Mr. Neighbor, Dr. Jones
by GlassO
This story has a bit of a slow build, but I really want to set the stage, including an induction that I've used several times.
The casserole was delicious.
I mean it wasn’t exactly a casserole. It was noodly but sweet. Noodle Caboodle my mom called it. Kind of pastry-ish. Dr. Jones dropped it off. When my mom mentioned to her that I’d be home from college for Christmas, she said she had the perfect Christmas dish for us. It was very Dr. Jones-ish of her. She’d lived in this neighborhood longer than anyone I could think of. She had a tiny house that would never be built today. A one bedroom buried in the woods. The long driveway was a little intimidating for trick r’ treats, but she always had amazing candy (like full-size Snickers!) and she decorated her house like a scary witch’s hut. And of course she dressed like a witch, but more like a good witch, not a scary witch. And as I got a little order, kind of a sexy witch if I’m being honest, though I don’t think that was intentional.
Dr. Jones is what you’d call, ‘buxom’, or ‘zaftig’. You don’t really notice it when you’re little, but you can’t help it as you get older. We always used to make Indiana Jones jokes to her. “No time for love Dr. Jones!” That sort of thing. Right before I left for college she invited me and my parents over to inaugurate her new hot tub. She answered the door in a bikini and I really got an eyeful of her hefty tits and her generous ass. I had to hold my towel in front of my trunks to hide the insistent erection I was spouting. I mean, I was an 18 year old boy, of course that was going to happen!
I was grateful she turned on the jets so I could hide my erection from her (and my parents!) But I think she might have caught a glimpse as I climbed in. There was this moment...just the briefest of moments when we made eye-contact... my face full of shame and fear, but hers... I could have sworn I saw mischief in her eyes.
That night was torturous. She sat right next to me and every so often our thighs would touch, or a boob would brush my arm. For a time I was worried I was going to come right there in the hot tub! How mortifying that would have been.
I was still hard when I exited the hot tub, but I had my back to everyone as I made a mad dash to my towel. I asked if it was alright if I used the bathroom. I swear she winked when she said, “Of course. Be my guest.” As if she knew what I was going to do.
Dr. Jones’ house was small but cozy. The living room lacked a television but had a huge stone fireplace probably from when it was built in the 20s. I suppose technically it was a 2 bedroom house, but the 2nd bedroom was Dr. Jones’ office. She was a psychologist, or a psychiatrist or something. The room was adorned with varnished wood and deeply soft furniture. There was even a traditional chaise lounge where I imagined her patients would spill their secrets while she took notes.
The bathroom had clearly been redone. A shower and sizable tub. I locked the door. I imagined Dr. Jones taking a shower. Soaping up those big tits of hers. Reaching behind her and between her legs to clean herself, maybe play with herself. I was so incredibly hard at this moment. I looked in her medicine cabinet, feeling slightly guilty. I was surprised that there was a tube of astroglide. I’d never used actual sex lube before. I squirted some on my hand and pulled down my swimming trunks. My cock was throbbing, begging for attention. I slathered on the lube and began to stroke. I was used to stroking myself with saliva so this was a new experience for me. I imagined Dr. Jones in the hot tub. Her tits, her ass; me sliding between those tits and ass... and I came hard. Harder than I expected. I had tried aiming into the toilet, but I ended up spraying the wall behind it. Ruh roh. There was a poster for the movie ‘Spellbound’ which I had just frosted. I quickly got some toilet paper and cleaned it up. I was grateful my erection was fading.
When I got back to the patio, my folks were out of the tub and drying off. Dr. Jones was wearing a towel around her waist, still showing off those great tits. I felt kinda cheated that I only got to see them now. Growing up she usually wore very conservative and baggy outfits. And here she was now, probably near 50 if I had to guess with this amazing rack.
She looked at me again with those mischievous eyes again.
“All good?” she asked, with a little too much innocence.
“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “All good.”
