Subject: [eroticgayhypnosis] Story: "No Saint"

Reply-To: eroticgayhypnosis@yahoogroups.com

Hey!

Here's a new story for you all.

Brock (aka Wrestlr)

_____

No Saint

by Wrestlr

//Begin Standard Headers//

     Author: Wrestlr

     Title: No Saint

     Summary: I'm no saint, and sometimes I hypnotize my lawn boy.

     Keywords: MC, MM, hypno

//End Standard Headers//

Disclaimer: The naked hypnotist strides confidently into your room.

His lips curl in what might be a smile as he dangles his shiny crystal

pendulum before your eyes and announces, "Listen and obey. If you are

not of legal age, or if you offended by sexual situations, you will

leave this place immediately. From here on, no matter how

autobiographical it may seem, everything will seem like fiction to

you, a pleasant dream where scientific possibilities and laws may

change according to my suggestion. Now, if you are willing, sit back,

relax, and enjoy the ride."

Copyright - 2004 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and

only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged

to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site,

you can't use this without the express permission of (and payment to)

the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Occasionally, I borrow a phrase from a specific person in order to

make love with him. In this work, I embrace the "each stroke takes

you deeper" approach in Section 7 from AuraSeer11, a talented author

in his own right. I've reworked it for my purposes, but I first heard

it from him.

Comments to wrestlr@iname.com

Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:

   o http://members.tripod.com/~Brock_J (MC and general M/M stories,

plus my home page)

   o http://www.asstr.org/~wrestlr (MC and general M/M stories, mirror

site)

   o http://www.asstr.org/~mcstories/Authors/Wrestlr.html (MC stories)

* * *

No Saint

by Wrestlr

1.

Alex had been mowing my yard ever since I moved in, two years before.

He lived next door. He was a good kid.

But he was just a kid. He must have been fifteen, maybe sixteen, when

he started taking care of my yard. He started running with his high

school track team last year, and he spent a lot of time mowing with

his shirt off in the hot sun, so I watched him go from being a skinny

kid to being a slightly less-skinny kid starting to fill out with some

muscle.

Since he lived next door, I saw him often. He always seemed a little

shy but friendly enough. He must have figured out I'm gay, either

from the number of men who made overnight visits or from the photos of

me with my arms around various ex-boyfriends in the living room--he

couldn't have missed the photos when he came in to collect his

payments. But he never said anything about that.

What he did say something about was my bookcase full of books on

hypnosis. What he said was, "So you must be really into that hypnosis

stuff, right?"

This was one day when he came in while I got my wallet to pay him for

mowing. Okay, so how do I handle something like this? I didn't even

look up. I mumbled something like, "Uh huh," and kept fishing through

my wallet for my cash.

Then Alex said, "You should hypnotize me sometime." Like it was

already decided.

Well, that pulled me up short. Because in addition to books on

regular hypnosis were books on erotic hypnosis, and right alongside

them were books on gay sex. What can I say--I'm no saint and I'm not

into hypnosis for "therapeutic" value. My bookcase was a virtual

Karma Sutra of sexual hypnotism. I was thinking the last thing I

needed was to have his angry parents on my doorstep yelling about how

I hypnotized their son without permission and "corrupted" him. Well,

actually the last thing I needed was to have the world blow up in

nuclear armageddon, but the "irate parents on my doorstep" scenario

was a very close second.

So I said something like, "Uhm, I don't think that's a good idea."

Naturally, he came back with, "Why not?"

I returned fire with, "How old are you?"

"Uh," he began uncertainly. "Eighteen?"

I cleared my throat, to let him know I didn't believe him.

"Uhm ... Okay, seventeen?"

I turned pointedly back to the cash I was counting out. "I don't

think your parents would approve," I said coolly--which always shut

him up--and I handed him his payment.

Every now and then, when I'd see him over the next several weeks, he

would ask, "So when're you gonna hypnotize me?" And he'd grin like it

was a joke, but he always seemed kind of interested too. Anyway, he

always looked a little disappointed when I would stop the topic with,

"So how old are you again?"

The farthest it ever got was me getting exasperated one day because he

kept coming back to it, and I asked, "So just why do you keep asking

me to hypnotize you anyway?"

Which he didn't seem to have expected, because he stammered a while

before he managed, "I dunno." Then he told me about this time he had

seen some stage hypnotist show, and this article he read about track

stars using hypnosis, and how he was curious to find out what it was

like for himself, blah, blah, blah. It came out pretty jumbled, which

made me curious what he really wanted. But he was still under legal

age. I'm no saint, but I believe in observing those "age of consent"

laws pretty strictly, and last time I checked the age of consent

hereabouts was eighteen.

Then came the afternoon in June. I was doing some work in my front

yard, when Alex came jogging down the street. The day was hot, and he

had shed his shirt. His skin was slick with sweat.

"Hey there!" he half-yelled, half-panted at me. He veered my way and

bent to a stop, hands planted on his knees, catching his breath.

We chatted a little while. He did some stretches, walked around me a

while, cooling down, wiping the sweat off his face and chest with his

discarded white tee-shirt. I was struck by how cute he was turning

out to be, now that he was turning into a young man. Not

model-handsome, maybe, but definitely a sexy young man.

"You know I graduated? Two weeks ago!"

His voice snapped me back to reality. Indeed I did know that, so I

said, "Yeah, congratulations." We had talked a few times over the

last several months about his plans for college and the track

scholarship that was taking him there.

And he asked, inevitably, "So, when're you gonna hypnotize me, dude?"

I volleyed back, "How old are you again?"

This time, though, Alex's grin lit up, and he puffed out his chest and

announced, "Eighteen! Three days ago!"

I stared at him. This seemed a little too convenient.

"No, really--I am," he said, fumbling his wallet from the back pocket

of his gray shorts. He dug out his driver license and held it up.

"See? I'm all adult now and stuff!"

I peered at it. Sure enough: eighteen. Dang it.

I looked up at him. "Well, happy birthday," I said, handing back his

license, and, "So why do you want me to hypnotize you?"

He grinned triumphantly, "I think it would be a hoot." Did he realize

he scratched his crotch when he said that? "Uhm, and if it helps me

out in running, that's a bonus too. Maybe you can teach me

self-hypnosis so I can try out some of the things I've been reading

about?"

I surrendered with a sigh and a nod. "Okay, Alex. You win. Come on

inside and let's see how you respond to a couple of suggestibility tests."

"You mean, now?" He seemed surprised.

"Yes, now. You've been after me for months. Don't tell me you're

chickening out now?"

"Naw," he said. "It's just--I dunno--I thought maybe I should get

cleaned up or something first?"

"Now or never, stallion. Which is it going to be?"

"Uhm ... Now, I guess?"

Good answer.

I ushered him into my house, into the living room. "Have a seat," I

told him.

"I gotta pee," he complained.

I do not sound exasperated. "Down the hallway, on your right."

Off he went, and a few minutes later I heard the toilet flush. He

shuffled back into the living room. His face was wet but not with

sweat. He'd washed it.

"Have a seat," I repeated and pointed at one of the black leather

chairs angled around the couch.

I half-expected him to pull on his shirt, but he didn't. He dropped

into a chair and dropped his shirt on the floor beside it. I took the

candle off the mantelpiece and placed it on the coffee table in front

of him.

"What's that for?" he asked, scratching absently at one bare pectoral,

an inch away from the nipple.

"I thought you wanted to try being hypnotized," I said.

"Yeah, but aren't you supposed--I dunno--use some sort of pendulum or

something?"

I do not roll my eyes. "Sounds like somebody has seen way too many

movies. A candle can work just as well," I told him. "You'll see."

"So what do we now?" He was trying to sound cool, but I heard an edge

of nervousness under his voice.

I lit the candle and settled into the adjoining chair, taking my time

so the flame would rise and settle.

"Don't worry--it's very easy. Just look at the candle flame."

Alex was looking at me instead. "That's it?"

I pointed at the candle. "Uh huh. Go on." He turned his eyes toward

it. "That's right. Just look deep into it. Now, take a deep breath

and hold it just a second. Perfect. Look directly into the heart of

the flame. Let that breath out slowly ... Very nice, Alex. Just try

to breathe deeply and slowly. I bet you had a good run today, didn't

you?"

