Love Potion #9

"So I guess there's just something about the two of us together. I mean, Sarah always told me that the biggest orgasms I'd ever have would be from masturbating. And that sorta made sense to me. But it's not true, I know that now. You, and that thing of yours"—she pointed between my legs, mock-scolding again—"you've been giving me the biggest orgasms I've ever had. And so many of them. And, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing when I play around on my own. I guess you just do something to me that I can't do for myself."

That might have been the best thing anyone ever said to me.

My favorite part of sex with Molly, if it's not obvious, was watching her writhe in ecstasy again and again. Yes, I always felt a little bit of envy, but as a guy, you get to the point where you have to accept the fact that when it comes to sexual pleasure, you are seriously inferior to women. That's reality, and nothing is going to change it. Once you've completely accepted that, well, you might feel twinges of envy sometimes, but most of what you feel is awe and gratification watching her tumble through orgasms, especially when it's over long periods of time.

It's a beautiful thing to witness, and I was thrilled that I got to participate, too. For her to tell me that I was able to give her more pleasure than she could give herself, that was unexpected and made me feel amazing, and grateful that she let me be with her.

Honestly, I think if I had been able to get a vibrator to Watley and use it on her, she might have changed her mind about where her biggest orgasms came from, though. Imagining her responding to strong vibrations—that idea bent my mind. She would probably have left Earth altogether.

"So, hey, I keep wondering," Molly said. "Have you, like, played out on stage and stuff? I mean with your band."

Honestly, this kind of thing was never my favorite subject; I'm not sure why. "Yeah, I've done it."

"How many people?"

"Oh, depends on the gig. Thousands, sometimes. Hundreds, even less, sometimes."

"Wow, you played in front of thousands of people?!"

I just nodded.

"What is that like? Weren't you nervous? Was it super-exciting?"

I let out a long breath. This kind of thing was always difficult to explain. "It's not really what you'd imagine. I mean, yeah, I was always nervous, but something happens to you when you're up there. You feel nervous, but it gets turned into energy, like, immediately. You can't really afford to just feel nervous."

"So was it amazing?"

"Yeah, but—thing is, it was more surreal than anything else. Like, you can barely believe it's even happening, and all you can think about is making sure you're playing and singing and whatever. It's never been easy for me to just relax up there. It's fun and I miss it, but it was always kinda hectic."

"Still, though. Seems amazing."

I grinned at her: "I would rather play for an audience of one." I leaned over and kissed her. "You know, I'm writing a song for you."

"What?"

"I'm writing a song for you. You had to know it would happen."

"Me?!"

I laughed. "Yeah, duh."

"But—what would it even be about?" Molly was playing with her hair.

"About you. It's called 'Love Potion #9.'"

Molly just stared at me blankly.

I laughed. "It's not, it's not. Totally kidding. There's actually a song called that already, for one thing. No, I'm calling it 'Incantation.' At least, I'm pretty sure that's what it's called."

Molly was cracking up: "You really had me for a second there. I'm like, really, you're calling it that?!" And then: "So, can you play it for me? 'Incantation?'"

I shook my head. "Not done yet. Sorry."

Molly scooted up to me and gave me a huge, sensuous kiss. I gave into temptation and put a hand on her breast, gently squeezing and stroking it. My cock was so hard now that it had risen to poke Molly in the stomach, and she noticed. She glanced at it and grinned. "Let's do it. Join bodies."

We kissed for a couple more minutes, our tongues meshing, our breathing getting quicker. Then, she pushed me on my back, climbed on top, and mounted my cock. She went all the way down in one long slide, and gyrated her hips up and down a few times. Molly was already good at this.

"Hang on," she said. She pulled up so that I was almost all the way out of her, so just the tip was still inside. "I'm gonna do that again. I want to feel how big it is." Molly sank her hips down, slowly impaling herself, moaning all the way. She rested for a second, our hips pressing together, before she started thrusting in earnest. I loved the sensation of her thick mat of pubic hair rubbing against me, bristles scratching at me as she was grinding.

She laid her body down on top of me and put her lips against mine, and held onto me firmly as we opened our mouths and kissed. As we squeezed each other, it was clear to me that this was absolutely the closest together we could possibly be. Our bodies were literally merged between our legs, and the rest of us was as coupled together as was possible. We stayed that way for a couple minutes, just enjoying the intense intimacy.

