, and I can tell you, those were three of the most awkward days of my life. Every time I saw him, I thought about what he was asking me to do—sit in a room with him and watch him jerk off.

After a lot of consideration, I decided not to tell my boyfriend about it. For one, my brother had told me that it was the most embarrassing secret of his life, and that it had taken him a while to build up the courage to even tell me at all. Secondly, I was pretty sure that I was going to do it—I love my brother, and if it was this much a problem in his life, of course I wanted to do what I could to help him. My boyfriend would probably have tried to talk me out of it, or thought I was a freak, or even gotten jealous or something like that. Thirdly, I wanted to make sure it didn’t get out! If anyone else ever heard that I was the girl who watched her brother jerk off, I knew I’d never escape it…

When I told my brother that I was happy to help him, he got this huge look of relief on his face.

“Thanks, sis…” he said. “I was so worried that you were going to think I was a perv, or never speak to me again…I really love you, and I swear I’ll repay you some day…”

I laughed nervously at his gratitude, and told him not to worry about it. We agreed to start the next night, when our parents would be out and we could have the house to ourselves. To make this weird situation as un-weird as possible, we agreed to do it in the lounge.

The night that I told my brother I’d help, I went around to my boyfriend’s house and asked him if he’d jerk off in front of me.

“Uh, sure…” he said, and to his credit didn’t even ask why.

It was interesting. I’ve slept with more than a couple of guys, and fooled around in all other kinds of ways, but I’ve never actually watched someone jerk off before. Maybe everyone does it differently—my boyfriend pulled out some lube that I didn’t know he had. I wanted to make it sexy, so I stripped down to my underwear, and sat next to him on the bed. The plan was to take my bra off slowly as he kept going, maybe join in myself toward the end, but I was so fascinated watching him that I completely forgot about that and just watched as his fist pumped up and down.

He got that familiar look in his eyes as he got closer and closer, and when he came, shooting his stuff onto his chest, I couldn’t believe how sexy it was. Right before his climax, his cock-head had grown red and sort of angry-looking—I’ve jerked guys off before, but never really watched their cocks as they did. I’ve always been more focused on their eyes, or their chest, or what they’re doing to me with their hands…

It was really hot, watching my boyfriend cum, and after he cleaned up, I asked if he was up for another one. It was only after we’d fucked, when I was snuggled up next to him in that post-orgasm bliss, that an alarming thought came into my head:

What if I found it sexy to watch my brother?

2:

“Thanks again for doing this,” my brother said, his usual confident mannerisms gone, replaced by a nervous look in his eyes and a slight stammer in his voice. “I can’t explain how grateful…—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted with a smile, waving away his thanks. “Whatever I can do to help. Now…how do you want to do this?”

I’d spent the whole day with butterflies in my stomach, knowing that this was coming this evening (hoping that my brother would be too, so we only had to do this once). As the evening had grown closer and closer, however, I’d started to relax. He was my brother, my flesh and blood…I’d never even had a remotely sexual thought about him, and even if I did watch him rub himself for a few minutes, that didn’t mean that anything was going to change.

By the time nine o’clock had come around, the “Everything will be fine” mantra was firmly entrenched in my head. Everything was going to be fine. I’d put on a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a baggy T-shirt, gone downstairs, and found my brother pacing up and down.

“I guess, uh…” he said, looking around. “What if…what if I sit here on this couch, and you sit across from me?”

“Sure thing,” I said, as lightly as I possibly could. I sat where he’d gestured, my legs curled up underneath me, and there was a strange silence as we looked each other in the eyes…until we both burst out laughing at the same time.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he said, and I nodded.

“Super weird. Let’s get it over with.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, and dropped his pants to reveal the bulge underneath.

I’d never spent any time thinking about the size of my brother’s cock—it’s not exactly a topic that comes up much, hey? But if I had, it would have definitely been smaller in my imagination than it was in real life. He didn’t have the largest cock I’d ever seen, but it was definitely close, probably a bit over eight inches. Thick, too, and despite his obvious nervousness, it was already hard.

He sat down opposite me, looked me in the eyes, and simply said “Well…here we go.”