"Yeah, I--"

"Shh--you don't have to say anything. You're probably tired from your

run. Tired and ready to just sit back and rest a bit. Just breathe

and focus on getting oxygen into your tired, tired muscles. Breathe

in deeply--that's it--then exhale. Find the rhythm in your breathing.

Keep your eyes on the flame and keep up the slow rhythm of your

breathing. Maybe you'll find the same rhythm in the flame? If you

do, just follow it. You're doing very nicely, Alex. Just sit back.

Let your body settle into that nice, comfortable chair. Keep your

eyes on the flame. Keep breathing. It feels good to relax. Focus on

your breathing. Focus on the flame. As you let yourself focus, focus

more and more on the flame, deeper, I wonder if maybe you did

something where you had to lift your arm, some ordinary task, maybe

like lifting the gas can for your lawn mower? Maybe you had to reach

out your hand and lift it up. I'm wondering if maybe, just maybe, we

can get your hand lifting tonight. As you go into a trance, even if

maybe you're not quite sure consciously if you're going into a trance

yet, maybe your hand and your arm can lift automatically. Maybe it

will start to lift now, or maybe it will start to lift as you stare

deeper into the candle flame, as we go deeper into the trance. Maybe

you might find your hand starting to move ..."

Alex was staring right at the candle, eyes heavy-lidded, blinking,

blinking. Expression blank. One hand twitching a little, starting to

lift a little. I've always enjoyed hypnotizing guys--watching their

expressions as they slowly succumb is sometimes the biggest turn-of

all--and I have to admit that Alex looked very hot sitting there,

sliding slowing toward a trance. Previously, I'd thought he was cute

but mostly a skinny teenager, which didn't appeal to me much, but now

I was seeing him differently. His smooth chest, rising and falling

slowly, was showing some muscle. His stomach had lost that baby fat

and grown tight. And there was something growing in the crotch of his

shorts, too. And I mean really growing. Maybe it had been a couple

of weeks too long since I had gotten laid, but I found myself getting

very interested in that lump in his shorts.

It was already a big lump, and still getting bigger.

I kept droning on about how he was surely relaxing, focusing, feeling

himself sinking into hypnosis, feeling his hand starting to rise. He

looked pretty zoned out. His right hand was bent up at the wrist now.

Then it started to rise off the arm of his chair, rising slowly into

the air.

That lump in his crotch was extending down the leg of his shorts,

still growing.

Fortunately, I've done this enough that I can spin an induction in

spite of distractions like that. I droned on with something like,

"And you can feel yourself looking deeper, deeper, deeper, every

second, into the flame. And you may find you don't want to look away,

can't look away, can't stop what's happening. Maybe it's inevitable.

Yes. And now your hand is lifting. That's maybe a sign that you're

starting to let a hypnotic trance come over you. Maybe, maybe you're

already in the early stages of a trance and ready to go further. And

I'm wondering if your hand will lift up and out, whether it will lift

to your cheek, or your nose."

Something was certainly lifting up and out. Sure, his hand had risen

to about shoulder-level, but what I was really interested in was

peeking out of the leg of his shorts. The tip of his cock. Hard.

Long. That sucker must have been at least nine inches long. Thick

too, from the size of the ridge it made along the leg of his shorts.

Damn, but I wanted to touch it. I told myself, Too soon--be patient.

Instead, I kept droning on. "Maybe you think it's pretty silly now,

but your hand--it's lifting, and I'm wondering if that's settling any

doubt, while it's still lifting. And I'm wondering if maybe you're

already feeling it happen, that relaxed, sleepy feeling, kind of

familiar, like you're starting to doze off, feeling a trance coming

insistently over you. And that's okay, as your hand lifts higher, as

you feel yourself sinking back into that familiar, sleepy feeling,

that delicious state of hypnotic peace. Feel your eyes starting to

close. So heavy. Hand rising. Eyelids closing. Closing tightly, so

tightly. So deeply asleep now. So deeply hypnotized now."

I won't go into the boring details. If this were "that kind of

story," maybe you would expect me to get him naked and make him jack

off and spurt his sticky man-load all over the carpet. But this isn't

"that kind of story," I'm not that kind of guy, and I have hardwood

floors instead of carpet. Easier to clean.

No, I had to play this out more slowly. I didn't want to spook him.

Didn't want him coming up out of his trance and getting pissed. I

liked and respected him, and I didn't want to risk anything that might

piss him off. At least not until I was sure what was what.

I told him he could put his hand down, and it dropped slowly into his

lap, fingers overlapping the shaft of his rod down his shorts leg.

That nearly drove me crazy, but surely it was innocent, an accident of

gravity and his sleeping mind.

Instead, I worked him through a couple of deepening exercises, all the

while planting suggestions about how good hypnosis felt. How focused.

How easily he could accept suggestions. How easily he could return

himself to this deep, relaxing trance. He had said he wanted to learn

self-hypnosis, and that was part of what I was doing, but I also

wanted to make sure I had a trigger to help hypnotize him again too.

Every now and then, when I was reinforcing how good he felt under

hypnosis, how much he would want to experience it again, his hand over

his crotch would give his cock shaft a little squeeze through his

shorts. An unconscious gesture--he was a horny young guy with a big

dick, wanting to get off, wanting to feel even better. I thought

about suggesting he squeeze it a little more, maybe stroke it, but I

decided to stick with my original plan.

So I woke him up.

He blinked at me. "You hypnotized me!" he announced, as if he hadn't

believed it would work. Then he blushed, realizing he had a hard-on

that had to be visible through his shorts, and he covered it with his

hand. "Fuck!"

"Don't worry about it," I soothed. "It happens to a lot of guys."

But he still reached over the side of the chair and picked up his

shirt off the floor and dropped the wad of it over his crotch.

I pretended not to notice. "So ... Did you enjoy the hypnosis?"

"Yeah. It felt kinda completely different from what I expected."

"Completely different, huh?"

"Yeah." He frowned, thinking. "I guess I expected more of that 'I

hear and obey, master' stuff from TV, but it felt completely

different. Like I could still hear you talking from far off."

"Did you like the way it felt?"

He blushed again. "Uh, yeah. It felt really weird at first. Like

being asleep and awake at the same time, y'know? Kind of weird and

good at the same time. I dunno if it's okay to say this but, uhm, it

felt kind of sexy too." And he blushed again, deep crimson, all the

way down to his nipples.

"Good. I'm glad you liked it," I said, sounding all cool and

professional. I reached in and tugged at his earlobe. "Sleep, Alex."

He blinked at me, blinked again. But the trigger was taking effect.

His eyes closed, and his head slumped forward.

"Good, Alex. Very good. Feels good to be back in a nice, deep state

of hypnosis, doesn't it?"

His voice was quiet, "Ye'h ..."

I repeated the suggestions for how easily he would be able to respond

to the trigger, how good it felt to slide into hypnosis again. I told

him again how easily he would be able to hypnotize himself, how easily

his subconscious mind would be able to return him to this deeply

relaxed, deeply focused state, how easily he would be able to make and

accept the suggestions that he needed to improve his running and track

skills. I woke him up and then gave him the trigger again, several

times, to get his subconscious accustomed to accepting it, each time

working on letting it take him deeper, faster.

And always that hard-on returned every time he went under.

Finally, I woke him up one last time and told him it was time for him

to go home. I could tell he was disappointed, but I hustled him out

the door. See, I was going crazy. I couldn't take it any more. I

had to jack off immediately, or I was going to do something I would

regret.

2.

The next afternoon, Alex showed up to mow my yard. Which seemed a

little odd, since I thought he had hit it less than a week ago.

"Yeah, I did," he admitted a little sheepishly when I asked. "But

after it rained the other day, the grass was looking a little long

already. Uhm, you don't have to pay me for the extra mowing if you

don't want to?"

"No, no," I assured him. "You mowed it, and I'll pay you."

So that's how Alex came to be standing in my living room again,

drinking a glass of water while I rounded up some cash to pay him.

Alex took the money from me and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans.