And then Molly pushed herself up and started thrusting her hips against me, freely and lewdly. Within a couple of minutes, tiny droplets of milk were hanging and dribbling from her erect nipples, and her hands went to her breasts to squeeze and massage more milk out. Soon after that, she started coming.

There was a particular sound she made sometimes, sort of a whimpering moan that made her sound overwhelmed and helpless while she was having an especially huge orgasm. She made that sound more than once during that session. It was so damned hot to hear. I could sense how consumed with pleasure she was. It was the sound of someone who had entered another world.

I managed to last 10 minutes before I couldn't hold off anymore. What did it: something Molly said. I was so surprised by it that I fell straight into orgasm.

"God, I love you in my cunt," she moaned.

Like I said, I was shocked. Where I came from, girls hated that word and would never use it. I'd certainly never been with a girl who'd dropped the "c-bomb" like that. But in the moment, the word sounded so raw and animal and obscene that just hearing her utter it kickstarted my orgasm, completely out of my control.

It was so satisfying to pump my come into her vagina.

I meant to ask her about the word, later, but I chickened out and never mentioned it. She said it on rare occasions since, but I'd never wanted to embarrass her.

---

"I think I would have made a good teacher," she said. "Like, high school English or Literature or something. I like that stuff."

We were laying together, post-coitus. I was stroking her smooth belly, softly.

I shrugged. "You still can. You're really young."

Molly shook her head. "I'd have to go to college, and I'll never be able to afford that."

"Well, who knows, maybe someone else can foot the bill eventually."

She turned and gave me a huge grin. I couldn't make any promises—not at that point, not knowing ahead of time how my career as a musician would take off the way it has—but I think she liked that I wanted to make her dreams happen.

"I never want this day to end," Molly said. There was sadness in her voice.

"Me neither."

It was getting to be the late afternoon, and as much as I wanted to stay another night, it was not to be. Her dad was due home the next day, and I needed to be long gone before he showed up.

---

In later days, my preoccupation with Molly did not wane. I'd be rebuilding a carburetor at my job (a '68 Mustang, cool). My mind would drift, and I'd realize that I was recalling the taste of her milk on my tongue. Or, I'd find myself imagining that I could hear her soft, scratchy, pleasant voice. Or, I'd recall the sensation of my penis sliding into her, tight and hot and thrilling, and how complete I felt when our bodies were joined together. Or, I would just replay an entire conversation that we'd had, in my mind.

It wasn't like I had anyone to talk to about my obsession. I got along with the guys at work well enough, but I wasn't very much like them. I didn't hunt, didn't fish, wasn't all that into country music. They had spent their whole lives disconnected from the outside world, literally disconnected (no internet, no cell phones, mostly no TVs). I was starting to really like their town and the area—a whole lot, in fact. But I found it strange that when it came to the local customs, the peculiarities, well, you just didn't talk about them. You would not say something like, "So, the girls here don't shave. That's really kinda hot, isn't it?" They'd never known anything different, and no one would ever bring it up. They wouldn't get into details about sex, or their girls' breastmilk, either. There was a lot that was left unspoken, just assumed.

So I suffered in silence. I would feel compulsions to see her. This wasn't always possible, just seeing her on demand. For one thing, I had to work all week. And Molly did have a life. She wasn't sitting around her house waiting for me to show up.

One Tuesday, I got off work earlier than usual—around 3 PM—and as I was driving back to Watley, it occurred to me that there was an evening service at the church. At least, I thought there was. I wasn't completely sure, but I resolved to find out instead of going straight home.

The church grounds seemed kind of empty when I got there, and so I headed toward the nursery. In retrospect, it might have made a lot of sense to take a quick look in the sanctuary. Thing is, I thought that if I poked my head in, I might interrupt some religious ritual or something. It seemed easier to just take a look in the nursery. If Molly was there, awesome.

The musty, echoey hallway that led to the nursery was quiet, and I had a sinking feeling that I had my days wrong. Maybe I could try just heading over to her house, even knock on the door? But I was already right at the nursery, so I figured I should peek in to make sure.

The door was not completely shut, so I pushed on it slightly; there was a quiet creak.

