The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

One month into the school year, and Jason was still trying to get his life and his apartment in order. A child prodigy, up until now he had lived at home—he had never lived in a full-grown adult apartment on his own before. His family had always managed the details of daily life for him before, while he devoted his life to going to school and studying. He was on his own now. Sometimes being an adult was exactly what he imagined it would be when he was five: staying up late and eating Lucky Charms for dinner. Other times, adult life was a complete cypher of social interactions and simple tasks everyone else seemed to know how to do almost instinctively but he’d never heard of before. He was book-smart, but he’d never realized until now how much about daily tasks he’d never learned, especially about laundry and cooking—how was he supposed to determine when a load of laundry needed this detergent or this additive?—how and why did he need to julienne a carrot?—and how the heck was tomato sauce different from tomato paste, and why did he need one to make lasagna but not the other? He never had to start doing things for himself before, and adult life was sure confusing! Biochemistry was easy for him, but a simple trip to the grocery store baffled him. He never knew how much to buy of what.

But Jason was starting to get adjusted to adult life. His landlord Paul had helped a lot. Like Jason, Paul was also a professor at the college. Jason had rented the small apartment that Paul and his son Tom had built over their garage.

At eighteen, Jason was one of, if not the, youngest professors in the history of the college. In elementary school he had been identified as gifted. He finished high school when he was twelve. He completed his doctorate in biochemistry in his early-teens; he would have taken a teaching job with a college then, but because he wasn’t eighteen yet he wasn’t old enough to sign the contract. So he had stayed in college, completed a second doctorate, gotten a small research grant. Since that grant wasn’t enough to live on, he’d taken a lecturing position. Now, at eighteen, he was starting his career, in his first semester as an instructor and researcher at this college.

He was lonelier than ever before. He’d never had any close friends. Kids his age?—He had nothing in common with them. His classmates?—They were always older, and he was never old enough to participate in their activities, too young to go out drinking or chasing girls with the guys. He had learned about jacking-off from a book, mastered the basics soon enough, and practiced the act regularly and enthusiastically; it provided much-needed relief from the hormones that didn’t care how smart his brain was when they made his cock harden and balls scream for release. His thoughts while jacking were focused on reaching the end result—touch his body here, do this to his cock like that—and not about other people, so he wasn’t sure which sex he preferred in a partner, or why he would even need a partner for sex. Jacking off provided sufficient relief.

Jason was almost a virgin. The girls in college thought he was cute but too young to date. One had decided that fucking “the kid brainiac” would be fun. The experience was disappointing for both of them. The moment they’d gotten undressed, he’d been struck with stage fright, performance anxiety, a dozen self-doubts that threatened to sink his erection. Why hadn’t he waited for someone prettier? Did she have any diseases? What if she became pregnant?—Or worse, clingy? He had to concentrate on what he was doing to keep his cock up, and the fear prevented him from enjoying the experience. He didn’t know enough to hold back and satisfy her. Afterward, she seemed to think taking his virginity had been a nice adventure, but once was enough. She wasn’t interested in more?—Whew! He was relieved. His official deflowering over, he was once again happy to go back to jacking off. What was the big deal about sex that jacking off didn’t do more efficiently? It was satisfying enough, he told himself, even if it didn’t do much for his loneliness. And now once again he found himself in a situation where his coworkers and fellow faculty were at least ten or more years older than he, with completely different concerns—their non-work lives revolved around houses, marriages, children in school. Hell, he was younger than most of his students.

He was glad he’d found this place. He liked the apartment itself well enough—it was built for efficiency, and the location was convenient, walking distance, just a couple of blocks from the edge of campus. But especially he liked his fellow faculty member Paul. Paul treated him as an equal, overlooking his youth and social awkwardness.

Tom, Paul’s son and a sophomore football player at the college, was Jason’s age and was making an effort to be friendly. Tom sometimes teased Jason about his inexperience and not knowing much about how the world worked, but seemed happy to help him when he could. They had gone out together a couple times looking for fun. At eighteen, Jason was slowly learning how to be a teenager and an adult at the same time. He was starting to grow up.

That night, the hour edging toward late, Jason didn’t feel like sitting around the apartment all evening. He took a shower and dressed: Nice T-shirt, shorts, ankle socks, trainers. Thinking Tom might want to do something, maybe see what the nearby movie theater had playing, he went over to the ading house, but no one was home.

Jason decided the night was too nice to go back inside. A walk seemed like a good alternative.

