The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After giving the command phrase, “Deep sleep, Chani. Deep sleep,” my 18-year-old daughter slumped back on the couch next to me. Her body limp and her head lulling a bit. I reached over to steady her and to rest her head comfortably against the back of the couch.

One of the biggest pitfalls that amateur hypnotists make is not supporting their subject’s head. Neck pain is real, and it can completely derail a hypnosis session.

“Chani, listen carefully to me,” I began. “A few moments ago, we were making ou... we were kissing and touching each other. You remember that, don’t you?”

She weakly nodded her head in the affirmative.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t given a name to this little stress-relieving activity that Chani has been enjoying with me. I almost referred to it as “making out.” But that might be a mistake.

Making out carries a whole different set of connotations than does “Daddy’s special way of helping me feel better.”

Sure, eventually, I wanted Chani to think of me as a sexual partner, someone with whom she eagerly wanted to make-out, but we weren’t there just yet. It was best not to ruin this endeavor with a slip of the tongue. (Yes, that was a cheap “dad joke” pun. Sue me.)

I turned my attention back to Chani, “We were kissing and touching, and you liked that, didn’t you?”

Again, she nodded.

“It felt good, didn’t it?”

A little smile played across her lips as she nodded this time. I could see her tense up as she took in a deep breath. A couple of heartbeats later, she sighed and melted back into the couch, clearly remembering the physical pleasure.

“But you stopped. Why did you stop?”

Her face tensed, and her brow furrowed. It was clear that she was conflicted about answering me.

“It’s okay, Chani. I understand there are things you don’t want to tell your dad. But, right now, in this moment I am your friend. You see, in this place, you can tell me anything. In this place, I’m just a really good friend. I will only ever speak truth to you, and you can easily speak truth to me.

“In fact, you might find that this place has a particular sort of freedom. Here, you have the freedom to be open and honest. In the waking world, it can sometimes be difficult to be open and honest. Sometimes there are negative consequences...”

Right then, Chani shuddered.

Sometimes, in hypnosis, a person will experience abreaction. It’s a physical sign that we’ve hit on some deeper emotional barrier. It can also signify a release of emotion—though in this case, I was sure it was the former.

She mentioned yesterday that she had been too open with her friend Jessica. My intuition told me this was related.

Thus far, I had been pretty dismissive of the teen drama with her best friend, but maybe I had been too quick to discount it.

As I pondered my daughter’s interpersonal struggles, something clicked, and I felt the gears in my head begin turning. An idea started to form but now was not the time.

“Deep sleep, Chani. Deep sleep. Good,” I again addressed my daughter. I wanted to keep her deep and focused on the goal at hand. Best to just ignore this emotional insight for the time being. By issuing the familiar phrase, she would leave it behind, and we would avoid the risk of her coming out of trance too soon.

“In this place, there is freedom. So, Chani, allow yourself to feel that sense of freedom. Allow yourself to enjoy that freedom, and simply let me know why you stopped kissing Daddy.”

Several seconds went by without a response, but I could see it in the muscles of her face. She was preparing to tell me. It’s an interesting aspect of hypnosis. Sometimes, usually in deep hypnosis, it can take a subject an entire minute (which is a long time to sit in silence) to answer a question. So I waited.

After several more seconds passed, I noticed her lips struggling to move (she must have been very deep). I leaned in close and put my ear right up next to her mouth. I could feel her breath against my skin.

“...horny...,” she barely managed to get out.

“You stopped kissing daddy because you are horny?”

“...yesss...”

“So, what are you planning to do about it?”

“...take...shower...,” her words were getting a little louder and a little clearer.

“You’re going to take a shower?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to masturbate?” I asked, thinking about how I was going to handle my own arousal.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“It’s weird,” this time her response was perfectly clear, and just below the volume of normal conversation.

Well, that certainly wasn’t an answer I was expecting. “It’s weird? Can you explain?” I asked.

“It’s weird. It’s frustrating. I’m not good at it. I’ve tried it, but I always end up frustrated and angry. I think I’m broken down there.”

Okay, see, right here. This is what I’m always going on about. Here we have a beautiful young adult just stepping out into the world. Someone who’s just starting to explore romance and sex and she’s going into it thinking she’s broken. Why!?!

I’ll tell you why, because even in a relatively “progressive” household, like my own, the only education she ever received on self-pleasure was from her mother. And I’m 99% certain the only thing her mother ever said was something like, “Sweety, it’s perfectly natural to touch yourself down there, just make sure to do it in private.”

In my forty some odd years, I’ve been with a little over a dozen women. You want to know a secret? Not a single one of them got off in the same way.

My first partner came easily from vaginal sex. She didn’t need (or necessarily like) her clit to be played with.

Another would only come when I gave her oral.

One needed me to be pumping her cunt while I diddled her clit.

One preferred that I remain still, inside of her, while she worked her clit herself.

Another could only get herself off, after we were otherwise done with sex, while I held her hand and caressed her.

I even had one past partner who would shoot off like a rocket with anal sex, but only if she’d had a couple drinks before.