So anyway I went off to college (not an awful semester, but definitely some adjustment going on!) and then I came back for Christmas. Apparently Dr. Jones was hoping to join us for dessert and coffee to hear about my first semester and dropped off the noodle caboodle earlier. However she phoned Mom letting her know she had a client staying late and wouldn’t be able to make it, which is how I found myself heading over to return her (thoroughly washed!) corningwear casserole dish. Though if I’m being perfectly honest, it could have waited until morning, but I kinda wanted to see her. I mean, didn’t think anything untoward would happen. I mean, not realistically. But there’s that little voice in every 18-year-old teenager’s brain that says, “well...what if something DID happen?”
There was a light dusting of snow (white Christmas yay!) on the ground but it wasn’t terribly cold. I was comfortable in sweats, boots, a puffy jacket and mittens.
The walk up her driveway was kinda dark and spooky, despite the snow reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the trees. There was a second car parked in her driveway and I thought maybe she had company over; but then I remembered she told Mom she had a late client...though this was very late. It was almost 9 pm.
I was about to turn around when a young woman (mid 20s maybe?) came out of the front door. Politely, I would describe her as “slightly disheveled” but in all honesty she was giving more of a “just fucked” vibe. Hair a mess. Make up smeared. Who wears make-up to their therapist? It occurred to me that perhaps she’d been crying and I was just reading the signs wrong. I stepped into the woods and waited for her to drive off to give her privacy. I walked up to the door and knocked. I retrieved the corningwear from my grocery bag so that my intentions would be shown as above board.
“Coming back for more?” I heard her say as she was opening the door. I saw a bit of shock in her eyes as she registered that it was me, and not her patient. Was that patient?
“Oh! Richard!,” she exclaimed, slightly embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I thought you were my client, she just left.”
“Yes,” I said, “her car passed me on the driveway down. Sorry Dr. Jones, I guess I should have called first, but Mom wanted me to get this back to you.”
I handed her the casserole dish.
“It was delicious. Thank you very much.”
She reached out and took the dish from me. It was just then I noticed she was wearing a fairly thin and short nightgown. Her generous breasts were barely covered. Part of me imagined that she’d just changed after her client left...but part of me imagined that she’d had this woman over for things...other than therapy.
She noticed me noticing.
“Sorry, I was just getting ready for bed,” she said.
And then she hesitated. Just for a moment. But I’m pretty sure there was some sort of thought process going on there. A decision made.
“But please,” she continued, “come in, and get warm by the fire. You must be freezing. Let me put on a robe and get some hot chocolate going.”
She turned and walked to the kitchen. The nightgown was just barely covering the bottom of her ass. Perhaps I was imagining it, but she seemed to have a bit of extra sway in her hips as she walked. She had to know I’d be looking, right? My mind began to race with the fantasy scenario I’d already invented in my head. Seduced by this curvy older woman. She’d come back into the living room and sit next to me on the couch as we drank our hot cocoa by the light of the crackling fire. She’d tell me how lonely she’s been. All alone out here. How she had needs. She’d caress my arm. Get close. Press her boobs into me. And then...
I was starting to develop a pretty stiff erection, so I pulled a blanket over me as I waited for her to return.
The kitchen was right off the living room and we talked as she prepared the cocoa. She asked about college, my classes, my sports and my theater roles. Kinda killed my fantasy a bit and I felt my cock starting to lose its enthusiasm.
Soon she returned with two large mugs. And wearing a very chaste and thick robe. I was pleased to see they were both overflowing with mini-marshmellows. The mugs I mean. She sat next to me (though not too close!) and we clinked cups, toasting the cozy evening.
“So,” I asked, “Do you often see patients this late at night? Was this some sort of therapy emergency?”
She smiled. “Well... my clients, I like to refer to them as clients, there’s something about the word ‘patient’ that denotes illness that I like to avoid. Hypnotherapy has enough stigmas attached to it, so I like ‘clients’.
“Really?” I said. “I thought you were a psychologist. I had no idea you did hypnosis. That’s so cool.”
Her eyes lit up a bit. “Oh?” she said, “Why is that so ‘so cool’?”
