This is a hypnosis story I've always loved:
“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.
After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.
“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.
“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.
“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”
“Yes I am,” he says.
Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.
“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.
“Should we?”
“We should! YOU should.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.
“Hypnotise Emma!”
“Yeah?”
“She REALLY wants to!”
He looks at me.
“Do you want to?”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”
“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”
“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.
“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”
Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.
There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.
“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.
“You OK?”
“I’m fine.”
“This is going to be fun, OK?”
“Well, if you say so.”
Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”
He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.
“So what’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Where are we?”
“A bar.”
“What colour are the lights here?”
“Red.”
“Only red?”
“Some white.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Emma.”
”OK, Emma. We’re good.”
His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.
His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?
It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.
Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…
…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.
“All awake, Emma?”
I nod.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel… fine.”
“That’s good.”
He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.
“How does that feel?”
For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.
“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.
His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.
“Do you like the way it feels?”
I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.
“More?”
“Yeah.”
He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.
The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.
“Fuck.”
Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.
His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.
“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”
He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.
He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.
“How are you feeling?”
I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”
“This is crazy,” I mouthed.
”I told you it would be fun.”
I’m speechless.
“Keep going?”
I was nodding before I even thought about it.
He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.
His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.
His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.
“Emma, look at me.”
His twinkling eyes lock mine.
“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”
I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..
It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.
“Emma, look at me.”
“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”
I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…
“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”
The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…
“Emma, listen to me.”
“Oh my god.”
“Emma, listen.”
“I’m… please… I…”
“Let go.”
With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.
“Let go.”
It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.
“Let go.”
His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.
“Let go.”
I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.
I’ve never cum for so long.
“OK, you. Come here.”
He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”
I sink back into a calm darkness.
A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”
“I. KNOW.”
I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.
I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.
Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.
I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.
When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.
I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.
And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”
I remember this story from orgasmtipsforgirls. I miss that blog so much <3 So glad to find this again.
So hot! 🥵
Oh mygod. This is amazinng.
