Violet and the Orchid

[I'd like to thank Josh32380432 for extensive help in editing this story. The improvements are all his; any remaining errors are mine. Thanks, Josh.]

Roger was convinced that Violet would come around after they were married. He was wrong. She didn't. Perversely, that made her more, not less, desirable. It didn't help that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. She was slim, athletic, with a trim waist, generous breasts and hips, and an ass to die for. She wore her lustrous dark hair long, which he found very sexy. Her full red lips invited kissing, or, in his fantasies, his cock sliding between them. Surprisingly, given all her attributes, she was shy and reserved. That made it possible for Roger to approach her.

He should have known better. Something should have told him that it was too good to be true when she agreed to date him, more so when she agreed to marry him. Him, the nerdy scientist, with such a gorgeous piece of ass. Who would believe it. His friends ribbed him unmercifully when he told them. Bad enough that he was an introverted academic and she could have had any man she wanted. The irony of a plant geneticist dating a girl named Violet was just too much.

Violet honestly seemed to like him and enjoy his company. They found that they had common interests such as baseball and science fiction, and they had no trouble talking for hours over dinner or hiking in the woods. Perhaps Roger should have taken note of the fact that she wouldn't kiss him until their third date, but he figured maybe he just wasn't aggressive enough or was still too much in awe of her. It never occurred to him that she might be enjoying his company precisely because he was "safe", or worse yet, "harmless".

Roger had never had much success with women, so he figured his skills at seduction were not up to the task of bedding Violet. They did eventually get more intimate, making out in the car sometimes. He even got under her bra and found to his delight that those lovely firm breasts he'd been fantasizing about were absolutely as perfect as he'd imagined. But there was always some reason it never went further. Too late at night, she'd say, I have to get up early next morning.

Roger was far too afraid to insist, worried that if he got too aggressive, he'd lose her. He loved her very much. They still enjoyed each other's company, and although limited, their sex life seemed to satisfy her. Roger, however, was getting rather frustrated. His idle moments were dominated by images of her and thoughts of what he would do with that lovely body. But he was hopelessly repressed and couldn't vocalize his desires to her, frustrating him even more. At night, by himself, he'd rehearse saying, "Violet, I love you, and I want to put my cock in your beautiful pussy and cum inside you 'til you overflow." Or "Violet, your lips are so full and soft, I'd give anything to have them around my cock." But when he sat next to her his ingrained inhibitions kicked in and he just looked at her, tongue tied, hoping that she'd read his mind, which, of course, she never did.

If she married him, though, he thought, things would be different. She'd be his, legally and morally tied to him, and then he'd be able to tell her of his desires. She would comply because she had made a promise to him. So, he proposed, and, to his delight, she accepted. At first Roger hoped that the formality of engagement, with a date set for marriage, might be the key to unlock her physical treasures to him, but it was not to be. She smiled when his lovemaking signaled his desire to move to the next level and said "Rog, honey, I really think we should wait until we're married to fully open ourselves up to each other. It's just the way I was brought up."

Roger was amazed that a woman with a body like hers could have avoided losing her virginity in high school, but he just attributed it to strong conditioning. He was right., but unfortunately for him, he didn't know just how strong it really was.

The marriage ceremony was lovely. Violet was heartbreakingly beautiful in a wedding gown that showed off her breasts to perfection. There wasn't a man in the audience who didn't fantasize about her and Roger's wedding night. Roger was full of love and pride. Of all those men, she had chosen him.

Off they went on a honeymoon trip that included hiking in the Himalayas. What with flights to catch, airport layovers, packing and unpacking, though, there was no time to consummate the marriage until they arrived in a cramped little hotel in Kathmandu. At last, Roger thought, he would have her. As soon as she was in bed, he climbed in with her, naked and already hard, and reached for her body. He discovered her panties were still on. Oh well. She lay there passively as he removed them. She lay there as he stroked her breasts. She lay there as he put his tongue in her mouth. He could feel the tension in her body but didn't know how to calm her. Hoping against hope he penetrated her as gently as he could. She whimpered a little as he did since she wasn't properly lubricated. Roger, however, was too far gone to stop now, so he started pumping her, and pretty soon he came inside her. Violet lay there, unmoving while he expended himself. He heard her sigh, but not with pleasure; more that it was over.

