Subliminal Suggestion Ch. 01

Where to start? I guess I'll start with my brilliant scheme to solve what I thought was a problem.

Betsy is a wonderful wife. Really! She isn't centerfold beautiful—and certainly not runway model beautiful. But she's pretty and takes good care of herself. I look at other women because ... you know ... I'm a man. But I don't have a roving eye in any practical sense. Betsy is the object of my lustful desires. She's smart and funny—fun to be with. That's all good.

We have a happy marriage, too. We both have good jobs; we aren't rich, but we're never stressed about money. And our jobs, while paying enough, aren't so demanding that we don't have time for relaxing and enjoying life.

No kids, because we don't want them. We never had a disagreement on that. We like lots of the same things and, while we both have same-sex friends we see without the other, we usually socialize with a few other couples and, even more, we do things just as a couple.

So, what's not to like about my life? What's the problem?

Well, our sex life is good in lots of ways, but not in all ways. We've been married for nearly ten years now and we usually have sex two or three times a week—more than most couples who'd been together that long, I guess. But the sex is always missing something. Well, two things, really.

First, I'm always the initiator. I mean, Betsy will let me know that she's interested in lots of subtle and not so subtle ways. It isn't that she's reluctant. In fact, she's an enthusiastic partner. But I'm always the person to take the initiative physically. Sometimes, I just want her to show the same sort of raw sexual desire for me that I show for her. I want her not just to respond willingly and enthusiastically, but to engage aggressively.

And when I say "sometimes," I mean sometimes with increasing frequency. For the first few years we were together, I never thought about this. It was enough that I was getting all the sex I wanted (and much more than two or three times a week, then) and that she was enthusiastically responding to me. But once I began wanting more from her, it began to nag me. More and more often, I'd think that there was something important missing in our sexual encounters.

The second problem is easier to explain. Betsy isn't into giving head—at least, not to completion. A couple of times, maybe three—I'm not sure now—I'd cum in her mouth. But that was when my orgasm had snuck up on both of us—when I'd cum sooner than either of us had expected.

It was clear that she didn't like it when I'd cum in her mouth. The first time it happened, there were major histrionics. She spit it out immediately, with a sour look on her face. She ran to the bathroom and flushed her mouth with mouthwash.

When she came back to the bedroom, she didn't want to talk about it. I felt like a scumbag—a selfish, inconsiderate lout. What kind of husband would do something that caused his wife, the woman he loved, such disgust?

But those few times where I'd actually cum in Betsy's mouth were far in the past now. She became very careful to monitor my state of sexual arousal. If I even begin approaching an orgasm when she's sucking my cock, she'll stop and say something like, "You've got me so horny, hon ... I need to feel your hard cock in my pussy."

And then we'll fuck. And the fucking's good. Betsy can cum pretty easily from vaginal sex and it makes me feel good to get her off this way. Usually, she'll have her orgasm first and I'll cum shortly after, very satisfied to be shooting my spunk in her still convulsing cunt.

I know what you're thinking. Am I a "some things are good for the gander but not for the goose" kind of guy? Do I bring Betsy off with oral sex? And the answer is "yes." Now, Betsy isn't a squirter, so I know there's a difference. She does get very wet when I lick her clitoris. My mouth fills with the taste of her; my nostrils with her scent. But, I admit, I've never taken anything like a load of ejaculate in my mouth. Still, I do everything I can to give Betsy oral pleasure. And I feel as if she isn't quite doing the same.

Like my desire for her to be more sexually aggressive, once I began focusing on this issue, its significance grew in my mind. When she did suck my cock as a prelude for fucking, I always fantasized about her finishing me off with her mouth. And my realization that this wasn't going to happen left an increasingly bitter taste in my mouth.

Sometimes I'd fantasize about holding her head tightly and forcing her to suck me off and swallow my cum. But that was just the stuff of fantasy. I would never do something like that to Betsy. I do love her and respect her. I just want some things that she isn't giving me.

And, yeah, of course I fantasize sometimes about being with other women—women who would jump my bones and suck me off with passion, almost as if they needed it more than I did. But I'm not about to cheat on Betsy. Our relationship is too precious to me to risk it for a fleeting pleasure.

