The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was in shock, I think.

Bobby and I were staring at each other, sitting on his couch. Best friends for life. Purely platonic.

Until I’d suddenly jumped him, forced my tongue down his throat, and jerked him off.

His cock was still out. My dress was still covered in his cum. We didn’t say anything to each other, but I could tell he was just as shocked as I was. I could see it in his eyes.

I stood up and adjusted my dress, the feeling of Bobby’s hands still lingering on my waist. My body was on fire—even wracked with guilt, I still wanted him, and I hated myself for it.

“That was a mistake,” I finally stammered, and Bobby nodded. “It can never happen again.”

“Of course,” he said, and I should have left. I should have walked out and just avoided him until my boyfriend got back. Or forever. I should have never spoken to him again, never been around him, never let myself be tempted.

But, like I said, I was in shock. And so instead of leaving, I turned back to the screen—the annoying flicker still there—to watch the rest of the film.

I couldn’t tell you a thing that happened. My mind was racing. I was spinning out.

I’d just cheated on Dennis. I’d cheated on Dennis with my best friend. I’d cheated on Dennis with my best friend, who also had a girlfriend.

I’d made my best friend cheat on his girlfriend. I’d cheated with my best friend and made him cheat.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I could never tell Dennis. My stomach twisted at the thought of my boyfriend’s face, of the betrayal I’d just inflicted on him. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to know that I’d given myself to someone else.

He deserved better. Better than me. I knew that, but I also knew that I couldn’t break up with him. I was in love with him. I wanted to marry him. We had a great relationship, despite what I’d just done. I couldn’t just throw it all away because I’d made one mistake.

I felt a single tear slide down my cheek. I’d just done something I’d never wanted to do, crossed a line I never thought I’d cross. I’d become the kind of girl that people hated. Why would I cheat? What would possess me to do this?

My boyfriend loved me and I loved him. We had incredible sex, we had a future planned. We were a perfect couple.

And I’d thrown it all away. I’d cheated on him. I’d cheated on him with someone I wasn’t even attracted to.

I mean, obviously some part of me was attracted to Bobby, or else I wouldn’t have done that. If nothing else, I had to it: he had a nice cock.

I blushed at the thought. Why was I still here? Bobby had put his dick away, but it was still right there. Just inches away, the dick that had been in my hand. The dick that had felt so good in my hands, just moments ago.

Oh, god. My eyes widened as I realized.

I still wanted him.

Even though I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life… I was still wet, and horny. I hated myself for it, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about his cock.

Was he still hard?

I had to come up with a plan. First of all, I couldn’t be alone with Bobby again. That part was obvious. I couldn’t be trusted to behave myself.

I couldn’t trust myself.

I tore my eyes away from the screen and glanced at my best friend. He was watching the movie, but I could practically see the wheels in his head turning.

Did he regret what we’d done? What I’d done? Of course he did. Bobby was as faithful as I was.

Even now, that was still true. We were both as faithful as each other. Never strayed—never even thought about straying… until one moment of madness destroyed our perfect streaks.

Did he hate me? No. He had to understand, as I did, that this was just a moment of insanity. It couldn’t happen again.

The movie flickered, bringing my attention back to the screen.

Bobby wasn’t a cheater. He’d only done it because I’d made him. It had been my fault. I couldn’t blame him.

It was my fault. It was all my fault. I’d always told myself that cheating was the worst thing you could do in a relationship, but here I was.

I’d cheated.

And it hadn’t even been with someone I liked. It wasn’t like Bobby was my secret crush, or someone I’d fantasized about. He was my friend. It would have made more sense if it had been with some hot guy from the gym or something, but it was just Bobby.

It wasn’t even like I’d been drunk. Maybe that would have excused it.

But I’d just been... I don’t even know. Lonely. Stupid. Crazy.

Horny.

I’d been so turned on that I’d jumped my best friend. I’d been so desperate, I’d practically thrown myself at him.

I’d made him cheat.

Again, to be clear: I’d never been tempted by Bobby before. I knew him better than anyone. I knew how much he loved his girlfriend. He wouldn’t want to risk their relationship.

What we’d done had been completely insane. A total break from reality. A one-time slip-up that had meant nothing.

It couldn’t happen again. It wouldn’t happen again.

My eyes widened. If I’d done this with someone I wasn’t even into, who knows what I’d do with someone who was my type? Maybe this was a symptom of a deeper problem: maybe I had a sexual addiction.

No. No, I’d just... slipped up. I’d just let myself go crazy for a moment.

It wouldn’t happen again.

I took a deep breath, tried to slow my heartbeat, tried to get control of the thoughts racing through my head.

Avoiding Bobby wasn’t the solution. As the movie flickered before my eyes, despite me not taking a second of it in, I suddenly knew that for a fact. If this had happened with Bobby, it could happen with anyone—Bobby was my best friend. He was safe. Avoiding him wouldn’t be fair; I couldn’t punish him for my moment of insanity.

If anything, I should spend more time with him. I nodded. That made sense. We’d been through this together. If anyone understood what had happened (and what a mistake it had been!), it was Bobby. We’d get through this together. We’d grow, and become better people—stronger people—together.

This could never happen again, but I couldn’t avoid him.

