The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window in a thick (albeit slanted) golden pillar, its base lying at the foot of a king-sized bed with a single occupant. The sleeper lay tangled in the sheets, wearing a tired smile after an apparently restless, though pleasant night.

The broad square of daylight slowly moved up the side of the bed as morning wore on, eventually creeping over a pair of dainty feet, wrapped around a twist of blanket. With the change in temperature, the sleeper groaned as consciousness slowly began to assert itself, and moved her feet out of the way of the encroaching light. She now lay with long, lightly tanned legs entrapping the twisted sheet. Subcutaneous muscle flexed throughout shapely calves and slim thighs as she slowly began working her hips in a slow pumping motion. The sunlight persisted, however, and followed her feet across the bed until there was nowhere else for them to run. As her feet now started to become quite overheated, she came to full consciousness, blushing slightly as she realized what she’d been doing shortly beforehand.

Yawning delicately, Josephine Hall sat up, disentangling herself from the bedsheets as she went. Perched on the edge of her bed, she ran a hand through the long, lazy curls that swept down to just above her shoulders in a cascade of red. She slowly got to her feet, smiling broadly. Last night, like every other night this week, had been filled with . . . pleasant dreams. As a matter of fact, there hadn’t been a morning yet in the last five that hadn’t started with damp panties. She didn’t know why in hell she felt so horny, but she liked it. Good thing she was on vacation . . . Josephine knew she’d be in no mood to go back to work on Monday.

Looking over her shoulder, she took a look in the mirror mounted next to her closet, and liked what she saw. After thirty-eight years, Josephine knew, she still had IT. Maybe there were a few crow’s feet starting to make their presence known about her eyes, and her butt was no longer tight enough to bounce a quarter off of, but she still had legs to die for, and her breasts, though small, still showed no signs of sagging. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the little black nightie she was wearing, and pouted. If there was a man here, there was no way he’d be able to resist her . . . IF there was a man here. Josephine sighed. But there were other ways to reaffirm her sexpot status.

Outside her room, there came the clatter of somebody preparing breakfast. Josephine threw one last sexy look at the mirror, and grabbed the thick bathrobe that lay at the foot of her bed. Slipping it on, and tying it loosely, she went to see what kind of a mess Alvin was making in the kitchen.

Padding quietly into the kitchen on bare feet, she found her son rushing about, trying to simultaneously shove a couple of pieces of bacon and a slice of toast into his mouth whilst quaffing a glass of orange juice. He stopped eating long enough to look up when she walked in, and tried a “Good Morning” around whatever he was chewing on.

“Morning honey,” she replied, and started poking about the kitchen, as if looking for breakfast. The robe parted every now and again, and her legs flashed into view for the only spectator present. Josephine couldn’t suppress a smile as she heard the noise of his chewing slow each time the cotton folds opened. She knew what he was looking at . . . he’d only been doing it all week.

The first morning she’d caught him staring, Josephine recalled feeling more than slightly shocked and kind of repulsed at the furtive glances of her son. But as each day passed, she’d been overcome with a sense of quiet pride that her legs could still draw a young man’s eye, and a not-so-quiet feeling of power. At some point in the week, it dawned upon her that each time she flashed her legs at Alvin, SHE was the only thing occupying his thoughts . . . that each time he walked away from her in a kind of half-crouch, trying to conceal his erection, SHE was the one in control of his penis. So, it became a kind of game for her, these last couple of days, to give him a show, and watch as he wiggled his cute little butt out of the room, trying not to reveal the bulge in his jeans. Afterwards, she always felt an incredible rush of power and, she had to admit (though reluctantly) a flush of arousal.

Eventually settling on a tall, cold glass of milk, she seated herself in the seat next to his, crossing those long, lovely legs and causing the robe to slip away from them completely, leaving only the very top of her thighs covered by the indecent skirt of her nightie. At this, Alvin stopped chewing altogether for a moment, and swallowed.

“Taking the car to school today?” She queried, crossing her legs the other way, and gloating internally as she saw him blush fiercely. It was a moot question—as long as she’d been on vacation, he’d driven the car to the college campus, thus avoiding the horrors of public transit, if only for a week. He nodded anyway.

“Good. I know how much you hate the bus,” she lifted her glass, and began to drink, tilting her chin high. A pair of white rivulets escaped the corners of her mouth, running over the delicate curve of her jaw, down her neck, across her breastbone and into the top of her nightie. Alvin groaned quietly, and stopped eating altogether.

With a quick “gotta go,” he lurched from the table, face crimson. Josephine chuckled into her glass as he hobbled from the kitchen, and squeezed her thighs together.