Several blocks down the street was a park. He liked walking in it. He’d been there several afternoons, doing his three-times-a-week jogging, or just stretching out and reading some scholarly paper on his computer tablet in the sun, or going over his research data. The park was a quiet oasis away from the noise of the city. He had never been there after dark, but he assumed it was safe. These were the suburbs, right? Yes, even if there weren’t many lights, it was probably safe.

He saw more people in the park than he expected at that time of night. He noticed most were men of various ages. The few women reminded him of the hookers Tom had pointed out one night. Tom had suggested they might try a couple but Jason couldn’t see any point in paying for sex; he hadn’t said so, but he didn’t want to pay for something he’d likely not enjoy and would probably make him feel more awkward afterward. Tom hadn’t pushed the issue.

Several men nodded and said hi quietly as Jason ed them. About halfway through he sat on an empty bench to enjoy the night air.

Suddenly someone was sitting beside him, close but not too close. “Nice night,” said the man, forty-ish, masculine, muscular.

“Yeah, it’s a great night.”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I come here some afternoons. I’m not usually out here this late.” Adult conversations always baffled him. What did his park-going schedule matter? So much of every conversation seemed to be about nothing at all. But he was learning; he could do this. He might feel awkward around adults—well, almost everyone regardless of age, really—but he was learning some rote ways to keep his side of the conversation going and not seem too unfriendly.

The man nodded. “You should come out nights more often.”

“What?” Jason said.

“You’re a good-looking guy; you look like you’re in good shape. You work out?”

“Uh ...” Jason was not following this turn in the conversation, sudden and incongruous, but felt oddly, intensely flattered that the man seemed interested in him, in conversing with him, in looking at him. Was the man complimenting him? Or just making conversation? He decided the man was giving him a simple compliment—no need to overthink this. “Yeah, I do. When I was fifteen at my old school I started putting on some weight, because I was studying too much and not getting much exercise. So I went to the Athletics Department and they put me on some exercise routines, mostly jogging and stuff, that got the extra pounds off. I keep to it a couple times a week.” Was he babbling? Probably he was babbling. The man certainly didn’t care about any of this. Jason made himself shut up.

The man simply nodded. “Well, you look good. Lean, tight body, looks like. A sound mind deserves a sound body. Handsome, too.”

Oh. Now Jason understood. The man was propositioning him, in some circuitous way. Adults were so weird; why not just come out and say what they meant?

Sitting there with his legs stretched out, Jason was suddenly even more nervous. Did he want to be propositioned? He shifted position, pulled his legs in, his feet under the bench.

“Have you seen the rest of the park?” the man asked. “The part over there, away from all the lights.”

“No, I haven’t.” Jason realized immediately what he’d said. The man was propositioning him and had asked a leading question, and Jason should have changed the subject or said something else, anything else, but instead he’d followed the leading question, and now the man probably thought he was interested, and—and—Well, was he interested? Did Jason want to be propositioned?

“Want me to show you how nice it is?” the man said, putting his hand on Jason’s thigh, a gentle but solid grip, unmistakable even to Jason’s inexperience. The hand squeezed gently, and Jason felt—

—He felt his balls tingle pleasantly and felt his cock wake up and begin to swell, heart beating faster, a warm arousal spreading through him and a prickling nervousness too. His body seemed to already know how to respond. This never happened when he jacked off. He hadn’t expected this physical reaction to the man’s touch.

Did he want to be propositioned? His body seemed interested, but Jason wasn’t sure what to do, or if he wanted to do it.

The man’s voice lowered to a confident rumble. “It’s real nice, away from all these people. I think you’ll like it.” The hand slid a little higher on Jason’s thigh, another squeeze.

Jason swallowed hard. He should say no way, stand up, and walk away, even if doing so caused a scene and the other men in the park stared at him. No, being stared at would be too embarrassing—Jason was supposed to be an adult—he should be able to communicate with this man, to respond to him in a way that didn’t cause everyone to stare or the man to become angry with him. Maybe he could just brush the man’s hand away and say no, thanks? Was that rude? This man, a stranger, was trying to proposition him, and Jason had no idea what he needed to do or say—and now he was horny too! Whatever the man had in mind, Jason’s cock sure seemed to ready for it.

“Come on,” the man said, and his body shifted as if he were about to stand, but not yet letting go of Jason’s thigh.

Jason felt forced into a decision: Did he want to be propositioned?

