The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Buds

I love my husband. I really do, but he is driving me to distraction. I just haven’t been in the mood since the baby and I can tell that it’s driving him crazy. He always wanted it more than me and with the baby and the nursing, I’m just not the least bit interested. The baby books say that this is normal, even if he doesn’t seem to believe me. I don’t like him going online and looking at those sites, but even that would be preferable to him rubbing up against me in bed like that is going to get me in the mood after being the one getting up four times a night with our crying baby.

My friend, Stacy says, “Prim, you’ve got to be direct. The next time he rubs against you, you reach over for the Jergens and hand him the lotion and send him into the bathroom to do for himself.” She was so bad. I turned red, just at the thought of saying something like that to Michael. We’re Lutherans. We don’t even make love with the lights on for goodness sake.

If you’re lucky, you’ve got a friend like Stacy. She was everything I’m not. Bold, brassy, sure of herself, and fiercely protective of her friends.

Me, I was brought up not to make waves. Like with Michael, instead, I usually just pull away and wrap myself in the blanket and try to go back to sleep, hoping against hope that this time he’ll get the hint. Most of the time, I scoot to the edge of the bed and finally shove a pillow between us, before he finally gets the message. If it wasn’t for Stacy coming by a few times a week to spot me, so that I could sneak a few hours sleep during the afternoon, I don’t know what I’d do.

Even on the weekends, I’ve got little Mickey to myself; Michael is off doing other things. That Saturday, Stacy came by again and after making sure there were bottles in the fridge, sent me upstairs to get some sleep. When I woke up from my nap, there was a text waiting for me from Stacy.

Prim, I know you’d rather I didn’t, but I had a word with Michael, while you were asleep. Talk Monday. <3 Stacy

I didn’t hear the game blaring downstairs or the baby crying, so I took a moment to freshen up a bit and do my hair for what felt like the first time in weeks. Downstairs, I found Michael in the kitchen and by some miracle, it smelled like there was something in the oven.

I walked over and put my arms around to to give him a hug and a kiss. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“You deserved it. I didn’t realize how how much until Stacy sat me down. I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been selfish and not taking care of you as I should.”

In my wildest dreams, I didn’t imagine any conversation between Michael and Stacy going that way. I gave him another kiss and went to check on the baby.

Later that night, after I put Mickey down, Michael and I cuddled on the couch. We hadn’t done that in weeks. He was wonderful. No pawing at me or jabbing at me. Just the two of us under a blanket with me leaning against him. When it came time to pump before bed, Michael offered to rub my feet. I’ll be honest, I was a little leery. Every time Michael rubbed my feet or my back, it had always been a perfunctory attempt at foreplay before what I’m sure he considered the main event, but he’d been so good to me that afternoon, I just nodded and mentally thought about lying back and thinking of England to reward his good behavior when we went upstairs.

Imagine my surprise, when all he did was get me a cup of herbal tea to sip, while I was pumping and just massage my feet. He sat on the other side of the couch and took my feet into his lap. He got the hand lotion and a big soft towel and really went to town. He rubbed my feet and my calves, rubbing the lotion in, and using his thumbs to really work my poor soles and heels. Stacy had always been after me to go for mani-pedis, but Michael didn’t want to spend the money on something so frivolous. If I had known how relaxing they were, I might have gone long ago.

Then when it was time for bed, Michael sent me up to bed and put everything away. I lay in bed planning to give him some thank you sex, but I was still so sleep deprived, I fell asleep before he climbed into bed.

For the first time in I don’t know how long, when the baby cried in the night, Michael went to take care of him and let me sleep. I woke up more refreshed than I’d felt in weeks. Michael snored lightly, his arm over me, and a pillow pressed between us. I slid out of bed, gave him a peck on the forehead, and found myself smiling, when he wrinkled his nose, pulled the blanket up, and rolled back over to sleep.

That afternoon, he offered to take a fussy Mickey out on for a car ride to help settle him down, and I invited Stacy over.

I put her cup of coffee and my cup of tea in front of us as I sat down at the kitchen table. “If I knew just talking to Michael would make such a difference, I would have done it earlier.”

She chuckled. “I think that was more me than just talking.”

“What do you mean?”

“Part of my mediation and therapy work involves different communication styles. And I’ve been dabbled in hypnotism from time to time.”

“You hypnotized my husband?!” I started to stand up, but Stacy put her hand on my arm.

“Relax, Prim. Let me explain.” As she rubbed my arm, I could feel my anger drain away. I realized I should let her explain. We’re friends after all. “All I did was help him settle down and listen to me. Communication is both talking and listening. The first thing I needed to do,” she said slowly and carefully. “Was to get him in a position to listen.” She paused and let that word rattle around in my head. “If he had gotten all angry and defensive, communication would be impossible. So all I did was help him concentrate on his breathing.” As she rubbed my arm, I breathed in and out, in and out, just as she illustrated. “See? Just getting into a receptive state, where he can really listen, when I talk. That’s not wrong, right?” I nodded. That made so much sense. “Good girl. Everything is okay. Just helped him to really listen.”

