Sexlixir Ch. 02

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What is the ultimate heterosexual male fantasy? To be able to have sex with any woman you choose. And for a few amazing, dizzy, years in the 1970s, I was able to do just that. Yes, really. The secret? Pheromones. Or, rather, fake pheromones. Created in the 1960s, after long research, by my friend Phil, a brilliant biochemist. Having narrated some early experiences using this sexlixir, I go on now to an adventure with an older woman.

She was Hungarian, which may have been significant. She was seventy-four. She was not actually the intended target, and what happened was an example of how care had to be taken in using the sexlixir. In this case the result was delightful, but there were potential hazards.

I was giving a slide presentation, and leading a seminar afterwards, at a conference held in a hotel, and my topic had attracted an all-female audience of a dozen or so. I had not had many sexual opportunities lately, so was feeling frustrated, and reckless. Any of those women would have done, whatever age or shape.

The slide show went fine till the last couple of images, but these were not vital. After it, I nipped up to my room, while the seating was being rearranged, and applied the sexlixir. I also stopped at reception to report the projector fault. As I was approaching the room again, however, the fire alarm sounded.

Rather than re-entering, therefore, I summoned the women into the corridor and pointed them to the exit, whither I hastened myself, having checked all the rooms on the vicinity. Outside, on a damp winter day, the potion’s effect would have been greatly reduced, even supposing I could stand amidst my group. Further, the disturbance lasted almost all the time allocated to the seminar, so by the time we were back inside it was time to get ready for dinner.

I therefore headed back to the seminar room to collect my slides. My targets were all elsewhere, of course, but there was an elderly woman up a ladder tinkering with the ceiling mounted projector. Her legs, in tights, were in fact what drew my eyes when I went in. She was dressed in a suit, and though the skirt was not all that short her elevation allowed me to see up it a certain way as I moved to the foot of the ladder.

To cover the voyeurism, I said, ‘Shouldn’t someone be holding this ladder?’

Continuing with her work, in an accent I did not at once recognise, she said, ‘The technician has gone somewhere and this is needed after dinner.’

The legs were shapely, and the bottom, just above my head, was also shapely, and further up was a prominent bosom. Perhaps there would be enough potency left in the stuff to do the trick. I held the ladder and awaited developments.

After a few minutes the lady descended to the lowest step, and I found myself looking into a pleasant, smiling, lined face under elegantly-cut short, white hair. Her grey eyes studied me and her mouth twitched as if she found me amusing. She asked, ‘Did you want something?’

I was tempted to say, ‘Yes. You.’ Instead, standing as close as I dared, I explained about the laptop and that it was I who had reported the fault.

‘Do you know anything about these things?’ She pointed upwards. Then she stepped down and offered her hand. ‘I am Ilona. This is my hotel, so I have to do anything if my staff is not available.’

I took her large, strong hand and told her my name. She was in no hurry to release me, and continued to regard me with that slightly mocking smile. I looked into her eyes with the gaze I thought of as my ‘through the eyes down into the knickers’ look.

She said, ‘Dinner will be soon. Are you hungry?’

I was sure she had read my look and the kartal escort bayan enquiry was not about need for food.

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I am hungry.’ Emphasising the word with a squeeze of her hand.

‘You know,’ she said, ‘I have not been in this situation for some time.’

‘Are you finding it enjoyable?’ I asked.

‘Let us be clear about the situation,’ she said. ‘I think you are wanting to have sexual intercourse with me. Is that right?’

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘From when you stood below me I thought that was it.’

I wondered if the sexlixir had been performing its magic or if she had picked up my need and desire, my response to her appearance.

‘Would you like to have sexual intercourse with me, Ilona?’ I ventured.

In answer she pressed my hand to her thigh and let go. I raised her skirt and slipped the hand underneath. She was not wearing tights. They were stay-ups and as my hand encountered bare leg she trembled. This was evidence enough, but she pressed herself against me and lifted her face for a kiss. During this I slid my fingers under her knicker-leg and found them groping into hairless labia. Should I go south into vagina or north into upper vulva? I went upwards a few centimetres and was startled to find an enormous, hard, swelling. My touch induced a violent shudder.

