InFiltration, Part 2
by Wrestlr
[M/M, MC, hypno]
[Synopsis: A wrestler signs up for a course on using
self-hypnosis to improve his athletic performance. Surprisingly, things do
not go as planned.]
Disclaimer: There's sex, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions
in this. If you don't like that sort of thing, read something else.
Everybody in the is legal age. Parts of this may be
autobiographical, or it might be all fiction---who can say?
Occasionally, I borrow a phrase from a specific person in order to make
love with him. In this work, I embrace the "it didn't work" in
Section 2 from Northeyes, a talented author in his own right. He says the
story is not original to him, that he heard it from others. I've reworked
the scene for my purposes, but I first heard it from him. In this work, I
also draw on some of the hypnosis methods of the psychologist Milton
Erickson, which my friend Chad/Epaphus has been kind (and patient) enough
to explain to me. Again, I've reworked those methods for my own ends, so
any faults are mine, not Chad's. If there's a better teacher in the world,
I haven't found him.
Copyright - 2001 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.
Comments to wrestlr@iname.com
Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:
* http://members.tripod.com/~Brock_J (MC and general M/M stories, plus
my home page)
* http://www.asstr.org/~wrestlr (MC and general M/M stories, mirror
site)
* http://www.asstr.org/~mcstories/Authors/Wrestlr.html (MC stories)
InFiltration, Part 2
9
I had this dream last night. It was one of those dreams where you open
your eyes and look around but you know you're not really awake.
I opened my eyes. I was in my bed. Flat on my back. I felt funny,
like I was lying there but also like I was falling back deeper and deeper
into my mattress every second.
This sound filled the air in my dream, a low drone like the sound of the
professor's voice, sort of. There was a little moonlight coming through
the window. Daniel was there in my bedroom. He stood there at the foot of
my bed. I just looked at him. He looked back, his eyes half-closed and
blinking like he wasn't really awake either. He was smiling. He wasn't
wearing anything except this pair of white boxer shorts, and that little
gold pendant he likes so much, and this gentle smile.
I was lying out on top of the covers--don't ask me why--this was a
dream, right? All I had on was that pair of cut-off sweatshorts I like to
sleep in. I was sprawled out spread-eagle on the bed. I had a hard-on.
I'm pretty well-hung, so I guess Daniel could see it through my shorts. I
don't think that thought crossed my mind right then, though.
Daniel climbed onto the bed between my spread legs. He was still
looking at me. Still smiling. His gold necklace and pendant caught the
light and flashed.
My hips lifted. I'm pretty sure I didn't do it, 'cause like I said I
kept feeling like I was falling back, back, back deeper into my bed.
Daniel pulled my shorts down. He took my right ankle and moved my leg,
slipped my shorts off that leg, then the other. He came up further on my
bed, on his hands and knees, his body hovering over me, less than a foot
away. His face lowered toward mine, lips parted, then touching mine, his
tongue darting in and flicking across my teeth.
I couldn't move at all, not a muscle. He pulled back. Still smiling.
His arm moved, and I heard his boxers slide down his body. He lowered his
entire body, laying half alongside, half on top of me. His mouth found my
neck and earlobe and licked, kissed, nibbled. One of his strong hands
coaxed its way across my pectoral, like he was rubbing a woman's or
something.
His legs between mine. His body rolling on top of me. Chest to chest.
Hip to hip. Cock alongside cock--both hard. He let a little of his weight
settle onto me, and then he began to move, pushing himself gently up, down,
up, down, moving along my body. The friction felt really great. His hips
ground our cocks together, between our hips. He closed his eyes, tilted
his head back, bit his lower lip.
He dropped his head forward and kissed me. He didn't seem to care that
my mouth wasn't doing anything back. He kissed me gently, then more
aggressively. I couldn't make any part of my body move. Couldn't push him
away. Though to tell you the truth, I don't remember whether I wanted to
or not.
It was starting to feel really good, the way he was grinding his hips,
working our cocks together between us. His balls kept slapping gently into
mine. I felt this really relaxing feeling roll through me, and the next
thing I know I'm starting to cum, spurting hot liquid up between us. He
pulled back and grinned at me. His eyes were glassy. His body stiffened,
then shuddered. He groaned, threw his head back, and I felt more scald
my abdomen as he shot too.
When his orgasm had passed, Daniel looked down at me. He grinned. Gave
me a light kiss on the edge of my mouth. He chuckled quietly. He took a
deep breath, then pulled back off me. I was sleepy, falling out of this
dream and back into sleep. I closed my eyes. I felt him climb off the
bed, and that's when the dream ended and a deep sleep took over and I fell
back into it again.
10
So don't ask me what happened at class last night, 'cause I don't really
remember. It's funny--some classes, I remember every word, and others I
forget. My memory is really fucked. Just plain fucked.
My balls were buzzing--had been all day. I couldn't get that dream out
of my mind. Especially how much Daniel on the couch earlier had looked
exactly like he had in my dream.
In the locker room, while I was stripping down to get into my singlet
for practice, I was running some things through my head. Stuff Doc had
said before about filters and how your subconscious could use them to help
separate what was important from what wasn't. The moment I pulled on my
jock strap, I felt ... well, something different. I didn't think much
about it. I just continued to pull on my singlet and my headgear.
Then, when I walked out to the mats to start stretching and warming up,
the moment my foot hit the first mat, it happened. For the first second or
two, it was like ... like this mask was pulled over my head. Everything
felt kind of weird and dreamlike. But just for a second. Then, suddenly,
everything is clear. Crystal clear. I'm feeling relaxed and confident,
strong and focused. It was a good feeling. Was this what Doc had been
talking about? Yeah, it was a really good feeling. All over. I felt my
cock growing a little, half-hard. Good thing I had my jock and cup on, so
no one would notice.
