Hypnosis and the Happy Hippy Pt. 05

The fifth and final instalment of Hypnosis and the Happy Hippy, though not the last you will hear of the rogue, Zeb. Sandra bites the bullet and Zeb is not exactly the perfect gentleman.

Will she succeed in getting the giggle zones removed or will Zeb trick her so he can turn her on any time he wants. Our heroine has no choice but to trust that he will do the right thing.

Please do leave a comment. Tell me what you liked and what you think could have been better. I'm always looking to improve the reader's experience.

Snow Goose (formerly Music Inspired by The Snow Goose) was the third studio album from Camel, released in 1975 on Decca.

Hergest Ridge was the second studio album by Mike Oldfield, released in 1974 on Virgin Records.

As usual, all characters are based on people who may not exist anywhere but my head. And if you are reading this and recognise yourself, it's not based on you.

On a cold January evening in 1978, Pam and I went for what should have been a quiet girls' night out. What we actually did, I would have expected from Pam, but it was way beyond my usual behaviour.

We met two wagon drivers who had parked up for the night, awaiting entry to the docks the following morning. Jimmy found one of my programmed erogenous zones, accidentally, but Pam couldn't rely on an excuse like that. Mac took Pam to his big rig while I ended up in Jimmy's. In these respective vehicles, we experienced equally unsatisfying fucks with total strangers who didn't even ask our names.

Following my less than spectacular shag, Pam rang a cab. Who turned up to collect us? Jay! The half hour between arriving home and going to bed was the longest and most uncomfortable thirty minutes I had ever spent in Jay's company. I made my excuses, involving feeling ill and having a headache, and slept.

Next morning, I told Jay I was feeling unwell, and I had a blinding headache, still; it wasn't such a big lie. Jay went off to his training scheme, after making me breakfast and serving it to me in bed. I did not deserve him.

After eating, I slept again. I slept until almost eleven. I awoke feeling much better and prepared for the day ahead. Looking out of the window, it was quite sunny for a late January but it looked cold. If I was going out, I needed to dress up warm.

I walked out into the crisp winter air wearing my hand-crocheted poncho over a heavy knitted jumper, itself covering a thick denim shirt, my legs protected by a pair of jeans over thick tights. My woolly beanie hat kept my head warm. Sexy, I was not. And where I was going, sexy was the last thing I wanted to look. I had even rooted out my least sexy, washed-out bra and cotton granny knickers.

The door between the shop fronts soon opened after I had pounded the wood.

"Right you," I said, "You are going to remove these unwanted erogenous zones." I pushed through to the hall. Zeb's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped in surprise.

"I said you'd be back," Zeb said in the hallway.

"Don't gloat. I haven't come for that."

"So you intimated." He was almost as pompous as Jay. "Go on up."

Zeb's flat soon warmed up once he'd lit the paraffin fire, and the newly acquired portable gas fire, allowing me to remove my hand-crocheted poncho and woolly hat. I left the heavy jumper on.

"That's new." I pointed at the gas fire, as Zeb returned from the kitchen.

"Yeah," he responded, "Well, not new. It's my old man's. He's had in the garage for years. Never uses it, so I cadged it off him."

"It's warm. I can feel the heat from here." I was sitting on the famous mattress-couch by now.

"Yeah. You'll be taking that jumper off soon."

I was feeling rather warm, but I found myself pulling the jumper tighter around me. I wanted to be as sexless as possible for this visit. The only way I could have been less sexy would have been if I were wearing a sanitary pad. Damn! I'd not thought of that. I was jerked from my ruminations by the sound of the kettle's whistle blowing down the hallway. Zeb sauntered out of the room. I realised just how cold this flat could get, when a cold draft whirled across my ankles. Jay and I were lucky to have a bedsit with actual central heating. As much as we hated the old woman who owned the place, she did provide some comforts.

He closed the door and soon I felt the heat becoming a little uncomfortable, so I turned down the gas fire. I flicked through Zeb's record collection and selected and Snowgoose.

"Don't mind if I put a record on?" I called through the door.

The door opened enough for Zeb's face to appear. "What was that, Pussy Cat?"

"I just said, you don't mind if I put a record on, do you?"

"Knock yourself out, kid."

I sat back down on Zeb's mattress-couch, that is, a mattress on the floor, against the wall to make a low-level settee. He returned with two steaming cups of tea, just as Andy Latimer's flute heralded the second track, bringing that ankle level draft with him.

