Gay Erotic Stories

Part 1: The First Time I knew better than to meet a stranger at his home. Everyone tells you if you decided to hook up with someone you met on the internet, you should meet them in a public place. But I agreed to go to his place to dinner. And here I was at the front door of a much fancier place than I’d expected. I knocked lightly. It wasn’t too late to turn back. As I wavered the front door swung open. Wow. Christopher Boldt was even more handsome than the pictures he’d sent! He stood only a couple inches taller than my 5’8, with neatly-styled blonde hair and the clearest green eyes I could ever remember seeing. He had the high cheek bones and strong jaw of a pretty boy, but his lips parted in a much more easy-going grin. His black shirt was open at the collar, tucked into black slacks. “Craig!” he said, “welcome.” I stepped into his foyer, glancing at my reflection in an antique wall mirror. I immediately wished I’d dressed slightly more to impress than my denim shirt and khakis. Well, I had gone with the tie at least. My brown hair was spiked in several directions. “I hope you don’t mind joining me in the kitchen for a bit. Dinner will be ready shortly.” I followed him down the hall, through a semi-formal dining room to a fully appointed kitchen. Christopher was obviously more well off than he’d let on. “Would you care for some wine?” “Sure.” I had been studying the toes of my loafers. I grinned--I had worn them with white socks because I knew Christopher liked that. This was more awkward than I’d thought it would be. I knew so much about him, yet we’d never met. He handed me the wine glass. “You seem uncomfortable, Craig. We’ve never lacked for conversation.” “I’m sorry. It’s just a little different being here in person.” Christopher flashed a gleaming smile. “Take a deep breath and drink up.” I made a little toasting motion with the glass and drained half its contents. I’m not much of a drinker, but I needed something to calm my nerves. Christopher was still smiling. “There. Feel better? Breathe in and out...in and out...in and out... You’re more and more relaxed...more and more relaxed... You can hardly remember why you were worried. You feel so much more relaxed.” His tone was very pleasant and reassuring. He was right. I did feel more relaxed. “Have some more wine,” he suggested, stirring something at the stove. I emptied the glass. He gestured to a small round table in the breakfast nook. “Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” I pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. The wine was making me feel a little woozy. Already. “There you go. Deep breaths. In and out...in and out...in and out... Your eyes look like they feel heavy. Do they feel heavy? Heavy like they’re ready to close on you.” He was talking in very low tones. My eyes did feel tired. And it seemed hard to focus. He sounded so soothing. “Let your eyes close. Breathe in and out...in and out... You are sooo relaxed. Your whole body feels relaxed. Do you feel relaxed?” I felt so relaxed I didn’t answer. “You will find that you feel even more relaxed when you answer my questions. Do you feel relaxed?” “Yes.” “Good. When I count to 3 you will be wide awake and you won’t remember closing your eyes. But every time I say My shoes are tight you will return to this state of relaxation and feel more relaxed. I want you to repeat after me and as you say the words you know that they are true. Every time I say My shoes are tight you will return to this state of relaxation and feel more relaxed.” “Every time you say My shoes are tight I will be relaxed.” “Good. Now I’ll count to 3 and you won’t remember any of this. 1...feeling more alert...2...more aware of your surroundings...3.” I blinked. “Dinner’s just about ready,” Christopher announced. “Why don’t we begin with our salads?” He gestured toward the dining room and waited for me to precede him. “Do you feel more at ease now?” We were seated at the table eating a mixed green salad. I nodded. “I just wasn’t too sure when I got here. I mean, I know we talked about a lot--how you like white socks and how we’re both interested in hypnosis and all kinds of other stuff. but it’s a little different when we’re just typing about it.” “My shoes are tight.” The fork clattered against the salad bowl. “Craig, how do you feel?” “Mmm. Relaxed.” “Good. I want you to notice how your right arm is becoming lighter. How all the weight is draining out of it. How it is floating up at your side. Do you feel that?” My arm was feeling