Jeans this time, but no shirt again--it dangled out of the waistband

at the back of his jeans like an off-center tail.

"Are you up for another shot at hypnosis?" I asked.

His face brightened. Yep, I'd hit on the reason my yard got mowed

again--he was trying to bring himself to my attention.

"Sure!" he said, trying not to appear too eager--unsuccessfully.

"Uhm, should I have a seat over here?" He pointed at, then dropped

his body down into, the chair without waiting for an answer. "Are you

going to use the candle again?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said as I settled into the adjoining chair. "Do

you think I need to?"

He looked at me funny. "Huh? What do you mean?"

I reached in. He didn't shy away. I tugged gently at his earlobe and

coaxed, "Sleep, Alex."

Sure enough, he was faster this time. His eyes rolled up, and his

eyelids rolled down, and he sighed, and his head sagged back against

the back of the chair.

"Good, Alex," I told him. "Just relax and let that deep, hypnotic

sleep flow through you."

I guided him through a couple of reinforcement exercises. Relax.

Accept. Faster. Deeper.

I'm no saint, and it had been a couple of weeks since I last got laid.

Maybe a couple of months since I'd had another stud under hypnosis.

And Alex's huge hard-on was back. Maybe that's why I decided to push

a little further.

Maybe this is "that kind of story" after all.

When I was sure he was in a deeply suggestible trance, I told him that

his subconscious mind was in complete control. If it didn't want to

follow any specific suggestion, it didn't have to. And if something

happened that Alex wouldn't want to remember when he woke up, it could

just blur those memories until they were too hazy to recall.

And I suggested that perhaps he would be even more comfortable, more

able to relax, if he took off his shoes.

Alex slowly bent forward and untied his left shoe, then tugged it off.

His right shoe followed.

And his socks--I suggested he might be even more comfortable if he

took off his socks.

Which he did.

I told him how easy he would find it to stand up. How easily he could

stand up and still remain deeply asleep. No need to awaken--it would

feel just like sleepwalking.

He stood, swaying slightly, eyes still closed, head still rolling limply.

I took a deep breath and reminded him how horny he was. How hard his

cock was. How much more comfortable he would be if he opened his

jeans and let it out. Gave it more room.

He was slower to respond this time.

I repeated the instructions, telling him he could imagine himself

alone in his bedroom--just like dreaming--if that would help him

follow the suggestion.

He undid the snap on his jeans. He unzipped. He pushed them down a

little, revealing basic white boxer shorts. But he didn't drop his

jeans the rest of the way. I didn't push.

After all, I had told his subconscious that it could just not follow

any of the commands if it didn't want to.

But I did suggest that maybe he would like to jack off. A hard cock

needs release. Release feels good. He would like to feel good,

wouldn't he?

Jacking off must have appealed to him, because he groped himself

lazily through his boxers.

"Open them," I encouraged. "Let it out," I urged. I could barely get

my voice above a whisper. "Just imagine you're alone in your bedroom.

No one around but you. Make yourself feel good. Go ahead."

He slid his boxers down a little, to just below his ball sack. His

cock was indeed huge. Not the absolute largest I'd ever seen, but

certainly big enough. That monster must have been nearly nine inches

long, and so thick he couldn't get his fingers all the way around it.

Uncut too. Maybe Alex was average in height and just a little cuter

than average in build and looks, but he had certainly won a jackpot in

the cock department.

That monster was so big its weight pulled it down. But not for long.

Now Alex didn't need much urging to wrap his fingers around it. He

stroked it slowly, sleepily. Just a boy deeply asleep and feeling

good. Who knew what he was dreaming behind those closed eyelids?

And frankly, who cared? Alex looked very sexy standing there. Deeply

asleep. Shirt off. Pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. Feet bare.

Stroking that big, big dick. Made me want to haul out my own hard-on

and stroke along with him. But I wasn't there to focus on me, so I

concentrated on storing up images for jerking off to later.

Alex gave an involuntary groan, and his cock jumped. This boy had a

hair trigger!

"Cum, Alex," I told him. "Go ahead and cum."

And he did. His body bucked involuntarily as his orgasm rocked

through him, as long, thick ropes of cum spurted out of his tool,

arcing out and down, splattering on the floor. Thank goodness for

hardwood floors!

"Very nice, Alex," I cooed. "You did nicely. Just relax and feel

every worry melt away. There's no need to remember this when you wake

up, if you don't want to. And in fact maybe you'd rather just blur

everything that has happened since you went to sleep. Just let it

blur and become so indistinct, nothing there to remember clearly any

longer when you wake up. Doesn't that feel good? And any time you

want to feel this good again, your subconscious will be able to tug

your consciousness back, irresistibly, back down to this place where

you are right now, so deeply and completely relaxed. Doesn't that

sound good?"

Alex murmured, "Yeah ..."

I suggested that maybe, now that his cock was limp again, he could get

dressed, and I wiped up his cum off the floor while he pulled his

boxers and jeans back into place. He pulled on his socks and shoes

too--even his shirt, which kind of disappointed me.

3.

I didn't see Alex the next day. Which wasn't too unusual.

I went to bed around midnight. Scarcely five minutes later. Just as I

was dozing off, I heard someone at my front door, trying the knob.

I toppled out of bed and tugged on a pair of sweat pants--I sleep

naked--and stumbled to the door. Whoever it was wasn't knocking or

ringing the bell. Some street person? A particularly inept burglar?

I threw open the door, about to give whomever a piece of my mind, and

there stood Alex.

Well, sort of. His eyes were half-closed, lids flickering. "Alex?" I

said, but he didn't pay me any attention. He walked past me, over to

that black leather chair.

I recognized the signs of his trance. Apparently, the suggestions

that he could manage self-hypnosis easily were effective too.

He was wearing basic white boxers. Nothing else. Nothing except that

slack expression. He pushed those boxers down, and they dropped to

his ankles. His cock was hard, and he jacked it with sluggish efficiency.

"That's it, Alex," I encouraged him. "Just help yourself feel good.

Makes you relax deeper and deeper. So relaxed. So peaceful."

I had a hard-on too, making a tent in the front of my baggy

sweatpants. I figured with him deeply asleep there wasn't any harm,

so I slipped a hand inside the waistband and around my aching rod,

stroking it slowly along with Alex.

He grunted and began to squirt. I wasn't far behind. He bent down

and pulled up his boxers and turned toward me, still standing by the

door. That's when my orgasm hit me, a blinding flash of pleasure so

intense it screwed my face up so all I could see was the inside of my

eyelids clamped shut.

By the time I came down from that plateau, my hand and the inside of

my sweatpants sticky with my cum, Alex was gone.

I figured out the cause. When I had told Alex his subconscious would

be able to bring him back to that very relaxed place anytime he wanted

to feel that good, I was talking about the mental state of deep

hypnosis. Alex had interpreted things more literally, with "place"

meaning the chair in my living room where I had hypnotized him.

4.

Finding Alex the next day was easy. I just kept watch until he came

back from his run. Here he came, jogging down the road in the last of

the afternoon sun and heat, and I went out on the lawn to call him over.

"What's up?" he panted, smiling, happy to see me.

This time, he was wearing white shorts, running shoes, those little

socklets that come up to the ankle, and a pale blue tee-shirt with

some band logo across the chest.

"C'mon inside a minute," I said, as he flexed his arms and stretched.

"Sure," he replied, trotting after me into my living room. "What's

up? I've been trying some of that self-hypnosis stuff. I think it's

really starting to work for me." He went past me and headed for my

bookcase. "So what is 'erotic hypnosis'?" he asked, surveying some of

the titles.

I lit the candle, which I'd already planted on the coffee table.

"Hypnosis with an erotic angle. Sometimes it can be as simple as

cuddling and kissing, or as mechanical as simply having sex, or as

involved as acting out a sexy fantasy scene."

"Oh," he said, nervously. "Sounds ... uhm ... cool. Like making

someone think they're fucking a movie star, or something like that?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I'd--uhm--I'd like to try that sometime."

Which made me wonder. Did he mean with me, or a purely solo fantasy

thing?