Funny aside and true story from the author:

One of my partners could only come after I had unloaded into her. Our first time was actually pretty funny. I had trained myself, trying to be a considerate lover, not to come until my partner had. I could go all night if needed. So here we were, both drenched in sweat, my abs are sore from pumping. My jaw was sore from licking. I was exhausted when I finally, in desperation, pleaded with her, “What do you need to come?!?”

Huffing and puffing, she replied, “I need YOU to come!”

Oh...oops. Well, I flipped that mental switch, and about 45 seconds later, I start filling her up with my seed.

She loses it and starts writhing and screaming and gouging at my back with her nails.

It ended up being a short-lived, bizarre, but very memorable relationship.

My point being, every woman I’ve ever been with was different. And most of them were, in some ways, ashamed of it.

I’ve been with a couple women who absolutely owned their sexuality. They were more than happy to explain exactly what they wanted/needed to get off. They never worried that my feelings might be hurt, or that I might think less of them because they didn’t come like the girls in pornos.

You want to know what those women had in common? They learned to masturbate young, and they did it often.

They were rare, though. Most of my partners felt some weird sense of shame that they couldn’t get off from vanilla vaginal sex.

Several lost their virginity late (like their mid-20s) because they were terrified of the prospect.

A couple considered their first experience to be traumatic. One woman continued to have nightmares about it years later. (Even though they were consensual acts done within a loving relationship.)

I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.

My first experience is a fond memory. We skipped the last few periods of school and drove to my house. There, on my beat-up hand-me-down queen-sized bed, we struggled to line things up so that I could slide into her.

We had no idea what we were doing, so much so that when I finally got it in, I didn’t know what to do next. Do I just sit there? Do I move?

I had never seen a porno. I’d never seen two people having sex. And despite my father giving me “The Talk” when I was around 10, and having participated in sex-ed in school, I had absolutely no idea what to do.

Eventually, I decided to move my hips ever so slightly and, POW! I immediately came. But hey, a few minutes later (ah...to be young again) we tried again. And we continued to practice as often as we could for the next few months.

So that was a tale of ignorance that eventually worked out. But that’s not how it goes for so many women.

And here was my daughter, admitting to me that she thought she might be “broken” because she’s never been able to climax from masturbation.

Maybe, just maybe, her mother, or I, should have sat her down a few years ago and taught her how to explore and what to explore. But, no! If we actually took an interest in the healthy sexual development of our daughter, we would be considered degenerates. We might even face criminal charges.

God, this shit pisses me off. But, hey, maybe it wasn’t too late to help.

“Chani,” I started, speaking to my daughter, still deep in a hypnotic trance. “I know of a way to help. You know that when you’re sad, I have a special way of making you feel better, right?”

“Yes,” she said and smiled a little.

“Well, I also have a special way of helping you when you feel frustrated like this. I’m going to teach you, but first, I want us to kiss a little more. Okay?”

“Okay,” she responded.

I repositioned myself so that I could hold her in my arms, then leaned in and kissed her lips.

It took a moment or two, but soon enough, we were back into our full-on make-out session. I wanted to make sure Chani was at peak arousal before I moved on to the next step. And just a couple minutes later, based on the way she was squeezing her thighs together, I assumed we were there.

“Chani,” I said after breaking our kiss. “In a moment, I’m going to count to five. When I reach the number five, you will be awake. When I reach the number five, it will be ‘Time to Play, Chani.’ You will fully remember that we have been enjoying some special time together, kissing and touching. You will also be fully aware of just how horny you are, even if ‘Time to Play Chani’ doesn’t have the right words to describe it.”

I repeated my instructions twice more, then counted.

“...and five. Eyes open, fully awake.”

I waited a few moments for Chani to get her bearings before I continued, “Okay Chani, ready for bed?”

“Awww, do we have to be done. I want to kiss more,” came my daughter’s reply carrying the affectation of her younger alter-ego, Time to Play Chani.

“Well, that depends. Tell me how you feel.”

“Happy. And tingly.”

“Uh-huh, anything else? How does your body feel?”

“Good. Umm, my vagina feels kinda itchy, but also good.” We had never really done the pet name for privates that most families do. I just always found it silly and stupid, hence her use of the word “vagina.”

“Okay, well, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you go get your PJs on, brush your teeth, and get into bed. Then, I’ll show you my special way of helping you when you feel this way.

“Okay,” she replied as she jumped up off the couch and headed off to get ready for bed.

While she did, I went back to my bedroom to check on Marsha, my wife. She was sound asleep. Good.

At that moment, I wasn’t sure how far I was going to take this thing with Chani tonight. I wasn’t ready -well I didn’t believe she was ready- for full-on intercourse. Other than that, though? I was feeling pretty ambitious.

With that in mind, I quietly entered my en-suite bathroom to freshen up a little. I washed my cock and balls. (Serious note: I sat here for 3 minutes while typing this, trying to figure out what to call my penis and scrotum. I don’t think there are any words which are not entirely gross, or entirely sophomoric. So I just went with “cock and balls.")

