Message-ID: <53961asstr$1149027001@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-AntiAbuse: This header was added to track abuse, please include it with any abuse report X-AntiAbuse: ID = a7147a6326a1c84f7f3f13b79a17f5db Reply-To: rivyavtry@myway.com From: "Riv" <rivyavtry@myway.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Original-Message-ID: <20060530185646.B2A6646880@mprdmxin.myway.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 30 May 2006 14:56:46 -0400 (EDT) Subject: {ASSM} Pheromonicon 3/? {RivYavtry} (MF mc? MF oral) Lines: 278 Date: Tue, 30 May 2006 18:10:01 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2006/53961> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: emigabe, newsman Please let me know if you want the series to continue. Riv Yavtry ********************************************************************* There was something I needed to research. Pheromones are volatile substances and quickly evaporate, although they have a tendency to cling to body hair - underarm or pubic. My formulations were dissolved in liquid paraffin to make them evaporate more slowly but the mousemat had caused Martin to masturbate some six hours after it was treated, rather longer than I anticipated. I needed proper measurements on evaporation rates and their effect on potency. I would like to say I did the decent thing with the recording but I didn't. What would have been the right thing to do? Delete the recording of the CEO's twin 14‑year‑olds giving up their virginities? Probably. Telephone the CEO to tell him that if his kids continued to fuck like rabbits when they went near their computers, he should replace their mousemats? No chance. What I actually did was to edit from the recording the long stretches when nothing happened in the bedroom, and burn the results onto DVD. I had no intention of showing the DVD to anyone - although I had covered my tracks as well as I knew how, I wasn't certain that a professional couldn't uncover my IP Address from the Martin's computer's logfiles so I didn't want anyone to know the recording existed. I enjoyed watching it though! Back at work on Monday everything seemed normal. I waded through the backlog in my office in‑tray - mainly management memos about boring, routine stuff, but also a couple of industry‑related publications that were circulated round the department to people who were interested. While leafing through one of the publications I spotted a notice for a symposium in Atlanta on pheromones. I read through the synopsis of the papers to be presented. The researchers were all years behind me but one or two topics looked potentially interesting. I checked the dates of the symposium - it wasn't a full week, only four days, but it started the following Monday. I went to Dr Hadaway's office. His usual secretary wasn't there, there was a twenty‑something large-breasted blonde at the desk. Everything about her seemed a little over‑the‑top - her hair was a bit too blonde, her breasts were a bit too large and over‑exposed, and I could smell her perfume from six feet away and it wasn't one of hours. "Could I see Dr Hadaway please?" "Just a moment. What name should I give?" "Dr Hardy." The secretary picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Dr Hadaway, Dr Hardy would like to see you." After a short pause for his answer, she indicated I should go in. I knocked on the door and entered. "Good morning, Brian. I hope you enjoyed the garden party." "Yes thanks, it was very interesting. I'm glad you twisted my arm." "I saw you met the terrible twins. It must be a nightmare living with two hormonal teenagers who are constantly at war." Of course he didn't know that they had also made love as well as war. "Anyway, you come to my office so rarely that I'm sure you're not here to pass the time of day. What can I do for you?" "I know it's short notice but I'd like to take a few days off next week." "That's no problem, things are quiet at the moment and you've got quite a backlog of leave to use up. Are you going somewhere?" "Sort of. I'm interested in research into pheromones and there's a symposium in Atlanta. I'll try to book a place if it's not too late." I showed the symposium details to Dr Hadaway. "I've been in this industry over thirty years and pheromones have always been the next big thing but it still hasn't happened. I'll make you a deal. You write a summary of the papers and what relevance they have for our company and I'll make it an official trip. We'll pay for the symposium, business class flights and a decent hotel and it won't come out of your leave entitlement. How does that sound?" "Thank you, that's very generous." Back at my office I phoned the symposium organisers. There were still a few places left so that wasn't a problem. Then I phoned my Aunt Doris and Uncle Len. Aunt Doris is mother's older sister and she used to have rather a racy reputation, but since she had married Uncle Len and moved to Atlanta there hadn't been a whiff of anything improper. Since they were now in their late sixties, it was likely to stay that way. If I was going to Atlanta I was duty‑bound to pay them a visit. Aunt Doris answered the phone. "Hello Aunt Doris, it's your nephew Brian." "Brian, my favourite nephew, this is a pleasure. How are you?" Actually I was her only nephew. We exchanged pleasantries then I told her about my trip to Atlanta. "That's wonderful. You'll come and stay with us, won't you?" "I can't, Aunt Doris. The company are putting me up in a hotel. But I'd like to call in and see you one evening." "That would be lovely. Any evening but Monday, as that's when Len and I have our evening of debauchery. I go