Professor Fletcher's Herbal Tea.

In these days of Viagra, and for those of you who lived through the changes in the sixties that brought with it the notion of free love, the research done by the professors of The Institute of Human Social Behaviour at Spalding in the late 1930s must look pretty tame. We did not discover a wonder drug that cured impotency, or proposed theories that encouraged vast changes in the social structure of the western world. Instead we, or more correctly I discovered something much more dangerous. A secret that caused the eventual demise of the institute and the suppression of our discoveries under the official secrets act, for fear that they may be detrimental to national security. Though it was plain to me that the agents working towards our demise were more related to Oswald Mosley and his black shirted fascists rather than the government that later brought us through a war.

It all started on a journey to South America, an expedition to the Amazon jungle to observe the courtship rights of a tribe of indigenous people of the Amazon basin area. In those far off days, before the introduction of the helicopter, journeys in such areas were undertaken by flying boat and seaplane. That particular stretch of the Amazon was sluggish enough to make an ideal landing strip. I remember sitting belted in to my seat, in the sweltering heat watching the surface of the river speeding by below, and then turning my attention back to my fellow explorer sitting next to me. Bolt upright in her seat next to me sat Anne Grey, a beautiful, highly skilled Linguistics expert. Her dark hair was pulled back from her slender face, allowing me to watch the beads of sweat trickle down her cheeks, below the collar of her safari shirt and on to the soft dark skin beneath. She undid one more button, permitting me an even more detailed view of the top of her breasts and under-slip from where I sat. She had been aware of my eyes on her since we left England and several times during the journey she had looked at me and smiled causing me to avert my gaze in embarrassment. You must remember back then, even in the academic world, overt sexual behaviour was frowned upon and a tortuous courtship had to be undertaken to achieve any kind of sexual gratification, probably only through marriage. Somehow I new Anne was different, perhaps it was the genes she inherited from her French, gypsy, mother, or perhaps it was simply her belief that society must change.

Immersed in the droning rhythm of the engines above our heads I tried to imagine what it would be like to lick the salt from her naked body, supping the beads of saline from the tips of what I could only imagine were generous nipples crowning her small, shapely breasts. I could see myself in my minds eye running my tongue down her naked belly, over its gentle walnut swell and into the forbidden quarter below. I could almost taste her in my dry mouth as I allowed my imaginary tongue to luxuriate amongst the delicate flower nestled between her firm thighs. I looked further down, at her knees peaking from beneath her shorts, admiring her slender, well shaped, shins and small feet buried in her heavy jungle boots. I suddenly became aware that I was hard, my length firming up and pressing against the seams of my own shorts, making clear its much more than generous size. “I see you have something to be proud of professor,” said Anne. I swallowed hard and flushed with embarrassment, desperately trying to look composed. “I was referring to your pocket knife” she laughed allowing her hand to brush across my lap and tap the leather sheath on my belt which contained a Swiss folding knife. Then she returned her attention to my shorts, stroking my cock through the canvas. I watched as her long fingers fumbled with the hem of one of the legs and disappeared up inside it. Her digits wormed their way beneath my underpants and took hold of the engorged tip of my stiffness. She squeezed hard, tugging the end free so I could see her hand on my penis. “I’ve never held a hard cock before,” she whispered. “I hope you don’t mind.” “God no!” I replied, looking along the fuselage. Above the other empty seats I could the back of the pilots head five rows away. “I’ve read many books but I’m still a virgin. I’ve never seen a man ejaculate. I know how to do it though.” With this she took my foreskin in her gentle grasp and slid it back tightly, then drew it forward. I bit my lip so as not to gasp loudly with pleasure. “I’ve seen you looking at my breasts, I thought you might wish to fuck me. That’s the term isn’t it? I’m very ready you see and you are such a nice man.” She continued to tug, one hand moving quickly backwards and forwards, the other cupped below the end. “Its larger than I expected. Bigger than average I suspect. Much!” I nodded in agreement, aware that she now had nine inches of very stiff cock-flesh in her palm. I could feel the cum rising inside me and though I desperately wanted to give in to the desire to ejaculate, I did not want to waste the moments of sheer pleasure watching such a beautiful woman handle my cock. It had been nearly two months since I had enjoyed intimacy with a woman, when I had slept with the barmaid from the Rose and Crown in a haystack just outside the boundary fence of the institute. This far outweighed that experience. I could hold on no longer, with the next draw back of my foreskin I unleashed a torrent of semen, squirting and splashing in to Anne’s cupped palm. My rigid member pulsed in her hand causing her too giggle with excitement as it swelled and bulged in her firm grip. After the final pulse of pleasure Anne raised her hand to her mouth, smelled the precious fluid and dipped the tip of her tongue in to the little well she had formed. I watched as she lapped up a generous sample and ran it round her mouth with her tongue, almost as though she were sampling a fine wine. “Mmmmmm. It’s nice and salty. Waste not want not.” With that she slurped up the whole delivery, gulping it down with relish, licking the foaming white specks from her lips as though it were the Devon cream from a scone at high tea.