I also put a tiny drop of sandalwood oil right at the base of my penis. Many, many years ago, a girlfriend gave me a bottle of sandalwood oil with a little “love note” attached to it, written in Norse runes (which I had to translate). It was all very romantic.

Since then, I have made a habit of putting just a tiny drop near my cock before lovemaking. It’s an intriguing, alluring, and sensual scent that women see to really enjoy.

It’s still the same bottle. That stuff lasts forever when you use it so sparingly.

Feeling all fresh and smelling great, I once again tiptoed out of my bedroom and down the hall to Chani’s room. I found her sitting on her bed, waiting for me.

Interestingly, she was wearing one of my old t-shirts as a nightgown. This, in and of itself, wasn’t unusual. What was surprising was that grownup Chani often wore this to bed. Chani had, on the couple times she went to bed as her age regressed alter-ego, worn old pajamas.

This could be a sign that the “barrier” between the two personalities was wearing thin. In truth, I hadn’t spent any time reinforcing the separation between them, Time to Work, and Time to Play.

If they collapsed onto each other, it could be detrimental to Chani. I know this and should have addressed it already. Here was another example of how I was potentially allowing my excitement over bedding my daughter, and my lack of planning, to jeopardize this entire undertaking.

“May I join you?” I asked Chani as I walked over to her bed.

“Of course, Daddy,” she giggled her reply as she scooted over and lay down, making room for me.

I lay down next to her, our faces only inches apart. “Chani, you are so beautiful. Do you know that? You make me so proud. You make me so happy. I love you so much.”

She beamed her reply, “I love you too, Daddy. So much!” Her voice was a little strange. On the one hand, it held the exuberance of her bubbly, younger self, but on the other hand, there was a subtle undertone of a woman in heat.

My attention wavered, for just a breath or two, as I tried to place where I’d heard a voice like that before. Oh, yeah... psycho-bitch ex-girlfriend.

I really hoped it wasn’t some crazy form of foreshadowing. And with that thought in mind, I decided to make shoring up Chani’s competing personalities more of a priority.

But, right now, I had another priority, so I moved closer to my daughter, and, for the third time tonight, our lips met as we embraced each other.

I began to wonder if Time to Play Chani was less inhibited than Time to Work Chani. Because, within moments of our tongues becoming entwined, Chani reached down and began to work my old t-shirt off up and off her body.

Even as her hips twisted and her shoulders shimmied, Chani never broke contact with me. Eventually, after an impressive display of circus grade contortionism, she pulled the shirt over her face and tossed it to the floor.

In what seemed like a repeat performance from the other night, my kisses began to roam her body. I focused my attention on her neck and breasts even as my hands roamed her hips and thighs. It was then that I noticed Chani wasn’t wearing any panties.

Taking that as an invitation, I began to gently tease and caress her inner thighs. Her heavy breathing and soft cooing made it clear that she enjoyed the touch.

I wanted better access, though, so I sat partway up and gently rolled my daughter onto her back. Then I better positioned myself so my torso was hovering over hers, without putting my weight on her.

Our positioning sorted, I returned my attention to her body and expanded my repertoire of kisses by licking and sucking on her neck and nipples.

I did my best to read her arousal and tried to focus on one area until the sensations became just a little too much. I would then move to another one of her erogenous zones.

Meanwhile, my free hand (the other wrapping around her back and propping me up on that elbow) continued to work the area of her midsection.

I would alternate. One moment I was gently caressing her inner thigh, slowly working my way up until I could just feel her somewhat unkempt pubic hair brushing the backs of my fingers. The next moment I would grip her inner thigh firmly.

Then I would move my hand, picking it up and resting it on her stomach, gliding it lower and lower. When I could tell that I was just millimeters away from her slit, I would move it back up again and eventually return to teasing her thighs.

Every indication was that Chani was at peak arousal. Chani’s breathing, the sounds she was making, the frantic insistence of her mouth on mine, and her scent, all were signs of her overwhelming desire. She was even rocking her hips in a vain attempt to get my teasing digits to touch her most intimate of areas.

Finally, I spoke again, whispering to her the way lovers do even when there is no one to overhear them. “Chani, I told you I had a special way to help you when you’re feeling this way. Remember?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please, please show me!”

“I want to, it will feel so good when I do show you, but there’s a problem.”

“Huh? What, what problem?”

“Well, the thing I want to show you, the thing that’s going to make you feel so much better, it can only be done between husbands and wives or boyfriends and girlfriends.”

“Oh...,” she sounded utterly dejected.

“But, there is a way. It’s up to you, though. You have to make the choice.”

“What choice?”

“Well, remember when you used to say you would marry me when you grew up?”

“Umm...yeah...,” she replied, her tone full of uncertainty.

“Well, it’s kinda like that. You’re not old enough to be my second wife, but you could be my secret girlfriend.”

“Your secret girlfriend?”

“That’s right. It means we get to go on dates and do fun stuff together.”

“What about Mommy?”

