Mind Control - Pt. 01

I wondered where this would lead. Would she look at me as if I were some sick pervert, meeting my eyes only with a furious glare and treating me with contempt? Might she leave me? My fears were rampant. She had asked me to deal with her repression and bring out her true desires, but had I gone too far? Finally I fell into a troubled sleep.

I was unsure what woke me the following morning, a Saturday, but I was suddenly shocked to feel I was naked, but more shocked to feel a weight on my stomach.

Steadily, the post-sleep confusion lifted. Still there was the weight beneath the quilt, and now I realised that I was erect -- and my cock was warm -- and being stimulated. Surely, I was still dreaming, some adolescent wet dream, maybe. I lifted the edge of the quilt and looked down, to see a chestnut brown mass of hair.

Throwing the quilt off completely, the full position became clear, and I gazed with disbelief. I thought this must be some parallel universe, as I my naked wife's back, her chestnut hair spread across my stomach as she bobbed rhythmically up and down. She had to be giving me a blow job -- the sensations could mean little else -- but... she had never initiated sex, had not sucked my cock in years -- and the hand, first cupping my balls, then sliding to the crack between my buttocks. Impossible.

I went to prop myself up on my elbows, and she clearly registered that I was awake, but rather than move off me to look up, she wriggled around, keeping her mouth around member until she could look me in the eye. I gazed down, six inches of my shaft visible before the remainder disappeared between her lips. Even as she looked up, she continued to slide up and down, her tongue swirling across me, exciting me towards climax.

Now her hand gripped my shaft, stroking up and down, as her mouth worked my head, her tongue busy, making me realise that I was about to cum.

I knew I had to warn her. She had never tasted my semen. Even when we did have oral sex, as a duty she felt compelled to perform, she had refused to let me cum in her mouth or on her face. Hand jobs were OK, provided she didn't have to look, but a full blow job was out of the question.

"I'm going to cum," I blurted out.

Instead of pulling back, however, she redoubled her efforts, speeding up, increasing my stimulation, until suddenly, I could hold back no longer.

As the first spurt came, I waited for her to pull back, shocked and disgusted. Instead, she stopped her movements as I continued to squirt warm, creamy cum into her throat.

She sucked until I was finished, draining me, then steadily slid her lips up and off my penis, a dribble of semen rolling down my cock. She looked up at me and opened her mouth, showing me the creamy, off-white liquid coating her tongue and the bottom of her mouth. Then, she closed her mouth, tilted her head back and swallowed, before looking at me again, opening her mouth to reveal that it was empty, just her pink tongue visible. She had swallowed my cum.

I think my mouth must have been as wide as hers was a minute earlier as she moved up my body, pressing her breasts against, throwing a leg over my dwindling tumescence so I could feel her downy pubes and moist pussy on my thigh. She kissed me. Not the brief, functional kiss on the cheek which I was accustomed to, but a long, sensual kiss on my lips, mouth open, tongue battling mine, just like when we were young lovers, so many years ago.

I began to move to her neck, making her giggle at the tickling of my tentative touch, then to her breasts, following the slope of her ample mounds, to the dimpled skin of her dark areola before finally drawing her nipple into my mouth. I sucked gently, hearing her gasp for breath and feeling her chest heave, suffocating me in breast flesh.

I slid a hand between her thighs which parted willingly, stroking around her slippery labia, before sliding between, finding her clitoris immediately -- even after so long, I had never forgotten its exact location.

"Bite me harder," she ordered.

Again, I was shocked. She had never instructed me before. I liked it. I wanted to please her, and as I sunk my teeth, covered by my lips, into her solid nipple, she moaned, arching her back.

I slipped two fingers inside her with ease. This was all so different. In our most recent (not at all recent) fumblings, she had been all but dry and I had surreptitiously spread Vaseline on myself to ensure that entering her would not be painful.

I abandoned her breast, moving down to kiss her stomach, swirling my tongue around her navel before reaching the short, soft hair of her mons veneris. I was desperate to return her favour, and the heady scent of her juices, which I had almost forgotten awakened some deep-buried memory, a reminder that I had often been told that my tonguing skills were considerable. I was wondering if they still would be.

