Deep-TrancesTM -- Contest 2002 Entry

Best Memory

This is a true story; it is my true story, please don’t try to claim it as your own.  My ex-girlfriend’s name been changed to protect the innocent—namely, me, from the wrath of her current husband.

This story contains adult language and themes, including hypnosis, masturbation and sex, all of which (as you know) will rot your mind and cause hair to grow in unlikely places.  Proceed at your own risk.

Pre-Game

Kathy was not quite 20 when we first met, and I was nearly 32.  But before you accuse me of shoplifting at Babies-R-Us, let me add that at her “tender” age, she had already had more sexual experiences than I did—a quality that I often referred to as “being choosy.” (but which you may feel free to re-label as, “lacking confidence in myself.”)

Still, something about us clicked, and we wound up being together for nearly a year and a half.  (In the end, she left me for another man—he was the father of her child—but that has nothing more to do with this particular story.)

I introduced her to hypnosis early in our relationship, and through something fairly innocent.  Kathy was hyper-sensitive to being tickled; so much so, that the gentle caresses I tried to give her during our lovemaking often resulted in uncontrolled flinching, breaking the mood.  She told me that she had been like that all her life, and that she wished she weren’t so thin-skinned.  So I offered to help, using hypnosis, and she agreed to give it a try.

I had held a fascination (believe me, no pun intended) for the possibilities of hypnosis since mid-puberty, when I had seen an article on the subject in one of my mother’s magazines.  (It was about the author’s experience with a stage hypnotist; I was so naïve, I had to have explained to me just what a striptease was.)  The idea of hypnotism as a tool to attract girls, to convince them that I was attractive and that they wanted to have sex with me, was a powerful balm to my low self-esteem.  (I won’t bore you with a full description of myself; let’s just say that I have always been too large, except for where I wanted to be.)

It worked, in part; I became a fairly proficient hypnotist, and was sometimes called on to show off my skills at parties.  During my teen years, there was one girl in particular—her name was Ellen, and she was model-pretty (she had actually turned down Playboy)—who would occasionally invite me back to her room, to hypnotize her and give her a massage while she was under.  I never dared take it further; to this day, it stands as one of my great missed opportunities.

I was determined not to add Kathy to my list of missed opportunities, so after I had successfully inducted her, I subtly altered the wording of the suggestion.  Instead of simply toning down her over-susceptibility to tickling and light contact, I instead had her visualize a dial or knob, that she had the power to turn, kind of like the Squelch knob on older radios and police scanners.  When the dial was centered, she would feel exactly as she did then, sensitivity and all.  When it was turned down low, she would still be able to feel everything, but the lightest touches wouldn’t bother her; in effect, it made her immune to being tickled whenever she liked.

Then I told her that she could also turn the dial up as high as she wanted, and that when she did so, it would not make her any more sensitive to being tickled.  Instead, the higher she turned the dial, the more sensitive her skin would become to “pleasant sensations” (I phrased it just like that; we were still a new couple, and I didn’t want to scare her), that she would enjoy these pleasurable sensations, and would look forward to receiving more of them.  I also, with her permission, gave her a key phrase that would allow her to reenter trance more quickly, and told her she’d remember everything, except the key phrase.

The results were beyond my hopes.  Not only did the “squelch knob” work to tone down her ticklishness (permanently, I might add; to this day, as far as I know, she is no longer ticklish at all), but she enjoyed the other option so much, that it became a regular part of our lovemaking, as did the hypnosis itself, both via standard inductions and the use of the key phrase.

During a session, I would put her under, and convince her that she was handcuffed to the wall; or install a temporary compulsion to undress, one article at a time, every time I scratched my neck; or make her throat so sensitive to pleasure that my licking it would bring her to orgasm.  Once, just before we went to meet some friends for lunch, I used the key phrase and told her that she would get hornier, more and more aroused, every time I said the word, “sweetheart,” but would be unable to show it, or to relieve herself, until we got all the way home.  I was attacked just as we walked through our apartment door; it was one of my favorite shirts, too.