Checking herself out in the mirror again, Josephine decided that she really needed more heels. Standing up on her toes, she watched her calves bunch and her ass thrust out as she raised herself up higher . . . higher . . . she had legs made for heels. She’d picked up a pair or two in the course of the last week, but she definately needed more; and the taller, the better.

Ah, well. There was a job for the weekend. Humming quietly to herself, Josephine smoothed out the wrinkles in the pink tank top she was wearing, pulling it tight over her small breasts, nipples rising high out of the fabric. Tightening her stomach for a moment, she was pleased to see the depression between her abs appear . . . the exercise program she’d instituted two months ago was starting to pay off. Now, if only she could take an inch or so off her buttocks, overything’d be all right.

Contemplating her ass for a moment in the mirror, she sighed with resignation. Her khaki shorts were stretched tightly across the cheeks, crease running deep into the crack of her rear. Some things would stand no improvement.

Outside, she heard the unmistakable sound of tires crunching their way into the driveway. Slipping into a pair of Keds the same colour as her shorts, she shot a quick glance out the bedroom window to make sure it was Alvin, presumably coming home for lunch. With a feral grin, Josephine dashed for the front door to greet her son.

As soon as he had reached the front step, she flung the door wide open, making him start in surprise. He just kind of stood there for a moment, and Josephine knew what he was doing—staring. She savoured the rush of control that swept through her for a moment, and then, cocking one shapely leg, said,

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in?”

Head low to hide a sheepish look on his face, Alvin slipped in past his mother, though she was careful to brush her leg against his. As she closed the door on a summery-warm spring day, Josephine was fairly sure she could hear him mumbling something to himself about self-control.

Following him into the kitchen, Josephine kept her eye on Alvin’s rear, thinking what a cute little behind he had. And why not? He was a cute kid . . . maybe a little shy, but that just added to his sweet ‘n innocent look. Idly, she wondered if he’d had a girlfriend yet. Josephine knew her son had a couple female friends amongst his small circle of companions, but didn’t think he’d asked any of them out yet. He simply didn’t have the balls, figuratively speaking. From the volume of semen she’d had to wash from his bedsheets, Josephine knew very well that he had balls of the literal variety.

Recently, though, he seemed to have been growing in popularity. Not that there had been a sudden influx of people into the house, mind you; the volume of mail he recieved, though, had trebled a couple of months ago. He’d even gotten that package from Germ-

The thought that he was, in every sense of the word, a virgin, made things all the sweeter for Josephine. If Alvin hadn’t been so, so virginial, all the fun of the chase would have been lost for his mother. No hunter wants prey that stands still . . . it’s running ‘em to the ground that makes it worthwhile. That was why she enjoyed his furtive looks, the deep crimson the spread over his face when he was caught glancing at some exposed flesh . . .

Josephine licked her lips hungrily.

Coming up from behind Alvin, she threw her arms around his chest, pressing her stiff nipples deep into his back, making sure that he felt them. She hugged her son in as motherly a way as possible, giving him a peck on the cheek, and speaking directly into his ear.

“Sooo . . .” she started playfully, “how’s your day been so far?”

“Erm, all right,” Alvin gently extricated himself from his mother’s grip, and nearly ran into the kitchen. When he started puttering about, looking for something to eat for lunch, Josephine shoo-ed him to the table in a businesslike manner.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she admonished, wagging a finger, “not after the mess you made this morning. Sit down, and I’ll throw something or other together for you.” With that, she began dancing about the kitchen, making the simple construction of a ham sandwich seem like a strip-tease. Putting the sandwich down in front of her son, she told him to enjoy, making it sound almost like a question.

She walked away from the table, her hips bumping and grinding with a near-liqiud fluidity. Reaching the window over looking their back yard, Josephine leaned on the windowsill, raising her ass slightly into the air.

“It’s such a beautiful day,” she mused, as if to herself, “I think maybe I’ll go out and work on my tan.” Alvin choked slightly. She allowed herself a little grin, recalling yesterday, when he’d found her out in the back yard, wearing a few strips of shiny pink lycra and a coat of tanning oil. Alvin had only taken one look before turning and running, heading, presumably, for his bedroom.

The thought of him up there, frantically beating his meat while watching his mother sun herself had caused her pussy to gush like a leaky faucet. As a matter of fact, it was having the same effect now.

Looking back over her shoulder, and the curve of her hip at Alvin, she smiled and asked, “What do you think, honey?”

He was slow to move his gaze from her tightly stretched shorts, but managed to mumble an affirmative reply anyway. She sighed, stretching her legs, seemingly, and turned back towards the window.