In that moment, I wished that I’d asked him ahead of time what would have been most helpful for me to do. Was I meant to have brought a book? It would have felt rude to just pull out my iPhone and start seeing how quickly I could destroy the green pigs, but I also didn’t want to stare at his penis like he was a circus freak.

For the first few minutes, I just stared into his eyes. Then I think we both realized how weird that was—he looked away, and I did as well, until my attention was inevitably drawn to his hand, pumping up and down his member.

I mean, you can’t not look, can you? I’d only ever seen my boyfriend masturbate before, and I think it’s human nature to want to compare. Unlike my boyfriend, for example, my brother isn’t circumsized, and didn’t use any lube. I don’t know if that’s why he didn’t use lube, but with every stroke, his foreskin bunched up around his head, and it looked like that was stimulating enough to get him off.

His hand kept on pumping, up and down, over and over…it was almost hypnotic, and once I started watching, I couldn’t look away. His hand moved in such a steady rhythm—up and down and up and down. When my boyfriend had masturbated for me, it had only lasted a few minutes, but due to his problem, my brother would obviously be going for some time.

Up and down and up and down…it was such a soothing thing to watch. That same repetitive movement, over and over. I found myself losing sight of everything else—all I was aware of was my own breathing, and the constant, fluid motion of my brother’s hand, as he repeated the same motion over and over again. Over and over and over and over…

While watching, my mind began to clear of thoughts. I was so happy to be helping my brother. Helping their brothers is what good little sisters do…I wanted to help my brother. I wanted to be there for him, to do what I could. It was good that I was being so helpful—I was a good sister for helping my brother. It wasn’t even weird, not any more…watching my brother jerk off wasn’t weird. It was a normal, good, helpful thing that I was doing.

I was helping my brother. I was a good little sister. His hand never deviated from its steady pattern as I watched it pump up and down and up and down…I focussed on his foreskin, bunching up and releasing. Releasing. I was helping my brother get release. I was a good little sister…

At one point, I realized that my brother had been speaking to me for some time. He repeated my name a few times, and that was what snapped me out of it—blinked twice, looked up, and was amazed to discover that I’d been watching him masturbate for almost forty minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even as he continued to jerk off in front of me. “I don’t think it’s going to happen, at least not tonight…”

“That’s fine,” I said, strangely spacey. “Uh, is there anything I can do to help?”

Where had that thought come from?

“No, no,” he said, “you’ve been amazing. Thanks so much. Is it…um, is it okay if we do this again some time? It’s been really useful, just making me feel more comfortable…”

“Sure thing,” I said, and suddenly noticed that my attention had drifted back to his cock. “Uh, that’s fine.”

I watched him jerk off for a few more minutes, glad that we’d done this—now that we’d broken the ice, it wasn’t weird. It was just a little sister helping her brother. After a while, however, he stopped, pulled his pants back up, and thanked me for my help.

3:

I was glad that it didn’t take us long to find another day when I could help my brother out: if we waited too long, we ran the risk of things getting weird again, but it was less than a week before we had the house to ourselves once more.

In the meantime, to my relief, things hadn’t gotten awkward at all between us—neither of us had mentioned what had happened, of course, especially since we absolutely didn’t want our parents to suspect—and when we had spoken, it had been normal, light-hearted jokey conversation.

We sat down in the same positions as last time, me on the couch, dressed in a set of unflattering pajamas, my brother across from me. He didn’t pull his pants all the way down this time, just unzipped his jeans and brought his cock out.

My eyes went straight to it, and neither of us said anything as he began to masturbate once more.

Probably because I’d not really encountered it much, but it really was fascinating to watch someone jerk off. I’d considered asking my boyfriend to do it again, but I didn’t want him to get suspicious—I’d even considered going online and finding some videos. I hear there’s some video chat site which, if you stay on it for long enough, inevitably leads to looking at some dude’s junk.

I hadn’t gone far enough to find out what the name of the site was, but I won’t deny that I was curious.

Instead, my sudden interest in male masturbation had waited until now, when my brother’s hand wrapped around his cock, and once more started to pump, up and down.