“Sure,” Jason heard himself reply. “Okay.”

Following the man down a path, Jason knew he should turn and run away, but he’d said okay. Why was this so hard? He didn’t want the man to be angry with him and cause a disturbance, but he wasn’t sure he wanted ... whatever the man had in mind either. The researcher in him suggested a third path: Investigate what the man had in mind, then decide. That seemed a reasonable choice. Okay, so now he had a plan. Jason felt better already.

The man led him through a break in the bushes, a brief age through darkness, then a small clearing, barely ten feet across, thick underbrush walling them off from the outside world, the sky visible overhead as the moonlight poured in, so Jason could see well enough.

The man stopped and faced him. Jason felt hands on his body. The touches started on his chest, intimate, and moved down his waist to his hips, even more intimate. He didn’t know what to do. He had never been touched this way by a man—or by anyone, not even that one girl who had seduced him. Should he return the man’s touches?—Touch the man the way he touched Jason? Jason’s body felt locked, immobile with nervousness. This all seemed strange; arousal and fear were all mixed together until he didn’t understand what he was feeling.

“Just relax, boy. I know how to make you feel good, real good. You’ll see,” the man said as he pressed one hand between Jason’s legs. His other hand moved behind the boy’s head, urging him closer. Jason bent away. The man was trying to kiss him? Jason couldn’t do that!—Strangers didn’t kiss each other!—Men didn’t kiss each other!—Messy spit!—Orally transmitted diseases!—Jason’s mind raced through ticking off the many reasons like a checklist. He wanted to pull back, but the man was gripping Jason’s erection tightly through his pants, locking him there. Jason couldn’t escape now, not without hurting himself.

“Don’t kiss, huh? Well, that’s okay. What I’m holding is too nice to let get away. Feels like a big one.” The man didn’t sound angry at being refused; he sounded confident, like he knew exactly what was going to happen. “Just relax, boy. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

Jason had known he was hard but he hadn’t realized how super-excited he was until the man opened his pants and gripped Jason’s erection through his underwear. He heard himself moan.

“That’s a nice, big dick, boy. But sooner or later, if I’m gonna do this right, you’re gotta get some of those clothes outta the way. You can get your duds off now or later—all the same to me.”

What an audacious ego this man had, Jason thought, for assuming there’d be a later!

The man dropped to his knees, pulling Jason’s pants and underwear down at the same time, a practiced move. Jason gasped as the night air swirled across his ass and groin.

Something warm and wet replaced that hand around Jason’s cock. The man was licking his dick! His first blow-job! That one girl he’d fucked hadn’t done that; she was only interested in letting him stick his erection in her pussy—a minimum of kissing and no oral sex. The man’s slick tongue covered every inch of Jason’s prick-shaft several times. The mouth went under and licked Jason’s hairy balls. Moving up, the man took the cock-head in his mouth. Grabbing Jason’s ass, the man took about half of his dick into his throat before gagging slightly.

Jason wasn’t sure what to do. Just stand there? Do something with his hands?—Maybe rest them on the man’s head? And should he do anything with his hips, his dick? Pump a little, or just stand there and let the man suck it? And what about his dick itself? He hadn’t seen many other guys naked. He hadn’t taken gym class in high school. In college he had always lived at home, never in a dorm. He wasn’t sure quite how his cock measured up to other guys’; he thought he was right in the middle of the cock sizes he’d seen in porn vids, but were those a statistically valid sampling? All he knew was his dick felt good in his hand when he jacked off. Now, it felt better in the man’s mouth. And the man didn’t seem disappointed with his size, not at all.

Jason tried to push his erection deeper into that mouth, but the man pulled his head back, releasing his meat. “Crap, boy! Take it easy. I’ll suck you off, but let me do it. Your big dick isn’t going to go down without a lot of work. Don’t force it.” The man went back to work. Slowly as the mouth moved up and down, the stiff rod went deeper. Once the cock-head opened the man’s throat, the shaft followed. Jason’s cock had never known anything like this. The girl he’d fucked was far from being a virgin, and that whole experience had been weird; he’d needed to concentrate to keep his dick hard. Nothing he had done with her had felt as good as what this man was doing to him. Staying hard was no problem now. His ass-cheeks, thighs, and ball-sack tingled from the night air, and every inch of his cock tingled from the tight throat and the licking tongue.