Frustrated at himself, Roger rolled off and said, "Is there anything I did wrong, my love?"

"No, love," she replied. "You were fine. It's me. I just didn't feel anything. I'm so sorry. I know that I should. I love you and want to make you happy, but I can't, not this way. I guess I just can't let myself go. Something always stops me."

Well, this was going to be a problem. The more Roger thought about it, the more he became convinced that Violet had simply never experienced an orgasm in her life. How in God's name someone with a body like hers could make it this far in life without some man bringing her to that ecstatic state was a total mystery. Unfortunately, he knew that his own skills were too limited to overcome such strong conditioning and achieve a breakthrough that would open her to him. But Roger was a scientist. A scientist faced with a problem that needed to be solved: how to get Violet to enjoy sex so he could fully exploit her marvelous body. The more he thought about it, the more obsessed he became, and the richer and more real became his fantasies of what he wanted her to do for him and what he wanted to do with her body.

The early Greek physician Hippocrates once said, "For extreme diseases, extreme methods of cure ... are most suitable." The more frustrated Roger became, the more this aphorism appealed to him.

He reluctantly concluded that he himself lacked the skills accomplish the task. He would have to recruit external help. He began his assault on his wife subtly at first. He purchased an aftershave lotion containing a mysterious male sex pheromone which, the advertiser claimed, would "render women helpless with desire". Could chemistry be the key to unlocking his wife's treasures? He tried using the cologne; Violet said that it "smelled nice", but it had no noticeable effect on her.

He stepped up his game. He tried using scented, ridged or even inflatable condoms; he bought several varieties of vibrators and battery-operated dildoes from obscure corners of the web. Violet simply refused to try such devices or worse, just giggled when he showed them to her. This was getting nowhere. Roger was slowly going mad with frustration. Nothing seemed to work on his wife. Worse, his repeated failures perversely only made her that much more desirable to him. Another man might well have turned to other women by having an affair or paying for companionship, but Roger still loved Violet and didn't want to lose her. There had to be another way.

That other way occurred to him as he sat during a scientific conference listening to a presenter who had decoded the genome of a particularly large orchid found in South America.

Now orchids are very interesting plants. They occupy all sorts of environments and range in size from a few centimeters to a 20-foot-tall variety. Like almost all other flowers, they rely on animals to spread their pollen. But orchids are more creative than any other flower. Several species produce female sex pheromones to lure male insects or even bats to them. The males go away, presumably frustrated, but dusted with orchid pollen. Some orchids, however, go further: in addition to producing female pheromones, they shape themselves to mimic the female sexual parts of the pollinator. Not only does the target male come away more satisfied, but in his frenzy, he picks up lots of pollen.

"Hmm," thought Roger, "What's sauce for the gander..."

The presenter further revealed that the orchid genome is as large as the human genome and is highly variable, allowing orchids to evolve new chemical lures and anatomical features quickly. It was this latter that gave Roger an idea.

It wasn't hard for Roger to get a kit to modify plant genes. His university department wondered a bit at his new interest in growing orchids, but he had tenure and was able to get funding, so they left him alone. He spent many nights in the greenhouse thereafter. Violet was just as happy since she no longer had to feel guilty about not responding to his sexual overtures. She never missed some of her intimate apparel when it mysteriously disappeared. Weeks passed.

At last, Roger was ready. He spent the day in the greenhouse, repotting plants, trimming vines and, most importantly, tending to his prize orchid, whistling as he worked. He waited until all the staff was gone, made sure that he was alone, and cautiously approached the plant. Keeping well back, he placed a pair of Violet's panties on a stick and brandished it toward the orchid. Slowly the plant stirred into life. Its petals curled, and tendrils in its center began to move as if beckoning to him. He smiled with satisfaction.