There were two girls in the nursery. No babies or children to be seen, but I recognized the girls immediately—it was Sarah and Selah. They didn't seem to have heard the door; they were engaged in an animated conversation.

I felt a little like a peeping tom, but I was glued. Why were these girls in the nursery when there was clearly no service going on, and no babies?

I watched as Sarah sat down on an easy chair. Selah approached her. Sarah was unbuttoning and opening her blouse, and she unhitched her bra from between the cups.

What was I seeing? I was frozen by a sense of intense curiosity and a feeling of sheer shock. Was I imagining things?

Both of Sarah's big breasts were in view. I heard Selah say, "You're so beautiful."

Selah knelt in front of her, and I watched as she took one of Sarah's breasts into her mouth and started suckling sensuously. Sarah let out a quiet, happy sigh.

"Mmmm," said Selah. "Mmm."

Sarah was playing with Selah's hair. "Good?"

"Mm-hmm." She released the breast. "It's so good. It's like, even better than I remember. What have you been eating?"

Both of them giggled at that.

I moved my head a little—paranoid about being seen, but too engaged to go anywhere—and now I could see the effects of Selah's work. I'd seen Sarah's nipples before, so I knew how huge they were. (You could tell even when she was clothed, because there were always conspicuous pokey bumps on the large swells of her chest.) Having been suckled by an adult, though, her nipple had grown outrageously huge—thicker and longer than ever, inflamed and shiny wet. It was a moist, angry red half-thumb standing out from her big breast, a sheer spectacle, raw and primal.

Selah stood, and Sarah got up with her. They embraced, hugging tightly, and the next thing I knew, Selah's dress fell to the floor—it happened so quickly that it seemed like a magic trick. (I assumed Sarah worked some magic with the fasteners.) Suddenly, Selah was standing there in a bra, panties, and a garter belt holding up white stockings. She unhooked her bra and let it drop off. Her breasts were plump and large, and seemed only slightly affected by gravity.

Sarah sat back down, and Selah straddled her in the chair, sitting on Sarah's lap, her chest in front of Sarah's mouth. I watched as Sarah leaned in, latched sensuously onto a breast, and nursed. There was a long, low, unabashed moan from Selah as Sarah's mouth worked in erotic earnest. Selah stroked Sarah's long brown hair, running her fingers through it gingerly.

I couldn't believe I was really seeing this.

The girls touched each other gently, stroking skin, squeezing affectionately. The way they touched each other seemed so different than the way I touched Molly. I couldn't explain why, but it was clearly more sensuous, more gentle, more tender somehow. And it seemed so very natural.

One of Sarah's hands moved down below Selah's waist, and then I realized that she'd pushed her hand under Selah's panties. It looked like she was making a thrusting motion; her fingers were probably pushing into Selah's vagina.

I almost fell over.

Selah was gasping quietly. Sarah released the breast, and moved to kiss Selah's lips. The kiss intensified quickly; the girls seemed to have genuine affection for each other, as if they were a couple.

Selah suddenly stood up and shed her panties, and then climbed back onto Sarah's lap. The couple kissed again, and I could see Sarah's hand positioning itself between Selah's legs. From this angle I couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but it was pretty obvious that Sarah had a couple of fingers inside Selah. I could tell by the way her arm was moving that Sarah's fingers were pumping slowly, erotically.

I'd seen lesbian sex on porn sites, and this really seemed different. It seemed far less mechanical and scripted than what you'd generally find on PornHub, more impromptu, more delicate, more affectionate. There didn't seem to be a goal. Everything I'd ever seen had one girl working on the other's orgasm, and then they'd trade off: you finger me, then I finger you, you eat me, then I eat you. Sarah and Selah seemed to just be in the moment. Sure, Sarah was clearly trying to make Selah feel good, with fingers in her vagina, but there was no rush and no real intent, just steady, unhurried motion and soft passion.

The kiss broke and Selah pushed her chest to Sarah's face, and then Sarah was nursing from her again. I could hear Selah moaning softly—not the manufactured moan of a lesbian porn star, but the quiet, fragile moan of someone experiencing pleasure, satisfaction, enjoyment. Selah's hips had started to move, gently thrusting onto Sarah's fingers; meanwhile, I could see that Sarah was feeding enthusiastically.