“I mean, well, “ I stammered, “hypnosis is cool... ya know, having mind control powers and such. That’s really cool.” I tried not to let on my real feelings about hypnosis. It wasn’t just cool. It was also a huge-turn on for me. And now that I learned that Dr. Jones was a hypnotist I could hear the wheels in my mind creating new fantasies about where the evening could go. I mean, I was sure they wouldn’t, but hey, it might...right?
She laughed. “Yes that’s right,” she said, playing along, “mind control powers!” She gestured dramatically. “You are getting sleepy! You are falling into my spell! You will stop smoking! That will be $200 please!”
I played along right back at her. I swooned as if I’d just been hit with a magic spell. “Goodness gracious! My desire to smoke is gone completely! Thanks doc!”
She took a long pull on her cocoa. “So I’m guessing your exposure to hypnosis has been limited to Scooby-Doo, Bugs Bunny, and maybe The Jungle Book?”
“Yeah pretty much. Oh, we did have a hypnotist come to school for Freshman orientation week! He was hilarious. My scene partner was up on stage and thought she was on a chicken. I thought she was faking it, but she swore that it just ‘felt natural’ to act like a chicken. Like she didn’t actually think she was a chicken, but that it felt good to act like one. Like it was just easier to go along with it.”
“It was performative.” Dr. Jones stated very matter of factly. “One of the reasons stage hypnosis can produce such dramatic effects is that the participants know, both consciously and unconsciously that they are part of a show. They are there to be entertaining, to be the center of attention. That’s why you have people willing to do ridiculous things. It’s part of the show. And it’s what they want to be doing. There is a truism in hypnosis that applies in both stage and therapy: You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do.”
She took another sip of her cocoa.
“I mean, the first thing I do when I get a client, who say, wants to stop smoking, I ask them: “Do you want to stop smoking?” And you’d be surprised how many say, “No.” They know they SHOULD stop smoking, but they don’t WANT to. If they tell me, “No.” then I tell them to come back when they want to stop.”
“Interesting,” I replied.
“So,” she continued. “Did you consider volunteering for the show as well? I mean, you’re an actor. A natural performer. You’d make an excellent hypnotic subject with your deep imagination.”
I thought back to the show. I was reluctant to tell her why I didn’t volunteer.
“Well the hypnotist.. He didn’t exactly call for volunteers. He hypnotized the whole audience and then he picked people who went under the deepest. It was kind of surreal, watching people around me fall into trance, their hands high in the air with their heads drooped on their chests.”
Dr. Jones seemed very interested now.
“I don’t really dabble in stage hypnosis, but I’m very curious. Tell me about it. What did he have you do?”
“Well first he had us clasp our hands together and imagine that they were stuck with magnets and glue. So many people around me were struggling to get their hands apart. It was pretty surreal. And then when he released them, he had us imagine they were filled with helium, floating higher and higher..while our heads and our eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.”
“So what he was doing there, “said Dr. Jones, “was essentially shopping for good subjects. That’s really the key to a good stage show. Good subjects who’ve shown they are able to drop deep into trance and willing to be part of the show. Did you try to allow yourself to be hypnotized?”
I was tempted to tell her the truth, but I knew what a terrible idea that was. I wanted to tell her that hypnosis held a certain amount of erotic fascination for me. That the idea of being hypnotized made my heart race. At the show I imagined myself dropping into hypnosis and developing a tremendous erection, and being brought on stage, against my will, with that erection prominently displayed for all my classmates.
I tried to play it off. “Nah, I don’t think I would have made a good subject. Honestly I was a bit nervous about it.”
My heart was racing now. Did she know? Could she tell I was lying? I had this creeping fear of where this conversation would go. I mean, there is fantasy, and then there is reality; and the reality is she would discover what a freaky perv I was. Thank god I still had a blanket over my lap.
My heart was racing now. Did she know? Could she tell I was lying? I had this creeping fear of where this conversation would go. I mean, there is fantasy, and then there is reality; and the reality is she would discover what a freaky perv I was. Thank god I still had a blanket over my lap.
Fortunately she seemed to play it off.