Anyway, I'd try to figure that out later. The best way to keep him

from knowing he'd caught me off-guard again was to proceed with my

original agenda. I patted the back of the chair. "Have a seat," I

said, firmly.

"Cool!" His whole face lit up. "You gonna hypnotize me again, dude?"

"Think of it more like me having a little talk with your subconscious."

"That's cool," he said uncertainly, not sure what I meant.

"You've gotten the basics down pretty well. Now we just have to do

some fine-tuning."

"Uh ... Okay. How do we do that?"

"Shh. All you have to do, Alex, is keep your eyes on the candle.

That sound easy enough?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good. Just look deeply into the flame. See how it flickers and dances?

"Uh huh?"

"Shh. No need to talk, Alex. Just listen. Sit back. Try to clear

your thoughts, and just listen. I think you'll find your subconscious

knows what the candle flame is for. It has come to associate it with

hypnosis. That tired feeling around the corner of your eyes? That's

hypnosis, coming back over you. That tired, heavy feeling spreading

through your arms and legs? That's hypnosis too. Just sit back and

keep your eye on the candle and just let everything happen."

Alex said, "It feels so ..."

"I know, Alex. No need to talk. I know how you're feeling. I can

see it in the corners of your eyes. The way your eyelids are already

looking heavy, so heavy. Wanting to close, close. Blinking a little?

Feeling them get heavier and heavier. It's inevitable. Pretty soon,

we'll have you deeply asleep and feeling good. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Yuh-yeah ..."

I reached in and tugged gently at his ear lobe. "Sleep, Alex," I said

firmly, and his drooping eyelids fluttered the rest of the way down

and stayed shut.

The first thing I did was have a little talk with his subconscious.

As much as I might enjoy some late-night drop-ins from a cute

hypnotized guy, I needed to clarify this "place" thing that his

subconscious seemed to misunderstand. But then we talked about other

things. I'm no saint, but let's just say his subconscious was

definitely interested in what I had to say.

When Alex opened his eyes, he only thought he was awake. He was still

deeply hypnotized, his subconscious firmly in control but letting his

conscious mind open his eyes and have a look around. He found himself

on his knees on the rug in front of the chair.

The first thing he realized was: His hands were tied behind his back.

Not really, but as long as his subconscious followed my "hypnotic

handcuffs" suggestion, as far as his conscious mind was concerned his

wrists were securely fastened together behind him.

The second thing he realized was: He was naked. And hard. And yes,

he really did have one of the biggest dicks I've ever seen.

He blushed a couple of different shades of scarlet, all the way down

to his pecs.

"Dude ..." he said, voice equal parts nervous and eager.

"Shut up, punk," I snapped, playing my role to the hilt.

The third thing he realized was: I was naked and hard too.

He didn't even try to climb to his feet--good, because he would have

found himself unable to. Instead, he just stayed where he was,

kneeling there naked with his hands behind his back, staring at me,

naked and hard, as I sauntered over to him. His conscious mind seemed

so stunned he might have even forgotten that his hard-on was display too.

I stopped when my cock head was two inches from his nose, and I

barked, "This what you been wanting, punk? Well?"

His eyes were huge. "Dude," he breathed tightly. "No, dude."

"Is this what you want?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, dude. I don't wanna--no, dude!

Don't make me--"

"What? Speak up, boy."

He couldn't take his eyes off my cock, but he found his voice. "Don't

make me suck it. Don't make me gay."

Making him suck me wasn't what I had in mind, and it wasn't what I'd

talked over with his subconscious. His subconscious knew that, but

his conscious mind didn't.

"Relax, punk," I snapped. "That's not on the agenda. Not yet,

anyway." I walked around behind him and gave his shoulder a

gentle-but-firm shove. His body toppled forward, his chest and chin

collapsing down on the low coffee table in front of him, firm but not

hard enough to hurt him. That pose left his perky little ass stuck up

in the air.

"What are you doing? Dude? What are you doing?" Poor guy seemed

pretty freaked out. At least on the surface. I had on good authority

that his subconscious found this all pretty hot. And--no, sir!--his

giant hard-on certainly hadn't wilted at all.

I put one hand on his back and leaned in, buried my face in his spread

ass crack, stroking my tongue across his butt hole.

"Shit!" Alex swore. "Dude! What are you doing? Dude, don't make me

gay! Dude! Duuh--duude--oh, man--dude--duu--duu ..." His voice

finally trailed off into gibberish as I worshipped his ass with my

tongue. Then he managed to half-croak, "That feels so fucking hot!

Lick my ass!"

I slobbered all over his hairless crevice. I ran my tongue up and

down it, hovering over his wrinkled butt hole with careful attention.

His slot spasmed and puckered as I petted it with my tongue and

sucked on it with my lips. Alex's hands squirmed but stayed "locked"

in the imaginary handcuffs. "So fucking hot," he'd pant. "Feels so

fucking hot." I sucked on his asshole with all the enthusiasm I would

normally have showered on a guy's cock, until Alex was a quivering mass.

It paid off. I had my tongue an inch up his ass when he creamed.

Alex screamed something that started, "Dude!" and choked down to

primal sound-fragments. I had both hands on his butt cheeks when he

came. The hard muscle from all that running turned his trembling

cheeks to granite, and then Alex shot his load. All over the hardwood

floor between his spread knees. His asshole spasmed wildly, then

gaped open, and I reamed it deep as his nuts emptied.

5.

I was amazed by how much Alex got off on having his ass licked. Hard

to say which he enjoyed more--the feel of the hypnotic handcuffs, or

my tongue up his ass. Pretty soon, he was coming by my place almost

every afternoon. I'd help him relax into a nice, comfortable trance,

and I'd go to work on his butt. Sometimes his subconscious would let

me suck his cock as well. All that snuffling around in his butt was

stimulating my imagination, coming up with new scenes for us, and it

wasn't long before I was sliding a finger or two up his tight butt

along with my tongue. Alex loved it, squirming around two and even

three fingers as I alternately sucked his cock and licked his asshole.

While he still didn't want me to fuck his virgin ass, it was amazing

how quickly most of his other "don't make me gay" fears disappeared

when he found out how good my mouth and fingers, backed up by a little

hypnosis, could make him feel. Orgasms are a great enticement.

He came around almost every afternoon. Some nights when he hadn't,

I'd see a light on in his bedroom. The window at the end of my

upstairs hallway looked out, across the space between our houses,

toward his bedroom window. Alex never closed his curtains. Some

nights, since his parents went to bed early and he stayed up later,

once their house was dark except for his pane, I'd place a candle in

my hall window, light it, and wait.

Sooner or later, usually sooner, he'd glance out the window. He'd see

the candle's tiny glow. I'd see him there, silhouetted in his window

by the overhead light behind him, just standing there for a few

minutes, arms limp, expression dulled. Then he'd turn and walk away

from the window. I'd go downstairs and open the door. Shortly, he'd

shuffle through it, already half-entranced. I'd have the candle

waiting on the coffee table, still lit, to finish the job.

6.

One afternoon, Alex showed up after his run. His cock was already

hard, an obscenely long ridge along one hip in his shorts. Obviously

we both knew why he was here. I asked him what he wanted to do that

day, thinking we both knew what the answer was going to be.

He surprised me, though. He said, "This time I wanna hypnotize you."

Say what?

"C'mon, dude. It'll be great."

I'd been hypnotized before, and I wasn't a very good subject, and I

never liked being hypnotized nearly as much as I liked doing the

hypnotizing. Still, there was this "c'mon, dude" enthusiasm barely

masked in his expression. He really wanted this.

So I said, "Okay."

"Cool!"

"But first--"

"Aw, man! No conditions, okay? I'm not gonna do anything too freaky.

I promise."

"But first," I continued, "I need to give you a little primer, so

you'll know what you're doing." And then I reached out and tugged

gently on his earlobe and murmured, "Sleep, Alex."

What I gave him was a hypnotic confidence booster. When he opened his

eyes again, my suggestions had him convinced he was the world's

greatest hypnotist. That kind of confidence goes a long way.