Keeping my fingers inside her, bending them to the spongy surface not far inside, my tongue reached her clit. I first licked, then flickered, tapping furiously as she pushed my head down with one hand, forcing me deeper as her thighs were tight around my ears, blocking all sound.

I licked and fingered, barely able to breathe, senses drowning in her musky scent, her smooth, slimy feel, the silence and the darkness as I tasted her nectar.

Suddenly she bucked, squeezing my head until I felt that it might explode. Her juices flowed freely as my fingers were squeezed and released as I lapped at the flood around my tongue. Clearly my skills were not as diminished as I had suspected. Just as I started to worry that I might suffocate, she relaxed and I lifted my head to look at her. She was smiling down at me, her hand still idly toying with her nipple.

"Come and kiss me," she requested, "I want you to. Let me taste myself."

Again, the shock. Even in our early days she had never let me kiss me after going down on her. However, I had no choice, so offered a cautious touch on her lips. Her arm snaked around my neck, pulling me in as her tongue forced my lips apart. For the second time that morning, we shared one another's intimate taste.

Almost inevitably, at that moment, we heard the sound of small feet on the landing. Quickly, Chrissie pulled up the covers before our room was invaded by our youngest child. As she burst in, we gently, but firmly told her we would be downstairs in a minute to sort out whatever argument was going on or remove the offending spider, and she left.

We `kissed once more, before my wife, still naked, strolled to our en suite bathroom and brushed her teeth, leaving the door wide open. I dressed first, then while she dressed, I brushed my teeth -- it was one thing to kiss one another with the scent and taste of sex upon us, but we needed to remove all evidence before going downstairs.

I was frustrated. Not sexually after this morning and the night before, but because I wanted to discuss this with Chrissie. Was she still in a mild trance? Did I need to free her from it? Would she be livid with me? I could not tell her to forget what she had done -- for a start, I wasn't a good enough hypnotist, but also because I didn't want to.

It was close to eleven o'clock that night before we finally sat down alone. I turned to her, ready to say the magic words which would release her. Atypically, however, she spoke first.

"It's fine. Stop worrying. You're not so good you could put me in a trance all day. Last night... relaxed me. It turned me on. I loved it. Every second.

"I realised all my mother's nagging and petty prudery was pathetic, absurd. It's my body, and it's just a body. I... we need to enjoy it. I want to feel all those things I felt last night and this morning, and I want to feel them regularly. Every day."

She looked at me, my jaw slack, wagging gently as I tried to articulate a response.

Chrissie laughed, not forced but natural and tinkling -- just one of the things which had attracted me to her in the first place -- along with her sexy body, intelligent conversation and amazing boobs.

"Really," she continued, "tonight I want you to fuck me. Not the standard quick grope, crawl on top, heave away in missionary position till you cum. I want you to fuck me hard in different positions, after the fingering and licking. Then I want you to jerk off on my face and take a picture of me with cum running over my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Preferably not my hair, but if it happens, I'll wash it in the morning."

She smiled at me. I was incapable of rational thought. Chrissie had never wanted to talk about sex, and often shut down any conversation abruptly, with a sneering look akin to a slap across the face. And to hear her say 'fuck, cum, jerk off', words which, until now, I had believed she was incapable of uttering. My vocabulary seemed to reduce to two letters.

"OK."

She kept smiling. "I think I've gone like Janet in the Rocky Horror Show. I was a born-again virgin, but now -- how does the song go?

'Toucha toucha toucha touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfil me

Creature of the night'

"You know the one. Not that you're a creature of the night, of course, but I want us to do those things we talked about years ago. Have fun, go a bit nuts. I want all those orgasms I missed out on. I want to do those things you said when things started to get stale. All those things which made me look at you like were some kind of sick pervert. I want to do them."

I could do nothing but stare, so slipped her hand on to my thigh and found my erection through my trousers, squeezing gently. Finally, she found a use for my gaping mouth, kissing me, finally returning strength to the muscles in my jaw.

I cupped her breast, squeezing the soft mound as she unzipped, reaching inside my boxer shorts and allowing the air to my rigid cock. She dropped to her knees, taking me in her mouth as her hands unfastened my trousers and pulled both them and my boxer shorts to the floor.