All I know was, all through the drills and the practice matches, I was a
machine. Every move clicked out, and just about everything happened
perfectly.
Coach got in my face toward the end. Something about this hold not
being completely legal. It took me a while to register him and what he was
saying. Even then, I just felt like it didn't matter that much. It was
like Doc had said: the opponent was simply an obstacle to be controlled and
neutralized. The way I had done it worked.
Coach is a muscular guy, but so am I. He was getting in my space,
trying to get in my face. I was a couple of inched taller than him. I
puffed out my chest and stood my ground. Only a skintight layer of lycra
separated m from being naked but no way was I going to back down.
Everything he said--I guess I heard it but at some point it just stopped
registering. He was getting all in the face, but I guess he could see
I was still as calm and relaxed as I could be. Pretty soon, he just huffed
and said, "Fine--have it your way," and stormed off.
After practice, when I was headed back to the dressing room and stepped
off the mats, it was like, Click! Like something inside my head switched
off. Not all the way off--I still felt kind of relaxed and happy. Must
have been that rush of endorphins Doc had mentioned some athletes got when
their filters kicked off. I didn't feel like they had turned all the way
off, though, but I didn't mind much. All I knew was, I was really horny,
and I had a hard time showering and changing back into my regular clothes
without throwing a rod right there in the locker room.
I stopped by the library on my way back to my apartment. Don't ask me
why--usually the library was one of the last places you'd ever find me.
But like I said, my balls had been buzzing all day, and I was horny as
hell, and anyway I had to take a dump, so I hit the restroom on the second
floor.
I headed straight for one of the stalls. Someone came in and went into
the stall next to mine. A in the wall between us, about three inches
in diameter. I didn't think much about it.
I took care of business and I was wiping. The guy in the next stall put
his foot close to the partition and tapped it a couple of times. I kept
wiping. The guy cleared his throat and tapped again. That's when I saw
this eye looking at me through the hole.
Fuck! I tore off a big wad of paper and stuffed it into the
hole. Perverts! Now I remembered why the second-floor restrooms were
notorious. Dude probably thought I was fresh meat or something.
I stood up and reached for my boxers. When did my cock get so hard?
Shit, my balls were buzzing something fierce now, like a beehive.
Fucker in the next stall poked the paper out of the hole.
"Dude," he whispered, "lemme suck it." He stuck a finger through the hole,
making a "come here" gesture. "Lemme suck you off," he murmured.
I thought to myself, That sure sounds good. Then I thought, Fuck, where
did that come from?
"C'mon, dude," he said. "I don't got all day. Lemme lick it and suck
on it for ya."
I felt something happen inside of my head, and this really focused
feeling came over me again. Nothing else mattered but my cock and that
hole and the need to get off. Don't ask me why, but I just did it--I just
shuffled up to the partition with my pants down around my ankles, and I
pushed my hard-on through the hole. I felt his fingers wrap around the
base, and then I felt his mouth fit over it like a warm, wet sleeve. I
held on to the top of the partition with both hands, using my weight to
force my cock through the as far as possible.
I have a long ol' cock--too long for him to suck it all, I guess, so he
used his hand too. His mouth moved on me. His hand around the base kept
time, sending ripples of joy through every inch of my shaft and from there
out through my whole body.
I was getting a blow-job from some strange in the men's room of the
library! I couldn't fucking believe it! Gotta admit, though, the
situation got me off as much as the feel of his mouth on me, and I couldn't
hold back long. My hips were bucking helplessly against the partition and
his mouth nursing on me felt like it was the right out of my
balls, and I was making all these little crying noises in my throat, and
suddenly I couldn't stop my from shooting into his mouth.
I fell back a couple of steps, pulling my softening cock out of his
mouth with a pop! It sure had felt good, but--shit!--he was a guy. What
had gotten into me? I pulled my boxers and jeans up, grabbed my gym bag,
and practically ran out of there.
8
When I stumbled out of my bedroom, Daniel was on the living room couch
watching some game on TV, the twenty-four-hour sports channel. He was
slouched down, legs spread and feet cocked up on edge of the coffee table,
like he was in stirrups at a gynecologist's office or something. He was
munching chips from a bag.
"Want some?" he said around a mouthful as I sleepy-stumbled into the
living room.
"Sure." I swallowed a yawn and thrust my hand into the bag to retrieve a
handful.
"Your dad called," he said, not looking away from the screen. "He said
to call him."
"Okay. Thanks. So who's winning?"
"They are, the fuckers!"
On the screen a player stumbled and fell, and the ball made a break for
freedom.
Daniel shouted, "Oh, you whore!" He lunged his upper body forward and
flung a chip at the TV. "You're supposed to hold onto it, fuckhead!
Ohhhh, maaaan!" He slammed his torso back against the back of the couch,
smashing his palms over his face. "Shit, Luke, these are just so
fucking sad. It's no wonder they're losers."
All he had on was a pair of ratty navy-blue shorts and that little
pendant of his. Daniel is on the wrestling team, and he's got a great
build.
I caught myself wondering why I'd never noticed that before. I mean,
I'd noticed thought he was attractive, sure, but I mean I never
really noticed it myself. He had really wide lats, massive arms, and pecs with just a little patch of between them, with that gold
pendant nestled against his chest. Just like I remembered from my dream.
He was 22 but he had one of those boyishly handsome faces that sometimes
made him look like a kid when he grinned. Dark brown hair, cut short.