“What about her? When you’re my secret girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I love her any less. In fact, it means I get to love you both more. Did you know that Mommy was her daddy’s secret girlfriend?“

“Really?”

“Yep. It was a very special, very beautiful relationship. I would like to have that type of relationship with you. But it’s your choice.”

As I finished that sentence, I leaned in and took Chani’s right nipple in my mouth and began to tongue and suck it. At the same time, I slid my hand all the way up her thigh. My index finger was resting against the outside of her sex, and I could feel her wetness.

“W...What do I do? How do I choose?”

I released her nipple and spoke, even as I began to move my hand, ever so slightly rubbing her pussy lips, “All you have to do is tell me that you want to be my girlfriend. That and promise not to speak about it outside this house. That’s it.”

“O...O...Okay,” she stammered as I redirected my focus to her left nipple. “I want to be your girlfriend.”

At that, I stopped, sat up a little more, and looked her right in the eye. “Chani, I love you so much, and there is nothing I want more than for you to be my girlfriend. I was kinda mean by touching you while you answered. So I’m gonna ask you again, and I want to make sure this is really what you want.”

She paused for a moment, steadied her breathing, and met my gaze, “Daddy, Dad, I love you more than I could ever express.”

Her voice, her words, this wasn’t Time to Play Chani anymore, this was just Chani, just her regular self, and she wasn’t in hypnosis. She was fully awake.

I stared in complete shock as she continued, “You have always been there for me, supporting me, encouraging me, comforting me. You’re an amazing man. And look, I’m not blind. I know that our relationship has always been a little more... intimate than any of my friends have with their fathers.

“The way we kiss, hold and touch each other. It’s magical. Ever since I was young, I’ve treasured those moments. But, I realized a long time ago that they weren’t ‘normal.’

“And, you’re right. I did use to talk about marrying you one day when I got older. Lot’s of little girls talk about marrying their father, or grandfather. It’s a cute fantasy that is quickly grown out of.

“The difference with me is that I never grew out of it.

“I tried. I tried to ‘like’ the boys at school. I tried to flirt. I tried to date. It always just felt wrong. They just annoyed me.

“Now, it’s true that you’ll never hold a candle to Johny Depp,” she said as she smiled warmly and reached up a hand to caress my cheek.

“But,” she continued. “How could I ever be interested in those boys? You’re the man I love. That I’ve always loved.

“It’s weird, just now, when you said that Mom had a special relationship with her dad, and then you told me it was my choice, something changed.

“I can’t describe it. It’s like this tension in my head, this battle that’s been waging in my thoughts just suddenly stopped. I feel so light, I feel so free. I feel like a fog has been lifted, and I’m seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. I feel...”

She paused as her words got caught in her throat. It took her a moment to continue, and when she did, her voice was a little hoarse, a tear ran down her cheek.

“I feel like... No, I know that... I’m in love. With you, Daddy. I’m in love with you, and if you’re asking me to be your girlfriend, secret or otherwise, then the answer is an unequivocal, ‘YES!’”

I was kind of floored. This is not at all what I expected. Just over a week ago, I had accidentally hypnotized my daughter. From there, I started down this path with the express intent of corrupting her into my sexual plaything.

At every step of the way, she responded in unexpected ways. The least expected of all was just now when she expressed her love for me and her desire to be my secret girlfriend. Not as her hypnosis created alternate personality. Not even while in trance. No, as her normal, waking self.

I was confident, in fact 100% certain, that I created this. The manipulations I’d done over the past week led us here, but there must have been more to it.

Maybe I tapped into some underlying emotions that already existed. Maybe when I...

“Daddy?” Chani brought my attention back to the here and now.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. What you said just now, it really touched me. I was moved. I love you too, Chani. I love you so much.”

“Daddy, the truth is that we’ll probably need to sit down with Mom and work out what this looks like moving forward. Also, there are some things, nothing terrible, that we also need to talk about.

“But, as I recall, you had something to show me? Something to help with my, um, my...”

I interrupted her, “Your horniness? Your arousal? Love, it’s not going to be instantaneous, but if we’re going to do this, in fact, part of the reason I want to do this, is to help put you in touch with yourself, your body, your sexuality. So, as much as you’re comfortable with, and FYI, I’ll probably be pushing your boundaries, but as much as you’re comfortable with it, just talk to me like a close friend, like your boyfriend.

“Use dirty words, ‘naughty’ words, it’s okay,” I said, smiling at her.

I was really trying to be present and engaged, but her comment about sitting down with Mom was gnawing at the back of my brain. If what I did tonight with Marsha had worked, this could all go great. If it didn’t... oh, boy.

I think I mentioned it already, but when I set out down this path of sexual corruption, I was totally thinking with my “little brain.” I had NOT thought through the potential pitfalls and consequences.

I was risking everything.

Well, things very well could go sideways tomorrow. Which meant I might have been hours away from beginning my life as an incarcerated sexual predator. And if I was going to end up in prison for doing this, I was damn well going to do everything in my power to make sure I earned it.

