If you knew what to look for, it was easy to retrace how Frank Connors
synthesized the pheromones and used them to accomplish the seductions.
Connors, after all, had been both a physician and a scientist, and, whatever
his other failings, his lab records were impeccable. To think of Lauren,
Polly, Rachel and Kendra as lab subjects was chilling, even after you knew
his methods, but it was the best way to understand the data and piece together
his "achievements", both in the lab and in the bedroom.
As a true scientist, Connors had assembled and catalogued the letters from the women just as he did the other data experimental data. A shelf of thick lab binders housed his records of DNA analysis, peptide synthesis and "subject records." The emails were usually not printed out, but sat in the Pheromone Data folder on his hard drive. The letters, the handwritten originals often running several pages, were always found in plastic sleeves which in turn were organized in tabs in the ring binders.
Before meeting any of the women, you already felt that you knew them intimately from the letters. It was the personality of Polly that came through most clearly. Polly's letters were impassioned and immediate, alive in every sense; and, ironically, it was she who died in the crash with Frank. She was the only one of the four that I never met.
Polly Buehrens, the letter writer, made an indelible impression as soon as you laid out the cream colored sheets of fine stationery. You knew that this was a beautiful woman, youthful, intelligent and vibrant. The expensive sheets with dark blue borders and her bold handwriting were not overtly feminine but bespoke an elegant refinement. She wrote to Connors using a fountain pen and blue ink, as she did when sending out invitations and thank you notes as the wife of the university president. Many people on campus, both faculty and research staff, knew her exuberant script, and I never doubted that these specimens in the lab binders were in her own hand.
As with the other women, Connors had demanded that Polly write to him, apparently so that he could document his progress with each subject. The notation of dates, times and places was strikingly awkward, not the details he would want in love letters. As part of his "scientific" recordkeeping protocol, I don't find them erotic at all.
Even as my pen moves across this paper, I think of my desire to hold you and to be with you. To have me write to you in this way is crazy, and you are a fool to demand it of me. I think of myself and my husband Scott. My shame should prevent me from committing these words to paper. You are not married, and you don't know how my husband would be hurt by my infidelity. For twelve years he and I have been entirely faithful to each other. Certainly I have, and I believe Scott has been as well. I cannot tell you my shame, first in betraying him and then in writing this to satisfy your baseness.
Don't you have the sense to know that my letters threaten your privacy and your position as well? What can these letters ever give you but embarrassment? Do you want to blackmail me by having these letters from me? I assure you there is nothing for you to gain in that regard since I want you too badly to deny you anything.
You were a gentleman, or so I thought. Now I know better. I can never escape my disgust at what you are forcing me to do. Don't fool yourself. Don't think I take any pleasure in your fetish of writing about what we've done. I'm simply too weak to refuse.
Two Sundays ago, on January 19, in my private research room at the University Library, I sucked you off. You made me come with your hand. I begged you to fuck me over the chair and you refused. You said you would do it only if I begged you in writing, in a handwritten letter.
I am hungry for you. I am hungry to have your cock inside of me. You can see in these words that I have abandoned all shame. My desire now exceeds even my disgust at you and at my own weakness.
I beg you to tell me when we can be together again and when you will fuck me.
If there is a Hell, I'm sure that it holds a special place for you alone and that you will suffer for humiliating me in my weakness and for hurting my family.
Polly
On Sunday, January 19, I begged you to come with me into my private carrel at the University Library because I was dying to make love to you. For weeks, I had thought of touching you and having you touch me. I get wet when we were alone together in the clinic or in my office. I want you. Your face, your hair, your smell, your body, the way you move. Everything. I want everything about you.
It was I who made the first move. I pressed my hand to your crotch and I put your hand on my breast. I asked you to caress my breasts. I begged you to let me take you in my mouth. I begged you to let me unzip you. When you came, I swallowed all of your come, and I wanted you to come again on my face.
After I went down on you, I undid my slacks and put your hand on my mound. I begged you to touch me, and I pressed your hand until you put your fingers inside me. I have never been more wet for a man than I was for you. I begged you to do my clit. You made me come twice with your fingers inside of me.
I told you it was lovely. It was the most lovely feeling and I still want it and hate to have a day go by without having you again. I leaned over the chair and begged you to make love to me. I tried to hold your hands on my ass and make you want to fuck me.
You made me beg to be fucked. You told me that you wanted me to write to you and tell you how good it felt, and to beg you to ML. It was lovely beyond anything I could imagine.
Frank, dear, I am begging you. I want you. I have never felt the way I did when you made me come with your hands. There is no desire that I can conceive as so strong as when I am with you now. Every day that we meet in your office or on the wards or in clinic is pure torture that you will not have me again.
Frank, please, fuck me. Please make love to me. I beg you to let me be with you and to touch you. I will kneel and take you in my mouth just to show my obedience. Please let me have you again. I dream that you will let me be with you for a weekend, or even for a day or a night.
Your dearest Polly
On Thursday, February 5 at 2pm I will be at the Shelburne Motel waiting for you. I will be wearing only the white cotton shirt that you gave me. I have washed and ironed the shirt myself because I wish to please you. I will kneel in the center of the room until you enter and I will beg you to let me take your cock in my mouth.
Please, let me suck your cock when you come to the hotel. I want to bury my face in your body and to drink you in. To be with you and not ML is more than I can stand. This morning I masturbated in bed thinking of you. I masturbated again in the shower. Please let me be with you. Please make me come in whatever way pleases you.
I beg you not to meet in public as we did today. I want to touch you so badly, even when there are dozens of people around us at the university. I am afraid that I will forget myself and touch you, or reach out to kiss you. Even if I do not touch you, I know that my face and my eyes betray me to all who chance to see us together. A scandal can only hurt you as well. It is better not to put the temptation before me.
I ask you to exercise restraint when I cannot. Shall I make my weakness your sin?
Yours, more than I can express,
Polly
Please believe that I want to do everything you demand of me. Please believe me that I will try. I can't tell you the shame I feel at some of the things you want. Don't you understand? I am inexperienced sexually. My only experience, aside from a couple of experiments in college, is within my marriage. And my marriage has not been adventurous. I do not regret my time with Scott and a marriage with social responsibilities. Never did I miss the emotions that you have aroused in me.
Please understand, you must go slow with me.
I want you so badly. Please let me be with you again sometime. I want to ML again. I will try to do everything that you tell me to do. If you will only let me touch you.
Please. I beg you.
Polly
Say you read a paper in one of the journals of endocrinology or sociology. Let's grant that the experiment is well designed - a double blind, placebo controlled study of college age women with a sufficiently large sample to be meaningful. They report a positive result: the male pheromone seems to have "caused" a 75 percent increase in reported kissing/petting/affection behavior initiated by the female subjects while the control group with the placebo had an increase of only 32 percent above the baseline. Similarly, there is a reported 12 percent increase in frequency of coitus.
Whoop de do!
This is about as exciting as watching grass grow. Since you can produce a larger effect on most women with a dozen roses, scientific interest in human pheromone findings has been understandably muted. That will change when Connors' discovery becomes known. The power they create is just too strong.
What Connors brought was an insight into the genetics that underlies the neurochemistry. Just as every human being has a unique DNA fingerprint, they produce (and will respond best) to a unique set of pheromones. Although Connor had never worked in endocrinology, he was an international expert at DNA analysis and peptide synthesis. You can see the trail of his discoveries from the DNA analysis that he sent down to Yale, back to the pheromone synthesis work that was done at the Dartmouth labs.
But first, he needed to get blood samples from his "subjects."
For years, he had almost no clinical practice as a physician, limiting himself to teaching and research, but that changed at the same time that he started his pheromone lab notebooks. It appears that he started taking clinic at the University Health Services specifically to get those blood samples: every time a cute coed came down with anything more serious than the flu, Connors intercepted the vial and withdrew a smaller sample before it went off to the lab.