Deep brown eyes. Eyes that were now looking right back at me.
I looked away quickly.
"Helloooo?" he said. "Earth to Luke. Come in, Luke."
"Huh? Sorry--what?"
"I said, what time is your exam today?"
"Oh--uh, 2:00, I think."
"Better book, dude. It's 1:35 already."
"Huh?" It couldn't be that late already--I couldn't have overslept that
much! I never overslept, and here I'd already missed both my morning
classes, and I was about to be late for an exam!
The clock on the VCR flicked over to 1:36.
"Shit! I gotta jet, dude," I called as I ran back to my bedroom to jump
under the shower and throw on some clothes.
15
Since it was Saturday, I went out for my usual run to burn off some
excess energy. It was early afternoon, and the temperature was climbing.
As usual, this time of day, there weren't many people at the track.
After I did my stretches, I was already starting to sweat. I stripped
off my tee-shirt and tucked it in the back of my shorts and started my
laps. I ran full-out, counting off the laps until, finally, I was through.
Exhausted too. I walked another lap, hands on my hips, chest heaving in
the oxygen, to cool down.
"You're a fast runner," he said.
I looked over. "Oh--hi, profess--or. I didn't--see you--there," I
panted.
He was dressed in shorts, a tee-shirt, running shoes, like he'd been
jogging himself. "That's good," he said. "That kind of focus keeps you
from getting distracted. Helps you keep your intensity up."
"Yeah--I guess--so," I panted.
"I had hoped to run into you here today."
"Huh?"
"There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Think you can run a
little more? My place is a couple of blocks away. Let's go have a nice,
cold drink and talk. Okay?"
"Sure," I said. I didn't know what else to say. I somehow wanted very
much to go back to his place. Like I was expecting his invitation.
"C'mon, I'll race you," he said, swatting my ass as he started running.
He was in excellent shape, and his powerful legs set a good pace. I could
keep up with him, probably pass him, but I was nearly exhausted from my run
already--and since I had no clue where he lived, how could I pass him? So
I trotted along beside him, turning when he did. He kept counting off the
pace, and I found myself falling into step with him, with his counting.
Finally, we came to a two-story brick house, and he headed up the
driveway. I was worn out, nearly ready to collapse, from running that far.
Sweat covered me like a second skin. I followed him up the steps to the
front door and inside.
His house was nothing great but looked comfortable. Homey. I watched
as he stripped off his tee-shirt, almost like he was displaying his strong,
masculine chest to me. I turned away and forced myself to concentrate on
something else.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, pointing at the couch. He walked
into the next room, the kitchen.
I sat down on the edge, not wanting to get my sweat on the back of the
seat, with my knees spread the way always sit. "Uhm, nice place you
have here," I said, to make conversation.
He came back with two glasses of water. He handed me one and drank from
the other. I swallowed thirstily. I felt so odd, like there was an
electric charge in the air, an air of expectation.
The professor was looking right at me, watching me intently. I was
suddenly aware of my cock getting hard, pushing against the flimsy material
of my nylon running shorts. The professor looked me right in the eye and
said, "So, tell me--when was the last time you got laid?"
I was pretty shocked by his directness. I felt myself blush.
"Uhm--like two weeks, I guess?" My cock was definitely getting hard, and I
shifted my hand in my lap to hide it.
"That long ago? A good-looking guy like you should be getting laid
every night." The professor glanced down. "Getting hard? Just from
talking about getting laid?"
I tried to laugh and joke it off. "You know how it is," I said.
"Maybe that's the power of suggestion at work," the professor said.
"Just like the reason you're here."
I said, "Huh?"
"You're here because of a suggestion I gave you in class. A
post-hypnotic suggestion to be where you were, when you were, when we 'ran
into' each other. That was no accident."
"If you gave me the suggestion in class, why aren't the other here?"
"It was a special suggestion, just for you." He reached over and took my
wrist, pulled my hand away from my crotch. Now he had to be able to see my
wood. "No need to hide this," he said. "I've seen it several times
before"--which struck me as kind of weird, you know? I mean, when had the
professor seen me hard before?
He said, "You know, now's the perfect time for you to be hypnotized.
You're tired from your run. All of your conscious mind's defenses are
down. You're already relaxed, maybe even feeling a little sleepy, right?"
"I guess so."
He lifted up his finger, held it there. I'd seen him do this in class
enough that I knew exactly what he was doing. It was exactly the same way
he hypnotized Isaac that first night in class. "Luke, I want you to watch
my finger. Keep your eyes on my finger." The professor moved his finger
back and forth, and my eyes tracked it, like it was inevitable, and maybe
it was. Back and forth, always coming a little closer to my face. Closer
and closer, until finally the professor brought his finger to rest on the
bridge of my nose, making me to look cross-eyed at it. "That's good, Luke.
You're almost there. See, I know you're here for a reason, and pretty
soon, that reason will be as clear as crystal." He put his hand on my
forehead and started it down across my eyes and face. "Sleep," he
ordered, and I couldn't stop my eyes from closing.
"Luke," his voice came to me. "Open your eyes." I did. I was in a
darkened bedroom, lit only by stray light through the curtain. Stretched
out on the bed, on my stomach. "That's it," he said. "So easy to open
your eyes and let your conscious mind engage while you stay deeply
hypnotized. So deeply hypnotized, aren't you?"
"Yes." Whoa--did I really just say that?
"Good. I want you to enjoy this. Think of it as your reward for doing
so well in class, but there's more to it than just that. You're here to
reward someone too, someone who has also done very well in class. Isn't
that right, Isaac?"