"You warm then?" He placed a cup down next to me.

"Yes. It warmed up, so I turned the fire down."

"Warms up dead quick in here. The secondary glazing helps."

"The what?" I asked as he placed the cups on the floor.

He shoved the door closed and kicked a sausage shape draught excluder against it. Turning back, he said, "The plastic sheets on the windows. Keeps more heat in."

"Oh." I said.

"Take your woolly off, if you're warm," he offered.

"Erm. No. I'm okay."

"You'll need to loosen up a little if I'm going to relax you," he said. "Anyway, what's this about removing your fun spots?"

"Yes. I want them gone."

"Really? I thought you'd enjoy them."

"I do, but I just get so turned on I can't stop until I've fucked."

"What's the problem with that?"

"I want to have a choice!" Was I shouting? "I'm turning into a slut."

"Sandra Terry!" He was shocked. "I never thought I'd hear you use that word."

"A guy has only got to touch the skin at the top of my arm and he becomes irresistible."

"Does that happen a lot, then?"

"A lot more than I would have thought," I answered. "I screwed a trucker the other night because he stroked the back of my knee. He doesn't even know my name."

"Ah! I see. Not cool, eh?"

"I've spread my legs too often for the wrong reasons and I want to stop it."

"Enjoy it while you're still stunningly beautiful."

"Ha!" I couldn't help the laugh. "Me!"

"Yeah, you, Pussy Cat."

"I'm fat, my tits are too big, my legs..."

"Whoa there, little lady," he interrupted. "Alfred Hitchcock is fat; Orson Welles is fat; Mama Cass is... was fat. You ain't fat, my girl. You are curvy."

"Not exactly the catch of the century."

"Hey, Jay loves having sex with you, doesn't he?"

"Yes but..."

"And I certainly love having sex with you," I could feel myself blush, "And lots of other men want to have sex with you, apparently. So..."

"I still want to choose. Properly choose, I mean, without irresistible urges."

"Okay, but before I do this, are you wearing anything under that jumper?"

"Yes. I've got a shirt on."

"Damn! What a shame." He grinned and pulled at my jumper. I didn't resist. I just let him remove it and throw it to a nearby chair.

Zeb turned back to me and turned my face so that my eyes locked with his steel blue pools that invited me to dive in. He raised his hand to my forehead and stroked the tiny spot only he and I knew about.

"I'm desperate for the loo." Leaping up to escape from this dangerous position, I marched out of the door.

"I've fixed the door, so no unexpected exhibitionism." A giggle escaped my throat as I walked down the hall.

Sitting on the toilet, I whispered a mantra over and over to myself, "I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb."

Zeb had just turned over the record as I returned and had sat down. I made a bee-line for the chair, throwing my jumper on the mattress.

"Come and sit down here," he said, patting the mattress next to him.

"I daren't. It's too dangerous."

"No more dangerous than sitting in an armchair."

"I think so."

"Suit yourself," he said as he stood.

Moving around to the back of my chair, he placed two hands on my head. Ten fingertips stroked my scalp. They closed and opened, closed and opened. The sensation was a powerful relaxant as the movement became a full scalp massage. I allowed my head to fall back to rest on the fabric of the armchair, my eyes closed in a form of euphoria. It was incredibly relaxing. He continued with this gentle kneading for a few minutes. It was like having my hair washed by the best hairdresser ever. Then, ever so subtly, he allowed his fingers to brush my forehead, sending tingles down my spine. As the stroking became a little less subtle, and a warm glow grew beneath my navel, creeping into my inner organs. Like an ink droplet in water, the warmth expanded up to my stomach and down to my crotch.

Zeb sure knew how to make a girl feel relaxed.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

My scalp tingled as I felt Zeb's hands leave my head and slide down to my shoulders. They kneaded my muscles as they had my scalp.

"What are you doing?" I uttered.

"Making the most out of your unique situation while it is still there." There was his sexy, hypnotic voice. I could feel the cloud of seduction enveloping me and seeping into my pores.

"Oh!" was all I could manage.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

Both hands slid to the front of my shirt. No you don't, I thought, believing his hands were headed towards my tits. My hand flew up to grasp his, but I couldn't feel him. Opening my eyes into a squint, I could see both of my hands still resting on my lap; I'd imagined grabbing Zeb.

