Sexlixir Ch. 01

Rosemary, as I had been instructed to call her, knocked on the door and waited for my call to come in. The knocking was to ensure that no air current or slight shock to the fabric interfered with an experiment in progress.

There was nothing in progress, other than my tidying, but there was, thanks to a spillage on the part of the lab assistant, me, a strong presence of the fluid we had been working on. Rosemary was, therefore, inhaling this with every breath as we established where her son was.

I had fancied her for years, even before puberty, and now, aged seventeen, my hormones were being whipped into a hurricane of lust. The sniffing of her knickers had become an addiction, indeed. She was still under forty and full of energy and saucy humour, unshockable and almost embarrassingly frank. To a seventeen-year-old she seemed to be everything desirable, because she was quite small but with an impressive bosom and a rounded bottom, and unlike most contemporary women she seldom wore stockings, never wore corsetry and was careless about controlling her skirts, so that sometimes as she sat or whirled around there was a glimpse of white cotton knickers, the ones available in the linen basket.

Standing in the doorway she said, 'Extra preparation? I know you've got this attractive new maths teacher. I bet he's trying to see down her blouse or up her skirt.'

Of course, she was right. She was well aware of her son's and my preoccupation, and freely spoke of it. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. 'What on earth is that pong?'

'I spilled a mixture from yesterday,' I said. 'It is a bit pungent.'

She laughed. 'Pun-gent is right. It's got a touch of a gent's changing room. But what's the rest of it?'

'Just some herbs and solvent,' I said.

'What's it for?'

'It was an experiment,' I said, trying to avoid the question.

She gave me a piercing look and began to fidget about, inspecting the gear and the bunches of vegetation and Winchester bottles of acids, alkalis and re-agents. She seemed agitated, breathing harder and snatching glances at me. Suddenly she shot at me, 'You've been looking at my dirty pants, haven't you?'

I felt myself blush and wondered what to say for a moment. Then I decided to match her candour, since there seemed nothing to lose. 'Yes.'

'I could tell because you buried them under the other things, when I knew they'd been on top. Hiding the evidence, but a mistake. Why?'

More candour seemed necessary about myself, but not Phil. 'I wanted to smell them.'

I thought she might be disgusted, but she wasn't. 'You wanted to know what a woman smells like? Did you like it?'

'Yes,' I said. 'It was very exciting.'

She astonished me. 'Do you want to smell a woman directly?'

She laughed at my dumbfounded expression. 'Of course you do. You've been interested in me for years. It hasn't been difficult to see that.'

With the speed which characterised all her actions, she reached under her skirt, dragged down and took off her knickers and put them on the work-bench. 'Come here,' she bade me, holding up her skirt.

I thought I might faint. There, only a yard away, was a luxuriantly furred pussy. All I had to do was kneel and thrust my nose into it. Which, of course, I did.

'Go on,' she said. 'You're a scientist. Investigate.'

I brought my hands to bear, parting the fuzz, finding and carefully parting the labia.

'Stand,' she instructed. 'Lift me onto the table.'

I put my hands under her armpits and swung her backwards, getting her bottom onto the table edge. She leaned back and opened her legs to bring her genitalia all into view.

There was now a wondrous cunty aroma blending with the existing atmosphere, and I was, naturally, fully erect. I bent to inspect and ran my fingers along the vulva.

She flinched and I thought I had hurt her. But she said, 'That's something you need to learn, my lad. The clitoris, it's called, if you didn't know. At the top of the crease, hidden in the lips. Have a close look. That's what gives a woman pleasure. Touch it gently.'

Nothing loth, I applied a finger-tip to the spot indicated, and she moaned. 'That's the way. Gently, gently. Just keep going. Good, good. Put an arm round me. Hold me. Kiss me.'

This was fascinating, amazing. I was really doing this. Her lips were hot, wet and delicious. She was panting through her nose and wriggling her bottom. Then she tore her lips from mine and said, 'I'm going to climax. Hold me tight!'