So, that's where I was. And I was trying to make the best of it. "It is what it is," I'd say to myself, not really knowing what I meant by that silly truism. I figured I just had to deal with disappointment.

I watch porn, of course. Which is another way of saying, I'm a man who has access to visual porn. (You know, there are two kinds of men: those who admit they watch porn and those who lie.) Not surprisingly, I watch a lot of porn that focuses on blowjobs, cum sucking, and facials.

But you know how it is, one thing leads to another; you start going down a rabbit hole and wind up somewhere far from where you entered. When I came across subliminal suggestion porn—that stuff that pretends it will turn women into sex-crazed sluts—I was fascinated. I found myself searching for more and more of it.

Not surprisingly, I began thinking about how great it would be if it really worked. It's not like I could entice Betsy to watch this stuff, certainly not after she saw what it was aiming to do. So, this, too, was fantasy stuff. Now, though, I had a way of imagining how Betsy might become a wanton cum-craving slut.

But what if there were a way to do this? What if I could use some sort of subliminal device to alter Betsy's desires and behavior?

It couldn't be videos. Even if those things weren't just bullshit—even if they could work—Betsy wouldn't watch them long enough for them to work. But what about an audio track that I played in her sleep? Sure, sleep teaching was a pretty sketchy idea, too. But what if?

The idea intrigued me, then consumed me. I finally decided that I had little to lose and, as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

So I set about to find some good audio tracks. Some of the videos had sound tracks that I could use. And I found some audio-only files that were even better. Searching for these things and sorting through them was kind of fun. It felt like I was at least trying to solve the problem I had and, even if it didn't work (and I was pretty sure it wouldn't), this stuff was very erotic. It fed my fantasies of getting sucked off by a libidinous Betsy.

I stitched the files together in a way that seemed to make sense to me and made a one-hour audio that could be looped. It began with very soothing, ethereal music and then a quiet but commanding voice arose from the music and repeated hypnotic phrases. This morphed into the first explicit subliminal messages, which were followed by a series of pieces ripped from different sources that grew increasingly insistent in their commands or, sometimes, their rehearsal of a mental dialog that the subject was supposed to internalize.

"You want cock ... you adore cock ... you can't stop thinking about cock ... you want to suck cock ... you want to feel a cock explode in your mouth, filling it with sweet cum." And, "You will suck cock ... you will swallow cum ... you will lick up every drop of cum with your tongue." And, "I can't stop thinking about a hard cock in my mouth ... I need to suck a hard cock ... I want cock ... I want your cock ... I need your cum ... I need to feel you fill my mouth with cum." Stuff like that.

I could hardly put ear buds in Betsy's ears at night so I found a small speaker that I could put next to her pillow at night, after she was fast asleep. I had an old iPod I hadn't used for years and decided this would be a good use to put it toward. I could loop the audio so it played continuously.

Betsy is a very sound sleeper. I don't think she's ever woken up during the night, at least if she wasn't sick or something. So I felt pretty safe doing this. I just had to be sure to wake up before she did so I could put away the paraphernalia. That wasn't going to be a problem, either. I'd always gotten up before Betsy. This would be nothing unusual.

One day when Betsy was out shopping, I set everything up for a trial run. I lay down on her side of the bed and played with the placement of the speaker and the volume of the iPod. I decided to start out with the volume very low to make sure that it didn't wake her. I could adjust it gradually louder as I became confident it wasn't too loud.

Then I got cold feet. Turns out that when things moved from fantasizing and planning to do this, to actually doing it, I got scared. I waited almost a month before trying it. But during that month, my feelings that I was missing something I really didn't want to miss just increased. Finally, my craving for what I'd wanted for so long overcame my fear.

It was a Friday night that I first tried it. Betsy and I had eaten dinner at home and watched a film. We were both tired from hard weeks at work and we'd had several glasses of wine. Betsy fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. I was on the verge of drifting off, too. But I caught myself and managed to stay awake for a while to be sure that Betsy was sound asleep. Then I carefully placed the speaker on the bed, between our pillows and turned on the iPod.