The thought made me smile. I wasn’t going to lose my best friend from this. I couldn’t.

The movie finally ended, and we sat there, watching the credits scroll. I was the first to move.

“I should go,” I said, my voice low.

“Uh, yeah,” Bobby replied.

“I’m... I’m sorry about...”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, it’s not okay, it’s... it’s not okay, but it’s over now. We’re not going to let it happen again.”

“Right,” Bobby agreed.

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“No.”

“We didn’t... it’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah.”

“I still love Dennis,” I said. “And you still love Cathy.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’ll never do that again. We shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Right.”

“So it’s fine,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied, avoiding my eyes.

I got up to leave, and as I did, he gestured to my dress. “Shouldn’t you...”

“Oh,” I said, blushing. I’d been about to walk home (I lived about two blocks away), wearing a dress covered in my best friend’s cum.

“You can use my bathroom,” he said, the longest sentence I’d heard from him since we’d… since I’d…

I nodded. “Thanks.”

I headed to the bathroom and stripped off my dress, leaving me in just my bra and panties. I rinsed the dress off under the faucet, trying to get the worst of it off, before wringing the garment out. I’d have to wash it again properly at home, but at least it looked clean. Bobby didn’t have a hair dryer, so I couldn’t dry it.

As I stood in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror.

For the first time in my life, I was looking at a cheater.

A slut.

I hated that word. It was such a misogynistic thing to say, that a woman who liked sex was somehow worth less than someone who didn’t. But for the first time, I got it. I’d broken my vows to the man I loved, and for what?

For sex. No, not even for sex—I hadn’t gotten off. Bobby had. I’d gotten another man off, without even an orgasm of my own in return.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, the bathroom lights flickered. Whatever electrical problem was messing with the projector was getting worse. I sighed, turning off the faucet and leaving the dress in the sink. It was still wet, so I’d have to see if Bobby had something I could borrow.

“Bobby?” I yelled, but he didn’t answer. “Robert!”

He didn’t come to the door, so I opened it, peeking outside.

He wasn’t there. Maybe he’d figured I’d let myself out, or was feeling too ashamed to face me.

I couldn’t blame him, really. It had been my fault.

“Bobby?” I called again, pushing the door open and stepping outside. I was still only wearing my underwear, my body bare to the cold air of my best friend’s house.

He wasn’t anywhere to be found. He couldn’t have left, could he?

I considered going to his bedroom, but that was on the other side of the house, and I didn’t want to walk through the house like this. Bobby hadn’t said if his parents were home, but I didn’t want to risk running into them wearing nothing but my underwear.

My phone was in the garage, so I picked up my dress and held it in front of my body, heading back in. He wasn’t there either, but my phone was.

He didn’t respond to my “Where are you?” text—maybe he’d felt guilty and gone off to call Cathy.

My eyes widened. Maybe he was telling her what I’d done. Maybe he was telling her everything.

I was about to give up and wear a wet dress home, when I saw it. The (in retrospect, obvious) solution to my problem: the dryer, sitting right beside us for the entire length of the film.

I opened the lid, tossed the dress inside, and the machine started rumbling. It would only take about five minutes, I figured.

The projector was still on—fortunately, the dryer didn’t seem to make the flicker any worse. I sat on the couch, wearing nothing but my bra and panties, and threw on an old episode of The Office. Just something to keep me entertained for five minutes, before I left, and we could pretend that none of this had ever happened.

“...Abby?”

I sat up, trying to cover myself with my hand, as Bobby entered the garage. He stared at me, eyes wide, mouth open in shock.

“Uh, I... I thought... I figured you’d....” His eyes travelled up and down my body, and I blushed.

Bobby had never seen me in my underwear before. He’d seen me in dresses and skirts, and even a crop top once or twice, but never anywhere near this exposed.

His eyes were fixed on my chest, which I couldn’t blame him for: I’m not, like, Kim Kardashian size or anything, but I have to wear special sports bras when I run. I’ve always been jealous of girls who can go without a bra; that’s never been an option for me.

I could feel my nipples stiffening in the cold, the lace not doing enough to keep them warm, and the thin material doing nothing to cover them.

“I’m waiting for my dress,” I said, pointing to the dryer. “I needed to...”

“Right,” he said, his eyes turning to where I was pointing.

The cycle had finished. I hadn’t even noticed it beeping. I’d almost finished a full Superfan episode, wearing nothing but my underwear.

“Sorry,” I said, blushing furiously. “I should... I’m gonna...”

God, what must he think of me? First, I’d basically forced him into letting me give him a handjob, and he’d returned to find me waiting for him in my underwear.

Bobby must have thought I was into him. Which, and I cannot emphasize this enough, I was not.

I got up, opened the dryer, and pulled out my dress. It was warm and fresh and dry, and I slipped it on, feeling Bobby’s eyes on me the whole time.

“Okay,” I said, turning to face him once I was properly clothed. “We can forget all about this.”

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse. “Totally.”

“We won’t ever speak of it again. It didn’t happen.”

“Right,” he said.

“So, I’ll see you around,” I said, and he nodded. I walked to the door and was about to leave when he asked me a question.

“Tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I said, and it wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized what I’d just agreed to.