There were two hundred and thirteen subjects - all women - for whom DNA analysis results appeared in his lab notebooks. Of these, seventy-six subjects had peptide synthesis: that is he tried to synthesize male pheromones that would work on those seventy-six subjects. Sixty-two of the synthesis attempts look like terrible matches with the subjects' DNA under the mass spectograph. For each of these there is a notation of poor or fair in the notebooks, and, notably, there is no evidence of romantic involvement between Connors and any of these women.
These "negative results" were not entirely wasted efforts, however, since he refined his techniques for sample preparation and culture media. His results got dramatically better at the end. Of the last twenty five synthesis attempts, 48% were rated as good or excellent in his notes. Of those twelve, Polly, Kendra, Rachel and Lauren ended up having torrid affairs with the good doctor. These results are significant at the .0001 level using a chi-square analysis; scientifically speaking I know it was not chance that he got them into his bed.
If he had published his data it would have caused quite a stir, and not just among endocrinologists. Polly was the wife of the university president with an established academic reputation in her own field. She taught Comparative Literature down at Middlebury and had headed the French Department for several years. Kendra was three weeks short of her eighteenth birthday when she first succumbed to Connors' chemical seduction and thus a victim of statutory rape here in Vermont. Rachel was one of Connors' students in a graduate biology class and certainly off limits under University policy. Lauren -- married, three children -was the director of the children's school and day care center on campus, a woman whose reckless extramarital fling would sit poorly with her otherwise wholesome reputation.
A skeptic could look at these statistics and still doubt the efficacy of the pheromones. I don't think Connors was the only male on the UVM campus to carry on a dalliance with four women at the same time. Might not his success reflect only his heightened expectations, a kind of placebo effect from his synthesized pheromones? The evidence for each of the women does not support the null hypothesis.
He explained that he was a doctor over at the medical school. They chatted about the kids and how the school did check ups and vaccinations. She assumed he was a pediatrician. After a few minutes she had invited him in through the gate and they strolled together among the kids and the staff. He was not married and had no children; but he stopped and played with a little girl laughing on the swing set, and he broke up a minor battle between two four year old boys who both wanted the same dump truck.
At the end of half an hour she was in love with his laugh, and she was smitten by the movement of the muscles in his back and thighs when he crouched to speak with the children. She also remembers this as the moment when she became self-conscious about her light summer dress, her bare arms, and way the wind blew the thin gingham fabric into the outline of her slender waist and thighs. She had not felt the same way since college when she had met Chuck, her husband, on a summer day just like this one.
She invited him into her office to look at the way they kept their medical records, aware that she was making conversation just to be with him. When she asked him to come back at closing at six o'clock, she had already crossed the line in her own mind between flirting and ...and something else that had no natural boundaries.
He came at exactly six o'clock. She felt her heart beat wildly, loud enough, she thought, for all of her staff to hear as they left for the night. As usual, she would be the last one out and she would lock up. As she gathered the papers on her desk and put them into an organizer, she felt his gaze on her, warming her like the sun at the beach, and she blushed across the open neck of her dress.
"So," she asked. "Do you feel like getting a cup of coffee?" She was thinking of where they could go downtown; but when she stood up from her chair she was only inches away from him, and before she could stop herself, she had reached up and kissed him. It was a kiss of surprise and exploration - a kiss of "who-are-you-and-what-am-I-doing?" Her arms moved around him, and she felt herself melting into him. That was the only way she could explain it afterwards. His chest was deeper than she knew, and the curve of his neck more graceful, and his arms were stronger and his touch more electric. His breath was like spring and winter all at once in her mouth.
One half step backwards wedged her against her desk. His thighs pressed into hers. In that single step it seemed that she had flushed and warmed from her waist down. Their tongues swirled against each other. While he held her tightly around the waist, she could still move against him and so she mashed her mound into the strong curve of his thigh. When his hand reached back to hold her ass, she had the rhythm and the pressure she wanted to bring her arousal a notch higher. Press and release. Squeeze and release. A long deep hug from his other arm around her shoulder pressed her breast against him and she felt the engorgement in her nipples. Her loins pressed directly into his bulging hardness, and then the orgasm began to swell inside of her.
She still remembers the look on his face as she began to come - he was more astonished than she was. This wanton woman, this sexual geyser was exploding beneath his hands and in his arms from their first kiss and a few minutes of dry humping. He broke off the kiss while her body shuddered and she was still trying to press herself into him.
She found that he had lifted her up and back a few more inches onto the desk and his hands had already pushed her dress up to her waist. Without any hesitation his hands both gripped the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down, pushing off her sandals before they passed her feet and dropped to the floor. His mouth moved along the insides of her thighs, and she thought she could make out each point of stubble in his "six-o'clock-shadow."
"Oh! Please!" she shouted when his lips brushed lightly the hair of her mound. "Yes! Please, oh God!"
The orgasm that had started when they were pressed together still moved through her womb in waves as his tongue settled into her opening. She felt a gentle sucking that seemed to empty the juice from her pussy and to pull her fleshy inner lips into his mouth. The waves that gripped her subsided for a moment; but then, as she relaxed, his tongue moved again with greater pressure, quickly up one side of her clitoris and down the other, just fast enough to trigger the spasms inside her again.
She looked up into his face as she lay on the desk. Two of his fingers slid into her opening and then four fingers. She felt the fullness of being fucked: his fingers inside and his thumb sliding over her clit with each stroke. By raising and lowering her legs over the edge of the desk, she levered herself back and forth and gave herself a more powerful orgasm, the one she wanted before she could lay still under the caress of his hand.
Still she watched his face.
"What do you want to do?" he asked. "I want to see you tomorrow."
"Oh, yes. Yes!" she exclaimed. At this point, she remembered, it was at this point that she first asked him his name.
He took her hands and helped her sit up so that they could kiss again.
"I'm Frank," he said. He took a university business card from his trouser pocket and laid it on her desk. "Please write to me. Tell me what you want to do."
They kissed one more time and she thought another orgasm would grip her, but he stepped away.
"Are you OK to lock up?" he asked.
She nodded and he was gone.
Regardless of Connors' motivation in choosing Lauren, my own decision to go after her was simple and practical. Connors had already spent several months and over $20,000 to successfully synthesize the pheromone that matched her DNA. With page after page of experimental results in the lab binders, I knew that I could not miss with her.
Even now as she confides her story to me as her lover, she still has no idea that Connors seduced her with the pheromones, nor that I have "inherited" his formulary.
From the moment I tracked her down from Connors notes, I thought she was cute. Connors and I seem to agree on what makes a woman attractive: I loved her smile and the way her body moved. Her smile and her eyes worked together: She happens to be one of those people whose widely dilated pupils make them so attractive and engaging once you fall within their orbit.
Judging from the emails she wrote to Connor you would not think Lauren Bakersfield was looking for an extramarital affair at that point in her life, but she obviously wanted him badly even from the first day. She protested that she had no intention to ignore her marriage vows, but she might have made this denial just to ease her guilt as what she was doing. We'll never know.
I have three young children, Sarah, Charlie, and Gillian, ages 7, 5 and 3. My husband is Chuck and we have been very happy together.
How can I write to you about my husband? I feel the rest of my life falling away while you hold me in your arms. But the children need me. They need us, their mother and father both. It will be hard for me to remember that when you touch me again.
You asked me what I want to do. I don't know.
Please come to the school again sometime tomorrow. I will look for you. Can you come again at six when we close up? Write to me. You must tell me what you think of me after today.
Many hugs and warm kisses,
Lauren
Your Lauren
Your Lauren
I breathe in and I think of you and I remember what it was like for you to hold me. I remember the strength in your arms and the heat of our kisses. Never in my life have I felt these things. I don't know how my body could react in that way, but I want to feel it again. You must write to me about yourself. How long have you been at UVM? Have you ever been married? What brought you down to the playground on Monday?