“Oh that’s too bad,” she said as she put down her mug,”you missed out on a very pleasurable experience. A lot of people think hypnosis is like sleep, but it’s more like a very relaxed but focused state of awareness. Some people describe it as a very pleasant waking dream, where your subconscious gets to ‘drive’ so to speak. Guided by a hypnotist of course.”
She moved closer to me on the couch.
“I’d be happy to demonstrate.” she said innocently. “Would you like that?”
I wanted to say no. I really wanted to. But then, maybe I didn’t really want to. My mind wrestled with my answer. If I said, ‘no’, she’d know something was up. She’d guess my secret and this would turn very awkward. What choice did I have?
“Yeah, it sounds interesting. If you don’t mind...”
I swear she winked at me.
“It would be my pleasure.”
Dr. Jones took my mug and set it down on the coffee table. And she moved right next to me.
“Is it all right if I touch you on your arm and wrist?” she asked. Her demeanor had gone to a very professional tone. I imagined this is how she would speak to one of her clients.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
“Great,” she continued. “What I want you to do is just relax this arm for me; relax the arm and the wrist and let it hang loose and limp.”
She took my wrist lightly and bounced it a little. I made a conscious effort to relax it as much as possible.
“That’s right,“ she said as she tested my arm, “just like that. Just give in and let me control your arm here. What we’re going to do is sort of an easy introduction to the concept and the feeling of hypnosis. I’m not going to hypnotize you, but we are going to rehearse what it would be like to go into hypnosis, we’ll sort of just be going through the motions to give you an idea of what it would be like, and if it’s something you’re enjoying, we can continue further.”
This gave me great comfort. Simulated hypnosis but not actual hypnosis. I think I could tolerate this. However, having her hold my wrist... there was something oddly intimate about this contact. Not necessarily sexual, more familiar I think. Like when your doctor touches you. It’s someone you know and trust which makes it okay. That’s what this felt like. It was okay.
“Okay,” she said while still holding my wrist, “here’s what we're going to do. When your arm is down like this on your lap, you’ll act as if you are awake; eyes open, mind alert, body feels normal, but as I lift your wrist and bring it closer to your shoulder we’ll have you imagine yourself going into hypnosis; eyes closing, body feeling heavy, and very focused on my voice. I’ll count backwards from 5 to 1 as I raise your hand and I want you to close your eyes and feel yourself relax. And then we’ll wake you up again, by bringing your wrist back down to your lap as I count upwards to 5 and your eyes open. And again, our goal is not to put you into hypnosis, just to rehearse the motions and the sensations. And if you find this agreeable and want to continue, we can parlay this exercise into an actual hypnotic trance. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, I think I understand.” I said, though honestly it was a bit much to keep track of; I figured I would get it as we rehearsed a few times.
“Wonderful, let’s try it once.”
Dr. Jones lifted my wrist and began counting backwards. I thought about my body getting heavier and more relaxed and I closed my eyes. When she reached 1, she began counting upward and lowering my hand. She reached 5 and placed my hand back on my leg. I opened my eyes.
“How did that feel? Did it give you some idea of what hypnosis might feel like?” she asked.
“Well, I did feel my body relax and my eyes get heavy, so I guess it felt a bit hypnotic.”
“That’s excellent,” and she tapped the back of my hand. “That’s exactly what this exercise is supposed to be. A rehearsal of what hypnosis feels like. Sort of like submerging yourself slowly into a warm bath, until you are very comfortable, and relaxed and a bit sleepy. Let’s have another go at it. I’m going to raise that arm as I count backwards from 5, you’ll allow yourself to feel relaxed, heavy, maybe even sleepy, and those eyes will close. Then I’ll count up from 1, lower that arm and you’ll awaken and open those eyes, okay?”
“Ok.”
We went through the process again though it seemed she was not supporting my wrist as much, it was sort of just going through the motions on its own. My wrist came down and I opened my eyes, though I have to admit, I really wanted to keep them closed, they were getting quite relaxed.
“One more time, Richard,” she said softly. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1”
This time my hand went up pretty much by itself, I couldn’t feel her fingers supporting it all. As she hit one, my eyes felt incredibly heavy, and my body very relaxed. I was also vaguely aware that I had an erection, but I was not concerned about it. It seemed distant from me. Buried under clothes and blankets.