“Okay, Dad,” Chani started after taking a moment to digest my advocacy for a more robust, adult vocabulary. “I’m... uh... I’m uh really, fu... fucking horny right now. So please, Daddy, help me.”

That was all the encouragement I needed.

I leaned in toward my daughter and picked up where I had left off just a few minutes before. Starting with her lips, I began kissing her passionately as my hands roamed her body.

Once Chani was reengaged and starting to again become lost to our passion, I moved. First, to her right ear, just a quick nibble, then down to her neck where I kissed, sucked and bit.

After a few moments, I pecked my way across, her cheeks to her left side, and repeated the process.

Then her collarbones and clavicle.

Her breasts and nipples were next.

Soon I was trailing kisses down her stomach as I repositioned my body between her legs.

Finally, working my way ever lower, I slid down and wrapped my arms underneath Chani’s thighs. My hands held her hips as her legs rested on my shoulders. Her gorgeous, wet, and delectably fragrant 18-year-old pussy was directly in front of my eyes.

My head was spinning, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to maintain even a modicum of restraint.

First, I turned to my right and began kissing and licking her inner thigh all the way up till I reached her mound.

Next, I did the same to my left as she moaned, and her thighs reacting with tiny little spasms.

Then, reaching across with my hands, I spread her pussy lips and gazed into her glistening pink folds. Magnificent!

Unable to restrain myself any further, I closed the last few centimeters between us and kissed and lightly sucked her sensitive little nub into my mouth.

Chani immediately let out a startled gasp and tensed up, her athletic and shapely legs threatening to crush my head, but only for a few heartbeats.

After she had released her death grip, I likewise released her clit.

“Chani?” I waited for a moment before repeating a little louder, “Chani?”

“Yes, Dad?”

“I want you to enjoy this, but there are no expectations here. You and I are just having fun. That’s it. There’s no right and no wrong.

“If something I’m doing feels good, please tell me. If you don’t care for something I’m doing, please tell me.

“If you want me to go faster or slower, harder or softer, just ask.

“If you want me to go back to something I did before, just ask.

“If you want me to keep going, I’ll keep going. When you’re ready to stop, I’ll stop.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m a little nervous, though. I’ve never done this before,” Chani said, her voice full of excited anticipation mixed with a little trepidation.

“That’s okay, Love. I have done this before. But every woman is unique, so I’ll start with what I know, but please help me by giving me lots of feedback. Okay?”

“Okay,” came her replay as she noticeably relaxed.

With all that being said, I resumed kissing and sucking and licking my daughter’s cunt.

At first, she was mostly quiet. I did my best to adjust my technique by paying attention to her unspoken queues. That doesn’t always work, though. For one woman, a flinch might mean, “Oh, I didn’t like that.” While for another woman, the same flinch says, “Wow, that was amazing, do more of that.”

Even so, I did my best. After just a few minutes, Chani’s silence gave way to sighs and moans.

And another minute after that, she said, “Oh yes, right there, Daddy. Yes.”

Then, “Do more of those long strokes with your tongue.”

Then, “Lower, yes, a little lower.”

Which eventually turned into, “Move back up, ahh...ahh. Yes, right there!”

I was sure that my daughter would pop off quick, this being her first time and all, so I was surprised at just how long she was lasting.

That said, I’ve done my fair share of marathon cunnilingus sessions. The kind that leaves your jaw too sore to eat anything but oatmeal the next day. This was nowhere near that long.

Eventually, Chani started to tense up again, her legs wrapping around my head and firmly pulling it into her. As she did, she began, “Right there. Don’t stop... Keep going... Yes... Oh... Yes... I think I’m gonna... No, no, go back, go back... Yes... Just... Oh god... Oh, god... Oh gnngn...”

Finally, her orgasm hit her, and by the looks of things, it was a good one. I would hope so. One, she was really “backed up.” And two, we had been building up to it since right after she got home.

I just hung on and enjoyed the ride. As I did, it occurred to me that Chani hadn’t mentioned if she’d experienced an orgasm before or not. She said she had trouble masturbating, but I hadn’t asked about orgasms. Well, there would be plenty of time to ask her later.

Now, Chani’s mother, Marsha, was usually a one orgasm women. (Of course, that was before I implanted the false memory of her escapades of sexual discovery with her father. I had no idea how that memory -assuming it took- was going to affect her.) Interestingly though, Ashley, Marahs’s sex-slave alter-ego, was very multi-orgasmic.

I’ve had a similar experience with multiple women in the past. Awake, they achieve one climax (if that), but in hypnosis, they’re multi-orgasmic.

If this was Chani’s first experience, I wanted it to be a formative one. I would much rather she believe that she could be multi-orgasmic, so I decided to try for round two.

I waited for several minutes as my daughter was lost in bliss. Apparently, she had forgotten my presence, or just didn’t care, because as she laid there, her legs remained locked behind my head.

When she finally began to stir again, I took my index finger and started to gently trace the inner folds of her sex. I tried for that perfect balance, not so gentle as to tickle and not so firm as to be rough.

As I circled my finger, I took the opportunity to collect her natural lubricant, which was still collecting at her vaginal entrance, and spread it all around.