“I agree,” Josephine’s voice was tight as she bit her lip, relishing the pleasure that toying with Alvin brought her. She was definitely going to have to change her shorts before long, though.

For some unfathomable reason, Alvin wolfed down his lunch as quickly as possible without choking, and left for the college again.

Langorously, Josephine soaped herself up, washing sunscreen from her body. Her hand moved slowly, enjoying the slick sensation of the soap on her skin, and the heat of the shower. She always enjoyed relaxing in the sun, but the washing up afterwards was much better.

Running the bar of soap over her legs, she admired the light golden tan they’d acquired this week. Too dark would be incongruous with her crimson hair colour, but she didn’t want to be that fish-belly white some redheads were cursed with, either.

As the silky trail of suds travelled higher, up her thighs, she felt a twinge of regret that Alvin hadn’t come home in time to see her luxuriating in the sunshine. Too bad, really, he’d missed quite a show, as she’d gently mauled her tits, after removing the top of her swimsuit. Josephine could have stayed out longer, specifically for his benefit, but considered the possibility of burning too great a risk. Nobody found cherry-red, blistered skin attractive; leastways, nobody with halfway normal sexual predilections.

Running the soap through the neatly trimmed patch of red curls at the apex of her thighs, Josephine chuckled throatily as she recalled the look Alvin had given her yesterday in the backyard. That lost-puppy look, mixed with the obvious painful lust for his mother. Her hand stayed where it was, working the soap over her now-swollen labia and clitoris.

Leaning against the shower wall, she imagined him yesterday, frantically dashing for his room, so he could beat his meat. In her mind’s eye, she saw him, scrambling out of his pants to free his swollen cock. Alvin’s bloated balls swung in her imagination as his hand worked swiftly over his erection, watching her . . . wanting her . . . suddenly, he buckled, and he shot thick ropes of cum all over his window, staring at the beautiful tableau in a pink bikini in the backyard.

Josephine cried softly as the orgasm flooded her body and her knees buckled, sending her sliding to the shower floor in a state of ecstasy. Taking a moment to recover, she wondered, and not for the first time, just how big her son’s prick was, anyway.

It was only after she’d stood up, and was extricating the much-abused bar of soap from her cunt that Josephine decided to fuck her son.

Later that evening, Alvin sat in the living room, watching the tube and feeling more than a little nervous. Though he hadn’t been home long, his mom had yet to put in an appearance, and he couldn’t quite shake the sensation that she was quietly lying in wait for him, like a tigress in the jungle. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his mother’s door quietly open and close again with an unobtrusive click. Sweat broke out on his brow, and Alvin retreated to the extreme end of the sofa. Slow, steady steps approached the living room, inexorable, inevitble.

When Josephine strode into the room, Alvin was once again reminded of some kind of large, predatory feline on the prowl. His mother moved with a liquid grace as her hips undulated in eye-riveting fashion. Her crimson mane swept back, Alvin could see that she had applied a subtle coat of lipstick, but no other makeup. Still wearing the pink tank top from lunch, but had replaced the tan shorts with a tight, ankle-length black skirt that rode low enough on her hips to bare a thin, teasing strip of midriff. Though the skirt was made from some stretchy material, a slit ran up to just above her knee, allowing the hem to swish in time with Josephine’s hips, and reveal the golden vision of her sculpted calves. Aiding the peerless shape of her legs were a pair of black, wedge-heeled mules, reaching four inches in height and baring her entire foot, except for a small strip above Josephine’s delectable toes.

She smiled down at her son before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, and crossing her legs in a deliberate fashion.

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them particularly paying any attention to the flashing electronic teat across from the couch. With practiced ease, Josephine crossed her legs, and grinned inwardly as Alvin repositioned himself.

Glancing over at the boy, she asked, “Is there something wrong with my legs?”

“Ahhhh . . . no,” Alvin forced a laugh for no particular reason.

“It’s just that you keep staring at them,” Josephine began dangling a shoe from her toes.

“No!” He jumped at the reply, but kept his seat; it wasn’t hard to do: Alvin’s hands were clutching at the sofa cushions, fingers pressing deep into the soft material.

“Oh.” The TV blathered on in a silent, inattentive room for a while, then, “is it my shoes, then? You think they’re too sexy for an old woman like me, don’t you?”

“No, I . . . I mean they’re . . . that is, I . . . they look fine!” His voice was strained, stretched taut like a rubber band.

“You really think so?” Josephine sounded delighted.

“Yes,” Alvin replied in an almost guilty tone.

“You really really like them?” She extended a leg from out of her skirt, pointing her foot at the television, and giving her son a much better view of her gam.