The other thing that happened when she reached ‘1’ is that she pressed gently on the back of my hand.
“And now I think you’ll find that that hand is just STUCK there, just STUCK in place, unable to move, unable to lower, in fact, I think you’ll find that that hand is slowly moving towards your forehead, taking you deeper and deeper into trance, and that when it touches your forehead you’re going to fall very deeply into trance, focused on my words and my voice, and very eagerly following my suggestions, your eyes are heavy, so heavy that you can’t possibly open them, and that hand is moving closer and closer to your forehead...”
So as this was happening, I remember very distinctly having the thought, “I’ve been tricked. She tricked me into hypnosis.” And I remember part of me wanting to fight this. The same fear I had at the hypno show was coming back to me. Being exposed as some sort of pervert. I was very aware of my cock now. It seemed the deeper I went, the stiffer I got. It seemed very tied. I tried to will myself out of the trance. Tried to open my eyes, or lower my hand, but these things seemed out of my control.
“Allow yourself to drop into deep trance, Richard,” she continued. The deeper you go, the more pleasurable it will feel, and the more pleasurable it feels, the deeper you go.”
I felt my hand involuntarily jerk towards my forehead, and my cock twitch in response.
“That’s it, Richard, you’re doing so well. If fact, you are just about to.....”
My hand finally reached my forehead.
“Sleep!”
I vaguely felt her hand at the back of my neck pulling me forward. I felt my body go limp and my mind go utterly blank.
Samantha grinned from ear to ear watching Richard succumb so completely. This was probably her favorite part of the whole ritual. The unconditional and helpless surrender. It made her feel powerful. A hypnotic goddess. And with this one she had the bonus of the uncontrolled erection cementing her control over him.
She gently pulled the blanket off him and let out a satisfied sigh as she gazed at his sweatpants straining towards her. So insistent and needy. She was so tempted (so tempted!) to pull it out, to stroke it, to swallow it, but she kept these urges as bay as they would not fit in with her plans. There would be opportunities for these things later. First she needed to condition him properly.
“Deeper and deeper Richard,” she coo’d. “The sound of my voice takes you deeper into trance, and the deeper you go the more pleasurable it feels, and the more pleasurable it feels the deeper you go. That’s right...even deeper, and more pleasurable. You are having a very pleasurable dream, Richard. One of those dreams that seems so real but that you know is a wonderful dream. And your body knows that it must do, when the pleasure becomes so intense, so insistent...your body knows that it must have its release, giving you that very pleasurable wet dream just like the ones that you’ve had so many times before.”
Samantha could see Richard breathing harder. She knew he was close. Time to close the deal.
“In a moment I’m going to have you open those heavy eyes, and you are going to witness a deep and intense fantasy, something that couldn’t possibly be real, but something so wonderful and erotic, you won’t be able to stop yourself from coming. And just like every other wet dream there’s nothing you can do to stop this from happening. You’ll just come and come and then fall back into a deep, deep trance, knowing that you had a wonderful wet dream and that there was nothing you could have done to have prevented it.”
Samantha lowered her robe and nightgown, exposing her breasts. She sat on the coffee table waiting for Richard to open his eyes. She rubbed herself slowly.
“When I snap my fingers, you will open your eyes Richard, remaining deep in trance, deep in trance.”
SNAP
SNAP
Richard opened his glassy eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on the sight in front of him, Samantha lost in ecstasy rubbing her magnificent breasts in front of him. As she predicted, it put him over the edge.
He let out a breathy moan as his penis let out a long stream of semen, which quickly stained the front of his sweatpants. Responding to her suggestion, his eyes closed again, as his penis released stream after stream of cum into his pants. Samantha eyed the spreading stain and felt her first orgasm hit her. This hypnotized boy, his release for her, it was too much. She didn’t even have to stroke her pussy as the first orgasm hit.
“Deeper and deeper Richard,” she composed herself to say. “And listening very closely to my words now...”
I heard Dr. Jones counting upward. “..and 4, more awake, and 5 wide awake! How are you feeling? Did you enjoy the experience? I have some water here.”