As her engorged and sensitive tissues slowly became slick with her fluids, the pleasure that my single-digit was generating intensified.

And, as the pleasure intensified, her wetness increased. It was a sexy feedback loop that was, as I had hoped, ramping Chani’s arousal back up.

Once her juices were really flowing, and Chani was again emitting coos and sighs of pleasure, I reenlisted the talents of my tongue to help speed her on her way.

Now, I’m about to reveal a secret. I have long been amazed that this remains a secret because it has worked with every woman I’ve ever been with.

I think the reason is that many women, and many men, for that matter, think it’s gross. Well, maybe it is, but you know what, sex is gross!

Here it is. The key to helping a woman climax (particularly one who struggles with it) is to relax her butthole.

When a woman’s asshole is relaxed, she comes twice as fast and twice as hard. I don’t know why it is, though I have some theories, I just know that it works.

And, if a woman can learn to naturally relax her butthole during sex... that’s right! Better orgasms without any extra work.

So, as Chani slowly allowed herself to let go and enjoy my renewed oral ministrations, I took my finger and began to spread her pussy juice over her puckered little hole.

“Um, Dad,” Chani said as she tensed up and lifted her head to better look at me.

I met her eyes and responded, “Trust me, Honey. Can you trust me?”

“Yes, um... Okay, just... Yes, I trust you,” she managed to get out before laying her head back down.

I took my time. Her juices were flowing, so gravity provided me a continuous supply of the world’s best lubricant. I just continued to spread it around, slowly massaging Chani’s sexy ass while I continued eating her cut.

Full disclosure: I love eating ass. I just love it, but I figured that it would probably be too much for Chani tonight, even if it is the fastest way to loosen things up back there.

Over time my circling massage began to incorporate a gentle pressure. And as I did, the muscles guarding her backdoor slowly started relaxing.

When I thought she was ready, I initiated a particularly strong “assault” on her clit. While she was otherwise distracted, I pushed my finger in, up to the first knuckle.

I repeated the same maneuver a couple minutes later to get my second knuckle in.

Eventually, once she had time to acclimate, I began slowly pumping my finger in and out. Every few strokes I would remove my finger, scoop up more of her cunt juices, add a little spit, then work it back in.

It only took a minute or two of this before I could tell that Chani was really getting into it.

She had picked up her legs off my shoulders and was holding them back, at the knees, to give me easier access to her derrière.

Once she did that, I sat up and gave my jaw a break. The thumb, of one hand, strummed her clit while my finger, on the other hand, continued to pump her ass.

Another minute or two, and I stopped touching her pussy altogether. She didn’t seem to notice as she made grunting noises in time with my pumping digit.

God, I love how bestial women get during ass-play.

For a moment I considered working a second finger into her hole, she seemed to easily accept and enthusiastically enjoy the one that was already in there.

And, based on how relaxed things were back there, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to work in a second finger.

But, again, I didn’t want to push things too far.

So, reluctantly, but with that mission accomplished, I extracted my finger and repositioned myself next to her in bed.

We resumed our passionate kissing. As we did, my “clean” hand reached down and once again started working Chani’s clit.

“Can you taste your pussy on me, Chani?” I asked, my voice firm and authoritarian.

“Yes.”

“Do you like kissing me? Do you like kissing my mouth that’s covered in your pussy juice?”

“I love it, Daddy.”

“Good.”

I stopped playing with her. Then, taking her by the wrist, I guided her own hand down to her crotch.

“Touch yourself for me,” I whispered into her ear. She immediately complied.

“That’s it, Baby, work your cunt,” I almost growled. She seemed to redouble her efforts, and seconds later was back to panting and grunting.

Chani had told me that she felt like she was “broken down there” because she had trouble masturbating. We’ll she’d already experienced one orgasm this evening, helped along by me. I also wanted her to experience one caused by herself.

Thankfully, as worked up as she was, it was all but inevitable.

I took my hand, the one which had moments ago been going to town on her drenched pussy, and brought it up to her face. “Smell yourself on my fingers.”

She inhaled deeply.

“Now clean them.”

To my utter delight, and without even a second’s hesitation, Chani took my fingers into her mouth and began sucking and licking them.

Once I felt that she had thoroughly “cleaned” them, I removed my fingers from her mouth. I then used them to tweak and tease her nipples as we returned to kissing, and she continued to rub her pussy.

The eagerness behind her kisses soon increased, and I suspected that she was getting close. Every few seconds, she would stop kissing, without entirely breaking contact, as she attempted to catch her breath.

I was more than a little surprised when she started talking, her words interleaved between passionate kisses and pauses to catch her breath.

“Daddy?” [kiss, kiss] “Do you...” [breathe, breathe] “...lick Mom...” [kiss, kiss] “...down there?” The broken pattern of speech continued as this unexpected... um, conversation (I guess) unfolded.

“Yes... I do.”

“Does... she... taste like... me...?”

“A little... different... maybe... I don’t... know... certainly similar.”

