The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

An article about the addictive qualities of semen lies dormant waiting to lubricate your imaginations as it did mine at or (same info).

How to Make Your Cum Addictive

By Pause88

Cum is chemically active. Charged with hormones like progesterone, it generates anti-depressant properties – with a slightly addictive high. When administered regularly enough, semen becomes a craving. This evolutionary trait encourages reproduction, same like pheromones or our biological clocks. Give a girl cum frequently enough, and her body adjusts to expect it. A missed dose kills her mood. Extra doses elevate it.

Give a girl extra doses of cum frequently enough, a tolerance builds to your sticky chemical cocktail. Suddenly it’s not enough for her anymore. Her wonderful high demands higher doses. She craves sex.

My problem was getting Julia addicted in the first place. She wouldn’t make love to me often enough to get addicted, let alone build a tolerance she’d strive to surpass. Perhaps there was another option. Julia didn’t want sex often, but could I make better use of the times she did? Make my cum more potent? I wondered…

It seemed to me my cum didn’t have enough hormones (testosterone, estrogen, prostaglandins, luteinizing and follicle-stimulating hormones) to be as addictive as I wanted. My girlfriend got giddy enough after sex, my favorite of her moods, but never craved sex regularly. Maybe I just wasn’t getting enough into her. Most times I gave her The Look, Julia wasn’t in the mood. Tolerantly, we’d make out while I jerked off, yet my cum ended up in a tissue, not inside my girlfriend. How frustrating…

“Can’t you see?” I’d explain. “You’d want more in the long run, if you’d only let me put more into you now. We’d both be so much more satisfied with our relationship.”

“You’re not satisfied?” Her green eyes burned like lasers, but she asked so casually her trap looked more like a waterbed. Wouldn’t a heartfelt discussion improve our sex lives?

“I’d be happier if you wanted me more.”

The long-term benefits would convince anyone, I thought.

Julia pulled a tissue from the box and thrust it at me. “I won’t lick cum off your stomach. That’s gross. I mean, I might swallow if you could cum in my mouth. It’s warm when it first cums out.” She shook her head. “Cold cum is nasty, Tommy.”

This was a convenient tactic. Julia knew my problem with oral sex, ever since my first girlfriend shit on my heart. I hated that bitch still having power over me, being the only girl who could finish my blowjobs. It was just like Julia to say something like this, resenting me for my inability, which was no conscious fault of my own. That’s one thing about girls. They play dirty. A boy, he’ll beat around the bush, hint, tell you, “It’s not you, it’s me.” A girl, she’ll tell you she’s fucking your best friend because your dick’s too skinny. Oh, and by the way, he’s so much better at this, at that, at everything…

“Maybe we could just have sex every day for three weeks and see then if you want to return to how things are now.” She surely saw the expectation in my face. I was leaning forward and nodding. My eyes were puppy-dog wide.

“I hate that all you care about is sex,” she said. “I could have a grapefruit for a brain and that’d be just fine, so long as I put out.”

I thought about this. Maybe if it wasn’t forever, like if she was only a grapefruit brain for a week or so.

You can’t tell a girl this, not ever, and especially not if she’s already sour. Nevertheless, Julia evidently saw it in my eyes… She started crying and yelling at me in the voice men learn over years to automatically tune out. I reached out to hug her, draw her in. At some point, this would end the tantrum. Not yet. Julia pushed my hands away. But she was still here. If she were really through with me, she’d be packing her shit to move out. I sat there too. This was oddly like foreplay. Wait five minutes, try again. I did not speak, but looked downward and thought to myself.

Was it possible Julia had more natural tolerance to semen, enough so she hardly recognized the high at all? Did I produce low levels? Then I thought of something else. Would inebriation potency deteriorate if I microwaved it? This was one way to call Julia on her ‘Cold cum is nasty’ comment. You know, get her back for mentioning my inability to cum from oral sex.

Now was probably not the time.

I tried again to hug her. This time, she let my arms linger longer, throwing them off only when I tried pulling her to me.

