Male/Male gay sex
Some people hate smoke.
Some people hate smoke so much they are willing to do anything to keep it away. So when the tenant in one half of a duplex is a heavy smoker, and the couple next door are frightened of second hand smoke, they’ll pay a professional a healthy sum to smoke proof the two sections. That’s where I come in. I do that smoke-proofing. I’ve seen some weird things in the five years I’ve been doing it; but last Friday takes the cake.
You can’t just smoke proof on one side of a wall. So, I made sure to get permission from the landlord. He had a weird smirk when I asked.
All he said was, “Have fun,” which was weird, since my job isn’t a barrel of laughs, but I shrugged it off. If I hadn’t, what happened next might not have happened at all.
I knocked loudly. From inside, I heard a gruff man’s voice telling me to come in. When I opened the door, a wave of stale, smoky air hit me harder than any I had smelled before. No wonder the couple wanted to smoke proof. The apartment was upstairs, so I climbed the steep wooden staircase. The smell only got stronger.
“Hello?” I called.
“Yeah?” came the man’s reply. He sure sounded like he smoked; his voice was like grinding rocks.
“Smoke proofing. The landlord told you I was coming, right?”
“He tells me a lot of things. But yes, he told me.”
I reached the top, looking over the walls to see just what I had in store for me. It wasn’t until I reached the top that I turned and saw him. It was a shocking sight.
He was somewhat overweight and hairy. Not really obese, but with an ample gut. More shockingly, he was dressed in leather fetish gear. The kind of stuff one’d wear to a kinky party, which might turn into an orgy before the end of the night. He was sitting in an old recliner, turned to face me. And, next to him on a small table, was a huge cigar. I had seen some big ones in my day, and this was right up there with the biggest.
Collecting myself, trying to act like everything was normal, I spoke.
“I need to examine the walls that connect to your neighbors. Then I’ll need to apply some caulking and a few other-“
“Whatever,” he cut me off. “No rush. Just start where I can see you.”
Setting down my tool kit I started looking over the floor to wall seams. I heard the click of a lighter and turned to see him sparking up the cigar.
“Would you mind not smoking right now?” I asked.
“Yes, I’d mind,” he replied and blew a cloud of smoke at me. It smelled awful; I coughed a bit and ended up taking in a lungful of it.
“My house. I smoke in my house,” he said.
“Fine,” I said, trying to hide my irritation, as I went to work. It smelled bad. I wondered if he’d smoked the entire thing at once.
“You smoke?” he asked.
“No,” I replied flatly.
“You should start.”
“Why would I do that?”
“It’s cool.” He blew out another huge cloud. It smelled unpleasant.
“You live your way, I’ll live mine.”
“I prefer men who live my way.”
Now, I was gay and single, but this guy was not my type. I went back to work, but the smoke was making it hard to concentrate. It smelled ok, but it was making his head a little fuzzy. I couldn’t figure out what he meant by that, so I moved a little further. How long was this taking? It felt like I’d been there for hours, breathing in this nice smelling smoke. It was like incense, and I could feel it calming me.
“It’s getting hard to think,” he said.
“You are floating on a wave of smoke.”
“Just let your eyes close, and keep breathing in the lovely smoke.”
He was right; I could just close my eyes and keep breathing in the lovely smoke.
“It’s hard to think. You are floating in smoke and my words. Breathe in the smoke.”
I took a deep breath of the wonderful, heady, smoke.
“You are feeling calm. Safe. Comfortable. Open. Open to the smoke entering your lungs, your bloodstream, your brain. Open to the words floating on the smoke, the words entwined with the smoke. The smoke is entering your brain. The words are the smoke. The words are entering your brain.”
He was right. He was so wise. I just wanted to listen and breathe. Breathe and listen.
“The smoke is lovely. Breathing in the smoke feels good. It feels right. You want to keep breathing in the smoke, and the words. Inhaling deep and listening deep. Smoke inside every part of your brain.”
I couldn’t think. Why was I here? Where was here? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the intoxicating smoke and the wonderful, powerful, words.
“Give in to the smoke. Love the smoke. Crave the smoke.”
I could feel it.
“You want the smoke. Always and forever. You smoke now. You smoke cigars now. You love cigars. You smoke every chance you get.”
It was true. I craved a cigar more than I’d craved anything in my life. Wanted it, needed it, loved it.
“Open your eyes and face me,” he said, and it felt like an irresistible order.
I turned and saw him. He was naked. His cock was hard as a rock, and it was impressive. Not so much long as thick. Almost Coke can thick.
“Now,” he said, “What would you do for a cigar?”
“Call me Master.”
I already was.
In less than a second, my pants became way too tight.
I stripped so fast I tore my sleeve a little. I didn’t care. I was standing naked in front of my master, and that was all that mattered.
He kept puffing out smoke, eyeing me with lust.
“You’re a fit one,” he said. And it was true, I kept in shape. Not muscleman big, but I had meat on my bones.
“Yes, Master.” My heart surged at his approval.
“I am your Master. You will obey me.”
“Yes, Master, I will obey.”
I knelt. It felt right.
“Bow. Bow before your Master.”
I prostrated myself on the floor. I was torn between being pleased at following orders, and being sad I could not see my Master.”
I looked into his deep brown eyes. I could feel myself falling into them. Into him. Into control, obsession, slavery. And I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything I could remember.
He opened a drawer on his side table, and pulled out a cigar. It was a lot smaller than his; but I wanted it all the same.