After landing we transferred to a small canoe and on to a village built along the shore where we were to wait for professor Whitely. During this three-day hiatus, waiting for our colleague’s arrival, two things happened. Firstly we spent nearly two whole days making love in a tiny hut, exploring every avenue open to a couple who had suddenly lost their stuffy inhibitions imposed upon them by a western morality that temporarily had no relevance. Secondly, on the third day we met Emanuel Garcia, headman of the village, in fact only man of the village.

After two days and nights of extended, intense and excessive intercourse we emerged in to the beautiful Amazonian daylight, every limb, every orifice aching with satisfaction. As we wandered around, observing the local customs and social behaviour we noticed the complete absence of indigenous men and the fact that every native woman around us was younger and as nubile as Anne herself. When questioned these dark skinned, exotic beauties, almost naked save for a scrap of hide hung about their labia, continuously referred us to the mysterious Emmanuel. Emmanuel was in his bungalow, a very colonial looking building on the jungles edge of the Northern boundary of the village.

He explained that there were always more female children born to the locals and that they would be sent to the village in order to work for him at the trading post. Hopefully meeting a husband amongst the traders and passing natives. He also explained that part of the deal was that he was allowed to use them for his personal pleasure. I then asked him, just out of earshot of Anne, how he managed to persuade them in to his bed. Very casually he said it was his herbal tea. He gave me a large bag of it, winked and said it would work on Anne if she ever became reluctant, and it would also prevent conception. Without anymore thought I put it in my pocket.

Three months later Dr. Victoria Summers was watching my cock slide carefully out of Anne’s pert backside, bringing with it a backwash of cum that spilled out on to her thighs and ran down her labia and on to her engorged clitoris. When it reached the end of her pussy it trickled on to my antique oak desk on which she lay face down. Anne looked back over her narrow shoulders, her mouth still partly open and her brown almond eyes half closed in an ecstatic expression. I could see the flames of the open fire reflected in them, reflecting the heat of the lust we all three felt. Later we were to discover that this wild three-way orgy was the result of my good self accidentally brewing up with Emmanuel’s herbal tea. “Eat me!” begged Anne. “Eat me till I cum.” I noticed how this made Vicki smile as she lowered herself on to the back of her colleague’s thighs to lap up the spillage with her tongue. Anne’s olive skinned buttocks betrayed her mother’s origins as Vicki eased them apart with her plump fingers and allowed her tongue to clean up the remaining cum that wept from the dilated anal bud. She then worked her way down, between the two firm thighs, until her nose was pressed in to the warm wet slit before her and her tongue could lick the remaining blobs of semen up so she could swallow them. Vicki gulped audibly as the generous wads of semen slid down her throat, relishing the salty taste and creamy consistency. A minute later it was all gone, every last drop had been polished off and Anne’s completely smooth pussy was as spotlessly clean as the desk.

Vicki pulled herself up and Anne turned over so that she was facing her big blonde companion, her legs still wide open, but displaying her fleshy quim from a different angle. Vicki, inspired by the change of view pulled her to the floor and crouched down, this time slurping Anne’s fleshy clit over her teeth to nibble and stretch it as far as it would go. The teasing and tugging made Anne’s pale pink petals glow rose red, oozing pussy juice all over Vicki’s chin. I watch intently as the women’s naked bodies writhed on the Persian rug, illuminated and golden in the fire light of my study. Anne’s small tanned breasts bouncing gently with the rhythm of Vicki’s lapping tongue, her nipples peaked and edible. Vicki’s mouth moved up kissing Anne’s flat belly, leaving slippery circles and tracks of saliva reflecting the light from the flames. Then she slid back down opening her mouth wide consuming her fiend’s pussy completely, biting down firmly, grinding the pussy flesh between her jaws. Anne squealed, gripping Vicki’s hair and cumming in urgent rapid waves on her face.