Wait five minutes…

Were there supplements that could boost the hormone levels in semen? This could be the greatest discovery on the planet. Certain glands determined the components in semen. Someone at Vitamin Hut probably knew which nutritional supplements affected these glands. While I watched Julia cry into her hands, I formulated this simple plan. When she went to bed, I’d log onto the Internet and make my fantasy a reality.

In the meantime, I had another burst of inspiration. My downcast eyes had been fixated on the tissue box. Why hadn’t it occurred to me to offer Julia a tissue? She was crying, after all. She’d appreciate it.

I plucked one from its box and stuffed it into her hand. You’d think I handed her a bouquet of roses. Julia looked at me like I had real potential. It made me feel sort of shitty actually, like I never anticipate her needs.

Another thought occurred to me. I could put cum in her food. Mix it in well so she doesn’t notice it’s there. At least I’d get more into her. I’d get her body more dependent on its high for maintaining the euphoric state she’d come to eventually regard as her personality. Then, when I stopped feeding it to her and only gave it by cumming during sex, Julia would recognize what behavior her euphoria depended on. She’d want me constantly.

We’d get along perfectly if Julia wanted me constantly. I was sure of it.

My dick got hard. I shifted to hide the bulge. Sometimes make-up sex accompanied Julia’s little tantrums, but she mustn’t think I expected it. I imagined different ways she could realize I expected it. Ha! Julia wouldn’t have sex with me for a week!

Now I worried I’d accidentally do one of these things. There were several and doubtlessly, more which never occurred to me. Julia would recognize them though. Probably, girls passed around a list.

I considered trying again for a hug, but with an erection rising, decided instead to take her hand. Julia gripped it tightly, looked soulfully into my eyes through a curtain of tears and leaned in. Now we hugged and the heat radiating from her lithe figure brought my dick to full, swollen attention. I kissed Julia softly on the mouth. She kissed me back, tentatively, then said, “Just hold me, ok?”

I held her like that all night, hard as a fucking rock, my aching balls blue as cobalt. My dick was saying let’s go. It begged me to jerk it off. Julia was finished being affectionate for the night, and dammit, I needed relief. Alas, if she caught me, I’d have another fight on my hands. It’d be my disadvantage. Guys get worn out, whereas girls can stay awake forever to argue. Julia was a light sleeper too. She’d get up if I left longer than a minute or so, time enough for a piss or glass of water. Thus I let her hold me there, her skinny arms like chains. No searching for information online either, not that night.

Next day though, I woke up earlier than usual and jumped online. Julia was just as light a sleeper in the a.m., but cared much less about retrieving me to bed. It’s harder to summon the will as facing the day comes closer. Good for me, and in the long run, our relationship. I could easily imagine an US that involved sex all the time. In it, I always anticipated Julia’s need – my cum – and always got that look of appreciation quenching it. It was easy to imagine gratitude in her eyes. I’d seen its beginnings when I gave her a tissue and easily imagined that pretty flower of her expression in full bloom. Wouldn’t there be a look of desire too, dusted lightly with insanity, when Julia craved the feeling I provided? Though only once or twice I’d seen it on her, that expression burned white-hot in my memory. This was how I pictured Julia when I jerked off, a blurry photograph with eyes that devoured everything she saw.

You’d have lost track of time too. There were so many different glands and cells. These cells made that hormone; those cells metabolized this hormone. Science knew so much about these components. My plan seemed more plausible than ever. I listed the glands involved in semen production. There were several. Cum is a concoction. I should have thought to question the purpose of each component years ago. It was obvious. Evolution is all about continuing the species, right? Naturally, the presence of an addictive substance would reinforce our mission statement. If I’d realized this years ago, if only, if only—my life might be different than it is now. That’s not to say I’d still be with that cheating bitch who gave me my first blowjob, but certainly, I wouldn’t have felt so helpless at the end. If she’d been obsessed with my cum, yeah, that would have given me the upper hand (I’d have settled for a finger).