“This is my sub cigar. Not like my Dom cigar, right here. Smoking this will make the effects you are feeling from the Dom cigar last the rest of your life. You don’t have to smoke it. You can just leave. You can never see me again. All you have to do is want it. You can go, or you can stay. One will lead to a life of regret; the other to a whole new world. So I ask you now, do you want this cigar?”
I could feel the decision mulling around in my brain. I could walk away. But this felt so good. Better than the rest of my life combined. I was single. I was horny as hell. I believed every word this man said. Smoking the cigar would change my life forever.
“Yes, please give it to me,” I pleaded.
He smiled, stood up, picked up the cigar and placed it between my lips.
“Rule number one,” he said, “you look sexier when someone else lights your cigar for you.” He sparked his lighter and held it to the end of the cigar.
“Take a short puff, draw the smoke into your mouth, hold it there, don’t pull it into your lungs.”
I obeyed. I tasted my first tobacco ever, and I loved it. It was warm, and it tasted like manna. How could I not have started years ago? I exhaled, and coughed for a few seconds.
“It will become second nature in time,” he said. “Now, keep smoking, and start jerking off.”
My heart raced at the idea. I jerked off left handed, so it was easy to grab my rock hard cock and start stroking away.
“Good boy,” he said. My heart leapt even more.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Feel that warm hand on that cock. Warm like the smoke you are taking inside you. The smoke that will make you my submissive slave, forever.”
Despite the ecstasy my cock was giving me, I was still laser focused on his words. Every one was burning into my brain, rewiring me permanently. And I loved it.
I kept smoking and stroking. It felt good. It felt right.
“Hold the smoke longer each time.”
“Yes, Master,” I said eagerly.
“Smoking is what has been missing from your life.”
That made sense.
“You’re going to smoke for the rest of your life.”
I knew it was true.
“Keep stroking. Listen to my voice. Listen to my commands. Your new life is as part of my smoker’s club. My smoker’s club, where my harem gathers to worship Master, and each other. Soon, serving will be the most important thing in your life. You know that to be true.
“Yes, Master,” I replied earnestly.
“Keep stroking that hard cock. It’s so hard. Harder than it’s ever been.”
He was right again. I could feel it swelling to new heights. And it felt so good. I was losing any sense of the rest of the world. There was the cigar, Master’s voice, and the joy of pleasuring my cock.
“It’s almost time,” he said. “Time to lock in your new programming. Once you orgasm, you’re mine forever. So keep stroking, or… This is your last chance to stop.”
I didn’t want to stop. It all sounded so good. I wanted to cum. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it all. But I knew I needed permission, by pure instinct, I just knew.
“Master, may I cum?”
“Please, Master, may I cum?”
I was feeling so good, I thought I might overload my brain and pass out. Somehow, I didn’t I just stroked, hard and fast, just the way I liked it. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum.
“Please, Master,” I said again.
“Say you are mine.”
“I am yours.”
“Say you want to forever be my slave.”
“I want it.”
“Edge for Master.”
I had never really gotten into edging, I just liked to cum as soon as possible, Now, it came easily.
“You’re so close. So close to being a slave.”
“Please, Master, make me a slave.”
“So close to being a cigar slut.”
“Please, Master, please make me a cigar slut.”
I wanted to cum more than I ever had. More than I did as a virgin. More than I had ever wanted in my life.
“Oh please Master, please let slave cum.”
“Now, my eternal slave. Now… Cum!”
The cum exploded from my cock like a firehose.
“Keep cumming, let your will leave with your cum. Squirt away all resistance and embrace your new life forever.
Even more cum pumped from my spasming cock. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure; I was weak at the knees. I couldn’t even speak. I was so out of breath it was hard to even keep smoking. But I knew it was important to Master, so I struggled, intending to smoke the whole thing.
“Very good, my newest slave,” he said, “Now for some new orders. First, you will drop to your knees once more.”
I did at once.
“Then you will come here and suck my cock until I’ve cum three times. Master loves a smoky blow job.”
“Then, you’re going back next door and telling the husband to come here for a chat. I can worry about his wife later.”
“Very good, now open wide.”
17 thoughts on “Cigar Mind-Controlled”
A nice fantasy .makes me want to meet him in person .it would be better though to smoke proof the room anyway since he wasn’t paying for it.
I love that you read all that, and you’re like ‘BUT WHAT ABOUT THE SMOKEPROOFING?’
Loved the story. Can you see my email? Get in touch.
Exactly like how I fantasize. I can’t stop jerking off to this story
this guy watches porn just to see if the handyman fixes the washing machine….
Very hot story. Would love a follow up story with the husband next door
At that point, the smoke has consumed and there is no safe place from it. 🙂
Would love a follow up story with the husband next door. Powerful men with cigars have always been a fascination for me. What you describe is a fantasy i have had since i was a teen.
What the fuck that was hot.. I want a cigar man now
way way hot . Consuming .I need more
Totally hot story. Exactly like how I fantasize. I can’t stop jerking off to this story. Please write more stories along this vein.
Stirred unconventional lust in me.
This got me hard thinking if this could happen to me
This is the second time i have read this and forgot how fucking hot it was. i was rock hard the entire time with them!! we all need a MASTER like this! Thank you MASTER JACK!
i so enjoy the commands YOU give me SIR.
So glad that you like it! Maybe I’ll make a sequel one day, seeing how you like it so much
I sure hope you do make a sequel. I’ve come to this story a hundred times wishing I’d be in the Man’s control with great imagination. Similar ideas have been a lifetime fantasy, and then I found This…your tapes of being made into a sub/slave for men crank me too, Sir. Thank You and hope to hear from You.