First period starts, Score tied at zero

However, as pleasant as all our lovemaking was, there was one night that stands out above the others, a “best memory” of our time together.  It was during the dark hours of the morning of New Year’s Day, 1998, our only one together.  We had been at a party at her friend’s house, celebrating the coming year, and Kathy had done quite a bit more celebrating than I had; I was driving.

Maybe now is a good time to share with you my mental picture of her.  Kathy was my height,  5’ 10”, and slender, but not too skinny.  Except for her height, she would have fit into a size 8 dress.  Her hair was medium brown, and shoulder length; she had added red highlights, which I thought suited her.  Though she was a Noo Yawkah all the way through, her face and build were German—square jaw, gray-green eyes with strong eyebrows, breasts that I would have to describe as bigger than an A, but not quite a B-cup, with pink-brown areolae the size of half dollars, that ended in strong, sensitive nipples.  Covering the entire upper part of her left breast was an absolutely stunning full-color tattoo of a dolphin in mid-leap, arcing over the ocean waves.

Her ass was both full and flat at the same time (to me, her only less-than-perfect feature), and her groin had a pronounced roundness, especially when she was aroused.  She had a full triangle of dark brown pubic hair, but not too much; it covered everything, but did not look like a tangled forest, or block access to her treasures.  Her taste and scent were as unique as she was; pungent and musky, but not unpleasant once you got used to their strength.

That night, she was wearing a dark blue full-length dress; it wasn’t all that tight, but it did allow you to follow the curves of the woman beneath it, and offered a tantalizing glimpse of the arch of the dolphin’s back.  I was wearing a button-up shirt and slacks; the party wasn’t that formal, Kathy just enjoyed getting dressed up.  After several hours of drinking games, watching the ball drop, and watching Kathy flirt with everyone, it was time to go.

(Don’t get the wrong idea; I never minded when Kathy flirted.  I’ve always believed that if you loved someone, you trusted them too; and I have to admit, it gave me a perverse pleasure to watch other men respond to her charms, knowing that in the end, I would have her, and they would not.  I think the act of flirting also turned her on, as much as watching her did for me.)

When we got into the car for the drive home, it’s fair to say that I was energized, and Kathy was in that blissful state that alcohol sometimes leads to, where she was both turned on and too tired to move.  Knowing that we had at least 45 minutes to kill, I did something that I rarely did anymore, not needing to—I used the key phrase to send her under, and then proceeded to talk her down into an even deeper trance state.  Ten minutes into the drive, she was way deeper than she had ever been before, and my own arousal was making itself felt.

Starting off gradually, I changed the focus of the induction, from how deep she was going, to what she was feeling.  I told her to keep her eyes closed, and to picture my hands touching her, slowly, softly.  One by one, I named all the places she liked best, starting with her cheek, her earlobes, her throat; moving to her shoulders, her back, her ass.  I described each area in detail, helping to build her mental picture, and watched excitedly as each new sensation increased her obvious arousal.  Though I hadn’t yet mentioned them, I could see her nipples poking through the fabric of her dress.

Slowing down to 60 on the nearly-empty expressway, so as not to draw the unwanted attention of any police cruisers, I moved my verbal description down to her feet.  She had kicked off her shoes as soon as she had gotten in the car, and it was very easy for her to picture me massaging her tired, sensitive feet.  There was a small spot at the top of the arch of each foot, which she found very erotic; I spend a fair amount of time describing that sensation, eagerly listening to her moan, and watching her squirm.  I had suggested that she couldn’t move her arms, and they remained by her side, useless for bringing her any relief.

I moved my imaginary hands up her calves, to the inside of her thighs; she jumped in her seat as I “pinched” her.  When I told her that my hands were teasing her, skipping over her sex, she responded by arching her back, trying to press her groin into a hand that wasn’t there.  I could smell her, by that point; her scent told me how much she needed relief.

I told her to feel my hands on her stomach, this time under her dress.  They were moving upward, upward, until I told her to feel them graze the underside of her breasts.  Wow! did I watch her nipples jump at the imaginary sensation.  I “caressed” them, “pulled” them, told her to feel me stroking circles around each nipple.  I even allowed her to “feel” my fingertips tracing along her tattoo.  I noticed that the dolphin was breathing very fast!  Her moans were continuous, as was the thrusting of her hips.  Finally, I told her that she could feel my hands moving downward, closer, closer, and that when I “touched” her clit, she would come.