That night Roger took Violet out for a romantic candlelight dinner to a lovely little restaurant. It made Violet a little nervous, because she really didn't want to have Roger get his hopes up only for her to throw cold water on them once again. Roger, however, did not seem to be attempting a seduction. His conversation was pleasant and neutral, and he talked about them maybe taking another trip. He seemed a little distracted, but when he held her hand, she didn't detect any hidden motive. As they were about to leave, he casually asked if she wouldn't mind if they stopped off at his lab on the way so he could check up on a project. It was a Friday night, he said, and he didn't want it neglected over the weekend.

When they got to the lab it was late and the place was dark. Violet offered to stay in the car, but Roger said that she might be interested in this new plant variety he'd been working on. She wasn't terribly interested in his work, but she felt she owed him something for the lovely evening, so she feigned interest and accompanied him in. She sensed a sort of repressed excitement in her husband but guessed that it was because he wanted to surprise her with his latest scientific achievement. She resolved to be enthusiastic, however hard it might be to pretend.

There was only a service lamp in the greenhouse where he led her, so Roger held her hand and guided her through the isles overshadowed by dark and looming plants. It was warm and humid, and the air was heavy with earthy smells. As they approached his prize orchid, he gradually worked his way around behind her.

"Here, my love. This is what I've been working on. I think you'll like it. Go ahead, take a closer look."

Violet tried to think of something nice to say about Roger's project. "It's, it's awfully big, isn't it," she managed.

"Yes, love," Roger replied. "But don't be afraid of it. It's only a flower and it can't hurt you. Get a little closer. I want to show you a couple of interesting details."

In the gloom of the hothouse Violet couldn't make out too much detail, so she moved closer. She heard Roger going on behind her about base-pairs and CRISPR, which she didn't understand.

Gradually she paid less and less attention to him and more and more to the orchid. She was dimly aware of a very pleasant odor which seemed to come from the plant. It was an odd odor, almost without a smell. It seemed somehow to bypass her normal olfactory pathway and penetrate directly into her brain at some primitive level. She felt a little funny, a little light-headed. She became increasingly aware that the orchid was very beautiful. In fact, she thought, it was the most beautiful and attractive plant she'd ever seen. It had such large and beautiful petals, so soft and velvety. How wonderful it would be to mold herself into their embrace, to feel their softness against her bare skin. She moved closer.

Roger had stopped droning on, but Violet didn't notice. What she did notice was that the orchid had the most unusual structure in the center of its flower. It was tubular in shape, obviously quite flexible, rather long, and with an odd bulge on the end. It was surrounded by a number of coiled tendrils. She felt an irresistible impulse to touch it. When she yielded to the urge, she felt it throb in in her hand in a most enticing way. And it was warm, delightfully so. Several of the tendrils uncoiled and caressed her hand as she held the central member. It felt very nice. Their stroking and the feel of the central appendage in her hand seemed to calm her. The central appendage began to draw slowly in toward the main plant. Dreamily she continued to stroke it and followed it in. As she grew closer to the center, a few of the tendrils reached out toward her.

"Oh my, Roger," she said rather dreamily. "It moved!"

"Yes love. But that's all right. It's just responding to you. Don't worry."

As Violet got even closer the tendrils found her breasts and began to stroke them. "Oh!" Violet said, and then "oh. Oh my." Dimly she felt that this wasn't quite right¸ but her brain seemed too fuzzy to think it through. She didn't withdraw. She leaned in closer.

The herbaceous fumbling at her breasts felt strange, but somehow very good indeed. Unthinkingly she unbuttoned her blouse and opened herself to the tendrils. She really didn't want to move away. She could feel her breasts swell within her bra. Her nipples began to press uncomfortably against the confining fabric, and the tendrils seemed quite insistent, so she reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra. The appendages at once wormed their way under the loose bra, lifting it up and away from her breasts, encircling her erect nipples, massaging her breasts, squeezing them gently.