Isaac's voice from somewhere said, "Yeah," very slowly.
"Come over here where Luke can see you, Isaac."
Someone shuffled closer to the bed, emerging gradually from the darkness
at the edges of the room. I recognized that fraternity tattoo on the
outside of his leg, just above his ankle--Isaac--though some part of me
wondered how I knew that since I couldn't remember ever seeing his bare
legs before. My eyes drifted up his long, lanky body and pale skin. He
was naked. My eyes passed his semi-stiff prick and its nest of pubic
hair, his bare freckled chest, and settled on his half-closed eyes, the
foggy look in them.
"Yes, Isaac is in a trance too," the professor said. "Just like you
are, Luke. A deep, relaxing trance. He's had a little crush on you, so I
thought this would be a good way to reward you both for doing so well in my
class."
The professor told Isaac to go ahead, and Isaac climbed up on the bed,
kneeling beside me. He went very slowly, massaging, kissing, licking,
scratching, massaging some more. All the while, the professor whispering
about how relaxed we both must be feeling, how tired, how sleepy. Isaac
was using this massage oil with a really heavy, sensual patchouli
fragrance--very erotic--not enough to get me slick but enough to make his
hands glide over my skin and fill the air with the fragrance. It felt like
the fragrance was some cloud in which I was floating, drifting. From
the moment he began, all the way through, Isaac never lost contact with my
body--some part of him was always touching some part of me.
He started by massaging my shoulders and back. Up along my neck, into
my scalp, then back down and along my arms and hands, first one, then the
other, then down my back, my butt through my shorts, down the backs of my
legs, the left one first, all the way down to my foot, where my shoe and
sock just seemed to melt off my body, then back up to my butt and down the
right, where that shoe and sock just seemed to fall off as well. I
discovered how sensual having my calves massaged can be. It felt like I
was just melting into the mattress, just like the professor was telling me
to do. I also discovered I have an erogenous zone on the backs of my
knees, and that I like getting licked there, slowly, the way a will
clean itself. Isaac massaged my feet, even my toes and the spaces between
them. Then back up the backs of my legs, across my shorts, up my back to
my shoulders.
He rolled me over. Started massaging my chest. I could barely keep my
eyes open, but Isaac kept looking at me through his own sagging eyelids and
smiling, like he was doing this from some great well of peacefulness within
himself and I could take a drink from it if I wanted to. He worked my
chest, then down along my right arm. I discovered the inside of my elbow
is a place where I like to be licked too, slowly and sensually. He spent a
while on my right hand, then when he started back, he paused at the wrist.
From the nightstand, he picked up a necktie. I've never played with
bondage, but I didn't say no--didn't even think of it. He just kept
smiling to let me know it was all right. I let him tie the tie around my
wrist, then knot it to the headboard.
Isaac worked his way back down along my arm, across my chest again,
started along my left arm. He took his time. He was in no hurry, so we
were in no hurry. The more he licked the inside of my elbow on that arm,
the more I felt like--I dunno--it was an incredible feeling; if he had kept
it up a while longer, I might have cum. He made his way to my left hand.
On his way back, he paused after he worked the wrist and retrieved a second
tie. I just lay there and let him tie my left wrist to the headboard.
Isaac kept going back down my arm. Massaged my pectorals, then down
along my abs, my sides, reaching under me to pull at the bottoms of my
delts. I was getting this really connected feeling, like for the first
time I was starting to understand how my body isn't just parts or muscle
groups--it's one big whole where everything attaches and shares with
everything else.
By now, neither of us seemed to be listening to the professor. We were
locked in our own little world, just us. Isaac worked his way down to my
running shorts. His hands told me to lift my hips, just by the way they
ran over the ridges of my hip bones. He pulled my shorts off, my jockstrap
too. He worked my hips and groin. I was hard but he skipped over my rod.
Instead, he went down the fronts of my thighs, really working the heavy
muscles there. Down my calves, finding ways to run his fingers between the
muscles, and down to my feet and toes again. When he worked his way up my
legs, he started spreading them, a little further apart each time he worked
his way further up. When he got to my thighs, he put my calves on his
shoulders. My legs were pretty much limp, so he didn't have any trouble. I
could feel the blood flowing down out of my legs and into my torso as he
massaged my thighs.
This time, Isaac went from my thighs to the area where my balls meet my
ass. He kept reaching under me to grip my ass, then making long pulling
motions from my ass to my thighs, then around the outside and up into my
groin. He rubbed my balls gently, licking at them slowly but firmly. Most
chicks just kind of lap at them a time or two and then move on, but he was
using his tongue like a finger to probe and rub and massage them. He
licked at my shaft, from the root to the tip. I don't usually leak precum,
but I was oozing it like a fountain. He had a finger between my thighs,
making little circles around that ridge of flesh behind my balls. That
finger made its way down toward my asshole and flicked across it lightly,
so lightly it felt more like air. His other hand turned my cock shaft
toward his mouth, and he went down on me, looking me right in the eye and
never taking his off mine. His mouth was soft and hot and wet, and his
tongue undulated along the underside of my shaft. He wasn't "sucking."
Just holding me inside him and moving himself along me.
I started to cum. At first, I thought it was going to be a pleasant
little orgasm, very relaxed and just a good feeling flowing through me.
Then when I was about halfway through what usually happens during one of
them, something happened in the base of my cock, and the next thing I know,
I'm having one of the strongest orgasms of my life--just flat-out amazing,
like I'm pulled tighter than a violin string and humming from the stroke of
a white-hot bow. When it's finally over, I'm like one of those patients
after electroshock: spent and limp and too dazed to think clearly.
