The Trance That Turned My Fantasy Into Real Desire
The warm murmur of the night slipped through the half-open window of the small office, where Marina was tidying her space before the day’s last session. She had dimmed the lights down to just two salt lamps glowing, and a thin thread of sandalwood incense rose straight from the ceramic dish. At forty-two, she had been working in clinical hypnosis for more than a decade, but that night she did not feel entirely professional. That night she was waiting for Adrián.
She had met him three weeks earlier at an opening at a gallery downtown. He was exhibiting a series of black-and-white photographs, bodies lit only halfway, and she had lingered longer than was prudent in front of one of them. When he came over to explain the image, Marina noticed something in the way he looked: a slow, patient attention, as if he knew how to strip things bare with his eyes. He asked for an appointment to “learn how to let go of control.” She agreed without thinking too much about it.
When he knocked on the door, the air in the office changed density. Marina let him in and they sat facing each other on the low sofa, their knees a handspan apart. She started speaking to him in her working voice, the one that knew how to grow low and measured, while she explained what was going to happen. But their eyes met halfway through a sentence, and in that silent crossing both understood that this session was not going to be only a session.
—Are you ready to let go, Adrián? —she asked, and without meaning to her gaze dropped for an instant to the open collar of his shirt, and farther down still, to the bulge already starting to show in his crotch.
He nodded. Marina guided him through a long breath, counting backward, letting each number weigh a little more than the one before. He watched her with ever-lowering eyelids, focusing on the curve of her lips, on the way her tongue brushed her teeth when she pronounced her s’s. Her voice slid into his ear like a warm finger. Marina, for her part, spoke while feeling a curiosity she should not have been feeling: the urge to know what that man kept hidden under all that calm, what cock he had beneath his pants, how he would sound moaning her name.
—With each word you hear, everything outside drifts a little farther away —she murmured—. Only my voice remains. Only you and I remain.
The outside world began to disappear in layers. First the street noise, then the hum of the fridge in the back, and finally any awareness of time. Marina took him to a place he built himself with his imagination: a stone courtyard, a grapevine heavy with fruit, the heat of midday on their shoulders. She closed her eyes for a moment to go with him, to walk through that invented courtyard too, and found herself choosing to appear in the scene naked from the waist up, her breasts bare to the sun.
—Here inside you’re free —she said—. Free to look at whatever you want to look at. Free to want what you don’t dare want when you’re awake. Free to fuck if you feel like fucking.
Something shifted then. The energy Marina described with words stopped being an idea and began to have a body. Adrián felt it sink through his chest, through his belly, settling lower with a warm, familiar weight. His dick hardened against the fabric, throbbing, aching from how tight it was. Mental concentration became concrete desire, physical, impossible to hide. She noticed it in the way his breathing had grown shorter, and in the bulge now clearly outlined, and decided not to stop.
—Inside this courtyard I’m here too —she continued, lowering her voice even more—. Come on. Sit next to me, on the stone bench. Do you see me?
—I see you —he replied, his voice dragged out by the trance.
As the hypnosis deepened, the border between imagined and real kept blurring. Adrián saw her approaching him in that courtyard, the light dress clinging to her skin from the heat, her hard nipples pressing against the fabric, a smile that promised without asking permission. He imagined her leaning in, the scent of her neck, the first touch. In his mind he unfolded in detail what he truly wanted: Marina close to him, her hands, the weight of her body against his, her mouth swallowing his cock all the way to the throat.
—Allow yourself to feel me —she said, choosing every word like someone choosing where to lay a caress—. Imagine I’m beside you. That my hand rests on your thigh. That I move slowly, unhurried, while I look you in the eye. That I get all the way up and squeeze your dick over your pants.
As if suggestion had fingers, Adrián truly felt warmth on his leg. A soft, firm pressure that bound him to that instant. And it wasn’t only in his mind: Marina’s hand had settled on his thigh, over the taut fabric of his pants, and was advancing with measured slowness until it closed around the hard bulge, weighing it with her palm. Is it her, is it real, is this really happening?, he thought, unable to separate the dream from the room. In his state, everything fit: she had entered his courtyard and, at the same time, she was there, breathing hard, her nipples showing against the thin fabric of her blouse, her hand squeezing his cock hungrily.
—Stay inside —Marina whispered, careful not to break the thread—. Don’t open your eyes. Feel how I hold it.
