The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Paddy had been obsessed before.

He had never thought of them as obsessions though; to his mind, they were just ‘crushes’. He’d find, say, a porn star he liked. For the next few weeks (or maybe a month) he’d think about her every time he got off. He’d download all her videos, pics, follow her on Twitter…

But it wasn’t always celebrities. When he’d been a teenager, Paddy was convinced that the maid was teasing him. She always seemed to be bending over while he was in the room, and her coy smile…even now, years after his crush had passed, the thought of her brown eyes smiling up at him was enough to get him hard.

At least, it had been.

His latest obsession (a term he actually preferred to ‘crush’ in this case) was his sister, Leah.

Leah was a redhead. Once upon a time, Paddy would have said his younger sister was cute.

Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. ‘Cute’ didn’t even begin to describe it. Every part of her body seemed to be specifically designed to turn him on—her soft-looking pink lips, her generous cleavage, her long, slender neck.

A year ago…hell, a month ago, he would have teased her for her short legs. Now, he found himself uncontrollably staring at them, every chance he got. She had a penchant for wearing little shorts around the house; thin fabric that highlighted her incredible butt, while simultaneously reminding him that it was off-limits.

All of her was off-limits. She was his sister.

Paddy’s obsessions had been varied, ranging from older women to some of his sister’s friends. His taste in porn stars was eclectic—some of his favorites had boobs so small they were basically just nipples, while others could barely squeeze into a tank top without it threatening to burst.

But for all his diverse crushes over the years, they’d all been ‘safe’. Porn stars, the girl next door…the most ‘taboo’ his crushes had ever been in the past were imagining his history teacher flashing him during class.

Incest, even as a strange fetish, had never crossed his mind.

He’d been sitting in the den when he’d first noticed. His sister had been wearing a black top. Paddy didn’t know much about fashion, but it struck him as an odd design—it had full sleeves, but seemed to wrap across her torso to expose both her midriff and cleavage. From the back, it looked like a respectable top—from the front, it was impossible not to notice his sister’s taut stomach, her full breasts, her flawless neck.

Paddy had been dumbstruck, unable to look away. The seconds seemed to crawl past as, for the first time, he noticed that his sister had grown up. She was no longer the little girl he’d teased mercilessly as a kid.

Now, she was a woman.

His eyes devoured her body. His fingers trembled, longing to reach out and caress her neck, to grab her by the waist, to rip her top off. His imagination was running wild, picturing his sister’s neck under his lips, wondering what her face looked like when she came.

That was the thought that snapped him out of it. Picturing his own sister’s ‘O’ face; he knew that crossed a line.

These thoughts were unacceptable.

Fortunately, Leah hadn’t noticed his roaming eyes; she’d never looked up from the magazine she was reading. Paddy grunted a goodbye, and made his way to the bathroom for a cold shower.

It took fifteen minutes of the cold water cascading down his back before his erection softened, and he felt terrible about it for days.

Later that week, it struck again. Again, his sister had been dressed in black; a thin, spidery top that was only connected by a few straps, accompanied by black jeans and a thin cloth collar. She was on her way out to a club; Paddy had never been one to notice women’s makeup, but he couldn’t help but observe how huge her eyeliner made her eyes look.

I wonder if that would streak if I came on her face? he wondered, and then immediately chastised himself. This was his little sister, not an object for his sexual desire. So what if she was dressed to show off her tits, making her butt look so inviting that he was barely able to resist reaching out and grabbing it.

“Bye!” he squawked, and this time Leah did look at him strangely.

Again, Paddy headed to the shower to cool down.

It didn’t work.

Unlike last time, his erection refused to subside. He turned the hot water off completely and suffered the feeling of the bitingly cold on his bare skin for almost thirty minutes before giving up.

Every time he tried to will his boner away, his mind would return to one thought:

His sister’s body. Naked, gyrating beneath his.

Eventually, he gave in to the temptation. Wrapping one hand around his cock, it took only a few quick pumps before he was cumming, his seed hitting the tiled wall and washing down the drain.

As he came, he pictured his sister’s nipples in his mouth, her face as she moaned with pleasure. He imagined it was her hand getting him off, and her face he was shooting his cum onto.

Even after his orgasm, Paddy stayed in the shower for an additional ten minutes, trying to wash away the guilt.

After that, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was as if getting off to a mental image of his sister had locked in the obsession. Every time he saw her, he tried desperately to avoid staring, but he couldn’t. Even when she was dressed in the dumpiest clothing she owned, Paddy was turned on by the sight of her. He knew that underneath the baggy sweatpants, his sister had a pair of perfectly-formed legs. He knew that when she was wearing a sweater two sizes too large for her, she probably thought she was safe to go braless.

Just a thin strip of fabric was all that separated her naked body from the world. It was almost enough to make him cum just thinking about it.

