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Reply-To: rivyavtry@myway.com
From: "Riv" <rivyavtry@myway.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pheromonicon 3/? {RivYavtry} (MF mc? MF oral)
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Date: Tue, 30 May 2006 18:10:01 -0400
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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

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