I pulled Vicki out of the way, allowing my eyes to lap up the view of her plump curves, her large breasts and pillow like buttocks as rolled across the rug. I placed my own mouth over Anne’s slit, sucking her tender lips in to my mouth. My tongue then slid between them, causing her to wriggle. Vicki’s hand reached beneath my belly and gripped my cock, stiffened once again by the Sapphic activities that had played out before me. I continued the delightful torture of Anne’s pussy as Vicki tugged away on my massive length. My nose bumped against Anne’s swollen clit, and became smothered in her honeydew. I placed my index finger on the opening beneath it, massaging the raw tunnel flesh vigorously, eventually dipping it into the sticky slit. I continued to manipulate her clit with my tongue until she exploded in to a wild throbbing ecstasy. I pushed another finger in, then another. Forcing my hand down over her entrance and back up again. Then twisting her throbbing button with my thumb. Anne was lost in an ecstatic world of her own.

Vicki was still tugging on my tool, so I abandoned Anne to her own post orgasmic moments and gently guided Vicki’s lips over my hardness. "At last she mumbled,” battling to speak as I thrust my tool in to her throat. “You’ve fucked her up the arse, eaten her pussy. Now its my turn!” “How that?” I asked, reaching down over her back and poking my finger, still sticky with Anne’s pussy juice, in to her anus causing her to jump in surprise. I could not resist Vicki’s big ass, stuck up in the air like that it was positively inspirational. The sight of her glowing buttocks in the mirror on the far wall, along with the glimpses of her tight little slot nestled between her thighs had made me feel even harder. Vicki gasped with pleasure when she felt another finger probing her slit as well. Despite its continuous use by her collection of ethnic sex aids and her veritable arsenal of continental dildos it had remained unusually tight. I eased my cock in a little further, parting her outer lips, allowing her to feel the thickset tip resting against her inner, more tender folds. Another gentle stroke and the hole beam of it was running in to her, stretching the neck of her red tunnel, and forcing its way along the length of it. I had to take a deep breath to hold on to my cum. Her tightness built up quite a head of friction, and my cock was still tender from reaming Anne out from the rear.

The following morning I sat in my big leather chair facing my books studying the leaves that remained in the teapot. Anne was asleep on the rug in front of the dying embers of the fire and Dr. Summers had made herself scarce at around four when the effect of the drink had worn off. Emmanuel’s herbal potion needed to be studied. Not only was it an aphrodisiac, increasing and heightening sexual potency, but it also made the drinker attracted to anyone else close by them and also caused them to shed all of their inhibitions. Not only did this explain Emmanuel’s success with the native girls, it also explained the previously unseen lesbian tendency in both Anne and Vicki. I realized what I had was a very powerful and positively dangerous thing. The study would need to be done in secret and the recipe replicated. I set about writing to Emmanuel straight away, putting my stepmother’s address on the letter for safety. I felt, and later this feeling was proved correct, that I should proceed in a low-key manner, involving as few people as possible.

The following day I took a train to London to drop off a sample at the University labs for analysis. A friend of mine called Randall Balantine ran one of the departments and he could be trusted to keep quiet. Before I left for the station I made up a flask. I confess, despite my desire for Anne, I felt I should take advantage of my new discovery. Back then a man had to take what he could get when he could get it. You can imagine my delight when I entered my compartment to find two very young nuns sitting across from my seat. I placed my bag on the luggage rack above them and smiled politely. They smiled back and bid me good day with gentle Irish brogues. Neither could have been much older than twenty-one. Both appeared Angelic with fine bone structures, green eyes and just a hint of coppery red hair showing beneath their wimples. “Perhaps I could offer you both a cup of tea?” I said, pouring out two cups of the precious liquid. “You two must be quite parched in those heavy clothes and this carriage is rather warm. “God bless you Sir.” they chorused. “Please ladies. Call me Dr. Fletcher, in fact call me Jack.”

