The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jim and Andy met, saw that each other was good, and it was morning and it was evening, the first day, and they were lovers.

It was in an attic room in Greenwich Village with a skylight letting in the starry blanket over the heads of the lovers who had that night newly initiated their love on the bed set beneath it.

It began with laughter when they were finally alone after everyone left. It was Andy’s loft and Jim had never met him before but had been told of the GAA organizing meeting.

Their eyes had met several times during the meeting, and they’d gotten a chance to say hello in the kitchen when Andy was getting another bottle of vodka. They were easy with each other immediately. Jim wanted to stay, Andy wanted him to stay. They both knew what they wanted, and they each knew that the other one wanted it too.

So their laughter wasn’t nervous; it was just the rapture produced by the very meeting.

They touched each other with open delight, exploring each other’s body, stripping the shirts off each other until they were two proud cocks showing their chests and then crushing them together as they brushed their lips against each other with a slow approach, but then wildly once the contact had been made.

Take off the rest of your clothes, Jim said.

Andy unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, removed his boots and socks and stood for a minute in a black bikini slip, tented by his hardon. Removing it, standing naked then, he says, now you, and Jim strips. They hold hands, cocks harder than they have ever been. They feel like they are walking inside an orgasm as they go across the loft, from the windows to the bed in the far corner.

Andy throws back the blankets, and they fall into the bed. They are facing each other. They kiss. They fill each other with their breath.

They turn their faces to each other, kiss and smile and take hold of each other’s cock and bring their lips to it until they are sucking each other’s cock and grasping each other’s body and lost in clouds of pleasure, dancing together.

They couldn’t spend the night together. They both had jobs. Jim left after three, and was in a reverie all the next day that made him, and everything around him, sharper than it had ever been.

Morely was green with curiosity, but, in all honesty, Jim grinned and radiated all his charm, there’s nothing to say. And then he smiled and couldn’t help betray a wistfulness he was amazed to see vanishing.

Son of a bitch, Morely shouted.

But Jim just smiled.

Andy called after lunch and Jim kept calling him Sir, and getting hard every time he said the word

Andy was just as excited, and they were both re-excited by the fact of the other one’s excitement.

Andy had called to tell Jim to come to his place after work for dinner and not go home.

Jim told him he was melting in his arms already and asked what should I bring and Andy said A full cock, and Jim wanted to put his mouth around the telephone mouthpiece.

Jim brought roses, yellow, not red. He was glad he had when he saw that Andy had set a real table with candlesticks and cloth napkins, and that it was going to be a serious dinner.

Andy was wearing an Italian cut black velvet suit he had bought near the Place Clichy with a maroon shirt.

Custom allowed them to embrace when greeting, but desire kept them locked in each other’s arms drowning in kisses.

Jim dropped the roses into a sink and Andy pushed him down upon the carpet before the fireplace and began unbuttoning Jim’s shirt and stripping him of it and his jacket and loosened tie. As he unbuckled Jim’s belt he bit at his nipples between the taut cotton of his sleeveless snowy undershirt. And then grasped his balls and stroked his cock and kissed his mouth.

And then Jim slowly and lovingly stripped Andy, gazing at him through all the stages of undress until he bowed his head over his cock and began to suck it with intensity and devotion signaling by his action to show the extent of his adoration. And all this Andy felt in the orgasm that welled within him and burst into Jim, as Jim at Andy’s explosion couldn’t contain himself and came in his hand and then ran his juicy hand around Andy’s ass-hole until he was full-finger in as his beloved was cumming.

They lay warmly and long in each other’s arms afterwards blowing each his breath upon the other.

Do you need all the dialogue, or will the plain narrative assertion content you that Jim let go his apartment and moved in with Andy?

It was like this.

They were standing by the coffee bar on Twenty-third street off Seventh.

I would like it if you moved in with me, Andy said.

I want to, Jim said. Even if I hardly know you, he added.

But you do, Andy said. And I know you, and I want to give myself to you and I want you to give yourself to me. That means that we own each other, both dominant, both submissive.

It was coy, perhaps, to say that, and Jim understood that Andy was telling him something else.

Yes, he smiled with heavenly delight.

They linked pinkies and pulled each other towards each other until their lips momentarily pressed together. But rebounded quickly. They were very conscious about not overdoing displays of affection in public.

Ben behind the counter, nevertheless, saw it.

Hey, Guys, he called, warmly. Let me give you something. He turned his key in the jukebox of oldies, and out came the sound of the Beatles, Lennon upfront, from Hard Day’s Night, “If I Fell.” He winked, they laughed, then everybody stood quietly, listening to the song; even a new customer held back until the song finished to ask for a decaf. When it was over, Andy and Jim took hands to leave and offered a very warm thanks and a warm good-bye, and were out in the late autumn of Seventh Avenue in weather that was just hovering above the need for an outer-coat.

They understood instinctively how not to be with each other, what not to say, what not to do. Each adjustment of self they made to be more in concert with the other enlarged the very volume and circumference of their love and drew them closer and they became more sensitive to each other. They did not sound or find false notes.

I am afraid, Jim said, that feelings like these are unsustainable.

Are yours ebbing?

No.

But you think of the possibility…

Jim looked at him.

…and that suggests, Andy said with a generous smile, that you have had something of that experience.

But Jim said, no, he was ok. He had not had the experience now of feeling a break in their connection, but from past experience, he knew it happened. But he trusted this one.

But worrying about a break, he had to concede, Andy noted, nearly is a break. Even to say you trust implies that there are places you have doubts. That’s anxiety, and it’s a killer. Andy was smiling with compassion. It’s guilt at experiencing pleasure.

I experience pleasure, Jim said with an adorable plaintiveness.

It doesn’t mean you don’t experience pleasure. It means you get nervous about feeling it when you do…like you shouldn’t.

Jim looked at him quizzically, almost sorry that he brought the whole thing up.

A double entendre, reader, is neither intended nor may it be, in some spasm of deconstructionist license, read in. Homonyms, like telephone poles, are sometimes just homonyms…and not telephone poles.

Look, he said. I can do something for you. I can take it away.

Jim looked at him with great seriousness, for Andy was talking to the inside of his soul.

Jim lay quietly on the couch and listened as Andy spoke to him and lifted him out of himself and brought him to this other place where he no longer existed as himself but entirely had identified himself with, had become, Andy. And now he was entirely in Andy’s power, could only do his bidding and could only be easy pleasing him, serving him, obeying him.

I guess this is the place in the story I warned you about at the beginning where a dire crossing could be made from the sunny landscape of Eden to the dark corridors of Dis. But I don’t think it will be.

Andy and Jim made love then in the ways I have already described. No matter what was going on, it was always the case for them, skin responded to skin, muscle to muscle, breath to breath, body to body, spirit to spirit. They were part of each other and went through each other’s changes together.

So a few weeks later, when Jim asked Andy if he’d ever hypnotized him, Andy said, Yeah, and Jim said, How was it? and Andy said, It was very good. You were you.

And I still, Jim said, am, bringing Andy’s lips to his own…you.

They kissed and the laughter slid down to their entrails.