After I replied, Chani did something I never, I mean never would have expected. She broke our kiss and leaned away from me just slightly. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she brought up the hand which she had been using to pleasure herself and smeared her fluids all over my lips and cheeks.

With that accomplished, her masturbation hand returned to its task. And, judging by how Chani’s body, and her bed, were shaking, that hand was suddenly working much harder than it had been just moments before.

Simultaneously, Chani practically attacked my face with her mouth. She licked her own juices from my cheeks and sucked them from my lips. It was an act of total abandon, and it was incredibly hot!

I didn’t know what fetish or fantasy Chani was attempting to satiate. She must have been successful, however, because seconds later, her entire body began convulsing violently.

“Fu.u.u.ck... Oh... Fu.u.u.k... Da.a.a.dy... Yess.ss.sss,” She managed to exclaim through gritted teeth.

For the next several moments, Chani just lay there in my arms. Her breathing slowed. Her body relaxed. And she started getting goose flesh on her arms and shoulders as her body became aware of her nakedness in the cool bedroom.

For my part, I was in awe. I had just had my first sexual encounter with my own daughter. I mean sure, we had made-out a few times already over the past week. And, sure, my cock never left the confines of my pants. Even so, there was no question that this was a full-on sexual encounter, and it seemed very, very likely that it would not be the last.

Eventually, Chani began to stir, and rolled toward me, burrowing deeper into my embrace. As she did, her thigh brushed the obvious bulge in my trousers.

Realizing what it was, Chani tittered a sleepy little laugh and reached out to tentatively touch said bulge.

“Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish,” my daughter’s words were sincere but also betrayed the fact that she was barely able to keep herself from drifting off to sleep.

My cock lept in its prison of cloth at her gentle and timid touch. Meanwhile, it screamed at me, “Let me out! Let me have her! I need it! I deserve it!”

Sigh. I wanted to acquiesce to my baser needs. In fact, show me a man who has had my night and wouldn’t give in. But I managed to overrule my “little brain.”

I don’t know if it was my iron will or the fact that I’m middle age and had already had sex just a couple hours prior (it was the latter, let’s be honest), but I decided to refrain. I wanted Chani’s first experience with me to be about her pleasure, and we had accomplished that.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. I appreciate your concern, but I want tonight to be about you. It’s late, and we’re both tired. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get mine next time,” I finished with a playful tone in my voice.

“Next time?” Chani asked as she cooed and snuggled a little deeper, planting a gentle kiss on my chest. “I hope ‘next time’ comes soon? Very, very soon.”

“It will be, Love,” I replied as I untangled myself from her embrace and extricated myself from her bed.

Then, after covering her up and tucking her in, I wished her goodnight, leaned down, and kissed her, gently, lovingly, and romantically on her lips.

She returned my kiss and even used her tongue to lick my lips in a lazy, sensual, and gentle way. “Goodnight... ‘boyfriend Daddy.’” She smiled contentedly, snuggled into her blankets, and, as far as I could tell, drifted off to sleep.

I left Chani’s bedroom, closing the door behind me, and turned to head down the hall to my own room. I stopped in my tracks, though, because, to my complete horror, there was light coming from underneath my bedroom door.

Marsha was up.

The funny thing was though that I terrified as I should have been, my emotional reaction was brief and weak. I’d already had several of these “scares,” and they were losing their impact.

I could sit here in existential dread, or I could just go to my room. Chani’s second orgasm was kinda loud. Maybe it woke Marsha. Maybe she had no idea what had been going on. Maybe she was startled awake and not know what it was, decided to go pee, and was just now heading back to bed.

Yeah, maybe.

Only one way to find out.

I gathered myself up and walked into my bedroom.

As I walked in, I saw Marsha sitting on my side of the bed, obviously waiting for me. She looked up and stared at me, her face a neutral mask, as she used a tissue to blot tears from her eyes.

Not a good sign.

“Marsha, let me...,” I stammered before she cut me off.

“Wait. Just wait. Right now, I am a confused jumble of emotions. I’m going to speak, and you’re going to listen.”

I closed my mouth and waited.

“I saw you and Chani, just now.”

My stomach dropped, “Marsha, please, let me...”

Once again, she cut me off, “Quiet. It’s my turn to talk.”

I couldn’t read her. There was anger in her voice, but also sadness, something else too. I’m pretty good at reading people, especially my wife, but at this moment, I had no idea what was going on in her head.

I considered dropping her into hypnosis and trying to edit her memories again, but something held me back. I guess it was my confusion as to her mood. I needed to hear her out.

“At first,” she continued, “I was enraged. Our daughter was lying naked in her bed, and you were laying over top of her, kissing her. I almost screamed, but then I remembered something.

“I never told you about this, and I don’t know why. At first, it was just private, I guess. It just didn’t concern you.

“As the years went on, and we built our life together, I guess I pushed it to the back of my mind. I never really thought about it anymore.

“And, after my father died, I guess I didn’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Marsha, I don’t understand, what are you...,” I tried to ask before she again rebuked me.