Within five minutes the two ladies were sitting either side of me. They looked even warmer and their foreheads were showing a faint sheen of sweat indicating that the potion had increased their body temperatures somewhat. One of them, Mary, raised her delicate pale hands and started stroking my hair. The other, Kathleen had leaned her head on my shoulder and was touching my thigh, stroking it gently. Then they both started tugging loose their black and white gowns, just enough to expose their antiquated undergarments of white cotton. Through them I could see their erect nipples and dark wet patches about their groins. I suggested to them both that they may wish to unbutton my trousers, which they did, Kathleen hauling out my length for them both to see. “Oh Mary,” she giggled. “What are we doing?” “Having fun,” Mary answered. She then proceeded to put her head in my lap and licked along the length of my shaft, paying particular attention to kissing the tip. Kathleen repeated the action lingering a little longer at the end, curling her tongue around it like a lollipop. I held their black and white head-dresses in my clenched fist and forced their heads down one by one, guiding their lips over my shaft, causing them to slurp and gobble hard on the rigid meat forced in to their mouths. Kathleen stood up, lifted her skirt and removed her undergarments. Coquettishly bent over, standing with her pert little arse not an inch from my face. I could smell her quim, it was hot and wet, sticky with her sweet and delicious juice. I couldn't wait to taste her so I pushed my face up against her buttocks and probed between them with my amorous tongue. My breath caused her to tremble with excitement, causing a titillating trickle of juice to escape her slit and christen my tongue. I felt her breath quicken and her whimpering and moaning increase. I replaced my tongue with my fingers, vigorously reaming out her virgin hole and probing her tight bud of anal nerves. "Oh God Yes!" she screamed as her first true orgasm overtook her and my index finger violated the entrance to her most forbidden hole. "I can’t wait any longer, I must taste you, now!" cried Mary, still working on my now mammoth cock. Her jaw could barely cope with my girth and I took great delight in removing my tool from between her pretty lips and ejaculating in to her open mouth and all over her face. She squealed as great white plumes of protein leapt in to the air to impact upon her cheeks, nose and chin. I watched my semen slip down her angelic face, its sticky drops clinging to her flesh, obscuring her freckles. Kathleen had now turned around and watched for a while too then set about licking my creamy delivery from her companions face with all the enthusiasm that a puppy licks its bowl. Spurred on by the mystery brew I was hard again in minutes and the two young ladies took it in turns to straddle me and lower their tight crevices on to my pole. Mary’s untouched pussy eased on to me very carefully. Her legs were wide apart, her deft fingers holding herself open as she mounted the monster sprouting from between my legs. It was almost too big, bringing tears to her eyes and causing her to bite on her quivering bottom lip. But she was not to be deterred and within minutes she was rising up and forcing down with great deliberation. Kathleen’s tunnel on the other hand was much looser and her delicate folds swallowed me with ease, taking into the hilt immediately and riding me like a cowboy on an unbroken horse. I refrained from cumming in to their tidy little slots, though they were pleased to christen my cock with several climaxes of their own.

When I disembarked they were clothed and asleep in each other’s arms, and I made my way to the university to see my friend and drop off a sample. On completion of this task I went to Ealing via the underground where my stepsister Elizabeth and her philosopher friend Daphne rented a flat.

Elizabeth, a radical feminist writer, was pleased to see me. She answered the door with some trepidation and seemed relieved it was I. “I was afraid I was another call from one of the local fascists. They often call around to be verbally critical of my writings.” Elizabeth and I had always been good friends and had spent our summers together when we had returned from our respective boarding schools. She was never one to hold her tongue and she would often be in trouble for speaking her mind. Things had not changed and now she made a good living from talking to radical women’s groups and running a mall publishing company. That night over dinner I let them both the women in on my secret, sharing my discovery with them and describing the events since my return from South America. They were both amused by what happened to the nuns, though Daphne was shocked by the Sapphic activities of my two colleagues. “I can’t believe they would do such a thing, not unless there was some propensity there already.” “Really?” said Elizabeth brushing her dark hair from her face and adjusting the broach holding the blouse over her very ample bosom. “Who is to say what would happen if all three of us were to take it. Do you honestly believe that an innate morality would stop us from having each other? You know I believe morality is simply an imposed structure to keep order in society at best, to oppress us at its worst.” “ No, morality is from a divine source. A natural barrier would occur in those who wanted to resist.” “Poppycock!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Put the kettle on!” Daphne challenged her. So we did