The man started a pattern: Two or three deep suck-thrusts, pull up to catch a breath while his tongue circled the fat cock-head, back down for a few more throat-stretching plunges, then back up. One hand moved over Jason’s smooth ass as the other tested the tightness of his balls. Whenever Jason’s testicles would withdraw to the base of the cock, the man would pull on them and slow his mouth rhythm, trying to prolong the climax.

It worked. Jason could feel himself approaching his climax-peak, then withdrawing. His balls surely couldn’t take much more of this! They needed to unload. He didn’t know what to do. Should he go ahead and cum, get this over with so he could get out of there?—Or should he let the man keep calling the shots?

Finally the man pulled off his cock. Jason mewled his disappointment and frustration.

The man stood up, standing close. “Hey, you’re that new guy, the one they say is some kind of genius. Jason Cole in Biochemistry, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Physical proximity to a stranger always made Jason nervous, and now this guy knew Jason’s name and where he worked? He felt a rush of shame and adrenaline. What the fuck? Who was this man?—A blackmailer? Jason wanted to pull away, but the man had a good, firm grip around the base of Jason’s cock with one hand, holding him in place. Jason started to step back anyway. “Listen, maybe we better—”

“Relax. I’m just making sure,” the man said, all smooth confidence. “Here, I got something I think you’ll like.” His other hand came up, and Jason glimpsed a small plastic bottle with a spray nozzle pointed at him—Fsst!—and the man sprayed him quickly in the face.

Jason flinched a little as the mist hit his eyes and cheeks. Rude!

Fsst! Fsst!

“What the—?” Jason couldn’t pull away, not with the man’s other hand clamped around his cock-root. The liquid made his cheeks and nose prickle, stung his eyes a little, not badly, just enough to feel irritated. “What the fuck, mister?” Jason should push him away—he really should—pull his penis out of the man’s grip and ... and ...

“Give it a second,” the man said, looking at him intently. Then he grinned. “Stand still, just like that. Don’t talk. Don’t move or do anything unless I tell you to. Open your mouth.” Jason did, and here came the spray bottle again. Fsst! Fsst! “Close your mouth.“

Okay, weird. A slight bitter taste on Jason’s tongue, thoughts racing through his mind, but losing linearity, tumbling over each other: The mouth ... Lots of mucous membranes, blood vessels, whatever was in that spray would be absorbed quickly into his bloodstream, faster than through his skin ...

“Swallow.”

Jason swallowed, wondering why he was simply doing what he was told. He wanted to protest, to get away, but he’d been told not to talk, not to move. He felt ... dizzy, a little disoriented. What was in that spray?

“Works fast, don’t it. Don’t worry—it’s safe. Knocks out your inhibitions, makes you real obedient. Problem is, it wears off quick. But if it’s combined with something else, like a little hypnosis, the suggestions sink in real deep, makes the hypnosis a dozen times more effective. The suggestions take hold more like orders.”

The man lifted something else into the moonlight where Jason could see it. A quartz crystal dangling from a thin chain? But hypnosis, at least the way the man was talking about it, was just a myth used as a plot device in television shows and movies, wasn’t it? Jason had never watched much television and had insufficient information to process this.

“Right about now you’re probably thinking your big brain can’t be hypnotized. Maybe you’re too intelligent or something. Couldn’t possibly work, right? Well, that’s where the drug comes in. You’ll do what I say, and I say you want to be hypnotized, don’t you. Yeah, you do. You want to be hypnotized more than anything. Your big brain ain’t gonna fight it at all. In fact, your big brain is going to make sure happens, make sure you get hypnotized good and deep. So just look deep into the crystal. Concentrate, because you want this bad—want to be deeply hypnotized. Concentrate. Look deeper into it ... Concentrate on my voice and the crystal. Watch it sway as you breathe in deep ...”

... Nine hundred ninety-nine ... One thousand.

Okay, he had finished counting and now he could wake up. Jason blinked and looked around. He was still in that clearing, but now he was alone. The man must have left while he was counting. Jason sat on the ground, legs stretched out in front of him, torso leaned back on something, maybe a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing. His T-shirt was still in place, but his shorts and underwear were bunched around his ankles.

Some time had ed, but how much? All he ed was how much he’d wanted, needed, craved to be hypnotized when the man said it. And what had the man done to him while he was hypnotized? He ed only being asleep—well, not really asleep, but locked in something that felt a lot like sleep—and something about waiting for instructions that would come soon, instructions he would want to obey, need to obey. That part was unclear, all jumbled up.