You did not come and you did not call today. As I type this, I hope every moment that there will be an email from you in my box before I go upstairs to bed with Chuck. Perhaps you do not call because I am married. That's reason enough, I'm sure. Until yesterday I would have said it was reason enough. Today it seems like no reason at all to me.
You must tell me what you think of me. I would tell you what I want to do, but I don't know. Chuck and I have been married for ten years. I do not want to hurt him. All I know is that I want to see you again tomorrow. Please come to the school if you can. Are you on campus at all tomorrow? You must come or tell me that you cannot. I don't want to think that you may never be with me again. I want you to touch me.
I want so much to be your lover.
I want to tell you so much more, but you have to write to me or call or come to the school
Many hugs and warm kisses,
Lauren
"Hi," he called to her.
She walked towards his smile through a swirl of three and four and five year olds. It was another hot day, but today there was no breeze from Lake Champlain. She knew the hot weather did not explain the perspiration in her palms or the dark half circles of sweat under the armholes of her dress. She looked around the playground to see which of the other staff were out to watch the children - and which of them would see her talking to Frank over the fence.
"Hey beautiful," he said softly as she approached. "I just came to see if the effect had worn off yet."
Lauren blushed so intensely that she could not turn away from him and risk that the other staff would see the color across her face and portion of her chest exposed by her dress.
"No. It hasn't," she said.
"Good. Will you come make love to me, then?"
She looked around and spotted the school's assistant director. "Cathy," she called "I'm going to step out for while. I'll be back a little later this afternoon." Then she walked a little ways down the fence, unlatched the gate and let herself out.
"Will you get in trouble?" he asked as they started down the path across campus.
"No, there are four of us on duty. I'm not usually out watching the children anyway." She would not get in trouble at the school, but she could see her life coming apart before her eyes.
"My place is just down at Front Street. You have about ten minutes to change your mind before I have you in my clutches."
"Maybe I want to be in your clutches." She startled herself with her own words.
"Do you always wear such pretty dresses to school?"
"It's been hot," she said. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked together. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt and perspiring as well. There was an animal nakedness to him merely from his forearms and the hair at his neck where the button of his shirt was open. "Why didn't you email me?"
"I was waiting for you to tell me what you wanted to do," he said. "Don't you think this is a little unusual?"
"Yes." She was walking faster. She wanted to hold him.
"You are very beautiful. I want to look at your body today."
She didn't know what to say. They walked together wordlessly another six blocks across campus. His house was an old Victorian structure on one of Burlington's typical tree lined streets parallel to the lake. They climbed the stairs up to the porch and he opened the front door which she noticed was not locked. The front room was flooded with light through a bay window whose center was stained glass and whose sides were shaded with half drawn blinds.
"Please sit down," he said. He sat in a large upholstered chair and she sat in a rocking chair. She felt her heart beating at a rapid rate, an irregular gallop.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come," she admitted, as much to herself as to him.
"I didn't know if I should."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes.
"Do you want to go back?" he asked.
"No!" she nearly shouted. "What's wrong? I want you."
"Shall I wait for you to undress?"
Again, she didn't know what to answer. It was easier to stand up and begin to undo the long row of buttons down the front of her dress. She folded the dress over her arm and then let it fall in the rocking chair. Quickly, she undid the front clasp of her bra between the two white wired cups, and then stepped out of her underwear and sandals. Entirely unconcerned that she was now naked, she only wanted him to hold her.
"You haven't said anything to Chuck?"
His question hit her like the blast from an open furnace on her naked front.
"No. Of course not. Come hold me."
He extended his hands and she took them, but he did not stand up. Her sex was open like a flower between her thighs and only a foot away from his face.
"You are already wet," he said. "I didn't think that lightening could strike twice."
"For you it does."
She knew how her inner lips unfolded "down there" when she was aroused and how her outer lips increased in size and sensitivity. She felt his hand slide up between firm, smooth thighs and come to rest below her mound. Two fingers parted her outer lips, held open the slippery smaller folds and then advanced to the depth of the first knuckle.
"Turn around," he said. "Hold the arms of the rocking chair."
She scarcely had time to turn, bend over and grasp the arms before she felt his arm encircle her waist and his cock push up to its full length inside her. From the moment of his first touch, she was unbelievably ready for him. Now both of his hands cupped her small, soft breasts and her nipples stood out in his fingers. He thrust forward and up. She moved her whole body back and forth with the slight sway of the rocking chair arms with his cock inside her. The sensation in her nipples grew under his touch until a bolt seemed to shoot down from her chest through her womb. When the bolt reached the lips of her pussy, she felt her body grip his erection. He plunged in and out in long, steady strokes that seemed to fill and empty her whole body while the spasms of orgasm started. She steadied herself against the chair.
With his erection still inside her, one of his hands descended from her breast to press in against her lips and clit and gather some of her wetness from below. Her second orgasm came with a more violent rocking of her hips, as she sought to slam into him, to brace herself against him.
"Turn around, dear. Kneel down."
She nearly spun around and down onto her knees, so anxious was she to take him in her mouth. Her hands luxuriated in the hair at the root of his penis and under his balls, every strand of it wet with the mixture of his sweat and her cunt juice. She wanted to breathe this elixir forever. His hands, still wet from her pussy, now stroked her face, and set her off on more rapid, deeper gulps down his shaft. She gagged as he spurted a huge fount of cum against the back of her throat, and coughed some up into the hair of his groin; but she plunged her face into him and licked the still hot drops back into her mouth, holding his penis beside her face so that it would slide soft and sticky across her cheeks.
Somehow, in a blur caresses, he found a warm wash cloth for her face and then used it to lave her pussy as well. In another minute, she was dressed and stepping down his front porch into the noon sunlight. She did not remember her walk back to the school playground or whether he walked with her. The washcloth ended up in Connors' specimen box labeled "LAUREN 6-13-02."
We are together too little when you come to the school. Can I see you this weekend? Write to me and tell me how you feel about this.
Warmest hugs and kisses,
Your Lauren
Please do not come again until you write to me and we can at least talk about what we are doing. Please do not be so cruel.
Lauren
"Why did you come?" she asked.
"I want to make love to you."
"You can't do this," she protested. "I'm not asking a lot. Just to know when you will come. My life is chaos now. One day you come and the next day you don't. I can't think day to day. You haven't answered a single one of my emails. Why did you even bother giving me the email address if you never answer me?"
She felt his arm around her waist, and she pushed it away. There were, as always in Burlington, dozens of people walking the streets around them.
"Will you come to my place now?"
"No, let's just walk today for a few minutes. I can get away for some time this weekend, but it will take some planning. Chuck will play golf tomorrow. I can get a babysitter."
"Is that what you want? Do you want to come to my place tomorrow morning for a few hours?"
"Yes."
"And won't you come with me now? Just for a few minutes?"
She wanted him too much and so changed her mind and went with him anyway. Soon she was standing in his front room again, her mouth locked with his, her tongue searching for the source of her deep and puzzling desire. In the summer heat, she felt their bodies melt together, flesh surrounded by an aura of sweat and scent. Her pussy was wet again almost as soon as their mouths came together. She wanted to take him into mouth, but he would not let her undo his pants.
"No," he said "I want to do your skirt." She let him undo the wraparound skirt and then she guided his hand into her underwear. As soon as she felt a finger slip between the wet outer lips, she pulled off her underwear for him. He picked up her panties and held them near her face.
"Do you always get so wet?" he asked.
"Just touch me," she begged, trying to get his hand back between her legs. Instead, he held her waist and teased her with the tiniest kisses. His tongue flicked deep into her ear and then slid from the soft, hot spot behind the ear down to the base of her throat.
"You should go back to the school now," he told her. As her nipples grew hard, she imagined the orgasm she would have if they continued.
"Not yet," she begged, but he had already scooped up her skirt from the floor, and wrapped it around her waist.