"God, it's so good," I heard Selah whisper. "Nothing feels this good."

My cock threatened to break my jeans open.

With little warning, Selah started whimpering, a little louder and then a little louder, and then I saw her entire body shaking as if she was having a seizure. Sarah kept pumping her fingers, and kept trying to keep her mouth on Selah's breast, although she lost it a couple of times while Selah jerked.

Then, after what seemed like a long time, it was over; Selah's form completely collapsed on top of Sarah, and I could hear Sarah giggling softly as she wrapped her arms around Selah and embraced her tightly.

I just couldn't take anymore. It felt like I should not be spying on them. I shouldn't have been watching to begin with, I know, but I didn't realize what I was watching at first, and it was impossible to take my eyes off them. But now I needed to leave. For one thing, I felt kind of bad—I was not someone who would spy on others having sex, even if it was a secret lesbian couple in a conservative town. I felt guilty. Also, I was so horny now that I felt like I might explode.

I walked through the church courtyard, heading toward my car, stunned and feeling like a zombie.

"Hey, Rob, how come you're not out at the service?" It was Esther, the pretty woman I'd met previously.

It felt like she'd just woken me up from a fever dream. "Hi—so it's not here?"

"No, it's out at the park," she smiled. She looked at her watch. "Should be wrapping up in a few minutes."

"Oh, OK, so the county park."

"Yup!"

I drove like a madman. Molly had to be out there, and I was dying to see her. I'd been craving her all day, and now, after seeing what I saw, I was full of questions and curiosity and an aching desire to be with her. I wanted to talk with her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to melt together with her.

Fortunately, she was not difficult to find. I parked near a bunch of other cars—pickups, actually, for the most part—and headed toward the gathering, easily visible in a distant clearing.

Before I even got there, I encountered a scattered group of young women in a small grove of trees: Molly, Maggie, Shirley, several other girls I didn't know, all with babies and small children. Molly sat on a blanket, resting against a tree, breastfeeding a toddler nestled in her lap. Maggie's blouse was open, as were the cups of her nursing bra, and she was tending to an infant. The exposed nipple I could see was inflamed and beet red, so she'd clearly been hard at work. Shirley was sitting on the ground with a large blanket draped all around her body, and it took me a second to realize that she was probably dry nursing a baby underneath it.

The rest of the girls, mostly sitting on picnic blankets, all had one or both breasts bared; many of the girls were busty, which was not a surprise, since this was Watley. All of them were either breastfeeding babies or cuddling with them after having nursed. I did recognize a couple of the girls, and although I understood what I was seeing, it was still a slightly shocking sight. Here they were, sitting or laying with their breasts exposed, babies cuddled up to them. A lot of them were around my age or so, but some of them were definitely on the younger side, and it was amazing to think that teen girls who were not yet mothers had the power to breastfeed.

All of them acted as though what they were doing was unremarkable, just an everyday thing. I found it breathtaking to be in the midst of so many bare-breasted girls with prominent nipple erections, using their breasts for their God-given purpose. I noticed that the girls who were actively nursing children had seemed to have slightly dazed looks on their faces, as if they were half-asleep.

"Hi," Molly whispered, smiling. "Didn't expect to see you—glad you're here." Her blouse was completely unbuttoned and wide open, and both her bra cups had been peeled down. Molly was stroking the little girl's cheek as she fed. "Service is almost over. Should be done in a couple minutes."

I just sat next to her, and we chatted a little bit. I tried not to look in the direction of Molly's chest, mainly because I didn't want to make her feel self-conscious. I did notice that she would occasionally whisper softly in the toddler's ear as she nursed.

"She asleep?" Maggie was saying to Shirley.

Shirley glanced down in the direction of her chest, covered by the blanket. "Still, you know—still going." She looked slightly embarrassed; I tried not to look her way at all. Someday she wouldn't feel self-conscious, but right then she was very young and her feelings of shyness were natural.

"OK," said Maggie, "just take a look down there once in a while and make sure she's still got a good latch. Otherwise it'll start hurting and you'll wind up sore."

Shirley peeked under the blanket, then grinned at Maggie. "OK."

I turned toward Molly and spoke quietly. "So this is how it starts, huh?"