Most of my research, I found among Google newsgroups. Although not fully trustworthy, Google gave me a serious starting off point. By the time Julia plucked her lazy ass out of bed, it was 11:15. I’d had plenty of time to list the glands (epididymes, prostate, seminal vesicles) and even research some related herbal products. Pygium, saw palmetto and stinging nettle all supposedly affect the prostate. Yet, what if, rather than increase the potency of my juice, my balls shrank? Just because something has an affect doesn’t mean it has THE affect. I’d need to do more research. What else had I learned? Damiana increases sperm count. Tribulus too. To increase sperm count (and motility, though why should I care about that?), you can take Vitamins A, C and B6. Diet can also increase seminal hormones (pumpkin seeds, oatmeal, salmon, tuna…). I was overwhelmed by how many foods and supplements could improve my cum quality.

One component in semen that particularly interested me was Prostaglandin E1. In experiments, it caused increased arousal levels and genital swelling.

Reading this stuff, my dick was hard as a rock. I was massaging it through my boxers, though not really with any goal in mind. I always do this.

I looked up Prostaglandin E1 in the Google search engine. Says here, it can treat erectile dysfunction. A product called Topiglan.

Where could I get some?

Yet, it seemed important that it come from my own body. I didn’t want to have to apply some foul-tasting lotion. Julia would catch on immediately. My girlfriend was a smart girl and knew from our conversation last night I wanted her completely dependent on my ejaculations. If she discovered me applying a potentially addictive crème to my hard on, she’d leave me for real. No waiting around for a make-up hug. Not this time. A precedent justified my expectations. Once, as a joke, I had burnt a CD and written on it in Sharpie magic marker, “Julia Mind Control CD: Subliminal Message #4.” I’d known she’d find it. That was the whole point. It was a joke. But then I got home from work and her shit was gone. Crazy bitch… I say that affectionately. It took five hours to coax her home.

I cataloged Topiglan away in my head for possible future use, then read about a supplement called CLA that not only burns fat, but boosts Prostaglandin E1 levels too. Paydirt! About now, Julia came wandering into the computer room wearing an over-sized sweatshirt under which peeked blue cotton panties bunched in half a wedgie. She noticed me rubbing myself like I so often do at the computer. “Are you reading those perverted mind control stories again?” she asked.

Julia was smiling, but this was a sensitive subject. She didn’t always give me sex when I wanted it, yet saw masturbation as a kind of betrayal. I hoped she was in a good mood. My dick was still in my shorts. Clearly, this wasn’t about getting off.

Soon, I hoped, my masturbation would be taboo for another reason. Julia would want all my cum for herself. It was possible to make it more addictive. I knew it the way you sometimes realize a good idea and simply know it’s brilliant.

Oh, yeah. Julia… She’d asked me a question. “There’s coffee,” I said. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Banana-chocolate chip pancakes are in the oven keeping warm.”

“Did you eat yet?” she asked.

“Waiting for you,” I said, hitting the flying Windows key and M. All my Internet Explorer windows minimized. “I dreamt about you,” I told her.

“What was your dream?” she asked. Ta da! Distracted…

“I dreamt we were on the beach kissing. Our foreheads pressed together, we could see into each other’s heads. You kept thinking I didn’t know who I was kissing and I kept trying to tell you psychically how much I love you. Weird, huh?”

Julia came and hugged me, and I pulled her to my lap. Now it was okay to have an erection. She kissed me, tasting like toothpaste, revealing she’d wanted me from the moment she woke. Otherwise, Julia waits to brush her teeth until after breakfast. Her tongue, licking around the interior of my mouth, tasted my own fresh minty flavor. We wanted the same thing and knew it. That’s how it is with couples who are in sync, and it was only going to get better. Julia found the best seat in my lap, wrapped her legs around me and voila, we were having sex in the computer chair.

I’ll skip the details. Julia wasn’t addicted to my cum yet. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? But imagining our future, the present forgot itself as it happened. When the hormones from my semen passed into her bloodstream, it occurred to me that there was probably more than last night, build-up from blue balls. I hoped for it.