"Give me the underwear first," she said.
"No, you can have them tomorrow morning. What time will you come?"
She tried to grab the underwear from his hand, but his reflexes were too quick and his arms longer than hers. She cursed him for the little game, but gave up after several more attempts. The scent of her own pussy would be with her for the afternoon even if he were not. She even promised, at his insistence, that she would arrive without underwear the next morning - and she kept her promise.
She left her green poncho on a coat hook in the center hall and thought about taking off her clunky hiking boots. This was the first time she had come to him wearing jeans, and she was self-conscious about the shape of her ass. She was no longer a teenager, nor even a college kid. She did not have the butt of those twenty year-olds whom she passed on campus every day. On the other hand, she knew she was an exceptionally attractive thirty-five year old, about the same age as Connors. With a beautiful smile of even white teeth, a slender frame, and very few extra pounds after three children, she had little reason to be insecure.
And yet, there was no way to feel secure at a rendezvous with Frank. He would not even write her an email much less promise to be there from one day to the next. Why should she expect anything more than a few mornings or afternoons of passion with him? Wouldn't he find another girl friend who would go off with him to medical conferences in Acapulco instead of staying home to drive the kids to the dentist?
"Would you like some coffee or hot chocolate?" he asked.
"Chocolate please....Tell me, how did you find me? Did you just wander over to the children's school that morning?"
"No. I spotted you at the infirmary a few weeks ago. I thought you were beautiful. I was right, but now I don't know what to do with you."
"What do you mean?" she asked, following him into the kitchen.
"You are always in heat. I could make love to you 24 hours a day. Tell me Mrs. Bakersfield, why do you want to have an affair?"
"I don't want an affair." She could barely whisper an answer. The only explanation for her behavior was simple lust, a purer, deeper lust than she had ever imagined. "I just want you."
"Why me?"
"You're just too sexy for me. I can't resist you." She nuzzled against his back and shoulder.
"Are you looking to have kinky sex that you don't have with Chuck?"
"No. And I wish you wouldn't mention...my husband. Don't you know this is painful enough?"
"How close have you come to having an affair before this?"
"Not close at all."
"That's hard to believe. Is this the same woman who had to be finger fucked on her own desk on the first day we met?"
"Don't be crude," she objected, feeling hurt.
"Well, I beg your pardon, madam," he replied, taking her into his arms and kissing her. When the pace of her tongue darting about his mouth reached its peak, he gripped her jeans, popped open the snap, and tugged them down over her hips. As he had insisted, she did not wear panties that morning. Immediately, he plunged four fingers far into her wet opening.
"You see," he said. "You're in heat again."
She made a half-hearted attempt to pull away and answer this accusation, but soon succumbed to the movement of his hand through her wetness. She came quickly and massively. Never, never, never before had she gone from zero to finger fucked in less than thirty seconds. Never before had she been diddled to such a long, bone-rattling climax.
Before she could recover her balance from the rolling spasms, he reached his other hand behind her and shoved two fingers into her anus. Her climax rumbled on. Now he stood beside her so that she was suspended front and back in the soft, hot saddle of his hands.
"What does your husband do with you?" he asked. "I can't believe he actually has time to play golf." She was rocking back and forth now in his hands, part of her weight on her toes and part pressing into his hands under her mound and her ass. Each shift of her balance squeezed her labia into her clitoris and then released it. He rocked her at the same tempo as the orgasm that passed through her pelvis and so the spasms did not subside at all.
Wave after wave of pleasure passed through her body until all the strength was gone from her legs and abdomen; and she begged him to put her down. Slowly, he lowered her to the floor and rolled her onto her stomach, her legs still tangled in her jeans, and her anus still squeezing his fingers.
"Where did you learn to come like this?" he asked her.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax as her sphincter throbbed and twitched. Please, please, she thought, let this wave pass; but the metronome of his fingers up her ass picked up a half-beat and a new spasm gathered deep inside her. She could feel her ass shaking against his hand.
For the next fifteen minutes she lay face down and tried to bring her breathing back to normal. Her jeans were wrapped around her calves and ankles, her bottom exposed and quivering around his fingers, but she was still fully dressed. She could not decide whether to take off her hiking shoes in order to remove her jeans or to simply pull up them up over her rump instead.
A moment later she had no option.
"Be still," he said. "I want to eat you now."
"Oh, no, PLEASE!" She could only moan her opposition but she could not wiggle away from the fingers that pinned her bottom. She had never liked to be touched there, and she never got used to it with Connors either.
Slowly, with his free hand, he began to undo the long laces on her hiking boots and eventually to pull each boot free of her feet. Then he tugged her jeans passed her ankles and tossed them aside.
"Turn over for me now." He pulled her around with his free hand. Then his mouth came down on her sloppy pussy and she was immediately on the edge of orgasm again. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth with long slow pulls, too slow to bring her off, but too deep to allow her arousal to subside. Now his fingers moved at the same slow pace inside her pussy as well as her anus. She could neither escape nor come.
He was no longer crouching over her but lying flat on the floor with his mouth against her pussy. Although he seemed able to go on forever, she knew that she could not. Imperceptibly, the pace of his sucking and his fingers increased in tandem until he pushed her over the edge. The contractions moved through her abdomen again. She felt like she had just done two hundred sit ups. There was no way she could get up now.
"Turn over, dear."
She didn't even try. He had to take her by the ankles and twist her legs to get her on her tummy again. She was face down on a spiral rag rug, and her consciousness did not extend beyond its color and texture. Her own body seemed to exist on a separate plane. Before she regained the strength to move, she felt his cock travel up between her thighs and into her pussy; and he settled his weight on top of her. He did not pump his hips as she expected, but he did tighten the muscle in his root from time to time and stiffen himself inside her.
"Lauren, I'm not what you would call monogamous. Will that bother you, dear?"
She wanted to move away from him. It was so hard to show indignation to man whose cock pulsed hot and hard inside your wet pussy. Better not to say anything. She waited for him to start fucking her in earnest, but he did not.
"I might want you to meet someone soon. A very nice girl, really. We'll make a wonderful threesome."
This was the first time her mentioned Rachel.
"Please, let me get up now." The humiliation was too intense. Could any pleasure be worth this humiliation?
He pulled out and stood over her. Though she could barely muster the strength to lift herself from the floor, she knew that her desire for him was just as strong as when he first pulled down her jeans. The aroma of her own juice mixed with his man smell was overpowering. She raised herself on one knee and had to take his arm because she no longer had the strength to stand on her own. As she rose, her face traveled within a foot of his cock, still hard and jutting upward, and so she settled to her knees instead.
Despair. Depravity. Resignation. She turned to take his cock and slide her fingers along its length. Her desire spiked as she felt him coated with her own juice. Then she closed her mouth over the head of his penis and worked to make him come.
She looked up into his eyes as she sucked and he spoke.
"Have you ever done a threesome with Chuck?"
All she could do was to block his words out of her mind. Her will power had deserted her.
"Monday, dear. I'll come by the school on Monday. The next time you come here, I want to take you up the ass. Do you understand, dear?"
No. No. She shook her head from side to side as he came in her mouth. She understood perfectly, but she would never consent to that. He was one crude bastard. Cruel and crude. And yet she licked him, cock and balls, she breathed him and she drank his every drop.
He held out her white panties that he had taken yesterday. She had to wear them now because she brought no others. She struggled up from the floor and then staggered back into the rocking chair. Eventually, he reminded her that he had made hot chocolate for her and offered to reheat it in the microwave.
She sat in the rocking chair, naked from the waist down, and sipped the chocolate.
"Frank, I can't do what you want on Monday. No way."
"How do you know?" he asked.
"Look, you're being crude. Just forget it."
"Let's just leave it at this. If you don't want to do it, don't come here. Easy enough. If you come, then I'm going to take that beautiful smooth ass. Your choice."