She felt her vagina begin to throb and could feel wetness between her legs. What was happening to her, she thought, but soon she stopped caring and just let herself experience the new and wonderful sensations. As if in a dream she leaned in closer to the orchid, giving its warm fleshy tendrils full access to her. Several tendrils were now reaching up under her skirt and fumbling with her panties, some pulling at the waistband and some probing the crotch. Willingly now, she unsnapped the waistband of her skirt and let it fall. She wanted badly to take off her panties, but the tendrils now entwined in them were using them to pull her closer to the orchid. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, unable to resist.

As she drew close to the heart of the plant, the tendrils at her crotch pushed aside her panties and she felt the big member first delicately and then more insistently probing her and then entering her. She was well-lubricated by then, so the big warm member slipped easily into her. Deeper and deeper, it went. She gasped and then moaned quietly. She could feel it throbbing inside her. It felt wonderful.

"Oh my God, Roger. Oh my GOD!"

She became dimly aware of more fumbling at the back of her panties now, but it just added to the whirl of emotions making her unable or unwilling to move. She heard rather than felt a few quick, deft ships of garden scissors and her panties fell away. Some of the tendrils tugged at the remnants of her panties, pulling them away, leaving her most intimate parts completely exposed.

The freedom and the cool air felt wonderful. and the tendrils took full advantage to stroke her most sensitive areas. One tendril embraced her clitoris and began to gently vibrate. Others began to stroke her inner thighs. Her breathing quickened. Her arms reached out to embrace the soft velvety petals of the orchid, drawing them closer to her. They seemed to respond, caressing her naked skin. She knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn't feel things like this, but her brain seemed wrapped in cotton, unable to think clearly. She was acutely aware of that odd odor coming from the heart of the orchid, but now it wasn't so odd, just very enticing.

She became aware of Roger behind her kissing and nibbling on the nape of her neck. His hands worked together with the tendrils kneading and stroking her breasts. It all felt so wonderful! She felt a warm pressure on her sensitive anus. Roger's hands grasped her hips and he thrust, driving his penis into her rectum. Once in her he again joined forces with the tendrils cupping and massaging her breasts and kissed and licked her neck with growing passion.

A distant part of her knew that somehow none of this was right, but she was by now delirious, completely lost, her brain a kaleidoscope of emotions and salacious images. The members penetrating both her orifices were so warm and alive, swelling and throbbing, probing in and out of her. Every muscle in her body tensed up like coiled springs. Her skin was on fire, intensely aware of every touch. She was going to explode! She groaned, gasped, and finally shouted out loud as she felt Roger's cock burst forth its load deep in her rectum, filling her with a wonderful warmth and pressure. Her pussy pulsed and squirted its warm fluids all over the probing fleshy orchid and she fainted.

She awoke on the couch in Roger's office, naked from the waist down. Her clothes were a complete mess. Her bra was half off and crumpled over her breasts. Her skirt and torn panties lay in a heap on the floor, soaked with her own fluids, Roger's semen and God knew what from the orchid. She was totally exhausted and yet at the same time completely relaxed. And she had never felt more alive. She could have lain there forever, but eventually she opened her eyes to see Roger leaning over her, smiling affectionately at her.

"I see you enjoyed my little experiment," he said.

"Oh my God, Roger," she said dreamily. "What have you done? I never felt like that in my whole life! It was incredible."

"I'm glad you liked it, Love. I made it just for you. Quite literally, in fact. My darling, I think we've had a real breakthrough tonight, and I'm looking forward to exploring a lot more with you."

He was almost right. What he had yet to learn was that he would never be able to compete successfully with the orchid and that henceforth when he wanted his wife, he would have to accept a menage-a-trois with his new creations, both floral and female, and would forever after play second fiddle to a flower.