And he proceeded to recite a very passable induction similar to how I

hypnotized him the first few times, with a few changes thrown in that

he probably picked up from reading books on it. "Just watch the

candle," he ordered me. "Soon, you'll be deep in hypnosis. Just

watch the candle. See how it flickers? Soon ..."

Maybe he really did hypnotize me, because soon I was opening my eyes

without realizing I'd closed them. Maybe I was. But I'm no saint,

and sometimes I don't do the right thing, and I wasn't above

pretending to be hypnotized. Alex asked me to stand up. No big deal,

so I did. And he asked me to take off my clothes. He'd seen me naked

a dozen times before, so no big deal there either. I stripped. Yeah,

I was already half-hard and rising.

He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head and knees spread

wide and told me to open his shorts for him. So I crouched between

his thighs and unsnapped his shorts and unzipped them. He wiggled

them down, exposing his boxers.

On his boxers, printed faces of some smiling cartoon character that I

didn't recognize. Inside, a familiar tubular ridge that I did.

He told me to scoot back a little, and I did, still kneeling, and he

stood up, and he reached into the fly of his boxer shorts and hauled

out that massive cock of his. He stood in front of me, and it zeroed

in on my mouth like a heat-seeking missile. He told me, "I love your

mouth. Why don't you suck me," and his grin was irresistible. So I did.

The only difference was, this time I was supposed to be the one under

hypnosis. In all the times Alex and I had been doing sexual things

before, I had eaten his ass, sucked his cock, jacked him off, or

watched him jack off. But it was always about his orgasm. I'd cum

too sometimes, but by jacking myself off. He had never sucked me,

fucked me, or gotten fucked by me.

This time, he must have felt empowered since I was safely

"hypnotized." This time, he had me stand up, and he was the one who

knelt. He stared at my erection for a moment, as if surveying its

topography. Then he kissed the tip. He was hesitant, but he took the

head in his mouth. After letting it sit there a moment, he remembered

to move his tongue around. I was considering whether I was too

"hypnotized" to offer encouragement when he started trying things on

his own. Taking a little more of my shaft inside his mouth. Moving

his lips and tongue around. Tucking his teeth behind his lips. He

gagged a bit and came off my cock quickly, but he swallowed, eyed it,

and got right back on it. Clumsy enough to be his first time--and

since he was eighteen, it probably was--but he managed a passable job.

I think he was trying to copy some of the things my mouth did to his

cock. He managed the basics well enough for a first-timer. He even

discovered how to use his hand to stimulate the base of my shaft that

he couldn't get in his mouth yet. So I didn't have to figure out if I

was too "hypnotized" to tell him what to do after all.

He didn't suck my cock long, though. He had other things to try. He

told me to get on the couch, and I did, lying back along its length.

I was already naked, and now he was naked from the waist down too,

wearing just his shirt now. He climbed up on the couch too, pushing

my legs up and positioning himself on his knees between them. I knew

what he was planning. He had a condom on his rod, and he was

slathering it with lube. The rubber was bright pink, and it gave his

cock a cartoonish look. That condom he must have brought with him--I

was pretty sure the ones I had in the house wouldn't have fit his

oversized cock.

He lubed my ass too, clumsily. I felt him squirting out way too much

lube, but I would need it if I was going to take that monster cock of

his. Besides, the couch was stain-resistant leather and I could

always clean it later.

It had been a while since I took a large cock up my butt, and I don't

think I'd ever taken one as big as his. I tried my best to relax.

With my calves on his shoulders, he fumbled around between my ass

cheeks and found my hole. He got the head of his cock up to it and

started pushing. I tried to relax, like he was telling me to, and

pushed back on it. His head popped inside me, and this "Urk!" sound

wiggled out of my throat.

Alex's face was a mask of eyes-closed desire. I took the discomfort

because he seemed to want it so much. He was telling me how good it

felt, how good I must surely be feeling. And once he had slid half

his cock inside me and stopped for a minute, it did start to feel good.

Without warning, he slammed his hard cock right up the rest of the way

into me. My mouth dropped open and the world turned red and I saw

stars. That hurt! Somehow, though, I never made a sound. My ass

convulsed and I had to really concentrate to make it relax around the

cock it enveloped. Alex, eyes clamped shut, biting his bottom lip,

seemed oblivious. But at least he held still inside me for a few

moments--I tried to adjust to the feeling of him stretching my insides.

"You feel so hot inside," he muttered, eyes still pressed shut. "So

damn hot!"

Alex fucked me. Maybe "fucked" isn't the right word. Alex crammed

his cock in me, then pulled it nearly all the way out. In, out,

repeat. Too clumsy to be a real fuck, but maybe I had just forgotten

what a first time could be like. Anyway, he sure seemed to be

enjoying it.

I took it all, somehow. Every clumsy jab and tug. I tried my best to

relax and open my asshole under his assault. I held on to the couch,

and Alex held on to me, as his hips bucked at me and pounded my guts.

He banged and rammed and thrust. He groaned and moaned and panted

and shook all over. The friction of his cock inside me started to

feel really good. Too good. He fucked me faster and faster. He

almost knocked me off the couch in the final thrusts.

Then I shot. My cock had gone soft when he first entered me, but it

was hard again, had been hard nearly the whole time he was fucking me.

The friction felt too intense. I shot. My head felt as if it was

blowing off. A stream of liquid lava boiled out of my balls and

through my rock-hard cock shaft. I covered my chest with my cum.

Sometime during it, while the world was turned to white-hot pleasure

by my orgasm, I heard Alex cry out too, and I knew he was cumming too,

cumming in that condom up inside me.

Alex was a mess. He fell forward, face flat on my cum-covered chest,

and blubbered softly, "Damn ... I fucked a guy. I fucked ... I must

be gay. Damn, that was hot ..."

I couldn't speak. Alex managed to pry himself off me, out of my

spasming asshole. I just lay on the couch and tried to will my heart

rate back to normal. It had definitely been hot, and I was a little

surprised to see Alex's grin, the casualness in his hard, sweaty body

as he picked up his boxers and used them clean my cum off his cheek,

the lube off his cock and pubes. He seemed to have really enjoyed it.

"You made me cum with my cock up your ass," Alex admitted with a

chuckle as, standing, he pulled on his shorts, minus his cum- and

lube-soaked boxers.

I couldn't move--too spent. I just lay there and watched him pull on

his socks and shoes. He had enjoyed it, which left a gratifying

feeling for me too. I was spent, starting to drowse a little.

If everything we had been doing with hypnosis so far had led to this

moment, where do we go from here?

Alex balled up his boxers in his hand. He knelt beside the couch,

next to my head. "Thanks," he murmured. "You're a great subject."

Obviously he considered me to still be hypnotized. "Soon, I'm going

to ask you for a favor, and you'll want to do that favor for me, won't

you?"

"Sure ..." I muttered sleepily.

I thought he was going to tell me what that favor was, but instead

Alex said, "Great! Thanks, dude." Then he leaned forward to kiss my

forehead and let himself out my front door.

7.

That "favor" had a name: Jamey.

Alex showed up at my doorstep the next afternoon. I wasn't sure I was

happy to see him at first, since my ass was still sore from the

amateur-night pounding he'd delivered the day before. But when Alex

came inside, Jamey was trailing along behind him.

My first thought was, Wow--cute! Though a couple of years younger

than the guys I usually went for, this young man was almost perfectly

"my type," the kind of man I fantasized about but seldom ended up with.

Jamey was definitely the alpha dog of the pair. "I'm Jamey," he said,

slapping his hand hard into mine and shaking it firmly. "On the field

they call me Jammer, 'cause I jam the opposition, and I--uh--"

Alex was firing Jamey a stern look that said, I'm supposed to do the

talking.

Jamey saw it and stammered himself to a quick finish, "--uh, and I'm

real glad to meet you."

Alex said I owed him that favor, so I invited them both to have a

seat. Jamey claimed the couch. Alex claimed the chair opposite, and

that left me the chair between them. Alex wanted me to hypnotize

Jamey. Jamey nodded gravely. It seems Alex had been tutoring Jamey

all through their senior year in high school. Jamey played

football--well enough to land a scholarship--but he wasn't much on

studying, and he'd need good marks if he expected to keep that

scholarship. He'd failed a grade, so he was a year older than Alex,

though they'd just graduated in the same class.