As her head bobbed, I realised that I needed to involve myself, so leaning forward, I grabbed the t-shirt she was wearing and dragged it up, forcing her to release my member briefly as I lifted it over her head. She resumed her sucking as I unhooked her bra, lowering her arms to allow her breasts to swing free.

She knelt up, looking me in the eye.

"I know you've always wanted me to do this," she smiled.

She took a breast in each hand, and sandwiched my cock between them, rubbing them up and down along its length. She was right. This was part of my fantasy, and as she held her breasts still, leaving the purple head of my dick exposed, I realised my dream was about to be fulfilled.

She dipped her head, licking me, teasing the small opening, already oozing precum. She must have been aware of how stimulated I was, for she withdrew rapidly and stripped off her remaining clothes while I pulled off my t-shirt.

She pushed me back and straddled me, her wetness evident as she slid her pussy against my shaft. Then she reached down and guided me into her, lowering herself gently as I watched my resplendent manhood disappear.

She looked at me, gazing as I entered her (or she consumed me), and smiled when I caught her eye. Two days ago, the whole notion of me actually seeing this would have caused her shudder. Now, she not only smiled, but leaned forward slightly so she could look too. Catching my eye again, as she slowly began to rise and fall, she said:

"We need a video, so I can see too. I'd like that."

She began rising and falling, so one second my shaft was visible, replaced the next by her pubes. She was bringing me to the edge again, but I had no wish to finish so quickly. She wanted different positions, she was going to get them. I grabbed her hips, stopping her and manoeuvred her onto the sofa, to the edge, so her wet, succulent cunt was poised for me to enter. I got on my knees between her legs, and pushed straight in, my hands grabbing her breasts, pinching her nipples, pulling so that she cried out before relaxing.

After several strokes, I withdrew, replacing my cock with my tongue and lifting her legs over my shoulders. I licked voraciously, like a starving man at an oasis, feeling the nub of her clit on my tongue. I brought my available hand up and pushed a finger inside, then another and pumped, relishing her moans as she approached orgasm.

Then, a wicked thought arose. I debated for a second before making my decision.

As she was on the verge of orgasm, I withdrew my lubricated fingers, and pushed one between her buttocks, finding the ring of her anus. Her scream was so loud that I was afraid it would wake the kids -- I also hoped it represented an ecstatic orgasm, rather than utter horror.

It was definitely orgasm, as copious fluids poured from her, soaking my face. I wondered if she had actually squirted -- a phenomenon that I had only ever seen on porn sites prior to this. I drunk her emanations willingly and with gusto, before deciding that I needed to fuck her again.

This time, I dragged her to the floor, lying on her back. I put my arms under her legs, forcing them to almost 180 degrees as I entered her, thrusting with all the force I could muster, before bringing her legs up over my shoulders. The sole issue at this point was that she was so wet, it was difficult to get any friction. This was maybe a good thing for me. I prepared for my last fucking position on this occasion, and withdrew.

I rolled her over, and teased her up onto her knees. Before entering, I took a second to admire her dripping pussy and her dark back passage, shiny either from the fingering it had received, or from the juices running in to it. With her pussy being so wet, anal was tempting, but she never done it before. I had only done it a few times with an ex who adored it, and knew that preparation was essential. Much as I wanted it, anal could wait.

I rammed inside, thighs slapping against as I rammed in, deep and hard. Then, I noticed her bend forward and place her head on the floor, allowing a hand to reach back and stroke her clitoris. As I fucked and she stroked, she achieved another orgasm, screaming as my hand came down hard on her buttock, spanking her beautiful ass. She liked it, so I continued, enjoying the ecstatic moans.

I needed to finish, and while loving the fact that she was so incredibly wet, I knew I had to take matters in hand -- plus do as she had asked that morning.

I flipped her on to her back, knelt beside her head and wanked. I rubbed myself quickly, desperate for relief. It didn't take long. Strings of cum shot from my slick cock, as she stared. The first across her cheeks and nose, the second over her eyes, which she blinked away so she could keep watching. The third was deposited between nose and mouth, after which I forced myself into her mouth, where she sucked until I was dry. Quickly, I grabbed the camera and recorded her first facial, my cream across her beautiful, flushed face, as she posed, scraping it into her mouth and swallowing.