We also find the analytical tests that Connors did himself on the sample secretions from Lauren's panties. As Connors had theorized, her own secretions formed intricate aromatic side products similar to the synthetic pheromones. The more her body responded to him, the more intense the attraction would become.
Was he willing to push Lauren because he expected to have Rachel on a string next? Had Lauren whetted his appetite for a young and supple undergraduate? We'll never know.
I told you that I could not go on as you proposed for Monday. Can't we catch our breath now and learn a little about each other when we are together?
If you come on Monday, I will not go with you except to get a cup of coffee. Come around 10am when I have my regular break and Cathy can cover for me. Also, Charlie and Gillian will be back in day care with us and I have to be more careful about my schedule.
With warm hugs,
Lauren
Lauren
Lauren
"Hello," she greeted him from her side of the fence. She was determined not to leave the school with him until she was sure of what would happen. The heat spell of last week had abated, but she had again sweated through her dress in a fit of nervous perspiration. She was no longer nervous about having an affair; now she was nervous about having the wrong kind of affair.
"Do you read my emails at all?" she asked, taking the offensive immediately.
"Yes, of course, I do," he said, now leaning forward on the fence. "I'm sorry. I should have told you that I didn't think email was a good idea for us. I'm not ignoring you, but really, on the university system, those emails will be around for all eternity and you're inviting someone to run across them sometime."
"You're right about that part," she admitted, somewhat chastened. His argument made sense but the real reason she softened towards him was that he was standing so close. She was hungry for him and she could feel the stirring in her body.
"Still, you should have answered, at least to straighten things out between us."
"Yes, dear." He smiled mischievously, and she found herself laughing. For her, at least, the man was too sexy, too charming for her to stay angry with him long. "Why weren't your kids here last week?" he asked.
"Well, ordinarily Charlie and Gillian are here during the summer. They're the right ages. But Chuck's sister and her kids were visiting last week and it was better for all the cousins to be together even if I had to work." She pointed across the playground. "That's Charlie, with the blond hair on the swing. And Gillian has the red shorts over there in that group of girls."
"And Sarah?" he asked.
"Sarah's too old for the children's school. She has other activities over most of the summer, and we'll spend a month in Maine any way."
"A month!" he exclaimed in mock concern. "What will I do without you for a month?"
His smile pierced her heart. The memory of his hands warmed her body. Her resistance withered.
"Can you go for coffee?" she asked.
"No," he said flatly. "We have to go to my place so I can undress you."
And so, despite her most serious intentions, Lauren took her ten o'clock break by walking to Connors' house again. Charlie and Gillian were still in the playground, but they did not see their mother leave with this stranger.
As on her previous visits, he let her sit in the rocking chair.
"So you think I was being crude on Saturday morning?"
"I don't know any other word for it. Damn you, you don't know anything about me. I have a sister and two brothers. I have friends. I volunteer at the library. You don't care about any of that. You don't care enough to go out for a cup of coffee with me. How do you expect me to feel?"
"I care about all of those things," he protested "but you can tell me about all of them just as easily when you take your clothes off." She stood up and took him in her arms and kissed him. She intended this to be a restrained kiss, a kiss that would teach him how to slow things down; but in a few minutes she wanted him too badly and started undressing him. Before she could finish entirely, before she could take off his socks, she began to kiss his abdomen, to run her face against his cock, and to cradle his balls.
"So much for conversation," he taunted her. "Don't you think I have feelings too?"
She could think of no answer, and besides she had already stuffed her mouth with his cock. She worked it as hard as she knew how. She immediately wanted to savor a load of his cum in her mouth.
"Lie down," he told her. She settled onto the familiar rag rug in his front room, and he immediately straddled her chest. His penis was long and hard and purple in front of her face. When she could not reach it with her mouth or tongue, she began to stroke it with her hands, her left hand at the base, and her right hand making quicker grasping strokes on the hood. She waited for him to stiffen and arch his back when she achieved her goal, but she had soon rubbed his velvety surface dry and she had to stop and wet her hand with saliva.
Newly moistened, her fingers moved smoothly again. For a moment, his hips continued to move as though he were fucking her cupped hand, and then he bent forward and released a spray of semen on her face.
"Oh, Frank, yes." She opened her mouth but it was too late to catch and swallow more than a few drops. Instead, she lay still as his index finger gently spread each white drop into her skin. He daubed her eyebrows and her shut eyelids and then spread some of the cum across her upper lip. "Yes, do it. Do it! Just like that!" she murmured weakly.
As the scent of him wafted through her, she fainted right there on the floor, the vision of his still hard cock her last conscious perception.
Connors did not record the details of each sexual encounter in his notes. Most of what I know is what the women told me afterwards, checked against the emails, letters, specimens and lab notes I reviewed. Lauren's fainting spell, however, appears prominently in the notebooks along with Connors' hypothesis that there was an interaction between elements in his semen and the pheromone he had custom synthesized for Lauren.
Over the next three weeks Connors confirmed the hypothesis and reproduced the same chemical reaction experimentally. The pheromone that he applied to his own body -- in his pubic hair, the hair on his chest and under his arms -- together with a sample of the semen he recovered in the wash cloth from Lauren's face, combined to produce other volatile compounds not previously present in either. If she swallowed his semen directly, there could be little side reaction. With the semen on her face, and the pheromones in his pubic hair only inches away, the reaction was significant, and the effect overpowering.
The emails are also important for what they don't say. She no longer admonished him for not writing, nor did she revive the accusation of him being crude. She no longer voiced opposition to the "threesome." Each day, all day long, she hoped, begged and prayed that he would visit her again. In his lab notebooks, Connors concludes that the pheromone cocktail from his semen that was inadvertently delivered on Tuesday morning had effects that lasted at least several days beyond her fainting.
They met Saturday morning at the Community Sailing Club shed where they rent sailboats down on Lake Champlain. It seems this was their first "date." Lauren was a member of the club and by far the better sailor. In a few minutes she had rigged the little Laser and they were making their way out past the jetty with a small picnic basket in the bottom of the boat.
After they cleared the jetty, with Lauren pointing the boat up the lake and running before a southerly breeze, she could reclaim some of her attention from her sailing and concentrate on Connor. She wore a sundress with a one piece bathing suit underneath. She was hoping to take a dip in the cold water sometime during their sail.
"I got the babysitter until noon," she explained. They had a little more than three hours now to sail, get back to the dock, and then get her home. "Chuck is playing two rounds of golf today."
"I thought you didn't want to mention Chuck?"
"I just want you to know the arrangement. I really shouldn't be late."
"Do you still make love with him?" he asked.
She stared across the lake to the mountains on the New York side. Remarkably, her desire to have sex with her husband had not diminished at all. If she could untangle her guilt and fear from her purely physical desires, she would have guessed that she was, if anything, more receptive to Chuck. It had been less than two weeks since she had first been with Frank in her office. She and Chuck had made love twice in that time, both times on Friday night. Nothing unusual.
"Well? Are you going to answer me?" he pressed.
"Why can't you just let it alone? Being with you is different. I have no way to relate it back to my life. It is what it is."
"You might at least admit you feel something. I want to know. You say you were not even dreaming about having an affair."
"So what?"
"Just my weak male ego. I want to hear that you want me."
"You really should read my emails. They're all about lust. Five times a day I'm writing to you practically begging you to come over to the school and fuck me. It should do your male ego good."
There was a difference, as Lauren clearly perceived, between making love to Chuck and fucking with Connors. She had never before desired a simple fuck, but now, with him, it was irresistible.
"Take off your bathing suit. That would do me a lot of good right now."
"Not here." She gestured to the other boats.
"It will come off right under your dress." He took the tiller from her hand.