In the dim light, I watched her face carefully for any signs she was rousing. But she was deep in sleep. I left my reading light on very low and continued to watch her as I fell asleep.

I'd listened to the recording many times as I'd spliced it together in just the way I wanted. As I'd worked on the recording, over the weeks, I'd fantasized about Betsy sucking me off. Sometimes, when I got really hot, I'd jack off to the recording. Now, as I lay there watching Betsy sleep peacefully and drifting off to sleep myself, I entertained visions of her attacking me, ravenous for my cock. I constructed a vivid mental image of her grasping for my cock, desperate to get it between her lips, of her sucking and pumping furiously, eager to force my cock to explode in her mouth, filling it with my salty cum.

My phone vibrated the alarm at 6:00 am. It was Saturday and I wouldn't normally have set the alarm at all. But today wasn't normal. I had to get the iPod and speaker put away before there was any chance of Betsy waking up.

After putting things away, I didn't feel like I could get back to sleep so I got up and watched some porn on my computer. Not surprisingly, the porn I chose to watch was all pretty women giving great blowjobs to well-endowed guys. (I'm average but, hey, this is fantasy.)

The girls were insatiable for cock and cum. Their eyes lit up when they saw the prospect of getting a hard cock in their mouths. As they sucked furiously on a cock, the looked up lovingly toward the men, making it clear how happy they were to have those cocks pistoning in and out of their mouths. Their small hands worked the huge shafts feverishly. They were eager for their sweet reward.

When, using their mouths and hands, they'd finally brought their prized cocks to the verge of exploding, they either pulled back to shoot the cum all over their beautiful faces, or the took the cum straight into their mouths. If they took a facial, they were careful to wipe it all into their mouths so that not a drop was wasted. If they took the load in their mouths, they always opened their mouths to show them full of cum. Then they swallowed and showed their empty mouths. No matter what they did, they were beaming with pleasure and satisfaction.

This was all about the girls getting what they wanted for their pleasure. This was not a gift they gave the men. It was a gift the men gave them.

Ah, such a fantasy! I didn't expect the subliminal training to work, but I liked fantasizing that it might.

And there were no signs of my scheme working at first. I kept up with it, though. Every night for two weeks, I played the recording all night long, always falling asleep listening to it and fantasizing about how wonderful it would be if it really worked. Each night I turned up the volume a little until it seemed to rouse Betsy a little, at which point I turned it back down a notch.

This was a bit of a hassle. I had to be careful to get the iPod and speaker put away before Betsy woke up. And it was a little dangerous. Even though Betsy was a very sound sleeper, there was always the chance, I suppose, that she could wake up and see what I was trying to do.

I was just about to give up on the whole thing. I could count it as an experiment that failed. (Failed to do what I wanted it to do, at least. I guess every experiment succeeds in teaching you something. I was afraid, though, that what I'd succeeded in learning was that this wasn't going to work.) But then, after two weeks of nightly bombardments with the recording, something amazing happened.

It was a Saturday night and I'd had one of my infrequent nights out with some of my friends. Betsy had been home alone, I think just reading, though she might have watched a movie. When I got home, she was in bed and seemed ready to go to sleep.

I'd had a little to drink with my friends and I'd decided not to set up the iPod and speaker. It wasn't working anyway, I figured. What's the point of going to the trouble?

I turned off the light and was settling in to sleep. I could tell that Betsy was getting sleepy, too. But suddenly, and surprisingly, she rolled over against my body and grabbed my cock. For just a second, she caressed it. But within seconds the caressing turned to forceful stroking.

Betsy was getting me hard quickly and, as soon as I was pretty much at full staff, she dived down under the covers and swallowed my shaft—or nearly so. She was on me like a she-devil, sucking and simultaneously jacking me off into her mouth.

This was so exciting to me that I was nearing an orgasm within a few minutes. It felt terrific but my pleasure was curbed by my certainty that she would, momentarily, pull off of my cock and tell me how much she needed me to fuck her. That would be okay—well, more than okay—but it wasn't what I'd been fantasizing about.