After breakfast, I asked Julia to come to the gym. This was sneaky. Exercise would raise her testosterone levels (sex followed our occasional workouts together). Another dose of cum inside her. A couple drinks this evening, it’d raise her testosterone levels again. Hopefully, that’d be a third dose.

“You think I’m fat?”

Julia is the kind of girl who pinches the skin of her stomach – no fat, mind you, just skin – and declares her will to diet, which she never follows through.

“No, HELL NO, no no no,” I said. “I’m the one who’s fat. I just wanted more time together before the weekend’s over.”

“You go to the gym, honey. I’ll pick up around the apartment and we’ll do something later this afternoon, maybe a movie.”

Was Julia trying to tell me something? Maybe asking me to stay home and help clean? Or else she meant what she was saying. Could be, Julia really didn’t mind straightening up while I worked out. Her mood seemed genuinely pleasant, which made sense. Anti-depressant cum was diffusing through her womb. Besides, working out was something I did for her. Julia must realize that. Yet, I was so used to walking on eggshells around Julia’s pissy moods, I never trusted a word she said.

At Vitamin Hut, I discovered Gotu Kola, Bee Pollen, Gamma Linoleic Acid, Omega-6 fatty acids, Zinc, etc… “You can get your linoleic acid from different oils,” the kid continued, enthusiastically risking his commission by suggesting supermarket alternatives. “Soy, canola, safflower, corn, sunflower, evening primrose, borage… though be careful. They’re loaded with trans-fatty oils.”

Trans-fatty oils = BAD. Sure, whatever.

I pulled him aside and explained my plan. “Have you heard of anyone using supplements for this purpose?” He knew a lot; it was obvious. Why waste this resource in front of me?

Gary hadn’t heard of anyone trying to addict their girlfriend to semen, but spent the next hour or so coaching me about every supplement on my list, their effects, how they worked, and their successes in different studies.

I bought everything, tipped the kid an extra ten, then swallowed so many pills I lost my appetite for lunch.

Watch out, Julia. Here I come!

You raise a girl’s testosterone, she turns on. Two surefire ways I know to do this are exercise—Julia already rejected this notion, and alcohol. Julia liked drinking.

When I got home, I announced we were going for drinks.

“It’s not even 1:30,” she said, but this was not a protest. We went to Fridays. Julia likes their cosmopolitans. By her third, she was a giggling sack of hormones, hanging onto my arm with her face pushed into my shoulder. I took Julia’s hand and put it on my dick. She squeezed it and rubbed it through my pants, taking obvious pride in the effect she caused.

“When we get home you little tease, I am going to fuck you so hard. Yeah, I’ll teach you to be so damn sexy…”

She squealed with delight. I was in, of course. The alcohol, my compliments and the fact that we were nowhere near a bed had Julia all stirred up and ready to teach school. This is a funny thing about women. They get hornier when their flirting feels safe, by which I mean, far removed from the immediate possibility of actual sex. It’s why girls are more attracted to guys already in relationships. Never mind that we’d be home eventually. All I had to do was keep Julia horny until then. Right now, in her mind, our playfulness couldn’t lead anywhere. She could let herself become aroused. Crazy, right? Girls are crazy. Try it yourself and see. Sometime, when you’re out in public with your wife or girlfriend, whisper to her that you wish you two were alone so you could lick her everywhere. Bet me $5 she doesn’t rub her body against you every chance she gets the whole rest of the night.

You never get this treatment at home watching TV.

So here we go. I paid our tab, just about carried Julia to the car, drove home tipsy, and administered Julia’s first dose of extra-addictive cum vaginally via traditional route. We made love on the first soft spot we encountered after pulling our mouths apart long enough to stumble through the front door, the living room couch. Twenty long thrusts, then Ka-BAM! Julia suddenly became a hell of a lot wetter – in there.