How was I feeling? I was profoundly aware that I must have fallen asleep during this trance and had a wet dream, right here on here on her couch.
She handed me a glass of water which I drank from, as I contemplated how I was going to tell her that I just had an intense wet dream. I glanced down at my lap. Thankfully the blanket was not wet, but I could feel my cum sloshing around in briefs. Like a lot of cum.
“I think I might have fallen asleep, doc.” I said. “I had... an intense dream.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her I dreamt of her masturbating in front of me and that I was now leaking cum onto her couch.
“Well I’m not surprised you fell asleep,” she said. “You just got through finals so you’re probably a bit sleep-deprived. I’ve had clients fall asleep before, it’s perfectly natural. Do you remember your dream? Tell me about it. Remember, I’m a therapist. Nothing you can say will shock or upset me. It feels good and right to be open and honest with me.”
So what was interesting at this moment, was that part of me was horrified about having a wet dream on her couch, while dreaming about her. But there was another voice in me that reassured me that, yes, she’s right, she’s a therapist, and it would feel good and right to be open and honest with her. As I looked into her eyes, I knew she would be okay with what I was about to tell her.
“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dr. Jones.” I said, gaining some confidence. “Although I am terribly embarrassed about this. I had a wet dream. I’m terribly sorry. I’m afraid I’m going to need a washcloth.”
Dr. Jones took my hand with both of hers. “Thank you Richard,” she said sympathetically. “That must have been very hard to tell me. But doesn’t it feel good to be open and honest with me?”
“Yes,” I said. “Actually I feel better having told you. Which is weird, ‘cause it should feel really weird.”
She squeezed my hand and I felt a wave of... I dunno. Reassurance? Like, good feelings, kinda.
“So what did you dream about?”
I did not hesitate now. “I dreamed about you,” I said quite directly. “I dreamed you had taken off your nightgown and were passionately rubbing your breasts. I remember wanting to touch them so badly; wanting to slide my cock between them.” I quickly covered my mouth. While it felt okay to say that, I was still mortified I’d said it.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I apologized.
“It’s okay, Richard,” she said, “I’m glad you are being so open with me. I’m not offended in the slightest, and if I’m being completely honest, a little flattered.”
I was recalling the dream quite vividly now, it felt more like a real memory than a dream, and I noticed two things. 1: I was starting to get hard again. 2: I felt myself wanting to go back into trance. My body and my eyes started to get heavy. I felt my eyes starting to droop.
I was recalling the dream quite vividly now, it felt more like a real memory than a dream, and I noticed two things. 1: I was starting to get hard again. 2: I felt myself wanting to go back into trance. My body and my eyes started to get heavy. I felt my eyes starting to droop.
Dr. Jones ran a hand up my arm from my elbow to my shoulder. “1 2 3 4 5 Up up up! Awake and alert!” That woke me up.
“Sorry,” I said, “I guess I’m still kinda tired.”
“Understandable,” she said. “Stay there, I’m going to get a washcloth and towel and get you cleaned up.
I watched her walk away. Dat ass. Christ. Before I could formulate my next plan of action she returned with a washcloth, a warm bowl of water, a towel, and a laundry basket. She sat down next to me and gingerly pulled back the towel, like she was a medical doctor. My cum stained sweatpants hid nothing.
“It looks like you had a rather copious ejaculation,” she said rather clinically. “You must have really needed a release. Lift up your hips.”
I did as she commanded, not thinking about what was going to happen next.
She slipped a towel underneath me, and with one smooth gesture she pulled down my sweats and briefs, exposing my soft, wet, cock.
And the weird thing, I mean this was pretty weird as it was, but the weird thing was is that I wasn’t shocked or embarrassed. I felt like a patient and that all this was perfectly normal.
She pulled down my sweats and briefs and placed them in the laundry basket. I didn’t remember taking off my shoes, but they were on the floor beside me. Odd.