on a ladies night out to the casino and Len has his poker game." We settled on Tuesday evening, then said our goodbyes. The company has a central reservation system for flights and hotel rooms and I e‑mailed them with my requirements. Later that day I got a response. The flights were booked but all their approved hotels were busy - apparently there were a lot of other conferences on the same week. Rather than spend hours phoning round other possible accommodation or trusting the big‑breasted blonde to do it, I decided to bite the bullet and accept Aunt Doris' offer. I phoned her back and explained the situation and she was only too happy to put me up, so I told her to expect me Sunday afternoon. The rest of the week passed relatively uneventfully. I had another very nice lunch with Anne in the company restaurant on Wednesday which passed too quickly. And I went past the park a couple of evenings on my way home - I thought I saw the kid playing on the swing both times, even though it was raining heavily the second time. Sunday I caught a cab to the airport and checked in. Everything went smoothly until the plane started taxiing before take‑off. It stopped and the captain made an announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid we have an electrical fault. We must ask you to disembark and return to the departure lounge while the plane is repaired or replaced. Please listen carefully for further announcements." We all groaned and trooped off the plane. Back at the departure lounge the airline company's representatives met us with vouchers for drinks and snacks in the refreshment area. I phoned Aunt Doris to let her know that I would be late and I didn't know how long, and she insisted that it would be no trouble. It was five hours before the plane was repaired and we were able to take off. In Atlanta I caught a cab to my aunt's place and arrived shortly before eleven. Aunt Doris was still up, but Uncle Len had gone to bed. "Poor Len, he gets so tired these days, he hasn't energy for anything. We still share a bed but we're more like best friends these days. I made you some dinner. Would you like me to warm it up?" "I'm sorry Aunt Doris, I'm really tired and registration for the symposium starts at nine tomorrow. I'd just like to go to bed if that's ok." However she forced some apple pie and cream on me, and it certainly tasted good after airport junk. Next morning both Aunt Doris and Uncle Len were up so over breakfast we discussed family matters - who lived where and with whom sort of thing. Aunt Doris gave me a key and the alarm code in case they weren't home when I got back. I caught a cab to the symposium venue, registered, helped myself to coffee and mingled with the other attendees. The papers presented were mildly interesting but only confirmed that my research was way ahead of everyone else. I asked a few questions for clarification but I was careful not to suggest that I was particularly active in the field. A number of restaurants close to the venue had been recommended to me. I decided on a Chinese restaurant, and when I found some of the other symposium attendees had the same idea, I joined them. It was flattering to discover that several of the group worked in cosmetics and had heard of me. There were plenty of hints about me joining their companies, but I made it clear I was happy where I was. After dinner I got a cab back to my aunt's place. Nobody was home. An idea came to me. I hadn't investigated the effects of age on pheromone production. All my research subjects had been twenty and thirty‑somethings who were on cosmetic trials for the company and they had been completely unaware that I had taken additional samples and measurements for my private research. It seemed intuitive that significant pheromone production didn't take place until puberty - what if it tailed off as people got older and went through the menopause? Aunt Doris would certainly not be taking the pill and was probably too old for HRT. I had brought my collection of eight pheromone preparations with me. Like a naughty child I snuck into my aunt's bedroom. I worked out the appropriate pheromone formulations and dabbed tiny amounts onto my aunt's nightdress and my uncle's pyjamas. Then I went to the lounge and read the hard‑copies of the papers presented at the symposium that day. My aunt arrived home first. We had a nightcap, then I retired to bed. Sometime later I was woken by creaking bedsprings and moans of pleasure. That was the first time one of my trials had worked in a guilt‑free way! Fortunately the creaking didn't go on too long. Next morning I was woken by the bedsprings again and more moaning. At breakfast Aunt Doris looked like the cat that got the cream. "Uncle Len's having a lie‑in. I think he's over‑exerted himself recently." The rest of the symposium was as uneventful as the first day. Aunt Doris and Uncle Len didn't exercise the bedsprings again so either the pheromones had worn off or they had worn each other out. I didn't get a chance to apply more pheromones to test which. I flew home Friday morning after saying goodbyes to my aunt and uncle and taking goodwill messages for various family members although I didn't really intend to see in the near future. Although they insisted it wasn't necessary I left them a tidy sum to cover the cost of my visit. After all, the company paid a standard rate if you stayed in accommodation other than one of their approved hotels, and it wasn't fair for my aunt and uncle to be out‑of‑pocket. Next Monday, back at work, I went through my in‑tray. There were no surprises, and anything that had needed urgent attention had been capably dealt with by