I pointed out that school was out for the summer.

But Jamey would need to be ready for college in the fall, Alex said.

They were going to be roommates. Alex thought maybe Jamey would be

better able to handle college if hypnosis could enforce some improved

study skills, and Jamey started nodding again. Apparently Alex had

already tried once to hypnotize Jamey, unsuccessfully, so he thought

my greater experience might do the trick.

"Besides," Alex said, nearly pouting, "you promised."

I thought about reminding him I was supposedly under hypnosis at the

time. I thought about also mentioning that Alex hadn't said anything

about hypnotizing someone else. But I kept my mouth shut.

I talked to Jamey about it. He welcomed the chance to talk. I

welcomed the chance to look at him. "I wanted it to work," he told

me, leaning forward and nearly whispering, a mix of embarrassment and

enthusiasm, about the time Alex tried to hypnotize him, "but it

didn't. I guess it just felt weird or something, y'know? Alex and

me--we're friends, and I trust him and shit."

But apparently, Jamey's "trust and shit" didn't extend to giving up

authority to beta-dog Alex.

"But hypnosis seems kind of cool and scary at the same time, y'know?"

Jamey concluded, and I nodded sympathetically.

The rapport-building rap is easy. I've done it so many times, I can

do it on auto-pilot. My mouth talked. "Hypnosis is something you

built in yourself, not something others impose on you," blah blah

blah. And, "All hypnosis is self-hypnosis," blabbity blah blah. And,

"It's not so much that you can't be made to do anything under hypnosis

that you don't want to--it's more that hypnosis frees you from your

self-imposed limits to do what you really want to."

My eyes drank him in. I pegged Jamey at six-foot-one. Wide shoulders

tapering to a narrow waist. Probably about a hundred and sixty-five

pounds, all of it lean muscle, under his jeans and preppy gray

button-front shirt. A little bit of hair showing at the neck of his

shirt, promising a hairy chest. Dark hair and matching eyes.

Handsome, with the kind of looks that only get better-looking once he

gets into his twenties. He was nineteen, cocky but friendly, used to

being both the cool-and-worldly older male in the eyes of his

classmates and the star multi-sport athlete in the eyes of his school.

No wonder he had trouble "surrendering authority" to the shyer

boy-next-door Alex.

By the time my mouth ran to the end of my monologue--benefits,

willingness, cooperation, all that crap--Jamey was nodding at

everything I said. I paused at just the right moment so he would

think it was his idea.

"So will you try hypnotizing me?" he said. Couldn't have timed it

better if I had given him a script.

"If you can hypnotize him the first time," Alex chimed in--damn, I'd

nearly forgotten he was there--"maybe it will be easier for me to use

it to help him study this fall."

Then Jamey delivered the kicker: "Besides, Alex says when you do it,

it feels really, really good."

I shot Alex a look, and he blushed, which made me wonder exactly how

much Alex had said.

"Very relaxing," Alex clarified, but blushed even redder.

Uh huh. Something was up.

"So will you?" Jamey repeated.

The right thing to do would involve backing away from this situation

as fast as I could. But I'm no saint, and sometimes I don't do the

right thing. The only way to see what was up was to play it through.

So I said, yes, I'd try.

Besides, there's nothing sexier than a handsome young man falling

gently into hypnosis, and Jamey met my definition of handsome.

Apparently Jamey met Alex's definition too, because Alex couldn't seem

to keep his eyes off of Jamey. I was thinking there was more going on

here than they let on. Alex had never looked at me like that.

So I explained to Jamey what to expect, and I tried to ignore the

nervous way Alex was shifting around in his chair. Jamey to my left.

Alex to my right. The candle on the coffee table in front of all

three of us. As I fired it up, I got a glimpse of Alex's crotch. No

wonder he was squirming, crossing and re-crossing his legs, with that

erection of his nudging down one leg of his shorts and threatening to

pop out. I glanced up at Alex, and he looked away quickly, blushing

again.

I directed Jamey to train his eyes on the candle flame. "That's

right. Just look into it. Maybe you can see the point where the

flame begins. Is it at the very base of the flame? Or is it in the

very center? It doesn't matter. Just let your eyes seek it out

wherever you think you find it. Now take a deep breath ..."

Jamey sat there, staring, doing exactly as I instructed him. He had

one hand resting on the arm of the chair, the other hand in the lap of

his jeans, and that hand seemed to occasionally squeeze this lump that

was forming there, the almost-unconscious gesture of a young man with

a young man's "problem." Relaxing can be a sensual experience for

some guys, and apparently Jamey, like Alex, was one of them. From the

way he was casually groping himself now and then, it seemed Jamey

wasn't shy at all.

I droned on. "Each deep breath, each time you exhale, feel your

muscles relax a bit more. Just let your body sink back into that

chair, so comfortable, so relaxed, so focused, breathing so deep and

easy." His eyelids were flickering, fluttering, drooping. Probably

feeling himself relaxing, slipping away, in spite of himself. I

suggested that he could close his eyes any time he wanted, and they

faded shut. I suggested that maybe one of his hands felt light, as if

balloons were tied to his wrist. Maybe he could feel it rising,

wanting to rise, being pulled upward by the balloons, and his

hand--the one on the chair arm, not the one curled casually in his

crotch--began to rise. I touched his wrist and told him to feel his

arm relaxing, free of the balloons now, sinking, drifting back down,

and it settled back on the chair arm.

Alex, on the other side of me, kept squirming. He was distracting me,

so he had to be distracting Jamey too, at some level.

First, I told Jamey, sitting there with his eyes closed, so tired, to

imagine himself at the top of a long flight of stairs. At the bottom

was a feather bed, so comfortable. He could see it from the top,

longed to reach it, to fall into it and fall deeply asleep. He could

start walking down the steps toward it, counting off the steps

backward from one hundred, counting off each step out loud, going down

the steps, closer to the bed, wanting to get closer to it, closer to

the deep, comfortable sleep he craved. Each step, each number

relaxing him, helping him go deeper to the next step. Start walking

down the steps. Start counting off the steps toward that pleasant,

delicious sleep.

Jamey mumbled, "One hun'red ... Ni'ty .. nine ... Ni'ty aaaa'ht ..."

Which gave me a moment to turn my attention to Alex. He was staring

intently at Jamey, like a kid sure this gift-wrapped present was the

gift he'd wanted all his life. He was semi-stroking himself through

his shorts now, not caring if he got caught. He looked at me when I

looked at him. His expression was so clouded with lust, he probably

didn't see it coming. I tugged gently on his earlobe and whispered,

"Sleep, Alex." He stopped fidgeting, and his eyelids slid shut.

I whispered that, in a moment, I would ask him to open his eyes, and

he'd be able to open them and remain deeply asleep, deeply hypnotized.

He'd be able to watch and remember everything that happened perfectly

when he woke up. But he would remain perfectly calm, quiet, and still

unless I asked him to do something. Did he understand? He made this

little sound in his throat that I took to mean, yes, he understood, so

I said, "Good. Now open your eyes. Still so deeply hypnotized. Open

your eyes so you can watch everything."

Meanwhile, Jamey was still counting. "Seb'ty ... aaaa'ht ... Seb'ty

... seb'n ..."

"You're doing perfectly, Jamey. You're reaching that bottom step now.

You can stop counting now. Feel yourself drift to that comfortable

bed and sink down into it. Sinking down now. Sinking deeply into

hypnotic sleep in that bed."

Jamey's body sagged limp that last critical quarter-inch against the

chair.

I ran him through a deepening exercise in which he felt himself

getting warmer and warmer. Almost uncomfortably warm. Jamey squirmed

a little, a little sweat forming on his brow. His hand rose from the

arm of the chair and found the neckline of his shirt. I'm no saint,

and sometimes I don't do the right thing. I let him open three

buttons on his shirt, exposing a few more inches of his hairy chest,

before I touched his wrist and told him his arm was relaxing, becoming

so very limp, as he felt the temperature returning comfortably to normal.

A few suggestions to anchor him to this deeply relaxed state. A few

suggestions for a trigger so that Alex or I could return him to this

feather-bed sleep. Nothing unusual there.