When he did cum (and the constant exposure to Leah was forcing him to get off two, three, sometimes even four times a day) he almost scared himself with how vivid—and varied—his fantasies were. Paddy would picture his sister dominating him, or submitting to his own dominance. She’d be naked, or dressed as a nurse, or in her old school uniform. He’d fuck her in every hole, or share her with his friends, or just fantasize about going down on her, licking his sister out as she grabbed his hair and moaned his name.

He knew it would pass. His obsessions always did. All he needed to do was ride it out, and the easiest way to do that was just to give in, to allow himself to jerk off to images of his sister’s naked body, writhing in pleasure on his bed. Or her bed. Or their parent’s bed…

But Paddy failed to take into account the common factor for his other obsessions: exposure.

When he had a crush on a porn star, he could access any on-screen orgasm at any time. As a result, he’d pretty quickly burn out on them, and it wouldn’t be long before he moved onto his next fixation.

When he had a crush on someone from real life, he’d only see them a few times a week. He could use his imagination, but without new stimulus, it would soon run dry.

His sister was neither fully available to him, nor were their interactions scarce. He’d see her several times a day, and—as if she was doing it deliberately—there would alway be some aspect of their interaction that would provide fuel for his lusting fire.

Maybe she’d walk past while on the phone to a girlfriend, and he’d learn some small tidbit about her sexual life. Maybe she’d be doing yoga in the living-room as he wandered in to watch some TV, showing off exactly how nubile she could be.

Sometimes, it would just be the clothes she was wearing. Paddy had experienced this before—during his crush on the pool’s lifeguard, he’d even started to find one-piece swimsuits more attractive than bikinis.

Whatever it was she was wearing—a gingham dress, overalls, a cowboy hat, a pair of oversized earrings—it would immediately enter his mental spank bank, and he’d find himself looking up porn featuring young redheads wearing that same outfit.

Paddy had hoped that when she’d gone away for a weekend, the break would help him get over his sick obsession…but that was the same weekend he’d remembered he was friends with her on Facebook, and he’d spent the entire two days going through her photo albums, compiling a folder of the most revealing photos she’d ever posted.

After two months, it became clear to Paddy that this phase wasn’t going to pass. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d jerked off looking at—or even thinking about—anyone else. His familial obsession was just as strong as it had been when he’d first seen her in that black top, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

He’d even tried sleeping with other girls. His family—the Grants—were reasonably well-off, and while he wasn’t as stunning as his sister, Paddy was a good-looking boy. His looks, his charm, and his BMW were enough to make it fairly easy for him to find someone to sleep with…but, to his utter dismay, the entire time he was pounding into the woman he’d picked up, he was mentally comparing her to Leah.

And, of course, she would come up short.

Over the next few weeks, Paddy seduced more than a dozen women, but no matter what he did, he could never cum without imagining that his sister was the one wrapped around his cock.

One time, he accidentally called Leah’s name out during sex. He considered himself lucky that the girl he was on top of at the time didn’t know it was his sister’s name; if she had, he suspected he would have received more than just a sharp slap.

Three and a half months after his obsession began, Paddy was scared. All day, all he could think about was Leah. Fucking her, worshipping her, using her as a cum-bucket. And when he wasn’t picturing his sister naked, he was feeling bad about his feelings. The guilt was starting to overwhelm him. He hoped that his sister wasn’t aware that he was objectifying her every moment they were in the same room; he tried to mask his lustful staring, but he was starting to get paranoid that she’d started to notice.

His porn was carefully sorted by resemblance to Leah. He’d started to carry condoms around the house, just in case she did anything particularly provocative, and he needed to duck into another room and have a quick mess-free masturbation.

But he hit a real low when he walked past the bathroom and noticed that the laundry hamper was open, and that a pair of Leah’s panties were sitting on top.

Paddy caught his breath. He stopped, right there in the hall. Leah was home, as were his parents. They could walk by at any second, and find him staring, mouth wide open, at a pair of thin black panties.

His sister’s panties.

Leah had worn those. She’d actually worn the strip of black fabric sitting in front of him.

As if he’d completely lost control of his body, he reached out and grabbed them, brought them to his face. He sniffed them.

Leah.

That was what Leah smelled like.

Taking a half-step forward, Paddy moved into the bathroom. Shutting the door, he didn’t even take the condom out of his pocket.

This deserved more. This was special.

Paddy took a deep breath, exhaling shudderingly. He pulled his cock out, and wrapped the black cloth around it.

It only took a few minutes before he was cumming, spraying all over the pair of black panties he’d found.

Leah’s panties.

In shock, he returned them to the top of the hamper, and quickly made his way back to his bedroom, where he jerked off twice more at the memory of what those perfect panties had smelled like.