She reached under the shoulder of the dress, grasped the strap of her bathing suit and pulled it down her arm. Then she did the same on the other side, freeing her breasts under the dress. The next step was more difficult - to roll the suit down towards her waist without hiking up the dress. She watched him watching her. He held the main sheet and the tiller now and kept the wind in the sail. Her last movement was difficult but quick: with her thumbs in the rolls of the bathing suit at the sides, her hips lifted off the seat and with back resting briefly on the gunwale, she slid the bathing suit down her legs.
She took back the tiller and the main sheet.
"Come over on my side," she said. When he shifted his weight so that they were both to leeward, she pulled in the main sheet a little and let the increased pressure on the sail compensate for their weight.
"Will you please touch me now?" she asked. She was already leaning far back in the stern with her legs spread and braced against the bottom. He pulled her dress up and placed his left hand over her mound. Keeping her eyes on a point she had chosen further north, she rocked forward just an inch or two into his hand. Her movement opened her outer lips. She was wet and ready. Again, she thought, zero to sixty in twenty seconds.
"Deeper," she begged.
"No," was his answer. His fingertips danced lightly into her opening and then up to her clit. She tried to squeeze his fingers into her pussy by closing her thighs, but she was losing her balance and had to brace herself against the boat again. Then she pressed her feet on the bottom and lifted her pubic bone into his hands, but he merely lifted his hand to keep the same tantalizing, light pressure.
"Make me come." She nearly shouted at him. There were no boats nearby and anything they said was immediately lost in the wind.
His finger jiggled half an inch further in, but there was no longer any pressure on her mound or her clit. She moaned as he lightly traced her inner lips in a slow continuous circle that offered pleasure but no prospect of release. After a few more minutes, he put his wet finger in her mouth, and she licked it.
Then he moved away from her, back to the leeward side of the boat and she let out the main sheet again.
He sat so that he could see her pussy lips and the muscles of her inner thighs as she moved. Then he knelt on the bottom of the boat and placed one of his hands on each of her thighs. For a moment, she considered how best to keep the heading if he went down on her; but then, to her disappointment, he reached into the picnic basket and took out the thermos of coffee.
"I was worried when you fainted back at my place," he changed the subject.
"But you were not worried enough to come see me the next day," she complained.
"You recovered."
"Yes, I was fine. Still you should have called a doctor." She joked about it, but she wanted to needle him a bit. She remembered fainting dead away on the floor. She hardly ever felt faint and never while lying down. She had awoken to the feel of the warm wash cloth on her face as he wiped off the cum.
"So how do I know you really are a doctor?" she went on. "How do I know you don't work for the CIA? You still haven't told me anything about yourself."
"I've told you some very important things, but I don't know if you were listening. For instance, I told you that I'm not monogamous....like you are. You never said if that would bother you."
"You are a pig sometimes. I'm sorry I said you were crude. Actually, you're a pig."
"You're very brave to say that when you legs are wide open and I've already got you dripping wet." She tried to close her legs, but he quickly thrust one hand between her thighs and pried them apart. Once his face landed between her thighs, she could not push him away, even after she let go of the tiller and the main sheet, against all her instincts as a sailor.
Ten minutes earlier she had suffered from too light a touch, but now her button screamed under his pounding tongue. He pushed up the hood of her clit and used quick short flicks to make her squirm reflexively. Then he reached behind her and pulled her hips forward so his tongue could go deeper. He increased the pressure on her clit until she came, and then he resumed his seat on the other side.
"You sure do get off quick," he said, in a matter of fact way that infuriated her. OK, she thought, he made me come already. That's all I really wanted, wasn't it? Why should I put up with him any more this morning?
With no one on the tiller, the little Laser had quickly gone into irons. She realized that any nearby boats would notice their sail flapping backwards on the mast. It would draw attention to them in the stern. With a few expert tugs on the tiller, she brought the sail close enough to the wind to get them out of irons, and begin to tack.
"We don't have to go in yet," he said. "It's not ten o'clock yet."
She ignored him and tried to think of the quickest way to tack back in past the jetty.
"Come about, dear."
She could no longer ignore him when he knelt in the stern again between her knees.
"I still think you're a pig," she said, fiercely. "How can you make fun of me being monogamous? You think I want to hurt Chuck?" She tried to push his hand away, but two fingers had already burrowed inside of her, curving upward to the little seed up on the inside.
"I didn't ask you to do anything to hurt your husband. He doesn't have to know that you come every time I put my fingers up you cunt." She tried to push him away, but then, as the heat and pressure built up within her, she had to brace herself with both hands against the boat. She let go of the tiller and they went into irons again; and the wind pushed them north, away from the dock.
With his fingers still inside her, he started to eat her out again. She lasted less than a minute before she felt the next orgasm roll through her and she began to press her pussy into his face. When it was over, she did not even try to retrieve the main sheet which was now trailing along in the water alongside the boat.
He had now maneuvered her legs over his shoulders which let him pull her further forward on the seat. They made quite a sight in the stern of the boat.
"Why won't you let me take you up the ass?"
"Jesus," she murmured.
"You would like it," he continued. "When you were coming on the floor at my place, I had two fingers up your ass and you were sucking at them like there was no tomorrow. I was going to take you up the ass last time, but you fainted."
"Why did you let that stop you?"
She tried to pull his head away from her pussy by grabbing his hair, but she was not strong enough and he was too well entrenched.
"Next time, I'm going to take you. You know that don't you?" His fingers had left her pussy and were pressing against her anus. "But next time I'm gonna wait until you beg me to do it." The two fingers slipped past the sphincter now, lubricated with her own juice. She twisted her legs, but his mouth was on her again. There was no way to resist once his lips and tongue found their way inside her pussy and so her next orgasm came rumbling through her pelvis, rhythmically squeezing his buried fingers with each spasm.
Your body does the most amazing things. I can't imagine what my life would be like if you were in my bed every night.
Write to me. I want to know what you're thinking. Tell me when you are ready to come back to my place so that I can take you.
Hugs and kisses,
Frank
I don't regret meeting you. I doubt anything like our meeting will ever happen again in my life. I'm sorry we never became friends. This could have ended differently if we had.
Sincerely,
Lauren
She was sorely tempted to at least say hello, to let him down easy, but she realized that her own will power was limited, and she would find it hard to resist this sexy man if she came near enough to touch him. She felt relief to think this wild chapter of her life was over and that she could go back to being with Chuck without the guilty pleasures of her day.
The July Fourth holiday fell on a Tuesday which meant they got a four day weekend. Lauren spent a marvelous time with Chuck and her kids and her sister's family down at Lake George. Her sister, Ellen, took care of all the kids for one whole day which gave Lauren and Chuck a real day of vacation. They spent that day making love and then taking a canoe out to a small island where they could walk and be by themselves. Lauren was in heaven. The attraction of Frank was wearing off. She enjoyed every minute in Chuck's arms.
Then he called her at her office, the first day she was back at school.
"Hey, beautiful. It's me. How are you?"
"I'm doing well. How are you?" she asked warily.
"Life is good," he said. "I'd like to see you. Will you meet me at Peter's Place for coffee some day this week?"
"That's not a good idea. It's over Frank."
"Just for coffee? I'm not that dangerous."
"Yes, you are," she said. "I should know."
She was proud of herself. She was not about to let her guard down.
"Frank, I told you I don't want to see you anymore." She took the sail bag full of books from the back seat and turned her back on him. She started to walk towards her office when he tugged at her sleeve. Her resistance began to dissolve into desire at his approach, and by the time he took her hand she wanted to kiss him.
"Please," he said. "Just coffee. Can you do it today?"
"Yes, Peter's Place at my break."
He held both of her hands for several seconds and then he was gone. They had been together less than a minute from the time she got out of her car, but she knew already that she wanted him even more than before. She did not know why her resolve had melted so completely, but I do.