"Open your eyes, Jamey," I told him, and he did. "How do feel?"

"Uh, good?"

"Do you remember being hypnotized?"

"Kind of, I guess. Part of it?"

"Do you remember how to return to that pleasantly relaxed hypnotic

trance, Jamey?" I reached out and pulled on his earlobe. "Sleep, Jamey."

And his dark brown eyes obediently closed.

I "woke" him and returned him to trance several times, to get him

accustomed to following the trigger. He proved a very cooperative

young jock.

Horny too, apparently, since that hand in his lap kept giving the lump

in his crotch an occasional casual, unconscious squeeze.

A better man than I would have touched his wrist, told him that hand

was going limp, guided it away from his crotch and back to the arm

rest. But I'm no saint, and sometimes I don't do the right thing.

Instead, I said, "Feels good, doesn't it? Giving yourself a little

squeeze like that? Go ahead and do it again if you want to."

Which he did. Lingering a little this time.

"Yeah--I bet that feels really good, doesn't it, Jamey?"

"Mmm hmmm ..."

"In a moment, I may touch you. There's nothing to be nervous about.

Every time I touch you, it just helps you relax and sink deeper into

this comfortable, pleasant sleep. Will that be all right?"

"'Kay ..."

Which was my cue to reach over and open up the last few buttons on his

shirt. His shirt front fell open. Solid pectorals, firm stomach,

both dusted with dark brown hair. One side of his shirt fell aside,

revealing the tiny nub of his nipple there, oblong and dark and stiff.

Yummy.

"Go ahead and give that cock another squeeze if you want. Feels so

good, doesn't it? There's nothing wrong with feeling good, is there?

That's right. Just like that. No distractions. Why don't you go

ahead and open those pants so you can get to it easier? That might

make it feel even better."

With his sleeping eyes still closed, he fumbled at the snap on his

jeans, then the zipper, fingers moving by memory, clumsily.

"That's it," I coaxed. "Just reach inside there and give it a good

feel. Feels better, doesn't it?"

"Yeah ..." he sighed dreamily as his fingers slide inside his pants.

Here was a guy who liked his body and liked the way touching it made

him feel. Well, I'm no saint, and sometimes I don't do the right

thing, but I saw the opportunity to make him a very happy boy.

Philanthropy? Fuck that! Alex and I were going to watch.

I crooned, "Yeah, that feels really good, doesn't it? Maybe you'd

like to take it out? Maybe you'd like to open up your jeans and take

out your cock and make it feel even better? There's no harm in that,

is there? Go ahead."

His fingers slowly reached deeper into the fly of his jeans.

I crooned, "Take out your cock, Jamey. That's it. Slowly start to

stroke it and let yourself go deeper and deeper into hypnosis with

each stroke. Each slow stroke brings you deeper and deeper into

hypnosis because it feels so good. Stroking ... Stroking and going

deeper. Deeper and deeper into that relaxed feeling of hypnosis.

Slowly stroking. Good, Jamey. Going deeper and deeper with each

slow, easy stroke on your cock. Each stroke bringing you deeper and

deeper, bringing you so much pleasure."

Jamey's fingers stroked slowly up and down his unveiled cock,

following the cadence of my voice. Where Alex's cock was huge,

Jamey's erection was a perfectly average size, about six inches long.

But it was attached to an extraordinarily handsome young man, and

that made it an extraordinarily tasty-looking dick. Jamey moaned

contentedly, eyes closed, happily hypnotized by my voice and the

motion of his fingers up and down his manhood.

"Feels so good, doesn't it, Jamey?" I cooed. "Yes. So very good.

Helping you slip deeper and deeper into hypnosis. Letting your

subconscious mind become more open to my suggestions. Relaxing you

more and more with each slow, wonderful stroke."

His subconscious knew what the reward was going to be--he literally

held it in his hand--so it took my suggestions eagerly. Yeah, here

was a young man who loved his cock and loved making himself feel good.

It's always fun to find a fellow hedonist.

"Go ahead, Jamey," I told him. "You've had a good first session. You

can be proud of that. Go ahead and focus on making yourself feel

good. Go ahead and cum, if you want."

Apparently he wanted very much, because five strokes later his body

was tensing, and his head rolled back, and he sighed, and he spurted

one, two, three thick ropes of cum up across the hair sprinkled over

his abs. A fourth spurt barely cleared his fingers, and then the rest

of his load, like lava, oozed down the head of his cock and coated his

hand. His body sank into his orgasm and the afterglow, sinking back

even deeper into the couch than before.

I reiterated the suggestions about the trigger, about blurring

anything he might not want to remember, about how much more focused he

would be when he tried to read or study something, as I pulled some

tissues from an end table--there for my sessions with Alex!--and used

them to swab up the worst of Jamey's cum. He kept sighing contentedly

in his hypnotic sleep, like a cat. A couple of suggestions to get his

clothes closed back up--damn, it was a shame to hide a body that

fine!--and then it was time to bring the session to a close.

I snapped my fingers. Alex blinked, rousing. Jamey blinked, rousing.

Alex blushed hard and scarlet, even though I was willing to bet a

significant amount of cash that he had loved every second of the show.

He shifted his legs to hide that mammoth hard-on threatening to

escape the leg hole of his shorts.

Jamey for his part was enthusiastic as a beagle. "Wow! Alex was

right--that felt great," and "Uhm, I don't remember everything

exactly, but I remember it felt great!" An unmistakable twinkle in

his crystalline eyes.

We talked a few minutes, then it was time for them to go. We stood

up. Alex was careful to position himself where Jamey wouldn't see the

erection that had not yet gone down in Alex's shorts. I showed them

to the door.

I was reaching through the space between their bodies for the door

knob, but my hand veered quickly upward. It found Jamey's earlobe,

and my fingers tugged it gently. "Sleep, Jamey," I commanded. His

trigger. He looked confused at me for a second, but then his eyelids

were flickering, and he yawned. Another tug. "Sleep, Jamey." And

his eyes closed, and he did slip back into sleep, body sagging back

against the door frame for support, deep in slumber-land again.

"Dude, what'd you do that for?" Alex said. He can't take his

incredulous eyes off his friend's sexy, sleeping face.

Which fit my agenda fine, because a second later, I was behind him. I

closed a hand around each of his wrists, and I whispered in his ear,

"Handcuffs."

"Dude?" he stage-whispered uncertainly, as if afraid he might wake

Jamey. "What the fuck?" But his subconscious knew what this trigger

meant. It let me pull his wrists easily behind his back, and when I

pressed them together, his subconscious held them there, as if in

hypnotic handcuffs.

"Dude?" Alex repeated, nervously.

"Shh," I hissed in his ear. "Just keep your eyes on Jamey. He's very

handsome, isn't he?"

"Dude, what the fuck?"

With his wrists "trapped," I threaded my arms around to his solar

plexus. I gave his cock a gentle squeeze through his shorts.

"Dude, what the fuck?" he hissed.

I popped open his shorts and freed his enormous, still-hard cock.

"He's very handsome, isn't he?" I whispered close to Alex's ear. "You

like looking at him, don't you? That's okay."

His hard-on fit into the groove of my curved hand, and I began to

stroke it, slowly, gently, teasing the head a little, easing him

inevitably along.

"Dude," he hissed again, "what the fuck?" Panting already. Body

yielding back against my chest. Surrendering to the pleasure my hand

was bringing him. "Dude, what the fuck," he hissed again and again

like a mantra, eventually abrasing it down to the only word that had

meaning for him: "Dude ... Dude ..."

Panting now. Body tensing. Cock surging in my hand. It was less

than three minutes, and he was ready to cum. Harder now: "D-dude!"

Then his body was convulsing beyond his control, wrists still behind

his back. I aimed his cock down and to one side a little, away from

Jamey's leg. "Dude!" Alex grunted one last time before his spasms hit

hard, and his voice choked out, "Du--du--," as he shot his load in

huge, white dollops onto my hardwood floor.

He let himself sag back against me in the aftermath of it, too limp to

support himself. His ass ground against my own hard-on in my pants.