She took the wet washcloth and began to gingerly wash my cock and all around my groin. I noticed now that she was wearing blue latex gloves, just like a doctor would. I found this comforting somehow. LIke this was just a medical procedure and not some inappropriate sexual encounter. Though it did not occur to me that I could have cleaned myself just as well. Watching her clean my cock... there was something infantalizing about it. Like she assumed I was helpless.
When she was done, she placed the washcloth in the basket.
“I’m going to throw these into the wash.” she said. “Can’t have you walking home with a load of semen in your pants. Why don’t we take a soak while we’re waiting. Stand up.”
I stood up and she stood along with me.
“Arms up.” I raised my arms and she removed my shirt. Again, like I was a helpless child.
“Since I’m doing a load, I might as well wash this as well. I’ll meet you out in the hot tub.”
There’s something terribly vulnerable about standing naked in front of a fully clothed woman. Maybe vulnerable isn’t the right word. More like powerless. Like I had no say in anything in what was going on. Like I could not refuse her. Like I felt a need to... obey? Yes, that’s what I felt. A deep sense of obedience.
I mumbled out a thank you and made my way to the back deck, forgetting my towel on the couch. I wondered if she was watching me ass as I made my way through her house.
I opened the back slider and went barefoot through the shallow snow that was accumulating on the deck. The hot tub cover was already removed and I could see steam drifting upward. I got in and settled in. The heat fought against the cold air and I submerged myself down to my neck.
I considered my situation. Part of me was still wondering if I was still dreaming.
Richard heard the patio slider open and saw Dr. Jones standing there, in her white robe and holding two towels.
“How’s the temperature?” she asked.
“Absolutely perfect Dr. Jones,” he said. “It must be nice to come out here on cold nights like this, surrounded by the trees, under the stars.”
“Yes,” she said, looking at Richard evaluatively. “Is this too strange for you, Richard? Are you okay?”
Richard thought for a moment. Yes, the situation was terribly strange. He’d just been hypnotized by his much older neighbor and accidentally ejaculated on her couch. And now he was soaking buck naked in her jacuzzi. From an outsider’s perspective, yes very strange. But for some reason, it all felt very reasonable. Normal even.
Richard met her gaze. “Actually,” he began. “For some reason this all seems very normal. I’m quite relieved you seem to be handling my, uh, ‘accident’ without being judgemental. I mean, I should be terribly ashamed and embarrassed, especially since it was you I was dreaming about, but for some reason, I’m very okay with all of this.”
Dr. Jones removed her robe. She was naked underneath. Richard gawked as she stepped into the hot tub.
“Well, that’s because when I had you deep in hypnosis, I suggested to you that you would accept all this normal and acceptable.” Dr. Jones stood in the middle of the hot tub. Her breasts were directly in Richard’s eyeline. “I suggested a few other things which you are probably feeling right about now.”
Richard did not hear or understand what Dr. Jones was saying. Upon seeing her breasts, those breasts from his dream that compelled him to orgasm so intensely, he began to feel himself starting to slip into trance.
“That’s right Richard,” she purred. “Just allow yourself to fall back into that wonderful feeling of trance. Feeling your limbs get heavy and still, feeling your thoughts dissolving, and your focus narrowing on my beautiful tits. Taking over all your thoughts now, and you might notice that your cock is getting stiffer, firmer. And the harder your cock gets, the harder it becomes to form thoughts, as your cock gets hard, your mind gets soft, and accepts my words, and focuses on my voice, and you are filled with an urgent need to obey. Isn’t that right, Richard?”
“Yes....”
“Tell me you will obey, Richard.”
“I will obey...”
“Good boy. Stand for me.”
Richard stood up and Samantha let out a little gasp at his magnificent cock. So stiff and insistent, jutting out of matted clump of curly hair.
“Oh this will be delightful.” she said to herself.
She reached into a pocket on her robe and pulled out a small bottle of lube. She squirted a dab onto her hand and then coated Richard’s cock. His eyes rolled a bit as she stroked him, but made no other efforts to either or help or discourage this. He stood like a sleepwalker, focused intently on her breasts.
Samantha bent over the edge of the tub, jutted out her ass, and looked back at Richard.
“Now listen to me very closely...”