Isaac kissed his way up my groin, my stomach, my chest, neck, cheek,
kissed me. His way of letting me know he was still there. He started
massaging my face: chin, cheeks, temples, forehead, the areas around my
eyes. Every now and then, he'd stroke down my neck, across my chest or
shoulders or along an arm, stirring up the residual feelings in my body and
making them swirl around a little. Mostly though, he focused on my face
until, eventually, he kissed me one last time and untied me, one hand at a
time.
He was still fully hard. When the professor told him to, Isaac took his
cock in hand. He straddled my chest and stroked it. I was too limp to
move. He jacked himself off, never taking his half-closed eyes off me.
His body shuddered, bucked forward and back a little, and then I felt his
cum spackling down, hot and wet, against my chest and neck and chin.
Like the professor said, we were finding ourselves very sleepy, ready to
go back down into sleep. Isaac lay down alongside me, his arm thrown
across around me like a blanket. I closed my eyes when the professor told
me to and sank into my trance almost immediately.
25
I got to the gym a little early. I was going to class, sure, but I had
something to do first. I hauled my gym back into the dressing room and
dropped it on the bench.
"Hey, Luke," Daniel said, already pulling on his singlet.
"Hey, buddy," I said, shaking his hand. Beyond him, Daryl was already
in his singlet, getting his shoes tied. Tony was pulling on his swim team
swimsuit, a trim little Speedo that didn't cover nearly as much of his big
ol' bulge as it should have, probably because he had a lot of bulge down
there to cover. Isaac had on the shorts of his basketball uniform and was
reaching for his shirt; our eyes met for a second, and he was looking at me
like I was his best friend or something, and then I had to look away. I
got undressed. I guess we all had the same idea this week: showing up for
class in our team uniforms. After all, what better way to focus our minds
on improving our performance as athletes?
And over there was Marco. Marco is South American. Dusky skin.
Beautiful face. Perfect body. worn shoulder-long and a little
shaggy. He's already in his white shorts and pulling on his soccer team
tunic, the one with the team mascot and his number over his heart. He's
got this way of moving that makes you think of sex. Trust me. Hell, all
of a sudden, just looking at him, I was sure thinking of sex. Sex with
Marco. Him my cock. Me his. Me laying his naked body
back and hoisting his legs up.
Fuck! What the hell was I thinking? Marco was a guy, dammit!
Good-looking but still a guy. I looked away and had to think about math
tests and shit like that to make my erection go away. Good thing no one
seemed to notice. Except for Marco, who was looking back at me with this
expression that might be smoldering sex or annoyance. I couldn't tell
which, and I turned away quickly, blushing in spite of myself.
We put our street clothes away--time for class. Tony, in his Speedo,
was nearly naked, but he didn't seem the least bit self-conscious. Daryl,
Daniel, and I in our skintight singlets were pretty close to naked too, but
we're used to being on display like that. When you wear a singlet as much
as we do, you get used to it.
We filed into the classroom.
At first, I thought maybe class had been canceled and Doc forgot to tell
us, because the lights were out. Well, the overhead lights were off, that
is, but it wasn't entirely dark in there. There were these two
candles--the tall, thin dinner-table kind--about six feet apart in the
middle of the floor mats, on these little stands.
Cameron asked, "Hey, Doc, what's up the candles and shit? Someone
forget to pay the electric bill?"
"Very funny," Doc said, chuckling along with us. "Tonight you finally
start learning how to hypnotize yourselves without my help. One of the
classic ways is by staring into a candle flame. Candles make good tools
for beginners. Now, if you'll all take a seat in a circle around one of
the candles, we'll get started.
"Have a seat," he says to us, and he tells us to sit in a circle. So we
get settled, sitting cross-legged in circles around the candles. Daryl,
Marco, and Isaac are at the other one. At this one, Tony sits to my right,
Cameron to my left, with Daniel directly across from me.
"Everyone comfortable?" Doc asks us, and we know he's getting started.
"The first thing I'd like you to do, of course, is to just let yourself
look right into the heart of the candle flame. That's right. Now take a
deep breath. Look directly into the flame. By now, you're probably
starting to recognize the feeling that comes when your mental filters kick
in. It's a pretty good feeling, huh? Those filters always help you do a
better job. Let me tell you another story. About two years ago, I was
asked to conduct a hypnosis session with a major league baseball pitcher.
The pitcher and his coach described his problems in a way that led me to
suspect he had a serious mental block. He had been pitching worse and
worse over the season. According to his coach, he had done better in
previous years but now he to be sinking into a severe slump. Under
hypnosis, the pitcher told me that he felt guilty about throwing bad
pitches. Every time he threw, he was recalling how badly the last pitch
went, and then he was using that to convince himself how much worse the
next pitch was going to be. It was a deadly cycle of self-consciousness
and guilt. So I helped him set up a set of corrective mental filters and
suggested that, the moment the ball was leaving his fingertips, he would be
looking into the past and could no longer affect the ball. I then
suggested that since the ball, the past, and the outcome of the pitch were
now clearly out of his hands, he did not need to feel guilty about the
outcome, and all he had to do was learn from the experience and continue
learning and getting better. As an added filter, I suggested that when he
came on the field, unless some emergency required all his attention, he
would find that he couldn't see or hear anyone or anything beyond the
fences. They'd be filtered out of his perception, as if they just wouldn't
exist for him, because they were not a part of the game and thereby didn't
need his attention if he is playing. The result, according to his coach,
was that the pitcher's self-consciousness turned to self-confidence, and
the other players noticed he had a much better attitude. And yes, his
pitching really improved for the rest of the season. That's the kind of
improvement your filters will offer you."