He popped open the top stud of my denim shirt, then moved his hands back to continue the massage of my shoulders. His hands traced my collar bone to my sternum and slid to the next shirt stud, popping it open. It was so gentle and relaxing, I could overlook the cheek and even put aside my fear about what he might be intending.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

A third popper opened and my own hands were still glued to my lap, the rest of my body sunk in a utopia of calm and relaxation.

"Are you feeling it?" The dark, hypnotic voice penetrated me. "Can you feel that sensual, relaxing glow down to you core?"

"Mm." I could manage no more.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

Electricity flowed, anticipating his next move. His hands returned to my shoulders, this time inside my shirt. They glided down the smooth, bare flesh and halted within a fraction of an inch of the sensitive zones on my arms. The charge crackled through me to strike my heart, warming me. As the fingers touched the spots, the warmth and the cracking became flames of desire from neck to nether, cervix to cervix!

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

"You need to stop that," I insisted.

"Aren't you enjoying it?"

"Of course I am. That's why you need to stop."

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

"Just letting you enjoy the experience while you can, and there's no harm being done."

My eyes were still closed. My head remained inclined against the high back of the arm chair. I was still relaxed, to the point of being immobile.

Zeb's hands smoothed the skin on my arms all the way to my shoulders from where, in one smooth move, they slid down my chest, inside my bra and found my eager nipples. The virgin and the oversexed adventurer argued in my soul whether I should stop this, if I could. The adventurer was gaining the upper hand.

Electric current flowed through my body as my nipples hardened to his touch. He didn't pinch or roll them, he just caressed. I ground my buttocks into the chair and clenched my thighs, squeezing my engorged vulva. The seam of my jeans pulled tight across my clitoris as I rolled my arse around the cushion.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

Zeb removed his hands, bringing them to my face to caress my cheeks. Bending over me, he kissed the spot on my forehead. I moaned as the bellows in my crotch fanned the forge of desire; my fires raged

His hands wandered back down to pop open more of the studs on my shirt, to leave it gaping open. Moving back, his hands played across the sensitive skin on my arms again. My bum moved involuntarily now, ensuring maximum pressure of the denim seam, which was now embedded in my slit and grinding against my clit.

My arousal built ever greater. Zeb's hands moved, once more, to my breasts, stroking the points through my bra and kneading as gentle as they did on my scalp. Sliding his hands inside once more, he toyed with my nipples. I shivered with excitement and anticipation.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

Zeb bent over to kiss my forehead again. This time he lingered there, kissing the spot as he would my lips. The sensation on my forehead and on my nipples was too much to bear. It was all I could do to resist putting my hand down my knickers. My hips gyrated, and I slid down just enough to press the denim further into my scorching fireplace, rubbing my love bud harder. Faster and harder; faster and harder. Nipples, forehead, fanny, nipples forehead fanny; hips faster, thighs clenching; heat building; electricity; nipples, forehead, fanny, clit, hips. Explosion! The orgasm ripped through me as I arched my back.

"Fuuuuuuck!" I screamed.

My pelvis pulsated with pleasure as Zeb held my breasts and kissed my forehead.

"Look, no hands," Zeb grinned.

He continued to hold my breasts as I subsided. My back and pelvic muscles slowly relaxed, my buttocks sinking into the seat, shoulders deflating, flush leaving my cheeks.

"You realise," he said after a couple of minutes, "If I'm going to hypnotise you, you'll have to lose the jeans. They're far too tight.

I grinned, "I know. But I like them like that."

"Apparently."

Once more, Zeb moved his hands to my upper arms. His touch was like two feathers playing across my skin. He bent over and kissed my forehead once more. I had no control again. My head back dropped back as I enjoyed the warmth flowing through my body again, and the glow in my sex.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

After a few minutes of this, Zeb stopped and came around the front. Kneeling, he said, "You really will have to get rid of these," while unbuttoning my jeans.

"No, no, no. They stay on," I said.

"Well, at least, loosen them up a little," He said while unzipping them.

In one seamless movement, he slid both hands down my thighs and round the back of my knees. Just as with the trucker in the Dock Road pub, a whimper escaped from my lips as a bolt of pleasure shot right up me.

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not...

His hands back up my thighs to my waistband. I was powerless! My arse lifted without me thinking about it, so he could slide the denims down my legs and off the end of my feet, pulling off my boots with them. I was not even embarrassed about my no-sex-please knickers and tights.

