The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The cotton candy machine had been taken apart, and the rented air trampoline had been rolled up and carted away. Up and down the long street, families were setting off illegal fireworks in front of their houses; ours were sparklers. Half a block away, the hired deejay was putting forth the mellow sounds of Avril LaVigne and Kanye West.

“Great block party this year, Don.”

“Thanks.” Sheila was right. The weather had been perfect, nobody had gotten into any fights, and there’d been—and still was—plenty of food and beer. I’d lost count of how many cans I’d downed—but hey, this was my block; I wasn’t driving anywhere.

Now that it was dark, my wife Maya had brought out the box of flexible glow tubes we’d gotten for all the kids. You know the type: snap them to mix the chemicals, and then they shine for a couple of hours. These particular ones were not quite three feet long, whip thin, and could be bent into a ten inch, tri-colored ring: red, white, and blue, of course.

As the kids ran around, waving them in the air, I was just drunk enough for the bright afterimages to be annoying. So I took a fresh can of Coors to the backyard, where Sheila, Jake—her husband, my brother—and a few others were relaxing in the dark and quiet.

Not being in much of a mood for chitchat, I settled into the farthest lawn chair, closed my eyes, and began to indulge in my favorite fantasy: Sheila seducing me without Jake or Maya knowing. Her fiery hair, that Irish lilt, those full thighs and fuller breasts—how could any man resist?

I heard Maya come around back, offering leftover glow tubes to the remaining adults. I shrugged her off with a soft grunt and a half-wave; she came over anyway, kissing my scratchy cheek as she fastened one around my neck. I thought I heard Sheila ask her for one also, and then I was back in la-la land.

A few minutes later, I opened my eyes. Sheila was sitting across from me, waving her new toy back and forth. Everyone else appeared to have gone home, or at least back around front.

I watched her in silence for a few seconds; then, “What are you doing?”

“I’m tracing pictures in the air.” God, that brogue! “It’s very relaxing.”

Not to me; the light show was threatening to give me a headache. I started to sink back into my chair.

“No, Don, don’t close your eyes. Let me show you something.”

At least she’d stopped waving the damn thing. Instead, she held it out in front of her, slowly rolling it back and forth between her fingers. She was holding it at the red end; the blue tip, bending somewhat under its own weight, had started to describe a tight, bright, half-circle.

“See, Don? It’s very soothing. Especially when it’s this dark and quiet. And when you’re a little drunk, and finding it hard to focus.

“It reminds you of a metronome, doesn’t it? I’ll bet you’ve never seen one of these used for that before. Going back and forth. Rolling, rolling; tick, tick, tick. Helping you to focus. Focus on the light, Don. Focus on the afterglow.”

Tick, tick, tick. My eyes were glued to that light. I didn’t even notice that her beautiful lilt had fallen to a whisper. That I’d sat up in my chair. Unzipped my fly.

As my sexy sister-in-law hid the glowing wand behind her, an uncontrollable urge took me. I reached forward, grasping her plump breast and shoving my tongue down her throat. At the same time, I felt her hand reach into my open fly and pull out my erect monster.

As if programmed, my other hand dove beneath her skirt, pressing into her damp crotch. It began rubbing her clit right through her cotton thong. She gasped; her hand tensed up as it stroked my shaft.

In the meantime, my other hand kept pulling and stroking at her chest. I tried switching to the other breast, just to see what would happen. No dice. Whoever had control of my body, it certainly wasn’t me.

Here I was, in my own backyard, half-naked and making out with my dream woman at last. I was living my ultimate fantasy—but I wasn’t even in command!

I should have been worried about acting inappropriately, about being exposed, about getting caught—about anything. Instead, I quickly but calmly frigged my sister-in-law to a near-silent climax, while she returned the favor in spades. I felt her breath speed up and her lower muscles contract; her hand stopped stroking my cock and began to squeeze. As if that were a signal, I cut loose, drenching her hand and my own lap with my hot come.

Grinning, she finally broke our kiss as she tucked my softening member away. She wiped herself on my come-stained shorts, spreading around the evidence to make it less obvious. She handed me back my Coors as she whispered something in my ear; I closed my eyes and drifted off....

“—Don?” My wife’s gentle tap on my shoulder startled me; I remembered I was still holding my warm can of beer when I felt it empty right into my lap.

Maya laughed as I swore; the damn suds had left a giant wet spot on the front of my shirt and shorts! “It’s okay,” she choked out. “Almost everyone’s gone home. Go in and change, and then come help us clean up and put away.”

“Gone home? How long was I back here?”

“I dunno. Forty-five minutes? Sheila came out front half an hour ago.”

As I cleaned myself up, I tried to figure it out. Had I really jerked off, and been jerked off by, my sister-in-law in under fifteen minutes? Did she tell me to spill the beer on myself to hide the evidence? Or had I just dreamed the whole damn thing?

By the time I made it out front, she and Jake had gone. To this day, I still don’t know what really happened. But I’ll tell you something; these days, I have a much better fantasy to jerk off to.