Anne. Later in the day Dr Hadaway made a surprise visit to the lab to have a quiet word with me. "Just between you and me, something happened at the Kronsteins' after the garden party and Irving has taken emergency leave to cope with it. If there are any budgetary decisions to be made above my authorization limit, I'm afraid they'll have to wait until he gets back or the board nominates a stand‑in." I finished my symposium report on Tuesday. I highlighted a couple of developments that were potentially interesting to the company, but recommended merely monitoring them rather than starting our own research in the field. I wasn't deliberately trying to stifle competition, the research in the papers really was immature. On Wednesday I went to lunch with Anne. She seemed nervous about something so I asked her if anything was wrong. "Oh God, I'm going to make a mess of this. It's about Saturday. It's my birthday. I don't want a party and I don't have any close friends anyway and I want to do something special so I was hoping you'd let me buy you dinner. Nothing flash, perhaps the new Mexican restaurant." She was a bit breathless and embarrassed after reeling that off at breakneck speed, but she also seemed relieved that she'd got it over with. I was very flattered to have been invited. "I can't possibly. It's your birthday. I should be buying you dinner." We argued the toss for a while then reached a compromise. Anne would pay for the meal and I would pay for the drinks and cab fares. Saturday I reached Anne's place slightly early, with a large sprawling bouquet of flowers. She was ready and waiting, but took a couple of minutes to put the flowers in water while the cab waited. She was dressed conservatively in a knee‑length patterned skirt and plain green sweater, but I found the clothes mildly erotic because of the mystery they hinted at underneath. I had opted for smart‑casual again. We got to the restaurant early. It hadn't been open long and wasn't part of a TexMex chain. Our table wasn't ready so we had aperitifs. The food was very good, and we opted for a bottle of bog‑standard red wine to accompany it. However when we got to dessert I splashed out on a bottle of quality champagne. Anne protested at the expense but not for too long - it was decent stuff and went down very easily. After dinner we caught a cab back to Anne's apartment. Her inhibitions lowered by the quantity of alcohol she invited me in for a coffee, and I readily accepted. The apartment was sparsely furnished but functional, a stark contrast to the flowers. Everything was clean and tidy and it looked as though someone had only just moved in. Certainly there was very little evidence of a woman's touch. We sat next to each other, lying back on the sofa, drinking coffee. "Oh Brian, it's been such a lovely evening. It's been my best birthday for a long time. I really am grateful." I gave her a kiss on the lips and she responded. "I've had a great time too. I've eaten an excellent meal that you paid for, and now I'd love to eat you too." She did nothing to indicate that she was unhappy with the idea, so I got off the sofa and knelt between her legs. I lifted the front of her skirt up over her hips exposing her panties - not surprisingly they were Bridget Jones‑style `big pants'. I kissed my way up her silky smooth inner‑thighs until I reached her crotch. Anne was breathing heavily. I slipped my thumbs under the waistband of her panties and peeled them down. Anne lifted her ass off the sofa so that I could slide the panties from underneath her, then I peeled them down her legs and over her feet. I kissed my way up her thighs again until I reached her pussy. It was ungroomed and smelt musky and I could see her cunt was becoming moist. I parted her cunt lips and licked inside. The taste was strong but not unpleasant. Anne moaned rhythmically as I traced circles round her swollen clit with my tongue. I moistened a finger in her wetness and tried to slip it into her cunt but she went rigid and clenched her muscles, barring entry. I looked up and saw shock on her face. "I'm sorry Anne, I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you want me to stop?" She didn't reply so I started again, kissing my way up her thighs. Anne relaxed and the heavy breathing resumed. I tongued little circles round her clit, occasionally breaking rhythm to flick her clit with my tongue. She was moaning loudly and getting close to cumming. I moistened a finger again and traced round the puckered pink ring of her anus. The moaning got heavier, so I pushed my finger against her sphincter and she responded by letting me enter. I was in her tight fiery hole up to the knuckle when she came long and loudly, her thighs clenching my head and her anal muscles spasming round my finger. I looked up and saw Anne was crying. "I'm sorry Anne, I thought you were enjoying it" "Oh Brian, I'm crying with happiness. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I'm sorry about earlier. I'll explain one day but I'm a bit tipsy and emotional and now's not the best time." "You've nothing to be sorry for and I'm glad you enjoyed it. I think I'd probably better go now while I'm ahead." I gave her a goodnight kiss on the lips, tasting the spicy food and champagne on her breath. "Goodnight, birthday girl." Then I caught a cab home. _______________________________________________ No banners. No pop-ups. No kidding. Make My Way your home on the Web - http://www.myway.com ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to inadequate formatting. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ <1st attachment begin> <HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+