“What did you tell him?” For some reason, the words came out slow and wobbly, as if they were coming from a great distance.

She smiled and squeezed my arm. “Just that he wasn’t carrying his weight. That it wasn’t fair and it wasn’t good for your health. I made him understand that he needed to step up and listen to what you were saying. That’s what you wanted wasn’t it?”

When she said it like that, it made sense. I nodded and thanked her for looking out for me.

“Of course. That’s what friends are for, girl.”

Our impromptu coffee klatsch continued with a lot of laughing and titillation as Stacey scandalized me with ribald stories about her boyfriends. She was one of a kind. It was like I had my own Samantha to scandalize me on our very own “Sex in the Suburbs”.

“But don’t you wish you had a husband rather than all those boyfriends?”

Stacy laughed. “Just one man? A woman needs a stable to see to her needs. Sometimes you want something thick. Sometimes a jackrabbit to put you through your paces. And sometimes a nice slow tongue to help you wind down.” She looked over at my scandalized face and let out another of her low chuckles. She squeezed my arm. “I’ve said too much. It wouldn’t do to put ideas in your sweet head.”

“Hon?” Michael called out, as he came into the house, arms loaded with Mickey and a bag of takeout. I hurried over to relieve him of the baby and to give him a hello kiss. While I was getting ready to serve dinner, he hurried upstairs to change Mickey.

“Looks like you have everything under control. See you later, girl.” Stacey was such a friend.

After feeding the baby, eating, and what I optimistically called putting him down for the night. Michael offered to take care of the baby while I took a nice hot bath. I could get used to how Michael was treating me now. Candle light and the bath brought to mind, pre-baby nights of long baths with a romance novel and dreams of the shirtless european soccer players that tended to have my hands and my washcloth rubbing myself in ways that that a good girl shouldn’t.

That night, though, Stacy’s stories made me feel more adventurous. With a nervous glance at the door, I reached my right hand down and started to play with my labia. I stroked myself in ways that I wished Michael would. A fire in my loins started to grow, as I got more and more excited. I closed my eyes and slipped my fingers in and out, my thumb rubbing up against my clit, as I used my other hand to tweak my nipples. I leaned back and spread my legs, both hands sinking to my sex. One strumming my clit and the other thrusting, as I got closer and closer to release. The image in my head of Michael sweatily pumping into me on our marriage bed was replaced with a sculpted soccer god filling me in ways that Michael never had, and I swear I saw stars as I came.

I was still lying there in the afterglow, when Michael knocked on the bathroom to make sure that I was okay. He said he heard me call out. Stifling a giggle, I assured him that I was fine. Better than fine, I thought to myself.

When I came out, he was already asleep. A little disappointed that there wouldn’t be an encore, I slid into bed next to him.

Bloom

Over the next week or so, I couldn’t get Stacy’s ideas out of my head. Now that Michael had been fantastic about seeing to whatever I needed and not wheedling me for sex at every opportunity, I’ve found that I’ve been more interested in sex than I had been in months. After we put Mickey down one night, I surprised myself by initiating things with Michael for the first time. After my shower, I told him that he’d been so good, he deserved a reward and dropped my towel.

I swear his eyes popped like something out of a cartoon. My big bear of a man took me in his arms and pulled me to our bed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him strip out of his clothes so fast. He was about to just jam it in, like he usually did and I pushed him back.

“No, Michael. You need to go slow and get me ready. You can feel that I’m not ready yet.” I took his hand and brought it down to show how dry I was.

He slid down, and for what might have been the first time since we’ve been married, he went down on me. I forgot how good this could feel. He tentatively licked at my lower lips, and as I moaned, he became more enthusiastic. I lay back and luxuriated in that wonderful feeling. He sat back on his haunches and started to finger me, as he moved up to give my clit the attention that it needed until I was screaming out in release.

With one last long slow lick that ended with him teasing my clitoris with his tongue, Michael sat back with an inordinately proud look on his face. I pulled him up on top of me and we kissed. For the first time, I tasted him on his tongue, I reached down expecting to find his erection, but instead I found that he’d already cum just from getting me off.

Though I was disappointed, I didn’t want to upset him or make him feel bad. “Got excited, huh?” At his blush, I pulled him closer and gave him another kiss. “You certainly got me off. That was fantastic. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

He chuckled. “You know I did.”

We cuddled and fooled around until he was stiff again. This time, he made sure that I was as excited as he was before he slid into me. The sex was better than it usually was, but my mind kept going back to what Stacy had said about multiple men. The fantasy of a shirtless Olivier Giroud or Jo Hyeon-woo taking me instead of Michael kept creeping in as I thrust back against my husband. With a moaned, “Goooooal!” I came.

With a final thrust, Michael came as well and then rolled off of me to lay next to me. “That was a good one, wasn’t it, baby?”

I couldn’t help but think that this was my marriage in a nutshell. Everything he did, no matter how barely adequate, needed to be celebrated. Stacy’s words echoed in my head. I had to be direct.

“To be honest, no. When you were eating me out, you were enthusiastic, you cared about getting me off. This was all about you getting off and I felt like I was an after thought.”