“Closer . . . closer . . . . . . . NOW!”  She jerked upward, only her seat belt holding her back, and let out a scream as she burst, harder than I’d ever seen her come before.  Grunting and moaning, she continued to press her groin up against my imaginary hand, letting the orgasm wash over her for well over a minute, before she allowed herself to settle back down.  I told her to picture my hands withdrawing, letting her rest and recover, offering suggestions to re-deepen her trance.  Glancing over, I could see that her face was shiny with perspiration under the glow of the highway lights, and that her satisfied smirk was fading back to a neutral expression, as the depths of trance once more claimed her.

Curious to see if she was as wet as I imagined, judging from her scent, after a few minutes of rest (during which I switched from the expressway to a secondary highway), I told her that she could move her arms again, but that so could I; and that her arms would obey me more than her.  After letting her stretch them, getting the kinks out, I told her arms that they wanted to hike up her dress, high enough so that I could eyeball her panties.

It was hard to tell just by looking; her panties were black satin, and the lights on the road were dimmer and less frequent.  So I reached over, and felt around the elastic band on her inner thigh.  Sure enough, there was a suspicious moistness; and when I reached over to feel her pubic mound, Kathy was both wet and warm.

And still very sensitive, too.  As I touched her, she pressed herself into my exploring fingers, letting me know that she had recovered, and was ready for another round.  Knowing we still had another 15 minutes to go, I was happy to oblige her.

I suggested she turn her “knob” all the way up.  I told her to imagine that her breasts were particularly sensitive, that they just loved the feeling of the dress covering them, shifting freely, with no bra to get in the way of her pleasure.   I added that when I touched her breasts and nipples through the dress, the feeling by itself would almost be enough to make her come, but that she would need to feel my finger penetrating inside her in order to release.

I did not tell her to pull her dress back down.  She sat exposed, her panty-covered ass directly against the cloth of the passenger seat, gently swaying, enjoying the sensation of her nipples rubbing against the inside of her dress.  I teased her, caressing the insides of her thighs, to the panty line.  This time, she was leaning forward, desperate to have my hands touch her breasts, knowing that she needed my hands on her nipples to bring her closer to her next orgasm.

She reached down to grab my hand; I let her pull it up to her left breast.  She cupped my hand in hers, pressing it tightly against her as I massaged her breast through the dress, pressing against her tattoo, feeling her erect nipple, like a pencil eraser pressing against my fingertips.  I reached a little, moving my hand to the other side.  Kathy didn’t try to stop me; she just lay back, this time arching her upper body into my hand.  Pinching and pulling her nipples, I watched her squirm, demanding release.

“Oh, please . . . fuck me!”  How could a gentleman refuse?  I lowered my hand to her groin, keeping my fingers outside her panties.  Desperate, she pressed up into me; I could feel the separation of her swollen labia, and knew that she was near release.  Enjoying the sensation of true power, knowing that Kathy could not finish without me, not there, not then, I waited for a long moment.  Then, (because true power is as much about the giving of pleasure as it is about withholding it,) I reached up to the top of her satin panties, and eased my fingers inside.

She was wet; so wet, that even the top of her groin had been soaked by her juices.  Reaching downward, I brushed the clitoris—she jerked, and so did my left hand on the steering wheel!  Withdrawing my hand frantically, I brought the car under control, and made sure that no cops had been watching.  Fortunately, I had only swerved halfway into the next lane, and the nearest car was a half mile back.

Recovering from the close call; I looked back at Kathy.  She had plunged her own hand down her panties, desperate to finish what I had started.  I watched her for a minute, enjoying her uninhibitedness (and letting my breathing slow), and then pulled her hand out of the way so I could give her what she craved.