lighter. It raised from my lap. “Craig, your arm is now as stiff as if it were made out of wood. Stiff as a board. Does your arm feel stiff?” “Yes.” “Good. Your arm is now relaxing and lowering to your side. Now, I noticed you had on white socks when you came here. Why did you wear white socks?” “Because you like them.” “Good. And why did that matter? You can tell me the truth. Don’t worry. In fact, you’ll find it easier to relax when you tell the truth. Why did you wear white socks?” “To make you happy.” “Good. Good. You know what would make me happier? If you kicked off your loafers. It would make me happy if you took off your loafers. Do you want to make me happy?” “Yes.” “Take off your loafers. You feel so relaxed. And you’ll feel so much more relaxed without the loafers. Your feet will be much more relaxed. You don’t like to wear shoes anymore, do you? You can’t be relaxed with shoes on. You don’t like to wear shoes. Say it and know it’s true.” “I don’t like to wear shoes.” “Good. Shoes are uncomfortable. You feel so much better with them off. You don’t like to wear shoes. Say it.” “I don’t like to wear shoes.” I dug the heel of my right shoe off with the toe of my left, then kicked off both shoes. “Good. You only like to wear socks. Only socks. White socks. To make me happy. Because you want to make me happy you’ll wear white socks.” “Want to make you happy...” “Good boy. Now I’ll count to 3 and you’ll be awake. And you won’t remember any of this. You’ll just know that you don’t like to wear shoes, only white socks. And that that makes me happy. Again, when I say My shoes are tight you’ll return to this deep state of relaxation, getting even more relaxed every time. Okay. 1...2...3.” I looked up as Christopher stood. “I should get the next course.’ I smiled and reached for my wine glass, taking a smaller sip. My napkin fell from my lap. I bent to reach for it and realized I had taken off my shoes. Why had I done that? I didn’t like to wear shoes. Christopher returned and set a plate before me. He was a really good cook. We talked a little about his job as an adjunct professor at the local college--he was teaching a course in social behavior. Then I mentioned a psyche course I had once taken. Christopher poured more wine and complemented me on my blue eyes. I smiled. He was charming. And I wanted to make him happy. “Are you ready for dessert?” he asked. I nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray of eclairs. They looked delicious. “My shoes are tight. Craig, your nose itches.” I reached up and brushed at my nose with my hand. “Good. It’s stopped. Now I want you to stand up, Craig.” I felt the chair being pulled back behind me. I stood. “Craig, turn to your left and kneel down.” I did. “Good. Good. Craig, I want you to open your mouth. You are going to open your mouth and I am going to feed you an eclair. But don’t bite it.” I opened my mouth and could taste the chocolate icing and pastry. Then the eclair was pulled from my mouth. “Craig, I am going to continue to let you lick the eclair. That’s right, lick it. Yes. Good. In and out. Just like your breathing. In and out...in and out... You feel so relaxed. Taste the chocolate. Yes. Now begin to suck n the eclair. Suck the eclair. In and out...in and out... Good.” The eclair rhythmically went in and out of my mouth. It tasted good. “Keep sucking till you taste the cream. Good.” I continued sucking. There was the grinding noise of metal. Then the eclair was pulled out of my mouth. Then it was back. Only it tasted different. It felt harder against my tongue. “Good, Craig. Keep sucking. good. You want that cream from inside the eclair. When you taste it it will be the best eclair you’ve ever tasted.” The eclair moved in and out of my mouth, slowly in and out. It tasted great. “Good. Good. You want that cream. Every drop. Keep sucking.” Then I could taste it. It was saltier than it was sweet, but it was the best tasting eclair I’d ever had. I licked up every drop. “Good boy, Craig. You may stand up.” I could hear the same metal grinding sound as I stood. “Turn to your right. Good. Now sit down.” The chair slid into place under me. “Good. Now when I count 3 you will remember only that you just had the best eclair you’ve tasted. And when I say My shoes are tight you will return to this state of relaxation. 1...you can still taste that eclair. 2...becoming more alert. 3.” I licked my lips. “Did you enjoy that, Craig?” “Yes.” Christopher offered me the tray. “Have another.” “Thank you.” To be continued in Part 2...