I pulled free of her and held her legs up so none would leak “onto the couch.” Meanwhile, I kissed her, sucked on her nipples (releasing oxytocin) and kneaded my dick hard again. My erection inflated easily, and I wasn’t the only one incredibly turned on. Entering Julia again felt devious. I was about to give my girlfriend more of my extra-addictive cum.

“I want to be on top,” she said. Julia wanted to orgasm too.

She locked her legs around my waist and we fell backwards. There was a slightly deeper thrust as her pubis slammed into my lap. It knocked the breath from her. Julia gasped slightly, then began to grind her wares.

My hands settled onto her hips, which I held firmly. This was part of our routine, the combination to unlock Julia’s orgasm. I crunched my abs up, so I could suck her nipples, one and then the other, but also so my abs could be a xylophone for her clit. What made Julia cum was rubbing her clit up and down against my flexed abs. Is there any better argument for physical fitness?

She came, and once it started, her body went limp. My holding onto her hips was integral. Momentarily paralyzed, Julia needed continued grinding to prolong her petit morte. She was dependent on me—to keep her steady, moving and from tumbling onto the floor. I shook her soul—her hips, my handles—forcing the last neural impulses free. Demon, be cast out, something like that.

Then, I was ready. I tilted my pelvis and at an angle, began sliding deep and deeper and a little deeper, then out some, then deeper, deeper. My dick would never again feel this good (I think this every time). She gasped each breath. So soon after orgasm, it sounded like she could cum again easily. She loved being fucked like this, like a rag doll. I think.

Then I stopped thinking. I exploded forth, shooting my load, busting a nut, watering a fucking desert, whatever cliché you want to use. It was abundant, so fucking abundant all I could do was hang on for dear life. I kept hold for several minutes afterwards too, never wanting to let go and barely conscious I was plugging a dyke, allowing my potion extra time to melt into Julia’s unsuspecting blood stream.

In that moment, I loved her, though she could just well have been a grapefruit.

The alarm clock buzzed our dreams to death. Although I’m usually one to wake before it goes off, this morning gravity increased. My face was unresponsive to my dawning consciousness, and on that note, my consciousness hadn’t exactly pulled free of dreamland – think half-torn apart Velcro. Although no longer exactly dreaming, not quite, a discernable difference still existed, like a weight in my thinking. Julia climbed over me to shut off the alarm. The bed shifted as she got up. Like that, sleep sat on my face and my next moment of awareness was Julia kissing me good morning, tasting like toothpaste. She didn’t seem to mind my morning breath – nasty as it indubitably was—and indeed, the sweet minty flavor on her soft lips reached down into my sleepiness like an angel from Heaven. Like that, my dick was hard. Even if I wasn’t awake, he was—and ready for excitement.

Her mouth wandered. From my mouth to my neck, from my neck to one nipple, then the other, then to my dick. Oh, god, thank you Julia…

I started to wake up, half wake up, leaned forward and grabbed for Julia’s legs. She had them tucked under her, kind of sitting. She knew what I wanted and complied. I pulled them up to me, spread then and positioned her ass on my face. I ate her pussy and we 69’d, which is one of my favorite positions. Not Julia’s though, usually. She says it distracts her, but it sure didn’t this morning. She was absolutely greedy after my dick, gobbling it down, gagging, but not letting it discourage her. For the first time in her life, I listened – and felt – Julia turn gagging into a rhythm that was just a natural sound punctuating each deepthroat. Julia never deepthroats, but now, the regularity seemed almost like was enjoying it, like it was satisfying some tickle down inside her esophagus. There was no suddenness like what I get when I brush my tongue up too far. It’s like she expected the reaction, welcomed it and let it go again.

I was appreciative. I sucked her yummy clit and thrashed my tongue in complete disorder trying to wet all her pussy at once. Julia’s a small girl, so this is pretty easy, but that only encouraged me further. I licked until her hips violently trembled in my hands.