We lay together on the floor, limbs entwined, exhausted.

"I want to do this every day," she said, "maybe twice some days. I've always wanted to be like this, but finally I've got the courage. I love fucking. Fucking is fun. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What shall we try next?"

I thought, still apprehensive, worried that the wrong suggestion might put her off.

"I'm not sure. It's your renaissance. What sort of things do you fancy?"

She looked at me, a smile playing across her lips.

"Well. I liked being spanked. We should do more of that. And I loved it when you touched my bum hole. You can do that again. I need to do some research. How about you take the kids out tomorrow and I'll watch some porn. Then tomorrow, we talk some more."

Once again, there was the whole alien idea of my wife watching porn, and my jaw wagged uselessly. Chrissie smiled at me again.

"Get used to it. You created a monster." Suddenly, concern clouded her face. "Isn't this what you wanted? I'm sorry. It's just... you used to talk about these things and I thought..."

I held up a hand.

"Shh. It's what I want. What I dreamed of. Just... I'm worried it's not you -- and I'm kind of in awe. Just... well... I'm a bit scared. What if I'm not enough?"

She laughed. "Stop it. I love you. Always will. I will never, ever do anything without you, and never, ever do anything you don't want to. OK. Now, Stop it."

I was reassured, but still wanted her to take charge. I was still afraid that the wrong word, at the wrong time could destabilise everything. To avoid that, I decided to add a proviso.

"OK. But anything I want you to do, I'm willing to do to -- or the equivalent. I don't ever want you to feel I'm making you do things I wouldn't. This isn't just for me. It's for both of us."

She pulled me close and kissed me again. "Of course. What I want is for us to have fun, and make up for all the lost time. It's gonna be amazing."

The following morning, we fucked again, less athletically, but more lovingly, before Chrissie disappeared to make a picnic for my day out with the kids.

It was a long day, because theme parks were really not my thing, especially on a busy weekend, but I survived. We were home by early evening, ordering pizza and spending a pleasant family evening before packing the kids off to bed, leaving us alone once more.

"I started my fucking period today," she moaned, "and I'm not quite ready to fuck through it. Not sure I ever will be. Might be a suitable time for us to have a break anyway. Don't wanna burn out. Let's talk about it."

Although I felt I could have managed a couple more days, I saw the sense in what she was saying. I had never been a huge fan of certain bodily fluids -- excretory ones and blood specifically -- and felt they had little role in sex, so I was relieved that we were on the same page.

She leaned in to me and relaxed on my shoulder.

"Still. I can do something for you, if you like -- after we talk about my research."

I agreed, still letting her lead the way.

"Firstly, I've been shopping. I thought we should try some toys. I got some clothes too -- like the stuff you bought me yesterday, and a few outfits. They're a surprise though. A fashion show for you."

My penis twitched, intrigued at what she might have bought.

"There's a few things I really don't like. I don't want to be hurt, or for you to hurt me. Spanking's fine. I enjoyed that. But that's about it. And I don't like the idea of bondage. Handcuffs seem ok -- the fluffy ones -- and tying me with scarves or something -- no heavy BBDM or whatever it's called."

"BDSM," I corrected.

"Yes, that. Also, did you know some people find wee and pooh sexy? Not me. That's right out."

So far, I was delighted. We were sounding more compatible by the minute. More than I'd ever dared to think.

"I want to try anal. I think I've been such a tight-arse so far in this marriage, it'd be right, somehow to have my arse loosened physically as well as psychologically. And then there's another thing..."

She went quiet. Whatever she was about to suggest was clearly a concern for her. What could she have found that might be so bad that I would hate it? She'd already discounted my least favourites. I waited until she continued.

"I found this place. This site, where people show themselves live on webcam. It was a link from the porn site I was on. I watched for a while. Mostly men jerking off, which didn't interest me, a few women, mostly teasing and not showing much, and a handful of couples. I watched some of them for a bit, getting turned on by sharing themselves with people.

"At first, I wasn't sure, then... well... I thought... what if it was us? What if we were on webcam, stripping naked, fucking in front of... well... hundreds of people. I felt a flutter in my stomach, then I started to get wet, down there, and the more I thought, the more turned on I got. I started playing with myself till I came.