Looking like a kicked puppy, Michael crawled down between my legs. If he wanted to make it up to me, his enthusiastic tongue certainly did that. I must have cum twice more before I finally pushed him away and collapsed back on the bed utterly spent. “That was fantastic,” I gasped and didn’t argue with the cocky grin on his face. He earned that one.

The next time Stacy came over for coffee, it was my turn to dish about my sex life. She raised her mug. “I’m proud of you, girl. What’s next?”

I blushed a bit at my boldness. “Mostly hoping that Michael doesn’t backslide.”

“And if he was as GGG and supportive as you could want?” Stacy asked, rubbing my arm.

Visions of soccer players danced through my naughty head.

“A stable of my own,” I whispered. She raised an eyebrow and I found myself telling her about my sexy soccer player fantasies.

“I can just imagine that. Those tight bodies. The thick muscular legs.” As she said it, so could I. The shirtless pictures from the covers of romance novels morphed into a full blooded sexy day dream. I started to feel a tingle and could feel myself getting wet, which had me squeezing my thighs together and squirming in my seat.

Lost in my day dreams, I don’t remember much of what we talked about, but I was still excited when Michael came home from work. He had just walked in the door, when I grabbed him at the door and kissed him with all the passion that had been brewing for hours, wearing nothing more than a loose robe.

“Get over here, honey,” I said, as I led my increasingly excited husband over to the couch. With minimal prompting, he sank to his knees in front of me and pulled my knees apart. He didn’t even pull off his work clothes before burying his talented tongue between my legs. All the practice that he’d gotten over the last week or so was certainly paying off. Oh God, I loved the way he was teasing me and slowly building up, setting me quivering on the edge of release, and listening to my plaintive moans, before finally sucking on my clit and giving me what I needed to explode.

From the wet spot in his work khakis, Michael had enjoyed himself as much as I did. “I love how good you are, Michael.”

He preened a bit. “A husband’s got to take care of his wife.” He leaned down and licked some my juices off my inner thigh.

I pulled him up to cuddle against my chest. “I know and you do such a good job, but sometimes a girl has needs that her husband alone can’t take care of.” I’m not sure where the idea came from to reach into his pants and stroke his thickening cock, as I was talking to him. “Have you ever wanted to see me with another man? To see a horsecocked soccer player stretching me out, knowing that they might be able to have sex with me, but only you can take care of me like no one else.” He was moaning, as I stroked him to full hardness and unbuckled his pants. “Knowing that I was only that full, because you wanted to take care of me. To let a bigger cock fill me up...” I slid him into me, as I made my case. “To see that long thick cock stretching me to hear me... uhhhh... moaning like this and knowing that even if it’s not you fucking me, you made it happen and... uhhhhh....” As he was fucking me, I reached down to strum my clit until I started to cum, which set him off. I could feel him pulsing into me. “And knowing that the cum in me... It’s all because you took care of me like no one else could.”

Eyes glazed, he sank back to his knees and hungrily lapped at me. I loved the way he took care of me.

On Valentine’s Day morning, after I fed the baby and put him back down again, Michael came into our bedroom with a tray in arms. “I love you, Prim.”

“And I love you, honey.” I sat up in bed, as he put the tray in my lap and slid his laptop out from under it.

“What’s—?” I started to ask, but he shushed me and opened it up to show me a picture of a shirtless hispanic man in his twenties with a soccer ball in his hands.

“I think I might have found someone for you.” He tapped a key and the picture shrank into the Adult Friend Finder ad for a college student that was into MILFs. “Do you want to take some pictures and we can finish setting up the ad for you.”

I put the breakfast on the dresser and turned back to Michael. “No one takes care of me like you do, honey,” I murmured into his neck, as we fell back onto the bed.

We never finished the ad for me, but just thinking about it fired up the sex. I’m not sure if Michael was excited about reclaiming me from the soccer stud or what, but he was both insatiable and utterly determined to make sure it was the best sex of my life. And it was; I was the good kind of sore for days and Michael was walking around like the cock of the walk.

When Stacy came over next, I told her about Valentine’s Day and she looked just as happy as Michael did. “What are you going to do? Are you going to put up an ad?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. If just fantasizing about it is enough...” I looked down at my tea. “I’m not like you, Stacy. I’ve never done anything like this. We’re married and we have a new baby. I don’t know if I should—” And then all of my doubts and fears bubbled up and I started blubbering.

She scooted her chair over to me and held me while I cried. As she patted my arm, she told me that it was all going to be okay and that no one would judge me, if I took things as slowly as I needed.

In the end, it’s been a year and a half and we still haven’t finished creating an ad for me. We’ve gotten season tickets for our local MLS team. Michael and I never miss a game. Then Michael and I will fantasize about which of these soccer studs would take me and send me home with a sloppy mess for him to clean up. After each of our fantasy dates, Michael would show me how much he’d do to prove himself again.

In a few months, Mickey is going to have a little sister. We’re going to call her Megan and I hope she’ll like soccer as much as her parents and do her namesake proud.