Up and down. Up and down. Foreskin bunched, and then taut. Bunched and then taut, up and down, up and down…

As I watched, I started to think about my own masturbation process. Was it as rhythmic as this? My brother’s hand went up and down. It was like watching rowers—stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.

The thing that surprised me the most was how relaxing it was. I could see why my brother had chosen me, now—it was so comfortable, watching a sibling masturbate. There was no pressure, no tension…I could feel all the tension sliding out of me as I watched my brother. Stroke, stroke, up and down, up and down…

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this relaxed. As my brother’s hand slowly repeated its motion, up and down and up and down, I felt myself slipping deeper and deeper into relaxation. Every muscle in my body was loose…I was a puddle of calm. I trusted my brother unconditionally—I loved him, and wanted to help him. I wanted to help my brother. Up and down…

Again, my mind went back to my own masturbation. When I played with myself, did I just repeat the same motion over and over? No, of course not—I mixed things up again. I played with my clit for a bit, then ran my hands all over my body. I stroked the lips of my pussy, sometimes inserting a finger or two. I alternated between self-stimulation and toys…I didn’t just repeat the same rhythm, over and over. Over and over. Relaxed. Trust.

Nothing was as relaxing as watching my sibling masturbate. Watching my brother masturbate relaxed me.

I’m embarrassed to say what happened next—I know I shouldn’t be. My brother assured me that it was fine, that it hadn’t stopped his progress or been hugely unhelpful or anything like that—he’d told me that it made sense, that it was his fault for suggesting we start so late. But as I sat there, watching the motion of my brother’s hand, pumping up and down and up and down his cock, over and over…I fell asleep.

Not for long, I’m told. Maybe ten minutes at most. As soon as he noticed, my brother said, he woke me up, but I was still embarrassed as hell, especially since I had no way of knowing whether or not I made any noise in that time.

See, when I was asleep, I had a dream. Not a sex dream, not exactly, but I dreamed that as I sat there on the couch, opposite my brother, I decided to masturbate.

In the dream, it made complete sense. After all, this whole exercise was to make sure that my brother was more comfortable, and how could he be comfortable masturbating in front of me if I wasn’t willing to do the same? So I’d kept my eyes on his junk, slipped one hand down my pants, and begun to slowly rub my fingers up and down my panties, tracing the curve of my lips, enjoying the warm feeling building inside of me.

My actions had caused an immediate effect—as soon as my brother saw what I was doing, he’d begun to speed up, stroking his cock faster and faster. In turn, that had gotten me more excited—I’d slipped one hand up my top, and begun pinching my nipple, enjoying the sharp combination of pleasure and pain.

Even though my eyes never left the sight of his hand, pumping his cock without stopping, up and down and up and down, I somehow knew that he was smiling, that he was enjoying the sight of his little sister getting herself off. And why wouldn’t he? I know I’m attractive, and if I can use my body to help my brother, then I should. I love my brother. I want to help my brother however I can. I should use my body to help my brother.

All of these thoughts were running through my mind on loop as I pushed my panties aside, and veritably attacked my clit—I was so wet that every slippery stroke felt better and better, and in just a few minutes, I was as turned on as I’d ever been. Small moans and grunts and sighs were escaping my mouth, and I could see the head of my brother’s cock turning an angry red, just as my boyfriend’s had. He was getting to close—I was being so helpful. I was a helpful little sister, helping my brother cum…

No matter how close I got to release, however, I couldn’t cum, not until I’d helped my brother. That was what I was here for, after all, and so I continued to play with my soaked pussy as my brother jerked himself, his hand moving faster and faster, and mine following suit…

Finally, the eye of his cock opened up, and he began to fire—one, two, three, four glorious spurts of cum emerged from his cock, firing upward. My eyes followed them even as I came, jerking and twitching around my own hand, the most powerful orgasm I could ever remember having.

After I came in my dream, my eyes closed, and when they reopened, I was awake, and my brother was standing over me, an amused look on his face.

“Oh, Jesus…” I said, as I realized what had happened. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he replied, and when I asked if he’d managed to climax, just shook his head sadly.

“Next time,” I said, feeling so guilty for falling asleep in the middle of helping him. “We’ll do it again, and soon—I’m going to help you get over this, bro, if it’s the last thing I do…”