The fingers of my left hand continued to play over her clitoris, which, I could feel, was now hard, and my right arms was round her shoulders, taking her weight as she leaned back. As for the first time I brought a woman to orgasm, and listened with awe and delight as she gasped and writhed. As she began to relax I kissed her.

Calm again, she said, 'Well, that was lesson one, and enjoyable for me. But now it's your turn. Take down your trousers and pants.'

Carefully I manoeuvred the garments over my erection, which she took in her hand. 'I could just rub you off, but I bet you do that a lot for yourself. Better to do it properly. Would you like to go into me? Of course you would. Move closer. That's right. I'll just slide forward a bet to let you in. There! Now push.'

She had brought my penis-tip to the vestibule and I pushed. The sensation was overwhelming. I'm not sure that I didn't actually faint for a moment as I slid into her hot, slippery vagina, and my orgasm began at one.

'That's right,' she said. 'Let it come. That's the way.'

Of course, having masturbated a thousand times I knew what was happening and the feeling was partly familiar. But nothing, nothing, can match the explosion of pleasure ejaculating within the depths of a cunt. There is a sense of total fulfilment, as if this is the main, maybe only, purpose of life.

She leaned forward and put her arms round my waist. 'Now you're a man,' she said. 'I've wanted to do this for a long time. But this is the only time. We must never do this again. Do you understand?'

I did understand. She was happy to give me the initiation an older woman can give a young man, but there would be no affair.'

As I flopped out of her she mopped herself with her knickers and I pulled up my pants and trousers. I lifted her down. She patted my cheek, waved the knickers, and said, 'These'll be in the basket shortly. You can go on sniffing, if you like. That'll remind you of today.' Then she strode out.

After I had convinced myself that experience had really happened, and the damp penis in my pants seemed pretty convincing, I began to wonder whether the scent in the air had been a factor in her behaviour. If it had, was I honour bound to tell Phil we were onto something? Was I going to tell him I'd had sex with his mother? I thought about sneaking off without waiting for him, but we had agreed to try another mixture.

When he arrived the secret was quickly out, in fact. He drew several deep breaths and said 'There's something different, isn't there? The smell's changed. What have you been up to? It smells like mum's knickers.' He looked hard into my face and I couldn't meet his eyes. 'I know what it is,' he went on. 'You've been doing it with good old Rosemary, haven't you? You've been wanting her for ages, and she came over for some reason and you did it.'

He didn't seem particularly put out, and I relaxed, though I didn't speak.

He asked, 'What was it like? Did you really get into her? Yes, I can see you did. The crucial question is, though, was she affected by yesterday's experiment? What do you think?'

'I think she was,' I said, 'To some extent, anyway.'

'Right! Let's look up the composition and go on from there.'

As good scientists, we kept careful records of our experiments, everything weighed and measured and all procedures detailed. Had we but known it we had the next step already available. The clue was in the aroma which greeted Phil on his return that afternoon. But it was another five years before we realised that women respond to female pheromones, that the sexlixir needs to be redolent of cunt as well as of testosterone and the other admixtures which enhance, transmit, partially conceal, the potency of the potion. For evidence, go online and search for women who like to sniff other women's panties.

As we reconstituted the mixture, Phil demanded an account of my encounter with his mother and I obliged. 'Good old Rosemary,' he said. 'And she showed you what to do. Handy! And you've been into where I came out of. But you probably enjoyed the trip more than I did. You lucky devil! It was obviously bloody marvellous. I'm envious, but I'd better not try her myself. That probably wouldn't go down too well.'

Phil had to wait several months after this before he had intercourse, and not with our attractive maths teacher. It was with actually with a cousin, Rosemary's sister's daughter, aged 20, and we concluded that our current concoction did play a part, even though we were still far short of the finished blend I field tested on Brenda and Marjorie some years afterwards.

This chapter is probably long enough by now, however, and I will move on and take up the use of the sexlixir on older women, notably the lady in her seventies, as already cited.