Well, I tried, anyway.  Kathy kind of took matters into her own hands, so to speak.  Pulling the front of her panties down and away with her left hand, she grabbed the back of my hand with her right one, and pressed my first two fingers into her channel.  Howling with release, she squeezed her walls around my fingers; I could actually feel her pulse!  Trying to be careful not to lose control of the car again, I only caught glimpses of the action; I saw her face all contorted in orgasm, heard her moans of release (and an occasional, “Fuck, yeah!”), and of course, felt her juices flow all over my hand.

Once she came down, I had her straighten up, including working her dress back down, while I wiped my hand on my pants so I could hold the steering wheel.  By this time, I was near to bursting, and we were less than two minutes away from the apartment.

Deciding there was time for one more thrill before we arrived, I quickly deepened Kathy’s trance, and decided on a novel way to bring her out.  I told her to forget everything else that had happened on the way home, including her first two orgasms, and to prepare to have another one on the count of three.  I told her that she would awaken fully in the middle of her orgasm, realizing it for what it was, knowing that she had been hypnotized, but completely unaware of the details until I reminded her of them later.  I also told her that once she was awake, she would feel refreshed and able to continue; I had plans (and a very insistent reason!) to continue this game once we were inside.

As we turned onto our block, I talked Kathy up to her third orgasm.  “Feel it building, building, you’re so sensitive, you won’t remember anything except this orgasm, one, building, higher, higher, more intense, two, it’s coming, higher, almost there, feel it coming, and, and . . . THREE!”

I had drawn it out, so that I could stop the car, turn and watch her as I said, “Three!”  I was not disappointed.  Cupping her breast, rubbing herself with her hand through her dress, Kathy let out an, “Ah, Ah, HAAAAAAAAA!” as she brought herself to a peak for what I knew was the third time, but which she believed was her first.  Somewhere in the middle, her eyes shot open, pierced me with their stare, and then slammed back shut, as she enjoyed the final moments of her climax.  Breathing hard (at this point, we were both breathing hard), she half-turned to me, gave a little smirk, and asked, “Wh, what, just, hap-pened?”

Second period starts, Score 3 to 0

We raced like children up the stairs to my apartment.  Laughing and panting, we ran into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, kicking off our shoes as we hugged and kissed.  Kathy still wasn’t sure what had happened; when we left the party, she had been zoned and a bit tired, and now she was wide awake and aroused.  Very aroused.

As hot as she was, though, I was even more so.  I wanted a special treat, for all my hard work (wink, wink), so I said her key phrase right in the middle of our kiss.  She fell back onto the bed, out like a light, and I spent a quick two minutes, tops, deepening her trance.

Our bed was only a full size, very cozy for two, so while I was re-inducting her, I had scooted over to the edge of the bed and taken off my glasses, shirt and socks.  Keeping her in trance, I had Kathy open her eyes and move off the bed.  While she wriggled her panties out from under her dress (keeping the dress on, at my insistence), I slid myself into the center of the bed.

I still had my pants on, and for good reason.  Kathy was about to indulge another fantasy of mine:  For some reason, oral sex seems especially naughty, and thrilling, when there’s a zipper involved, even if it’s in the privacy of one’s own bedroom.  Beckoning my lovely girlfriend over, I had her do the honors, reaching in and fishing my erection out through my pants and underwear.  (Boxers or briefs?  Yes.)  Resting her stomach on the bed between my legs, and her feet over the end, she began by licking my very sensitive underside.

Kathy actually preferred to give oral sex while she was under, thanks to an obnoxious, self-centered ex-boyfriend who had blamed his erectile dysfunction (read that as, “inability to come,“) on her technique.  There was nothing wrong with her technique, believe me, but her self-esteem had taken a serious blow.  She enjoyed the act of giving head, but found it easier when her inhibitions had been suppressed.  It didn’t take me long to prove him wrong once again, as I enjoyed my first release of the evening.

I woke Kathy up, after giving her two post-hypnotic suggestions, one of which was to leave her dress on.  When she came to, she called me a bastard, but she was smiling as she said it.  Besides, I was gentlemanly enough to let her use the bathroom first; after all, she had had more to drink than I did.