I know from the lab notebooks that Connor had escalated his chemical assault on Lauren that morning. Until that day in July, Lauren had been attracted solely by the pheromone tailored to her own DNA. Now he was wearing a cocktail containing not only the basic pheromone, but two others whose effect was much more powerful. He had reproduced the effect of her own vaginal secretions interacting with his pheromones. The vaginal secretions came from the pair of underwear he had taken from her that morning at his house. The second side product was synthesized to match the volatile elements of his semen mixed with her pheromones. He had taken the sample from the washcloth he used to clean his semen from her face.
The theoretical strength of this cocktail as estimated in his lab notebooks is astounding. Worse still, each type of pheromone seemed to reinforce the others. In practice, he already knew that one of the scents, derived from his semen, was enough to make her faint dead away with desire. Connors now possessed the pheromone equivalent of the hydrogen bomb, and his test that morning on Lauren in the parking lot showed its power.
If Lauren had been fighting against only the original synthetic pheromone, she might have had a chance; but against this triple attack she was powerless. Five minutes after she sat down next to him at Peter's coffee shop, she took his hand and led him out the door. Ten minutes later they were making love on the floor of his front room again with her dress pulled up over her hips. She was wet and ready as soon as they walked in his door and she seemed to come before her hips had made a half dozen strokes.
"That was quick," he said, drawing out his last few strokes before he spurted out his cum inside of her. "Too bad it's just your coffee break. Come back when Chuck is away on Saturday and I'll take you in the ass as I promised."
Lauren was too dazed to respond to his demeaning tone, and could barely point herself back to the campus when she left his porch. She did note that she was back in the playground that morning before eleven. Her astonishingly brief excursion had included a cup of coffee, a ten minute walking to his house, ten minutes to return and less than two minutes being fucked to a shivering orgasm on the floor of his front room.
She sat in his rocking chair for a while, sipping a hot chocolate and marveling that she had not yet jumped his bones. Good, she thought. Maybe I've regained some self-control. She calculated that by this time on Thursday, he had already fucked her and sent her back off to the school.
Lauren did not know that Frank was running a different kind of experiment today. According to the lab notebooks, he wasn't wearing any of the synthetic pheromone at all when she arrived.
"I'm worried," she told him. "I'm worried that Chuck will find out."
"We'll be discreet. I know you don't want to hurt him."
Lauren desperately wanted to believe that Connors would be discreet. She had spent all of Friday thinking things through again and again. Connors had a position on the faculty. It is a small town. He doesn't want a scandal any more than I do. No one will see me walk up his porch. Still, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she climbed the porch stairs and let herself in.
"He's gone until late tonight. He had a meeting in Boston, so he stayed to see his brother."
"Good. So you don't have to make excuses about where you are."
"Frank, I can't come here every Saturday. And it's just crazy if I come from school during the week. I just can't make excuses to come that often. I'll get caught out in a lie."
"Come when you think you can. I'm not asking for anything more."
"Can we go to your bedroom?" she asked. She had never before made it past his front room without making love.
"If you like."
She rose and took his hand. They walked up the stairs. There were framed movie posters on the walls. The Wizard of Oz. Casablanca. Gone With the Wind. Twelve Angry Men. The Maltese Falcon. The bed was covered with a thick duvet. Comfy, she thought, but not very practical for the summer.
He sat in a small wooden chair by the bed and made no move to hold her or to undress.
"You act like you don't want me to be here," she complained.
"Oh, but I want you very much."
She kicked off her sandals, unbuttoned her blouse, and then undid her jeans and sat on the bed to take them off. She took his hand again, but he did not rise from the chair.
"Don't you want to talk?" he asked.
"We can talk in bed. We can talk and kiss at the same time." She didn't know what to talk about. It was hard to admit that she came to him purely for physical arousal and release.
She stood in front of him in her underwear, letting him reach out and touch her thigh. She remembered the reaction of her body on other days to the heat of his touch. She stooped to unbutton his polo shirt.
"No. I'll do it," he said without moving.
"Come in the bed with me. I want to kiss you."
He stood up and undid her bra and then pulled off her panties sliding his hands slowly down her legs. Then he sat down again.
"Turn around and bend over," he told her. He pulled her forward and she felt his hands running between her thighs and then further back to spread her ass cheeks. Not that, she thought. Not like that. She was afraid of what he would do next. She noticed that for the first time, his touch on her bare skin had not aroused her. The searing heat of his touch was absent. She thought it was her fear and shame for what he wanted to do, but the difference was that he had not used any of the three types of pheromones.
Rather than turn around, she stooped forward tried to kiss him.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"I just told you what I want. I told you when we were on the boat."
She knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to fuck her up the ass. Now she sat down on the bed. She waited for him to speak again, but he didn't. After a few moments, he rose and walked into the large bathroom adjoining the bedroom. He closed the door.
As soon as he closed the door, she looked on the bed for her bra and put it back on. By the time she heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink, she had pulled on her underwear and had firmly decided to leave. The pig, she thought. He really is a pig.
She was standing and buttoning her blouse when he came back to the bedroom. It must have been during that trip to the bathroom that he applied the strong pheromone cocktail to his body as indicated in his lab notebook entry for that session. The triple pheromone had an immediate effect when he returned. She kissed him and held him tightly in her arms. Her mouth moved frantically against his and she found her tongue in his mouth. Her pelvis pressed into him hungrily and the expected heat came at last to her mound. When his hand reached down into her underwear, she pushed even harder against him.
"Oh, please. Yes, please!" Her voice was a low murmur.
"Why are you getting dressed again?" he asked.
"Can't you just make love to me?" She was still afraid of what he wanted to do. For her, this seemed like the ultimate betrayal of Chuck, to do this with Connors when she had forbidden it to her own husband for so many years.
He withdrew his hand from between her legs, and cupped her breast in his hand through the bra. She wanted him to keep it there, and so she lay her hands over his.
"You're breasts are so beautiful," he said. " So soft. I want to take them in my mouth."
"Yes, please," she begged. She was not even thinking as her fingers undid the bra again.
He lay on the bed now, fully clothed, and so she clambered after him and straddled his thighs, but he stopped her when she tried to unbuckle his belt.
"I told you out on the boat. I'm going to make you beg for it."
She tried to stop his mouth with kisses, one hand still trying to work his belt buckle and caressing his thigh. He had a massive erection under his pants..
"You're so hard already," she said. "Let me do it."
She pushed her hands away. Then she lowered her breast to his mouth so he could take her nipple, but he turned his head.
"Come on, Lauren. Beg me for it. Beg me to take you up the ass."
Now she reversed her straddle, her womanly bottom turned towards his face, and her hands were free to tear open his belt and zipper. As soon as she had the belt open, she scampered again down to the middle of the bed so she could pull down his pants and underwear, pausing only a moment to yank off his shoes and toss them on the floor Before she could take off her panties and climb on top of his erection, he sprang up and took her in his arms, and then slowly forced her onto the bed beneath his body.
"How do you want it?" he taunted her. "Doggie style? Or you can kneel on the floor and bend over the bed."
"No, Frank. Don't do that to me."
"Does no mean no?" he asked. "You say 'no' for the moment, but I'm going to waiting until you beg. How long do you think you can hold out until you beg?"
He reached down and pushed aside the crotch of her panties to slip a finger inside her wet pussy. When the finger returned to wipe the juice on her face, she groaned with desire. Then he pushed one of his thighs between hers and waited for her to start pumping her panty-covered mound against him before he pulled away again and held her wrists.
In frustration, she bit her lip and bucked her hips under him, wanting to push him off, wanting to get her panties off, wanting to mount his erection.
"I can keep you just like this until you can't stand it any more," he threatened. To emphasize his point he pressed down and she felt an exquisite but all-too-brief pleasure between her legs. Then, flexing his hips he jabbed his erection into her panty crotch. Still in her underwear she could not take him inside of her. Then, an instant later, he returned to his straddle outside her legs and she had no stimulation at all where her pussy ached.
"Please, let me take off my underwear."