The images began to seem more like memories than inventions. Adrián saw Marina lean toward him, her lips barely parted in a smile, and without thinking he let himself go, projecting what he desired even beyond what she was describing. Then he felt Marina’s mouth on his, warm, insistent, as if the mental connection had become flesh. And she, on the other side, truly felt his lips seeking her out, wet, eager, with none of the shyness of waking life. His tongue slid into her mouth and she sucked on it as if it were the tip of a cock, moaning softly.
The kiss stopped being a suggestion. Warmth ran through his whole body, igniting every ending. Marina’s fingers undid the button of his pants without stopping kissing him, pulled down the zipper, and slipped inside, searching for skin. When her palm closed directly over his naked cock, Adrián moaned into her mouth, a rough growl vibrating in his teeth. He was hard as stone, thick, throbbing, the tip already wet with pre-cum. Marina pulled it out into the air and looked at it with shining eyes: it was beautiful, fat, with marked veins, exactly the size her fantasy had drawn while she spoke of the courtyard.
—Look at what you’ve got here —she murmured, more to herself than to him, while she began to jerk him off with her hand up and down, tugging the foreskin against the glans, drawing out a fresh bead of precum she used as lubricant.
Each caress grew more intense, and Adrián understood, still sunk in trance, that his body was responding even though his head remained in the stone courtyard. Marina’s hand was no longer narrating: it was doing. She worked his cock with a slow, firm rhythm, twisting her wrist at the tip, going down to the base, playing with his balls. And he, eyes closed, returned every gesture as if they shared the same directed dream. He groped blindly until he found her breast over the blouse, squeezed it, found the hard nipple and pinched it between his fingers, drawing a gasp from Marina that broke the office’s silence.
She knelt between his legs without stopping pumping his dick. She opened his pants wider, tugged down until he was fully freed, and paused for an instant, staring at the cock standing upright in front of her mouth. She ran her tongue over her lips. Then she leaned in, and without ceremony took it all the way into her mouth.
Adrián let out a long, guttural groan that escaped from the depths of the trance. Marina’s mouth was hot, wet, tight. She ran her tongue under the glans, sucked the tip like it was candy, then suddenly took him deep to the back of her throat, barely choking, leaving a string of saliva hanging when she came back up. She sucked his cock with pent-up hunger, shaking her head fast, closing her cheeks to create suction. One hand held his balls, the other the base, and everything that wouldn’t fit in her mouth she worked with her fingers.
—That’s it, baby, like that... don’t stop —he panted, still with his eyes closed, sunk in a place where he could no longer tell courtyard from office.
Marina pulled his cock from her mouth with a wet pop and ran her tongue flat along the whole shaft, from his balls to the tip, looking up at him though he could not see her. She took him back in, pulled him out, slapped him against her tongue, spat on him, and sucked him again. Every so often she stopped to lick his balls, one first and then the other, taking them whole into her mouth. She could feel her own excitement soaking her panties between her legs. With her free hand she hiked up her skirt, slipped her fingers along the side of the waistband, and started rubbing her swollen cunt while she kept sucking him off.
—I’m drenched for you —she whispered against his glans, licking the tip as if she wanted another drop—. Listen.
She pressed her wet fingers against his mouth. Adrián, obedient even in trance, sucked them, tasting the thick, acidic flavor. Marina took her hand back to her cunt and slipped two fingers inside, moaning. It was hard to keep the hypnotist voice while she finger-fucked herself and sucked a patient’s cock.
When she felt he was about to come in her mouth, she pulled away. She got to her feet, stripped off her blouse and panties in two movements, and stood naked from the waist down, her skirt hitched up around her waist, her breasts exposed, nipples hard. She straddled him, guiding his cock against the entrance to her soaked cunt.
—Feel —she ordered, her voice still wrapped in the deep register of the trance—. Feel yourself going in.
She sank down slowly. His cock opened her centimeter by centimeter, and she let out a broken gasp when she felt herself filled. She was so wet that he slid all the way in without resistance. The two stayed still for a second, impaled one in the other, feeling the pulse of the cock inside the cunt. Then Marina started moving. She rose and fell on his hips with a slow rhythm at first, bracing herself on his shoulders, letting the penetration be long, deep, noticing how the tip struck against a place inside her that made her close her eyes.
Adrián finally opened his eyes. He saw her like that, riding him, fucking him with a face twisted by pleasure, her breasts bouncing with each drop, her eyes glassy between trance and the near orgasm. He gripped her waist and began thrusting from below, driving into her hard. She screamed and clung to his neck.
—Like that, like that, fuck me —she whispered in his ear, with no care for the words at all—. Ruin my cunt, don’t stop.
