They sat behind me, their hands on my shoulders. My eyes were closed, my breathing was slow, and my mind was already calm.

Then I was in motion.

My hypnotist didn’t need to use any words. The gentle back and forth would suffice.

It unearthed something within me. A sense memory? A primal instinct? It was the infantile feeling of being lulled into a state of utter serenity.

I leaned back into my partner without realizing it. They embraced me and rocked with me.

It felt sexy – hypnosis generally does – but it also felt safe. Intimate. Sensual.

I felt myself blush, but it didn’t feel embarrassing or intense. Just a simple, calm simmer.

I was utterly at ease, and in a pure state of rest.

As I continued rocking – or they continued to rock me, I had long since lost track – they groped at my body, but again, it didn’t feel lurid. They stroked my inner arms. My wrists. My neck. My chest. Where I would normally draw back or feel shocked, I leaned into the sensitivity.

A gentle moan left my lips.

My body was limp. My head lay loosely on my partners shoulder. I let loose a happy sigh as their hands slowly traveled downward.

All the while I felt peaceful. I would let this happen. I was completely vulnerable to them. And as they stroked my sex, as the sounds leaving my mouth blurred the line between moan and snore, as my slow journey to orgasm built and built, all I could do was relax and let my body keep going…

Back… and forth…

Back… and forth...