After we both had a chance to freshen up, we returned to the bedroom.  I was now totally nude, while Kathy still had on her lovely blue dress, and nothing else.  Spying the fresh bath towel I had laid down in the center of the bed, Kathy smiled; she knew that it was my turn to return the favor.

What she didn’t know, until it was too late, was the second post-hypnotic suggestion.  As soon as her head touched the pillow, she was out again.  Powerless to stop herself, she wriggled the bottom of her dress up just above her hips, giving her legs room to spread apart and expose the lovely treasures below.

I was in no hurry; placing myself where she had been half an hour before, I began by kissing and licking my way up the inside of her legs.  I used the hair of my mustache and goatee to tickle and caress the insides of her knees and thighs.  Just before I reached the pearly gates, I paused, deciding to add in one of our favorite suggestions.  I told Kathy to let herself fall deeper into trance; then I told her that once my tongue touched her, she would feel the pleasure begin to build, deep within her.  It would continue to grow for as long as I continued, and hold at that level if I stopped, but she would be unable to orgasm until I bit her on the thigh while pinching one of her nipples.  For fun, I added that her moans would reflect her level of arousal; it’s not a game we got to play very often, but I knew for a fact that our downstairs neighbors were out of town for New Year’s.

As I mentioned earlier, her hair is rather full, but so short and fine that it doesn’t get in the way.  Spreading her outer lips, I tasted her musk directly for the first time that night.  Her hips shot into the air at that first contact, but she quickly settled down, her moans letting me know how much she was enjoying her pleasure.

I was enjoying myself too, alternating licks with tongue thrusts, letting my hands roam up and down, over and under that smooth dress.  Every so often, I would wet my finger with her juices, and reach up to flick one or the other of her nipples, forcing them to stand up hard.  As I felt her approaching her next orgasm, I began to pinch her nipples or nip the inside of her thigh; every time I did so, her arousal jumped, and she caught her breath, before starting to moan again, just a bit louder each time.

After about ten or fifteen minutes, I was hard again, and Kathy was all but thrashing her way off the bed.  Her moans were approaching screams, and I was beginning to suspect that she was ready to come again.  So I reached up, grabbing her nipple with my fingers while I quickly bit her thigh, then pressed my mouth up against her clit to ride it out.

And damn near broke my nose.  Kathy slammed her pubic bone into my upper lip, pressing and grinding herself against my mustache.  The only reason her shriek of release didn’t deafen me was because her thighs had clamped themselves around my ears.  Her clawing hands pulled the sheets out of the sides of the mattress while her back arched so high I could have crawled under it (if I hadn’t been otherwise occupied, I mean).  She actually came so hard, that she woke herself up out of her trance!

Third period starts, Score 5 to 1

“I should be so mad at you.”  But she was grinning and panting as she said this.

Wiping my mouth with the towel, I grinned back at Kathy, completely unrepentant.  “So, did you like that one?”

“Ooh, you—can I at least take my dress off now?  I’m soaked.”

I rubbed her outer lips again, and said, “You certainly are,” at which point she used her thigh to cuff me in the ear.  “Ow!” I pretended to be hurt, but then I moved, so she could get up off the bed.  While she skivved out of her dress, I turned the towel over to its dry side.

We climbed back in together, both completely naked, and too sweaty to use the covers.  My erection had subsided somewhat, and Kathy was both easy on the eyes and soft to the touch, so we spent about twenty minutes just holding each other, cuddling and necking.  In between reminiscing about the party, I would trace her tattoo with my tongue and suckle a nipple, or she would massage the top of my head and tickle my ear lobe with her tongue.  While she was tangling her fingers in my chest hair, I was nuzzling the sensitive base of her throat.  When she checked my erection to make sure it hadn’t gone completely away, I rewarded her by pressing her secret button, where the base of her tailbone met the very top of her ass.

Finally, she brought up the fact that despite all her orgasms, she still hadn’t felt me inside of her, and she really wanted to end the night on that note.  Reluctantly, I agreed to oblige her. (Yeah, right.)  Scooting out of bed for a moment, I told her to lift her hips, and I slid the towel down to the foot of the bed.