This was too much for me. I had to fuck her. Julia was so excited and flustered, she wasn’t about to protest. Straight missionary. Immediate. Necessary. I slid into her and it was the wettest, most lubricated entry ever. I pushed into her and could just about have fallen in completely. She felt bottomless. I came in something like two seconds.

Julia laughed, “Well, that was fun.” Like it was over, but it wasn’t. I just needed a few minutes. “You had a lot of precum…”

“You could feel it?” I asked, surprised. She laughed.

“I could taste it. When I was sucking your dick.”

My mind, waking up more now, remembered the experiment. Julia’s eagerness to take my cock down her throat suddenly explained itself. Was she becoming addicted already? I noticed how cheerful she seemed this morning, positively sunny. All right, she should be sunny. She’d just cum all over my face. Yet, that wasn’t Julia. She was a grumpy, dour girl, the kind you just know would benefit from anti-depressants. Not that she’d even consider them. She worried Prozac or Zoloft would fundamentally change the person she was inside. So why was I with her? Well, Julia wasn’t always in such a crappy mood and by contrast, her good moods were something you wanted to include the whole world in. They had enough energy to power the house. Rare, but beautiful.

Now it occurred to me I might have her like that all the time.

“I liked the precum,” she giggled. “It made me feel like I was doing it right.”

“You did it right,” I said and she pushed me off her, smiling. I thought my weight must be squishing her, but nope. She wanted more precum. She went down again, sucking my dick like the perfect girlfriend. But she wanted pleasure too. I spoilt her by 69ing the last time. No longer the distraction it had once been, Julia squatted over my face and planted down.

I’d felt her readying up to it, but couldn’t say no without being an asshole. I mean, she was sucking my dick and it wasn’t an obligatory dick sucking either. Julia was hot and all caught up in the moment. Saying no would make her stop.

Enough said.

Anyhow, I like eating her pussy and admit, during marathon sex (this hardly ever happens), I have no qualms going down on her after I’ve cum. When this happens, I just stay on the clit. No biggie.

It’s harder with her sitting on my face. I still tried focusing on her clit, avoiding her sopping wet pussy. This was impossible. I must really have cum a lot, else Julia was just disgustingly wet—likely both.

Was I concerned with whatever chemicals leaked into my mouth? I wondered whether there’d be effects. I rationalized; these same chemicals had just come from my body. Besides, what was the worst possible scenario? Associating Julia’s pussy as addictive? It already was. I never got enough. Becoming more addicted to Julia’s pussy was even sexy in a way, as anything including the words Julia and Pussy is bound to be. But the analytical part of me died to know if there’d be effects. What was Julia feeling? Maybe I’d soon know for sure instead of just second-guessing what could as easily be mood. Not that this was such a big deal either. Are you noticing a trend? I’m an either way, whatever-you-want, no big deal kind of guy. My easygoing nature is exactly the opposite of obsessive-controlling Julia. I drive her nuts. She absolutely hates asking me where I want to go to eat.

Apparently, this morning, that decision was decided. So I went with it. I tried to keep the gooey stuff out of mouth. You know, focus on the pearl, but god, there was just too much of it. I’d taken a load of crap to stimulate my testicles and prostate and some other glands I can’t explain what they are. Well, they worked.

Damned if I didn’t start liking it. I mean, it all tasted like Julia’s pussy, almost. Soon I was going after it, licking Julia’s pussy like it was fresh from the shower, crazy-tongued as ever.

When I came this time, it was in her mouth. It surprised me. I’d gotten used to thinking I couldn’t cum this way. My ass spasmed too. The orgasm went through my ass. No, not my ass. My prostate… Never felt that one before…

I can’t tell you how much it meant to me, having that evil ex-girlfriend’s curse finally lifted. My mind struggled to comprehend it had really happened.

This time I stayed hard, more than that, I got even harder and it didn’t go away no matter how many times I came. It seemed I came with every thrust, though not that crazy thing I felt in my ass. We had sex for another hour and I couldn’t wait to tell the guys at work. They’d want to get on the same supplements right away.

Gary at Vitamin Hut ought to give me his commission.