Jason stretched, enjoying how relaxed and aroused his body felt in the night air, under the moonlight. The motion made him aware of his cock, which was hard, so very hard, and demanded relief as his arousal seemed to swirl down into it. His balls needed to be drained before he could snap out of the last vestiges of that sleeplike state. Jason wrapped his hand around his meat-shaft and began to stroke. The man’s mouth had felt great—his first suck-job! Why hadn’t he known how great being sucked would feel? Just thinking about the man’s lips and tongue and throat made Jason’s dick pulse and sent his buzzing nuts into overdrive. He ed how he held the man’s head to keep from stumbling, how the man’s lips and tongue and throat had gripped his cock-shaft, as if trying to vacuum the cum directly out of his balls. It had felt so good! What he was doing now felt good too, almost as good. He stroked faster. He couldn’t hold back any longer, didn’t want to hold back. He pulled up his T-shirt tail with his other hand so he wouldn’t mess it up with his load. Nothing could stop his orgasm, which was getting closer, closer—tipping him toward the point of no return—right there!—right fucking there!—cumming—

“Ahhh!”

He felt as though eighteen years of lust and frustration surged through his cock, a river of satisfaction and relief that flash-flooded through him. Bolts of his cum surged out of his balls, burst from his cock, leaped into the night air, before splatting down against his exposed flat stomach.

“Aww, fuck!”

He felt like he’d found something he’d been looking for all his life. He wanted this to last forever, kept stroking long after he normally would’ve stopped, hoping to prolong the feeling. But slowly his orgasm faded into a relaxed afterglow that left his body limp, his thoughts drifting. He lay there, panting, every muscle in his body slack. His legs jerked slightly as an aftershock rippled through him. He lay there just savoring how his body felt. Why hadn’t he known his body could make him feel this intense pleasure? His fingertips traced a languid design in the cooling cum that speckled his belly. Good thing he’d pulled up his shirt! His balls felt profoundly drained. He had never felt so spent before. He felt perfect. The end of the perfect climax.

Jason slept well that night. Probably better than he ever had. Somehow he’d managed to wipe the cum off his hand and stomach with some leaves, gotten to his feet, assembled his clothes back in place, and stumbled back to his room, where he’d stripped, fallen into his bed, and fallen asleep instantly.

Now, waking up, he didn’t have his normal morning hard-on. Sure, his cock was fluffed up, but it wasn’t demanding attention. Last night he’d let a stranger blow him, let him hypnotize him too, then jacked off outdoors where just anyone could’ve stumbled in and seen him! He stretched, then pushed a hand into his crotch, wrapped his fingers around his cock. His other hand tugged gently at his balls the way the man had. That sure felt good. Not as good as when the man had sucked him off, but good, felt good to his cock and his hand.

How could a man do those things with his mouth to another man? How did taking a cock in your mouth feel? How did it taste? Men were supposed to do it with women, weren’t they? But obviously men could do it with men too. Now Jason had tried one of each, and what the man did to him felt a lot better.

Statistically, he thought as his mind processed, one of each was too small a sample set on which to base a such an important conclusion. More research was needed—a new project, comparing sex with men to sex with women. His sort-of friend Tom seemed interested only in doing sexual things with girls. Maybe Tom could introduce him to a few. Some of the hookers hadn’t looked that bad, as long as he could find a way to be sure they weren’t carrying diseases. If this was an example of what the park offered at night, Jason shouldn’t have any problem finding material for the other half of his research, the male half. This wasn’t something he could use for his research grant but it might certainly be an interesting side-project.

And that sprayed drug, and the hypnosis! He didn’t know how to process those parts at all. Extraneous data? He’d woke up last night feeling weird, hazy. Masturbating—his orgasm sure broke him out of the daze he’d woken up in, but his climax had plunged him into a new kind of daze. He had probably jacked off a thousand times since he had learned how to do it. But last night was—wow! That he’d managed to get home was a miracle!—If he believed in miracles, that is.

And now, this morning, for the first time he noticed how good it felt just to hold himself. Not to jack off for a quick, efficient stress-reliever, but just caress and touch his hard cock. The man had complimented his cock size and his appearance. Jason hadn’t paid much attention to how he looked before. Letting his shaft and balls drop, he ran his hands over his chest. A small amount of hair had sprouted around his nipples about a year before, just a few follicles. Another thin line formed just above his navel, trickling down his hard, flat stomach until it spread out into the pubes that surrounded his cock. He ran his hand over every strand.