Doc paused for half a second, then continued into the main part of what
I was learning to see as his induction. "Just breathe any way you want to,
and let yourself catch the rhythm. Let yourself find the rhythm in the
flickering flame, and follow it. That's fine. You can breathe normally.
As you let yourself focus, focus more and more on the flame, deeper, I
wonder if maybe you had an experience where you had to lift your arm to do
something, something like lift a bag of groceries out of the trunk of a
car, and you really had to reach for them and lift them up. And I'm
wondering if we might get your hand lifting tonight. As you go into a
trance, even if you're not consciously sure you're going into a trance yet,
your hand and your arm can lift automatically. Maybe it will start to lift
now, or maybe it will start to lift as we go deeper into the trance, as you
stare deeper into the candle flame, the fingers and thumb starting to move
..."
Across from me, Daniel moved. That broke my concentration, and I looked
up at him. He was looking right back at me, and he grinned and mouthed
something, jerked his head toward Doc and the group around the other
candle. I couldn't make out what Daniel was trying to say, but I looked
anyway. Daryl and Isaac I could see pretty clearly--they were staring
right at the candle, eyes heavy-lidded, expressions blank, hands twitching
and starting to lift a little. I sneaked a glimpse at Doc but he was
droning on, not paying any attention to us. I looked back at Daniel. He
was grinning and moved his mouth. I couldn't lip-read it in the semi-dark
and mouthed back, What? He frowned at me like I was being silly or dense
or something and mouthed it again. I looked over at Cameron, then at Tony.
They were looking pretty zoned out. Tony's hand was bend up at the wrist;
as I watched, it started to rise off his thigh, into the air. I looked
back at Daniel. He was grinning big, and he silently mouthed a few more
words. I missed it again and frowned my confusion back at him, which only
made him grin wider.
Doc was suddenly standing behind Daniel, and he gripped the back of
Daniel's head, forcing his eyes down toward the candle, forcing Daniel to
look. Doc didn't even break his rhythm. "And you can feel yourself
looking deeper ...," he was saying, "... deeper ever second ... into the
flame ... and you may find that ... you can't look away ... can't stop
what's happening ... inevitably ..." And when Doc let go of Daniel's head,
Daniel didn't look up, didn't turn away from the flame, and his expression
was starting to fade, like he was falling into a trance faster than any of
us. Daniel always was an overachiever.
Doc was saying something like, "And now as your hand is lifting, that's
maybe a sign that you're starting to go into a trance, or maybe you're
already in a trance a bit, ready to go further ..." I looked around. The
others were all staring, blank-faced, at the candles, as if half-asleep.
"And I'm wondering," Doc was saying, "if your arm will lift up and out,
whether it will lift to your cheek, or your nose, and I'm wondering if you
think it's pretty silly now, but it's lifting, and I'm wondering if there's
any doubt, while it's still lifting." I yawned, in spite of myself. Then
Doc was behind me, one finger on the back of my head tipping my head down,
where my eyes met the flame as it danced, and Doc said, "And I'm wondering
if maybe you're already feeling it happen, so familiar, that familiar
feeling of a trance coming insistently over you," and I began to feel ...
funny. Kinda sleepy and focused at the same time. And Doc was saying,
"And that's okay, as it lifts, as your hand lifts, lifting higher, as you
feel yourself sinking back into that familiar, delicious state of hypnotic
peace, eyes starting to close. So heavy. Hand rising. Eyelids closing.
Closing tightly ..."
Doc said my name and touched my shoulder. I opened my eyes, lifted my
head, took a deep breath. I looked up and around at him. Doc was smiling
at me. I wasn't aware of having fallen asleep, but some part of me knew I
wasn't really awake either, knew that I was still hypnotized, and that
seemed cool.
Doc told me to stand up, and I did. My body felt kind of weird.
Sluggish. Like I was seeming everything through some kind of glass. But I
stood up, and I followed him. He led me out into the hallway. The lights
were out in the hallway too now--the gym must have been closed. That
didn't matter. Doc led me to the room next door. Another classroom. Mats
on the floor. One wall was all mirrors. The light were on--brighter than
usual, it seemed--and they made me blink.
Doc had a set up on a tripod, aimed over there. Over in
that corner, by the edge of the mirrored wall, Doc had put outlined a
square with masking tape. Doc was talking to me--I couldn't quite catch
the words, but I understood. Once I stepped into that eight-foot square,
everything would be okay. Whatever happened would stay safely in the
square. I could do anything, and it would be okay.
Doc told me to go over and stand inside it, and I did. He had the going, and he had another handheld pointing at me. I grinned
back. I flexed my arms and chest, feeling the muscles stretch. Felt
really good. I looked at me reflection in the mirror as it mimicked my
motions. Yeah, I looked really good, really sexy.
I got down on all fours and positioned myself and pumped out a quick set
of ten pushups. I watched myself in the mirror the whole time. Doc was
walking around, getting different angles, but I ignored him for the most
part. I came up onto my knees for a second. Long enough to pull the
straps of my singlet down off my shoulders, to peel the top half of it down
to me waist. Yeah, pushups made my chest look great--really pumped up my
pecs. I watched myself run a hand across them in the mirror. That felt
good too. I dropped back down and pumped out another ten pushups, feeling
myself starting to sweat just a little.
My body was feeling good--really alive--even if my head still had that
kinda fuzzy feeling. I flopped over onto my butt. I tugged off my
wrestling boots and the half-socks I wore under them. I stretched back,
then cranked out a dozen or so crunches, feeling my abs tighten nicely.