But, Betsy didn't pull off my cock. She kept her lips wrapped tightly around my shaft as it pulsed and shot spurt after spurt into her pretty little mouth. Her hand was pumping the base of my cock hard. When my orgasm was subsiding, she worked her thumb up the underside as if to squeeze the last drops of cum onto her tongue.

Now, I expected her to spit out my cum and run to the bathroom to wash out her mouth. Instead, she continued to suck on my softening cock. She moaned softly. When she finally swallowed and pulled off my cock, she moaned again and said, "Yummy!"

WOW! What a change! This was everything that I'd been hoping for. I was floating blissfully in my post-orgasmic state and Betsy gently, lovingly fondled my now soft cock and my balls.

She finally straightened up and put her head on the pillow next to mine. "That was terrific!" she said. "We've got to do that more often."

She was still gently caressing my cock. All I could manage to say in response was, "Wow! Yeah!"

I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, slept for more than eight hours, and woke up in the best mood I can remember being in.

All the while I'd been planning and preparing my scheme, I never really thought it would work. In fact, I was pretty sure it wouldn't. But it did. And the smile I couldn't seem to suppress all the next day was proof of how much I loved the change I'd created.

I decided that I didn't need to play the recording every night. I'd just play this by ear. If Betsy's change stuck, there'd be no need for that anymore. If Betsy backslid, I could always begin a refresher course.

For almost a month, my life was the ecstasy that I'd fantasized about. If it's possible to get too many blowjobs—and I'm not sure it is—I wasn't anywhere near that limit yet. But I was getting as many as I could handle.

Most mornings, Betsy would begin the day sucking me off. If she woke up when I was still in bed, as she usually did on the weekends, she'd go down under the covers and suck my cock until I gave her the reward she craved. If, as usually happened on weekdays, I got up and started getting ready for work first, she'd join me in the bathroom and do me there.

The first time this happened, I was surprised. I was in the shower, just finishing up, when Betsy opened the shower door and joined me. I was planning to get out but she changed those plans.

She put her hand on my chest gently, just signaling me to stay where I was. Then she pulled a towel down from the back of the shower and dropped in onto the floor. This was weird. The towel was getting soaked. For a second, I didn't know what Betsy was up to. But it was soon clear.

Betsy sank to her knees and, with the warm water flowing over both our bodies, she took my cock in her mouth and brought me to full hardness with her hands and lips. When I was rigid, she worked her lips over my cock like a woman possessed. One hand was on my ass, pushing me rhythmically toward her and her other hand gently cupped and fondled my balls, as if she was urging them to unload their treasure in her mouth.

When I was on the edge of cumming, I put my hands on Betsy's head and controlled her motions. She didn't used to like this when she'd been giving me head before (not to completion, of course). I think it felt to her like I was going to force her to take my load. But now that she craved my cum, she seemed fine with it. She was moaning with pleasure.

I unloaded explosively in her mouth. My whole body was quivering with pleasure.

Betsy looked up at me lovingly, pulled back from me, releasing my spent cock, and opened her mouth to show me my load, coating her tongue. She played with it in her mouth for a minute and then, smiling broadly, closed her mouth and swallowed.

Getting up, with her hand still on my cock, Betsy said, "Well, people usually get in the shower to get clean. But I like to get dirty in the shower."

Some mornings I'd already have finished my shower by the time that Betsy got up. If I was still in the bathroom getting ready, she'd prove that she didn't mind getting dirty outside the shower, either. I learned that it's better not to try to finish shaving when you getting your cock sucked vigorously.

One morning, I'd finished getting ready and was downstairs in the kitchen, having coffee and reading the paper. Betsy came down in her bathrobe and complained, in a mock-pouty voice, that I'd been too quick in the bathroom. "But don't think that's going to get you out of anything, mister!"

She crawled under the table, unzipped my pants and wrestled out my cock. She was on it aggressively, not to be denied her goal just because I'd gotten going earlier this morning.

It was as if Betsy had lost her interest in intercourse. We'd still fuck at night. But it wasn't at her insistence and now things generally followed a different script. We'd engage in foreplay, including oral sex both ways. Then, usually, I'd fuck her for a while. But before either of us came, Betsy would pull away from me and go down on me to finish me off.