"Dude," he whimpered one last time, incoherent, content.

I tucked his softening cock away and tacked the front of his shorts

back together. I "freed" him from the hypnotic handcuffs, wiped up

Jamey's cum. Alex was still half out of it, still wiped out by the

intensity of his orgasm.

I snapped my fingers and Jamey woke up. He blinked, looked at Alex,

looked at me--looked like he wasn't sure what had just happened, or

maybe if something had just happened. I just grinned. We shook

hands. We said good night. I ushered them out into the night.

8.

I didn't see Alex the next day. I wanted to, though. I had

practically run upstairs that night after hypnotizing Jamey and jacked

myself off frantically. All the next day I was horny and ready to

jump just about any guy who showed me a hole. I figured Alex would

come around, but he didn't.

Which meant I had to jack off all alone that day. Twice.

And I didn't see Alex the day after that, either. Okay, so I was

starting to think that, having gotten what he wanted, he was off

playing with hypnosis with Jamey. But still, I thought maybe he would

have some time for me. I was trying not to feel jealous.

Actually, I did see Alex that second day, but only indirectly. Jamey

too. It was getting fairly late, after eleven o'clock, and I figured

Alex's parents were in bed. I took a candle up to my hall window. I

was planning the usual scenario: he would see it from his bedroom

window and be drawn over to my place, where I would hypnotize him.

Just like a dozen times before. Like I said, I'm no saint.

But I got to the window, and I saw, across the way, through the open

curtains of Alex's window, a light on in his bedroom. Alex and Jamey

sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing each other across a lit

candle, both in profile to me. Through the window I could see them

from the hips up. Shirts off, both of them. Which made me throw a

boner right then and there. Looked like they were sitting there in

their underwear, but I couldn't be sure because the windowsill cut off

the view too soon.

Jamey's eyes were closed. Head bowed forward. Seemed deeply asleep.

But there was a stiffness in the way he was sitting.

Alex was looking at him. Talking to him, though of course I couldn't

hear what he was saying, and I've never been good at lip-reading. But

from his frown, something wasn't right. Something wasn't the way he

wanted it to be, needed it to be. He raised his hand toward Jamey,

like he was about to touch his chest, but something about Jamey's

posture seemed imposing as a fortress wall. Alex's hand hovered in

the air for a few second, barely an inch away from the ramparts,

before dropping back into his lap, leaving Jamey's façade unassailed.

Hmm. Looked like some unforeseen complication to me. Perhaps a trust

issue? Whatever it was, it was between the two of them, unless they

asked me to get involved. I pushed the curtain back into place and

stepped back away from the window, back into the darkness of my own house.

9.

Two days later, they asked me to get involved.

Actually, they didn't so much ask--they just showed up on my doorstep.

Serious expressions. "We need to talk to you about something," Jamey

said, and behind him Alex nodded silently.

So I sat them down in my living room, and we talked about it.

Alex said, "It's like there's a barrier ..."

Jamey said, "I mean, I want to and all, but it's like something's just

not ..."

I could tell there was a lot neither was saying. I needed to get them

to say it.

I tugged Jamey's earlobe. I tugged Alex's earlobe. I said, "Sleep,

Jamey," and "Sleep, Alex," and they did.

Now I could talk to them without their conscious minds filtering out

the real issues. The problem turned out to be a familiar story, as

well-known as "Once upon a time ..."

Jamey on Alex: "I really like him, but I don't want anyone to find

out I'm queer."

Alex on Jamey: "I really like him, but he'll want to fuck my ass and

make me gay."

Jamey: "I was hoping hypnosis would make it okay, but I can't let go

when it's just him."

Alex: "I was hoping hypnosis would make it okay, but I can't seem to

go through with it."

So I snapped my fingers and woke them. I told them the solution was

simple. A barrier needed to be crossed; they just needed the ice to

be broken. Easy enough, I told them. After all, I had a spare bedroom.

Their eyes got wide as they realized simultaneously what I meant.

"Don't worry," I said. "There's condoms and lube on the nightstand,

and what happens here stays here, okay?" Time to act, if I was going

to avoid them panicking. "Do you trust me?"

Jamey nodded. After a second, Alex nodded too.

"Good." And then I reached out and I tugged Jamey's earlobe. Then I

reached out and I tugged Alex's.

"Okay, boys," I said. "Stand up. Follow me."

I led them into the spare bedroom, without turning on the light.

Moonlight through the window turned the bed and the nightstand silver.

"Take off your clothes, guys," I said in my most authoritative voice,

and they did. "Sit on the bed." They did. "Jamey, put your arm

around Alex and give him a kiss. There--doesn't that feel nice?

Isn't that what you've been wanting to do for a while now? Alex, put

your hand on Jamey's leg. That's it. Rub it a little. Good. Go on

now. Do what you want to do. It's all right--you can't help

yourselves. Go ahead and make each other feel good."

Naked and touching in the puddle of moonlight. Cocks rising. The

sound of them kissing. The sound of fingers and hands and mouths

exploring new expanses of territory. Alex lying back. Jamey rolling

on top of him. Body calling to body through the language of skin.

Panting now. Squirming. Jamey's head in Alex's crotch. Bodies

shifting. Alex's head in Jamey's crotch too. Then Jamey was pushing

Alex's legs apart and up and driving his tongue down deep in Alex's

crack. Alex moaned and squirmed just the way he did when I did the

same thing. After a while, with Alex on his back, a pillow tucked

under his butt, Jamey was putting on a condom, forcing Alex's legs up

on his shoulders, forcing his cock into Alex's virgin ass.

Even after all the sex-play Alex and I had shared, I had never taken

his anal cherry--his ass was never on the receiving end of my dick.

He never wanted me to, and I never pushed the issue. Maybe he had

been saving that for Jamey all along.

Jamey was pushing himself inside Alex. Good thing he was hung

average-sized, instead of a monster cock like Alex's. Jamey was

moaning things tight with emotion, things like, "Oh, yeah, baby. So

tight. So hot. I want you so bad, baby. I wanna be inside you so bad."

Alex was moaning back things like, "I wanna feel you inside me too.

Aw, man, go easy! Dude, my ass is fucked! Damn!--My ass is getting

fucked!" They clung tightly together, as if afraid to let go, as

instinct took over and their bodies rocking together discovered they

already knew the route.

A better man than I would have just taken a step back, back out into

the hallway, pulled the bedroom door closed, and let them experience

their first time together privately. But I'm no saint. I have my

needs and wants just like anybody else, and truthfully, I wanted to

watch every second.

Plus, I had a secret. Not a big secret, but an important one, and

that secret was this: They weren't hypnotized.

Sure, I had tugged their earlobes, but I hadn't said their trigger

words. Maybe they had acted hypnotized because that's how they

thought they should, or maybe at some level they really thought they

were supposed to be hypnotized. But the truth was, they were "awake"

and "aware" the whole time. Every touch, every kiss and glance and

smile, every tenderness of their bodies first stumbling through

Nature's dance together was there because they wanted it to be. Maybe

"being hypnotized" made it okay. Yeah, whatever. Whatever got them

past the boundaries. Some famous writer once wrote something like,

"Living is journeying, and love's a country we can enter for a time."

Alex and Jamey?--They had reached the border of that country as

friends and crossed into it on their own. Maybe they wouldn't find

the terrain so foreign after all.

No, I'm no saint. I watched them, and I took out my erection, and I

jacked off. I came pretty quickly, catching my spurts in one cupped

hand as I stroked with the other. They were so into each other, they

forgot I was there. Then I just watched them, watched until they

came, almost in unison, and tumbled back against the mattress

together, sated, knotted up in each other's arms, smiling, kissing

more gently now, touching, not seeing me still there in the dark

outside of their pool of moonlight, until they started to fall into

sleep, real sleep, together. I'm no saint, but sometimes I do the

right thing after all. Then I did take that step back, silently, and

then I did pull that bedroom door closed, and I did tiptoe off to my

own bedroom to join them in sleep.

Hypnosis wouldn't cure everything. We would deal with any problems

tomorrow, because that's what tomorrows are for. And because, even if

only for tonight, everyone wants a happy ending.

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