“God dammint! Please! Stop! Talking!” Her tone was loud, angry even, but she quickly calmed and added, “Please, I just need to talk.”

I nodded, in the way of an apology, and otherwise remained silent.

“The thing I never told you was that my father was my first.” She paused and searched my face for a response. Her own face betrayed the guilt she was feeling.

Whether that guilt was because of what she shared (or believed she shared—it was all a false memory that I implanted) with her father, or if it was guilt for keeping this secret from me, I couldn’t tell.

“I loved him so much. He taught me. He guided me. And most of all, he loved me. We shared so much together. Our relationship was so much more than father and daughter, we were friends and lovers.

“As I got older and started dating seriously, he stepped back. He gave me the space I needed to find my own way, but he was still there to support me when needed it.

“The last time that he and I were together was just before our wedding night,” she looked me in the eyes, indicating that the wedding she was talking about was hers and mine.

“I can’t express how meaningful that relationship was to me. How much it helped me. It was one of the most beautiful aspects of my life, and I haven’t thought about it in a long, long time. I can’t even remember the last time it even crossed my mind.”

Ah, this was starting to make sense now. Marsha was, perhaps, mad at me for what she saw, but at the same time, she was being overwhelmed by guilt. Guilt for keeping this “secret” from me, and guilt for “forgetting” such an essential part of herself. She likely felt like she had dishonored her father’s memory.

Of course, the reality was that she hadn’t forgotten him or their relationship. Until tonight, when I implanted the false memories into her subconscious, that relationship had never existed.

She had no memories of fondly reminiscing about her first true love. She had likely thought about her father and her childhood often (as often as anyone does). Yet, she never thought about their unique relationship.

Her mind was struggling to reconcile this inconsistency and had decided on a path of guilt.

Damnit! I hate seeing my wife cry. That’s especially true when I know that I’m the one who caused it. In this case, I was absolutely the one who caused it, but, in her mind, the blame rested squarely on her shoulders.

Though truth be told, this is a relatively mild reaction to false memories. They can go much, much worse. I was pretty sure that Marsha could work through this.

And, as much of a shitbag that I am for saying it, with her focused on her guilt, it might help her to more readily accept what happened between Chani and me.

“When I saw you and Chani,” she continued, “I almost screamed, but then I heard you talking. I heard you tell her how much you loved her, and I heard her tell you just how strongly she felt in return.

“As I listened, the memories of my father came rushing back to me.

“I was filled with a sense of love and loss, it was so confusing.

“As I watched you two, it just seemed so... beautiful, so... familiar, and so right.

“I cried, watching you. There were tears of happiness and tears of sadness. It was all just so confusing.

“After you finished, I snuck back here, and I’ve been sitting here trying to get my head on straight for the past few minutes.

“I’ve still got a lot of thinking to do, but I know for a fact that I am so mad at you.

“You should have talked to me first. Look, the truth is I’m happy for you two. I’m excited even. I’m thrilled that my daughter will be able to experience something that was so important to my childhood.

“If you had come to me, I would have given my approval without hesitation.

“But you didn’t. You went behind my back. It feels like you lied to me. I’m hurt, and I’m angry.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I sighed, “Yes. You’re right. I should have talked to you. I’m sorry.”

This conversation was surreal. It felt more like the time I spent several hundred dollars on the latest PlayStation without first consulting Marsha. She was similarly angry with me and got over it pretty quick.

My wife just caught me having sex, effectively, with our daughter, and she was treating it like the time I had promised to clean the basement, and instead watched the game with my friends.

Like I said, surreal.

“Still,” Marsha began again, “I’m so happy for Chani, and in some weird way... I’m proud of you for taking the initiative to help our daughter. Come here.”

Marsha held out her arms, and I walked to her and embraced her. To my relief, she returned my hug with enthusiasm.

“I noticed,” Marsha continued, “that you only focused on Chani. You must be bursting at the seams.” She reached a hand down and cupped my member through my pants.

I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. I didn’t want to act as if all was forgiven just yet, that might reignite my wife’s ire. So I just said, “Yeah, I guess.”

Marsha craned her neck up and kissed me on the lips.

“Oh,” she said, pulling back. “That’s something I haven’t tasted in a long time.”

“What?” I asked dimwittedly.

“Another woman’s pussy. I just tasted our daughter’s pussy on your lips,” she answered, a little mischevious grin on her face.

“Funny you should mention that,” I said in response. “Because if you’re really interested in helping Chani, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”

“Go on...,” Marsha said tentatively. Her voice taking on a more serious tone.

“Well, Chani said some things tonight, did some things tonight. I think she may be more interested in girls than boys.”

“And,” I added with extra emphasis, “I think she might be interested... in you.“

My wife just stared blankly for a minute until finally, she shook her head as if shivering. “You know what? I had enough emotional upheaval tonight, so I’m not going to deal with that right now.

“I will, however, entertain any relevant proposals, in the form of your special brand of twisted dirty talk, while you proceed to fuck my brains out.”

She tightened her “hug” and fell backward onto the bed, bringing me with her.

“Sound good to you..., Daddy?”