The man last night had said something about ... what? Fucking him. His mind supplied factoids that a newly fucked ass would feel sore afterward, but his ass didn’t feel sore, ergo didn’t feel as if it has been fucked. Had Jason been awake when the man had said it? Or had he been hypnotized? Wow, in the moments after the drug took hold, he’d really wanted to become hypnotized, just like the man said, so Jason hadn’t wanted to resist and certainly hadn’t even tried. He barely ed being hypnotized beyond the first few minutes, but he certainly ed it felt great, knew he wanted to try it again, feel that way again, and soon. What else had the man said, something about how hypnosis was awakening and harnessing the pleasure in his body, his cock, balls, ass. But did he want to get fucked in his ass? Was that a variable that would skew the women versus men research project? He could screw both, but he could only get screwed by a man, and the unilateral nature of sex with women versus the bilateral nature of sex with men might disadvantage the women-side data. But could he simply ignore the bilateral data with men? Jason ran his hand over his ass: his cheeks felt small, firm, and except for the hair in crack, smooth. He wondered what how slipping his dick into another man’s ass would feel. The same as a pussy? An asshole would have to be tighter than a girl’s slit. What would he feel if a man slipped his cock into Jason’s ass?

By now, his cock had expanded to its full size. His balls still felt empty from last night’s major orgasm, but Jason knew he was going to jack off. Almost every morning he jerked and came, like a formality or a morning chore, but today felt different. Today he was using his mind as well as his body. He was more aware of what he was doing. He was enjoying his cock in his hand, not just his hand on his cock. He was becoming aware that there was more to sex than tugging on a piece of flesh until it squirted a discharge of bodily fluids onto his stomach.

What did he feel when he touched himself? How did different touches feel? Running his hand over his chest, he noticed his nipples had hardened. He tried pinching them like he’d seen in some porn videos, liking the way they felt even better. When he pinched hard, one nip, then both at the same time, a tingling sensation shot from his tits straight to his nuts, making them jump in their sack. Just thinking of them as tits seemed to unleash a new flush in him. Reaching down, he gripped the loose-hanging orbs lightly as he slow-stroked his blood-filled rod.

Spreading his legs, lifting his knees, he reached between them and probed around until he found his asshole. Running a finger around the virginal hole added to the miasma of sensations. Yes, he might learn to like this. He hadn’t known his ass could add so much to his pleasure.

He tried to penetrate the hole with a finger, but it was too tight. Bringing his hand to his mouth; he wet his finger with spit. Returning it to his little hole, he was able to penetrate to the first t. It felt uncomfortable in a vague way, no real pain, mostly unfamiliar, but it felt good too. Nerves around the edges of his hole seemed to sing. Slowly applying pressure as he long-stroked his hard cock, his finger slid in deeper, until it had penetrated as deep as it could reach. Any pain was gone now. He pulled back out to the fingertip and reinserted it. After several strokes he relaxed enough for some hard, deep finger thrusts. His dick was harder than usual, as hard as it could physically get.

Except for last night, this was the best his body had ever felt. Jason fist-pounded his cock as his finger probed hard and deep into his ass. He tried to hold back, make the experiment last, but he was going to shoot his load. His orgasm was going to be a big one. He wanted to climax, but he also didn’t, not yet. He needed to relieve the pressure with his usual quick efficiency, but he wanted the feeling to continue and awaken his body more. This experiment couldn’t have both outcomes.

The first rope of thick ball-juice shot out of his cock before he realized. Before the cum even splashed onto his chest, Jason felt his orgasm hit, and he cried out quietly in surprise and bliss. Several more cum-shots followed, and his pleasure became a tidal wave. A smack of sperm struck his neck. Another whapped the side of his nose, a slime trail across his lips. As he floated and crested through his ecstasy, he licked his lip, tasting it.

After last night, he’d been sure he had nothing left in his balls. He didn’t know where all of this liquid came from. Testicles, the seminal vesicles, the prostate, the bulbourethral glands—sure, but he knew anatomically where semen originated, but how had his body replenished the fluids so quickly and abundantly after being so thoroughly emptied last night? His body was coated in his juice, and plenty soaked his bedsheets too. He was glad he had learned to do laundry. He knew he should get out of bed, clean up, but all he wanted was to fall back into deep sleep. First, though, he decided as he started stroking his dick again, time for another experiment: If one finger felt that good in his ass, he wondered how two would feel.