Lifting my leg, he kissed the back of my knee, inflaming those fires again. Once again, I found myself clenching, rolling my arse and my muscles to massage my own vagina; not quite the same without the tight denim seam. Determined not to have sex with Zeb, yet unable to take it any longer, I slid my hand down my no-sex panties to find my clitoris. I watched Zeb's eyes widen as he observed the action.

Shit! Was I really doing this? I don't think even Jay had seen me masturbate. Sure, I'd often slid my hand between us while we were making love, but never the full on lady wank.

Zeb continued to kiss the back of one knee while caressing the other. Flames were roaring up the chimney now and setting fire to the flue. He swapped legs, and I was in heaven. I rubbed more frantically as I drew near another climax. Every muscle tensed as my fires, once more, exploded. The tightened muscles in my neck stifled the sounds of ecstasy.

"Please," I begged, coming down and pulling my hand from my knickers. "No more. I am not having sex with you." My face was burning with embarrassment.

"I don't think you need to," He observed. "Are you sure you want to lose these precious gifts?" He said this as he slid his warm, caring hands up my thighs, to my belly and up to my bra.

"Gifts are only precious while they are still wanted. So, yes. I do."

The hands slid under and up, pushing the garment from my breasts, leaving them free to be groped and caressed.

"You have to stop, now!"

I will not have sex with Zeb. I will not have sex with Zeb.

"Just enjoy." His hands slid from my breasts to my biceps again. I couldn't believe I was gagging for another orgasm. The hands continued to move down my breasts, over my stomach, back to my thighs, to the back of my knees and those two giggle zones. My pelvis tilted and my bum lifted from the seat with the pleasure.

My hand moved of its own volition towards the waistband of my panties again. Zeb pulled it away, pulled my knees apart and buries his face in my crotch, his mouth enveloping the hot spot. My hands hit the arms of the chair and tensed, as did my legs, and my backside lifted from the seat. Zeb's hands dived towards my hips, pulling down on the fabric of my knickers and tights. I didn't resist.

Once the barriers had been removed, Zeb's mouth assaulted my vulva. I could feel my hips bucking, pushing my sex hard against his mouth. I was powerless to stop my hands from holding the back of his head and pulling his face tight to me. The rising force of another orgasm swelled in the near distance. Closer and closer until Zeb pushed his head back against my hands and lifted himself up to bring his face to mine.

His lips landed on mine for the briefest of kisses before he traced a path of pecks from my lips to my forehead, then back to my lips, where they locked with mine. My hands moved to his buckle. I had no control and didn't want to. His buckle and top button came unfastened, and his zip came down with no conscious thought from me.

Pushing his jeans down, his erection sprang out at me. Only a cock would do now, and Zeb's was right there. My legs wrapped around his waist as my arms wrapped around his neck, locking him in that kiss until I was ready to let him go. There was no fumbling. There were no hands. His cock found its target like a guided missile and entered my wetness with ease.

"Fuck!" I couldn't help releasing the expletive. At that angle, Zeb's bulbous cock hit my G-spot immediately. No technique needed. His hips bucked back and forth under my legs, massaging the highly sensitive zone with each thrust.

Within a few quick strokes, my body flooded with a tidal wave of pleasure that reached every extremity. As my muscles clamped around Zeb's erection, he moaned and thrust violently, flooding my caverns with his own waves of pleasure. A few more hard rams into me and it was over for both of us. My legs tightened around his back and my arms tightened around his neck, keeping me locked with Zeb from one set of my lips to the other.

My legs and arms relaxed their grip as the first flutters of remorse whirled around my stomach. Suddenly feeling the need to clean up, I pushed him off and padded off to the bathroom, once again feeling another man's emissions tricking down my thighs. I felt a little nauseous. I didn't know why. It wasn't as if I hadn't shagged Zeb before; it wasn't like I'd been a hundred percent faithful in the last few months. Perhaps it was because I was going to keep another secret from Jay.

I cleaned Zeb from me as best I could, reset my bra, and buttoned up the shirt before realising my knickers and tights were still in the living room. Try as I might, I could not pull the denim down far enough to cover my treacherous twat. Don't get me wrong, I loved fucking, and still do. Jay and I had written an agreement and, while I would not abuse the situation, I was also not going to deprive myself of carnal pleasures if I felt a compelling urge. But I wanted a choice.