The sofa creaked with every shove. Marina bit his neck, sank her nails into his shoulders over his shirt. He grabbed her breasts with both hands, squeezed them, brought them one by one to his mouth, sucking her nipples greedily while he kept fucking her from below. The smell of sex mingled with the sandalwood from the incense.
—Turn around —he panted, hoarse.
Marina stood up, still trembling, and knelt on the sofa, offering him her ass. Adrián stood behind her, grabbed his cock wet with her juices, and shoved it back into her in one single stroke. Marina’s scream broke in half. He seized her hair with one hand, her hip with the other, and started fucking her hard, deep thrusts making pelvis collide with buttocks in a wet, obscene sound.
—Tell me you’re my slut —he demanded, yanking her hair.
—I’m your slut, I’m your slut —she answered without hesitation, no longer in any control of a therapist, just flesh and a broken voice—. Fuck me, keep going, don’t stop.
Adrián slapped her ass, leaving a red mark. Then the other side. Marina tightened her cunt around his cock, trying to hold him in every time he pulled almost all the way out just to slam back in. She felt the orgasm rising from her thighs, tightening her belly. She took one hand to her clit and started rubbing it in quick circles while he kept driving into her from behind.
—I’m coming, I’m coming —she moaned, and her cunt clenched in spasms around his dick.
The orgasm shook her whole body. She folded forward, trembling, squeezing him inside with contractions that milked his cock. Adrián held on a few seconds more, feeling how she squeezed him, and then he couldn’t anymore. He pulled out abruptly, grabbed his cock with both hands, and came in thick, hot ropes over her back and ass. Marina, still trembling, turned just in time to catch the last drops on her face and open tongue, swallowing what fell inside her, sucking the tip to get the last of it out.
They stayed still, panting, while his seed slid down from her chin to her breasts.
***
The rhythm of their breathing gradually matched, the two heartbeats seeking the same beat. In the courtyard of the mind nobody was ashamed, nobody asked permission, nobody measured consequences. Marina kept her voice steady to hold him down in that place where he dared everything, but the truth was the spell had already taken hold of her too.
Never, in all her years of work, had anything like this happened to her. She had had attractive patients, awkward situations, desires she knew how to leave at the door. Adrián, by contrast, had awakened a side of her she believed she had kept well hidden. The attraction was mutual, she had known that since the gallery, but now it was blooming in every whisper, in every centimeter of skin the separation between them made burn hotter.
—Do you want me to keep going? —she asked, and for the first time the question was not part of the script.
—Yes —he said, without hesitation, his voice still thick.
Marina rested her forehead against his for an instant. She could feel her pulse hammering in her throat, her breath short, her cunt still throbbing, soaked with his semen running down her thigh. She had control of the session, control of him, and yet she felt just as trapped as her patient in the same enchantment she had woven with words.
She guided him back slowly, like someone bringing another person up from the bottom of a pool. She gave him back the street noise, the hum of the fridge, the weight of his eyelids, until Adrián finally landed fully. They were in the same office, on the same sofa, with their clothes half on, the smell of sex thick in the air. But the air was different now. They had shared something that appeared in no manual, an echo of desire still vibrating between them.
—How do you feel? —Marina asked, and it cost her to keep her voice steady, unable to quite tear her gaze away from his cock, still shining with the juices of both of them, resting semi-hard against his thigh.
Adrián smiled, a mischievous spark in his eyes when he noticed where her broken question was coming from. —Like I let something out that had been locked away for a long time. I don’t really know what happened, but it was... intense. And I still want more.
They both laughed softly, a short laugh that said more than any diagnosis. In that laugh, Marina understood that the connection was bigger than the session. The beginning of something else, something they might explore away from the salt lamps and the clocks, on the raw, awake terrain of desire.
—Maybe we should... repeat the practice —he suggested, with a wicked smile, his hand going back to search for her thigh beneath the wrinkled skirt.
Marina held his gaze a second longer than necessary. She thought of all the reasons she should close the door, file the chart, and never see him again. She knew them all. None of them seemed strong enough against the still-warm memory of his cock inside her.
—Next time —she finally said, standing up and setting the notebook on the table without writing anything, with his semen still dripping down her leg—, you won’t need to close your eyes. And you’re going to fuck me with the lights on.
And in the air of the office, amid restrained laughter and looks that no longer pretended, the two of them knew that what they had felt under hypnosis was only the beginning. That fantasy had served as a bridge, yes, but on the other side something much more real was waiting, and neither of them intended to pretend any longer that they did not want it.