“Uh, yeah,” He was uncertain as to where things were going, being a little distracted and all at the moment.

“Then why don’t you kiss them?”

“What!” One would have thought she was asking him to eat horse manure.

“You said you liked them, didn’t you?” Josephine asked in her most hurt tone; she even pouted a little, knowing he wasn’t really looking in that direction right now.

“Just a little kiss.” She shifted her position on the couch, laying both feet in Alvin’s lap. He got a glimpse of her upper thigh before she could readjust the hem of her skirt.

Before he could protest, she raised her left foot to Alvin’s mouth. Hands a-tremble, he held her sexy little ped, and gave the tops of her toes a chaste kiss. His mother giggled girlishly, and raised the other foot.

“Now the other one,” she said, unnecessarily. While Alvin took hold of the shoe, Josephine wormed her free foot towards the crotch of his jeans. Being distracted by the awesome, golden vista revealed when her skirt fell completely away from the leg he was dealing with at the moment, he didn’t notice what she was up to in his lap ‘til it was too late.

In fact, he was already tasting her toes when he realized where her other foot was going; when it reached its destination, all he could do was freeze where he was, and start praying.

“Awwww,” Josephine cooed, “does little baby have a little stiffy for his mommie? Is mommy’s little man all hot and bothered by mommy’s feet?” She ground her foot into his cock. “Of course, mommy’s little man isn’t all that little any more, now is he?”

Moving swiftly, Josephine pounced (though awkwardly) from her end of the couch, removing her legs from his lap, and straddling his still motionless body. The skirt complied by ripping the rest of the way up her leg, being stretched even beyond the heroic limits of a lycra-cotton blend. Holding Alvin’s head tightly in her hands, she bent and delivered a searing, soul twisting kiss.

All he could do was stare.

“Hasn’t mommy’s little man ever been kissed before?” He managed to shake his head weakly. Josephine spine rippled with anticipation. “Well, don’t you worry, baby. Mommy’s going to show her little boy the ropes. I don’t want my little man to learn by fumbling with some dirty tramp in the back seat of a car. He’s going to learn, and he’s going to learn it good.“ With a predatory chuckle, she kissed him again, driving her tongue into his mouth. Slowly, Alvin responded in kind, and before long, both of them were locked in intense lingual combat.

Josehpine broke the kiss eventually, leaving her son panting and mumbling for more.

“Hold on a second,” she gave him a disappointingly brief kiss on the lips, “Mommy’s got something else to show you.” With that, Alvin’s mom reached down and with a single swift motion, removed her shirt. Her round little titties bobbed slightly after their release, rubber-red nipples filling his vision. Without any encouragement, he dove for them, and Josephine gave a delighted gasp when Alvin’s mouth closed around one.

“Mmmmmm,” she started grinding her hips, “that’s real nice. Mommy’s little man is learning all by his own self.” One hand held his head to her tit whilst the other reached around to unzip the torn skirt. Her own hands a little shaky, it took a moment to get the zipper down, but once it was, she stood up, tearing Alvin away from her breast. Again, he could only groan in protest.

Standing in front of him like a golden vision of heaven, Josephine placed her hands on her slender hips, and gave him the feral grin she’d been saving for this particular moment.

“You kiss real good now, honey. Why don’t you get down here and kiss mommy’s cunt.“ Without another word, Alvin was on his knees, head firmly planted between her thighs, and tongue eagerly delving into the mysteries of his mother’s delicious pussy.

Then, she began to really instruct him . . .

Some time later, Alvin lay awake in his mother’s bed, sweaty, drained, and tasting her cum and his. Josephine was tightly wrapped around him, fast asleep, with a broad grin on her face.

Wearing a worried look, Alvin pondered his next move. Clearly things had progressed too far, way too fast. The Dream Machine he’d installed underneath his mom’s bed had obviously worked like a charm, instilling in her everything he’d wanted it to—the increased sex drive; the teasing, sexy personality; even the increased interest in personal fitness. This dominating streak had come out of left field, however. He’d simply wanted to fuck his sexpot mom, not be fucked.

Grumbling, he strained at the silk scarves holding him to the headboard. The knots held. His movement, however, caused her to stir.

“Does mommy’s little man want another lesson?” She asked sleepily, one hand dropping to his much-abused cock. He didn’t say anything.

“There’s plenty of time,” Josephine nuzzled his chest. “Mommy’s never, ever going to let her little man go, even if it means he stays here forever and ever and ever . . .” she dozed off again, snoring softly.

Alvin lay there, eyes wide, contemplating her words.

It was quite a while before he managed to fall asleep.