Doc was telling me what a great job I was going, and how good I looked, and
I grinned. I sat up and skinned my singlet the rest of the way off, which
left me wearing only that skintight pair of Lycra wrestler's briefs, the
kind wear sometimes under a singlet if they don't want to wear a
jockstrap.
My rod was making a long ridge across my left hip. It was hard, and
touching it through my wrestler's briefs sent this pleasant tingle through
my whole body. I knew Doc wouldn't mind. He knew how it was when got
horny. He was even saying so right then.
I stood up and, with my thumbs hooked in the waistband of my briefs, I
shucked them down and off my body, stepped out of them and dropped them
just outside the square. I looked at myself in the mirror, muscles all
pumped, cock sticking out and needing some serious attention. Yeah, I
looked damn good. The over there on its tripod was surely getting a
good look, and Doc with his handheld was also getting some great
shots. Yeah, I was very attractive--why shouldn't he be getting this on
film? I ought to put on a good show for him.
So I did. I wrapped one hand around my cock and ran the other across my
pecs. The double assault nearly made my legs buckle from ecstasy.
Everything felt twice as good as usual while I was in the square and in
front of the camera. I stroked my meat with long, lazy strokes, feeling
the sensations ripple out through my body, building slowly. My other hand
roamed across my chest, my flat stomach, even my balls and ass, spreading
the joy around. I loved the sensations washing through me. Fucking loved
them.
My hand roamed back and found my ass, flicking a finger across the in ways that brought a whole new dimension of bliss. Next thing I know,
I'm on my back with my legs spread, with one hand pistoning at my meat
while the other teases my with two delicious fingers sliding in and
out. Everything is feeling too good, and I'm panting, gasping, thrashing
almost out of control. Everything is feeling too full, starting to burst,
and then Doc says something and my orgasm is exploding all over me, shooting everywhere and splattering across my chest and arm and abs.
I topple back onto the mat, sprawled out, my whole body sweat- and
cum-soaked and limp. Doc is telling me something, and I turn to look at
him and smile for the camera. He's telling me what a good job I did, how
good I must feel, how tired I must be, and yeah, I'm already feeling myself
sinking, and I can't move or hold my head up any longer, and my eyes are
closing.
When I open my eyes again, I'm back with the others, sitting around the
candles. The flames have been extinguished. Doc has just turned the
lights on, and we're blinking, squinting sheepishly at each other. We yawn
and and stand up. I'm dressed again, but my singlet straps are
still off, the top half of my singlet hanging around my waist. Daniel's
and Daryl's singlets are pushed down too. Marco has his soccer team tunic
off, tucked in the back of his shorts, and Cameron has his tennis off
too, draped over his left shoulder. We're all jocks and there's nothing
wrong with having your off. I guess we didn't think anything about
it.
Class was over. We filed off to the locker room. The lights were off
throughout the hallways--it must have been late. This was the first time
class lasted past the time the gym closed. I pulled my locker open. A
shower sounded good--I wanted to wash the day's funk off. So I stripped
down. The others were doing the same thing. I stepped past the that Doc had set up on the tripod by the shower entrance and turned on one
of the nozzles. On the opposite wall, Cameron and Tony were horsing around
under the spray, laughing at some joke.
The water felt great, like a whole weight was being washed off of my
shoulders. The shower beside me came on, and I looked over. Marco stood
there, head back, running the water and his fingers through the hair on his
chest. I reached for the soap and started swiping it across my own chest.
Pretty soon, I felt something. Eyes. Marco's eyes on me. I looked
over at him, and he smiled, a sly, confident smile. I smiled back. He was
lathering his cock and balls, and staring right at me, kind of intently. I
looked down. His dick was starting to get hard, lengthening and stretching
out toward me.
I felt my cock starting to stiffen too, and I had to turn away, turn my
back toward Marco. I focused on lathering my arm.
Over there on the other side of the showers, Isaac and Daryl were
horsing around and giggling. Playing a little harmless grab-ass. But
Isaac was letting his hand linger on Daryl's ass, and Daryl was letting
him. They were coming together, and their mouths met. My jaw dropped. No
way! What was happening here?
A hand touched my back. Hands. Running over my back in small, lazy
circles. Half soaping, half-massaging. I looked over my shoulder. Marco.
He grinned at me. Okay, I have to admit--it felt great. I love a good
backrub. So I grinned back. He ran one soapy finger down my ass-crack,
then into the crevice, finding my hole. This electric jolt ran through me,
and suddenly I had this ... hungry feeling in my ass. I pushed it back,
to encourage him to do that again. He did, his finger slipping inside this
time. I didn't care who was looking, or what the others thought, or about
that Doc had set up at the entrance of the showers.
Fingers pulled my ass cheeks apart, which pulled me back into the
moment. Marco was kneeling behind me, spreading my ass. His tongue came
in, and he went to work. His tongue and lips bathed my crack there under
the spray. He was laving attention on my asshole enthusiastically.
"He likes that," someone said behind us. I didn't care. Marco's tongue
worked on me, making me squirm and moan, making my butthole quiver and
snap.
"Lemme fuck you," he moaned, breathless. He didn't wait for me. He
moved forward. I felt the head of his cock slide between my cheeks and
begin to wiggle against my asshole.
Someone came around us--Tony was sliding down in front of me, kneeling.
Marco began to push forward.