"Think about how your tiny hole was squeezing my fingers last time. Today you get to squeeze my cock instead, you lucky girl. But you have to beg me for it first."
Her wrists hurt from his grip, and his weight was too much for her to throw off. It was easy for him to tease her by lowering his erection flat against her mound, stoking the heat inside her, and then pulling up again after a moment.
She bit her lip. Please, l want to come, she thought. Almost. Almost. She arched her back and pressed upwards as hard as she could, but without success. Finally, in shock, she tasted blood in her mouth. She had bitten the inside of her lip too hard.
"OK," she panted. "I give up. You win."
He rolled easily off her body and released her wrists.
"There's K-Y gel in the medicine cabinet. You really should get it before we do anything else."
She got up, got the jelly and took off her panties before she got back in the bed. She immediately tried to mount him; but he continued to toy with her, sliding his cock along the length of her pussy and shifting it aside when she thrust forward to slide him in. A jab of white hot pleasure shot through her when the head of his penis pushed directly on her clitoris, and she thought her orgasm would follow. Again he evaded her. Damn you, she thought. She could not find release without rhythmic stroking, or at least the fullness of his cock inside her.
She threw the tube of jelly in his face.
"Here. Do it, you bastard" she cried, kneeling on the bed with her ass in the air and her head cushioned on her forearms.
"Really?" he mocked. "I thought you could hold out longer than that. Now, let's see your little rosebud back here."
He moved his hands over the flesh of her ass, tickling and teasing before he applied the lubricant. The cold of the jelly was a surprise. Lauren had never had any reason to use anything like that with Chuck. For a moment she thought back to the Fourth of July weekend at Lake George and making love to Chuck in their own slow, lazy way. Not like the intense, quick sensation of what she did here with Frank.
The sharp pressure of his finger slipping inside her anus brought her back to the present and to the reality of his erection planted between her thighs and pressing up against her lower abdomen. Several times she made a quick intake of breath when his finger plunged in or pulled out entirely for more jelly. Then she froze as his penis slid back the length of her pussy and settled against her anus. One of his hands snaked around her hip and steadied her for the pressure.
"Do it, Frank. Just fuck me. Just do it now." She was still hoping he would take her aching pussy instead of violating her hole.
"This is a good time to tell you about Rachel," he announced.
He pushed hard enough for Lauren to reflexively squeeze herself tight at the sharp short pain and the indignity of hearing him talk about another woman. He was still on the outside.
"Rachel likes girls. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."
Lauren was furious, but she did not try to break away from him. The hand that had moved forward was now teasing her above her clitoris with a soft, slow massage. She felt that her climax was only seconds away, but another strong push against her sphincter replaced her pleasure with fear and her immediate reflex kept him out again.
"I hope you get to like Rachel because she might be here the next time you come."
This time he made a sharp jab and pulled her back towards him with both hands.
"No! Stop." she screamed. The pain was intense and she tried to pull away, but he rode forward with her and slammed his cock another inch further up her rectum when she landed flat on the bed. Slowly, he pulled her back up on her knees so that she could rock her pelvis back and forth.
"That's good," he said. "Now let's do this together. In just a little. Then out just a little."
She picked up the pace herself, desperate for the stimulation that would suffuse her body. Her sex was wide open, her clitoris hot and hard and unhooded. His hand returned to the spot above her clit and the massage became the center of her being, the focus of the fullness in her ass and the heat in her pussy. Unmistakably, her orgasm began to erupt until it overshadowed the pain that wedged her apart. A sharp shudder went through her as her womb and then her entire pelvis took up the rhythm of contraction. He pushed another half inch inside of her to counter the contractions, and then he let the spasms travel through her at their own pace. Just as he had predicted, her ass squeezed at his cock as each wave of pleasure broke on her body.
When the spasms ended there was no longer either pleasure or pain, only an immense fullness as if all her organs were swollen and displaced forward. She did not know that he had never entered more than about three inches this first time. Rather than withdraw, he guided her to lie on her side, his penis hard and sometimes twitching within her. He stayed inside her for another half hour at least, occasionally stroking just enough to maintain his erection, and teasing her with his description of Rachel.
She left humiliated. Her anger had passed the boiling point.
You are the worst piece of scum imaginable. Don't you ever call me or come near the school again. I hate you.
Sarah, her eight year old daughter answered the door.
"Mom," she called. "There's a man here to see you."
Lauren was speechless when she came to the door and saw that it was Frank. Finally she spoke to her daughter.
"Go in and take care of Charlie and Gillian," she said brusquely, stepping outside with Frank and closing the door.
As soon as she stood next to him, she felt her knees grow weak with the familiar desire that melted her insides and would have her dripping into her panties in another few minutes.
"Don't let's stand here," he said, taking her arm. "Sit with me in the car for a minute." He led her to the driveway and opened the passenger side door of his car for her. She got in and he got in on the driver side.
"Here" he said before she could speak. "I think you need this." He was already pulling his cock out of his pants. Lauren immediately felt the desire - the word she used was "the compulsion" -- to suck him off. She needed to taste his cum and to feel his cock in her mouth. Her anger was forgotten for the moment and she leaned over his lap, but he grabbed two handsful of her hair and held her inches away from the pungent source of her desire.
"Lauren," he spoke slowly and calmly, stroking her hair. "I think we need to have an agreement. You can't send me any more emails like you did today."
She suffered an indescribable torture to be that close to burgeoning erection and still to be held away. Still, Connors did not release her.
"It makes me feel rejected," he explained patiently. "When I'm afraid, I'll lose you and then I have to come here to your house." Then he yanked her upright by her hair, forcing her to look at him directly. "And when I come here, you get excited, don't you? You act like a slut, don't you?"
"Please, just let me suck you off. I'll do whatever you want. I'll do a threesome with Rachel. Anything. Just let me take you in my mouth."
"What would you do if Chuck were here right now? You'd suck me off right in front of him wouldn't you? You'd suck me off in front of you kids, too."
She knew it was true. If Sarah were standing right at the passenger side window watching, she still would not be able defeat the urge to suck him off and to bathe herself in his cum right now.
"Let's agree that you won't write things like that any more and I won't come to your house any more."
She was listening, but her attention was on the swollen cock that she grasped in her hands and wanted in her mouth.
"Yes, Frank. I swear it. I'll never say anything like that again. Just let me suck now, please."
His cock felt like a hot steel rod in her hand and his girth told her that he would come in a minute if she could only take him in her mouth.
He released her and she immediate plunged her mouth over his cock, frantically working up and down, sliding as much of her tongue as possible across the knob on each stroke. When he ejaculated, he pulled up her head after the second spurt. She moaned in misery that she could not swallow his cum -- to have half of his load of white ecstasy on her hands and permeating the air in the car instead of filling her mouth.
Her instinct was to lick the cum from her hands, but he took her wrists and forced her to wipe her hands on her face. The exquisite scent filled her consciousness and made her head spin; and for a few seconds, she lost her bearings and slumped back into the seat.
"Thank you, honey," he said. "Go back into the house. I don't want the children to be worried about you."
Lauren desperately wanted to go back inside, but she wanted just as desperately to lick up the last drops of cum from his cock and the hair around it. For several long minutes she could not stir from the seat to do the one thing or the other. Her eyelids closed of their own weight several times and she thought she would lose consciousness entirely; but after he zipped up his fly, the lure of his sex diminished slightly; and her fear of Chuck's return prevailed. She attempted to open her door and stand up.
Still, she could not quite muster the strength to stand and so she sat for another minute, dazed and desperate, with her legs stretched out from the car. Then, still uncertain of her balance, she staggered back into the house.
Not until the kids were in bed and she could take a shower, did she defeat the desire to lick up those last traces of cum from her hands. Three times she scrubbed her face and rinsed under the shower before she felt that the scent of his cum had been diminished enough for her to think straight. Never, she realized, could she defy him again. Her desire was too strong.
End of Chapter 1