Grabbing the pillows, Kathy followed me.  We placed the pillows under the folded towel, and then my beautiful girlfriend sat back down, her feet hanging over the foot of the bed, with me standing in front of her.  It took less than a minute for her hand to get me hard again.

I did not hypnotize her; she wanted to be fully aware for this one.  Laying back down, with her hips on the pillows and towel, she raised her legs in the air, placing her heels on my shoulders.  I grabbed her ankles, and pressed myself inside of her.

(Lest you think my sex education came exclusively from adult movies, I want to point out that for less-than-endowed men such as myself, experts recommend three positions to give the woman the deepest possible penetration: the one I just described; from behind, doggy style; and lying down with the woman on top.  We enjoyed all three, but right at that moment, my girlfriend was still horny but very tired, and this position imposed the least demands on her.)

Leaning forward, I thrust into her, and she placed her ankles over my shoulders.  One advantage of this stance is that I could freely explore her breasts and her sensitive inner thighs, and I very much enjoyed doing so.  Despite all the stimulation, Kathy wound up coming before me (she cheated, of course; rubbing her clit while I did all the work), so I “punished” her with her key phrase.

Sliding the pillows and towel off of the bed, I turned my docile playmate over, onto her hands and knees, and crawled onto the bed.  I had her fold her arms and bend over, while I knelt behind her.  (Remember what I said before about recommended positions?)  Just before I entered her, I told her pliable mind that with each thrust, she would not only become more aroused, she would find herself falling deeper and deeper into trance.  I wanted not only to have fun, but also to reinforce the idea that climaxing, no matter how intense, should not bring her out of hypnosis.

I started slowly, giving Kathy time to slip deeper and deeper into her hypnotic state.  As it became obvious that she was following my commands to become aroused while deepening her sleep, I started to vary my pace, first faster, than slow, than in-between; a modification of the idea of “fractionalization,” whereby you enforce the trance state of a subject by keeping her off-balance, not letting her know what to expect.

It must have been nearly half an hour, but it felt more like five minutes, before I exploded for the second time that night.  Kathy whimpered and twitched, but then settled back down, too deeply entranced to do anything other than wait for whatever was next.  The throbbing of her entrance told me that she was ready to come, if I would just say the word.

So I said the word.  (Didn’t I mention earlier that I was a gentleman?)  “Kathy, when I count to three and say, ‘come,’ I want you come as hard as you like, and then turn over and go to sleep, deep into sleep, deep.  One, two, three, come!”

Her final orgasm of the night wasn’t her most powerful, but it seemed to be her most satisfying.  She clenched herself around my semi-erect shaft, grunting, for about half a minute; when she let go, she rolled right over and settled herself in the middle of the bed.

I gave her a suggestion to go deeper, while I used the towel to clean her up a bit; then I took another short bathroom break.  Once I got back, I picked the pillows up off the floor, moved Kathy over, and gave her her last hypnotic suggestion of the evening.  “Sweetheart, we’re going to go to sleep now, a real, relaxing, natural sleep.  When you wake up tomorrow, you will remember nothing about this evening, from the time we got into the car until now.  You will feel like you had a wonderful dream, which you will not quite be able to remember.

“Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will want us to take a shower together.  If I’m still sleeping, you will not want to wake me up; instead, you will make breakfast, watch TV, do whatever you like, except take a shower or wake me up.  When I do get up, you will tell me that you waited for me to take a shower together; and once we are in the shower, you will remember the details of tonight, but you will think it was a dream.  You will want to share the dream with me, but nothing I say will convince you it happened.

“You will believe it all to be a dream, Kathy, a wonderful erotic fantasy, until you hear me say the word, ‘lunchtime.’  When you hear me say, ‘lunchtime,’ you will realize that everything you were dreaming about really did happen, and you will have one more quick orgasm.”

I looked outside; the sky wasn’t exactly light yet, but it was getting there; so I looked at the clock, which said 6:30 a.m.  Definitely time to wrap things up.  “It will seem to be a dream, sweetheart, until lunchtime.  Now it’s time to sleep, really sleep; good night, my love.” I kissed her forehead, and we were both asleep before the clock had hit 6:35.

Game over, Final score, 7 to 2!


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