"Ow," I protested. "It's too big." He pushed harder, and I felt his
cockhead start to slip into my sphincter, to enter me. It was pushing my
hips forward too, and my cock slipped into Tony's mouth, like a warm,
velvet sheath. "Oh, man," I breathed. Then the whole mushroom head of
Marco's rod was inside, spreading my ass. It hurt--hurt like hell--but it
felt ... good, somehow, at the same time.
Cameron was standing beside me, jacking himself as he watched Tony blow
me. Marco's cock hit something inside me, something satisfying, something
that made me feel dizzy every time he thrust into me. His thrusts carried
my dick in and out of Tony's mouth. I looked down. Tony, on his knees on
the hard tile floor, was jacking his own erection as he blew me. And
damn!--he had a huge cock. Fucking huge. I was sure glad it was Marco
fucking me instead of Tony with that monster, but part of me wanted to feel
Tony's massive eleven-inch piece of meat inside me too.
Marco was beginning to fuck me in earnest, and I had to have him inside
me. I reached around, pulling at him, trying to pull his thrusts deeper
inside me. The three of us were in perfect synch, unrelenting. I felt my
jizm boiling in my balls.
Beside me, Cameron sighed, and his spurted out, landing on my thigh
and Tony's shoulder. "Oh, man!" Tony exclaimed, his mouth coming off my
cock. He looked down at his beating hand, and suddenly rope after rope of
white shot out, mixing with the water coming down all around us. His
body jerked and convulsed as he rode through an intense orgasm.
Marco pulled out of my ass, and I missed the feel of his cock
immediately. He worked his cock frantically. He gave this little cry from
deep in his throat, and I felt his hot sprinkling across my back and
buttocks.
Tony, still kneeling, was back on my cock, jacking it insistently, and I
couldn't hold out. My orgasm started spreading through me like a haze, and
suddenly it was igniting every nerve, burning through me. My fired
across his cheek and shoulder. He milked it all out of me, and I sank
back, drained and dazed, into Marco's arms. He kissed my neck and held me
until I could stand again.
"Oh, man," I swore, in spite of myself. Tony headed over to where
Daryl, Isaac, and Daniel were fucking, wanting a piece of their action.
Marco patted my ass and turned back under his shower to clean off the
spunk, and I did the same.
12
So I'm in bed with this chick. I can't remember her name. She's hot
and I'm into her, but she's nothing special, you know? Just some chick I
picked up at this party and brought back to my place.
And we're naked and in my bed. The lights are out. We've been through
all the preliminaries, where we do all that kissing stuff, and I lick her
nipples, and she blows me a while, and I eat out her pussy--which she
fucking loved, lemme tell you. We're naked, and we're fucking, and I'm
really getting into the groove--you know how it is once you hit that rhythm
and your head can go other places while your body does its job on
auto-pilot. She's totally into me 'cause I'm this big star on the
wrestling team and I'm really hot. And she's on her back with her legs
wrapped around my waist, and I'm coming up off my knees, my body suspended
over her, and my hand by her shoulders to anchor me to the bed. And I'm
humping and pumping, really letting her have it like a pile-driver. She's
giving it back to me with a that's clamped around me tight and
matching me stroke for stroke. And she's shouting, "Oh, yes! Oh, Luke!
Fuck me, Luke! Fuck me harder! Harder!" And I'm giving her exactly what
she's asking for. I love it when chicks yell my name when I fuck them.
I've got my head back and my eyes closed, focused entirely on what I'm
feeling, feeling something kind of odd in the back of my mind. And when I
look down, it's like I can't recognize her anymore. It's not her under me.
I'm pumping away at her snatch, but it's weird--it's like she's someone
else. I'm looking down at her, and it's dark, with only some street light
coming in around the edge of the curtain, so it's hard to tell, but it's
like she's not even a woman.
He's tossing his head side to side, and it's like it's Daniel under me,
and he's grinning at me like he's loving it, and he's saying, "Oh, yeah,
dude! Fuck me! That's right! Fuck me with that big dick, man!" And I'm
pumping away at him, really jamming my dick in, then hauling it out and
jamming it in again, over and over, as fast as I can bear, and he has his
legs wrapped around me like a vice, heels digging into my back to urge me
deeper, his ass clamped around my cock like it's gonna snap my wood off at
the root.
Daniel starts moaning and twisting around even more, like he's having
some kind of seizure. And his hard cock between us, starts firing off wad
after wad of across his belly and pectorals. And then I'm cumming too,
in hard, fast bolts that feel like hand grenades going off inside me. And
I'm spurting my load deep inside, filling the condom I'm wearing, until I
have nothing left to out. I'm spent, like never before, and when I'm
finally finished, I roll off and collapse on the bed beside my partner, and
I'm too exhausted to move, and I just lay there with my arm over my eyes
while I try to catch my breath.
And she gives me a little kiss, and I feel the bed move as she climbs
out, and I hear her getting dressed.
"Well," she says, standing in my bedroom door when she's ready to leave.
"I left my number there by your clock. Call me, okay? That Danielle is
one lucky girl."
And I look up at her and say, "Huh?" 'Cause I don't know anyone named
"Danielle."
"Danielle," she says again. "You called me Danielle when you were
cumming. Is that your ex-girlfriend or something?"
"Uhm, yeah," I say, sinking back into the bed. "Listen, you better go.
I need some sleep before class tomorrow. Can you let yourself out?"
"That's cool," she says, and "see ya," and then she's gone.
And I lay there thinking, Danielle? And I know sometimes your fantasies
go to some pretty strange places when you're not expecting it, but where
the fuck did that idea of me fucking Daniel come from? And why did it seem
so real, more like a memory than a fantasy?
Continue to Part 3
|
|