‘It was always a big csiklo,’ she said, ‘But did you know they get bigger as ladies grow older? I am seventy-four, you see, so now it is very big. Perhaps you don’t like? Then we will stop, and you will go for dinner.’

I gently stroked that magnificent clitoris and held her tightly with my other arm.

‘That is good,’ she whispered. ‘Soon I will komm. Do you want?’

‘Yes. Come, Ilona, come.’

Later I was able to check that as she approached orgasm her ‘csiklo’ hardened, like a little, or not so little, penis. Then she came. I thought for a moment she had collapsed, because I had to snatch my hand out of her pants in order to hold her in both arms.

She even seemed to have stopped breathing. Then she drew an enormous breath and said, ‘I have not komm to a man for a time, but it is better as I go older, I think.’

‘That was amazing and wonderful,’ I said.

‘I would like again,’ she said, ‘But I cannot straightaway. It must go soft. Shall we have dinner and then we can go alone, and not with clothes?’

Of course, I readily agreed. She reached up her skirt, settled her knickers, and said, ‘Also with being old it is not so wet.’

As we passed reception, she ordered the receptionist to locate the technician and get him set onto the faulty projector. Then we separated to shower before dinner. Which led me to debate whether to renew the sexlixir afterwards or assume that the spell had already been cast. Later experience would tell me that sometimes I did not need to renew the pheremonial stimulus, having once achieved intimacy, but with more resistant women the pressure had to be maintained. On this occasion I decided against renewal. I had a thorough wash, shaved, cleaned my teeth and applied a little after-shave.

Soon we were at the buffet in the dining-room. She was now wearing a midnight-blue, close-fitting dress, which showed off her bosom nicely. The staff had clearly been trained not to pay particular attention to her and none of the conferees knew her, so we were soon at table with our food and conversing easily.

I learned she had fled Hungary in 1956 and settled in Britain, marrying a short while after and building a catering business with her husband. Success included a small chain of hotels, but when her husband died she deeded all the others to her daughter, escort maltepe and retained this one, to keep herself busy.

There was an interesting moment in our conversation when I almost revealed the secret of the sexlixir.

She asked, ‘How did I know when you came to that ladder that you wanted to do sex with me? I was not looking down and you didn’t say anything.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘As soon as I saw you I wanted very much to do sex with you, so I was broadcasting the desire through the atmosphere.’

Naturally, I was at the after-dinner conference session, whether or not the projector was working again, because I was upstairs in the owner’s private suite. Where we were in no hurry, since we knew what was to happen. She made some excellent coffee in her little kitchen and we continued to talk. And when the coffee was finished she took me into her bedroom.

We kissed, gently at first and then we greater urgency. She unzipped my fly, found my hard cock and said, ‘I have not held one of these for a long time. You will put it inside me?’

‘Would you like that?’ I asked.

‘I like the feeling inside, but it does not make me komm.’

I said, ‘I think I know what does make you komm, and I want to do that very much.’

She stood away from me a little way and asked, ‘Do you want to see me without clothes? I am an old woman and perhaps you just like me to be without panty?’

In answer I found the zip at the back of the dress and drew it down. She stepped out of it and was standing in a full length shiny slip. This I drew off over her head. Now she was in her matching lacy black bra and knickers, and I reflected as I have done so often, that a woman’s age is almost irrelevant to the beauty of her body, because what counts is how she has cared for it. Ilona had, as I already knew, worked hard physically in her business, cleaning, cooking, lifting and carrying, and was still a hands-on proprietor. She had eaten sparingly and followed a sensible diet. So now, though there were signs of age, she could have passed for a woman twenty years or thirty years younger. As was confirmed when I drew off the bra.

Her breasts were heavy and sagged a little without support, but they were deep and smooth, and the dark brown nipples were already erecting. She did what never fails to move me when a woman does it. She cupped her bosoms and lifted them, nipples offered.

I needed no further invitation. I moved her to and onto the bed, lay beside her and took a nipple into my mouth.

She flinched a second, but not in pain, and said, ‘You are liking my breast. It is not so big and firm now, but it can feel just like always. It can make me komm.’

This was encouraging and I began to suck and lick the nipples in turn, tweaking the one not in my moth between finger and thumb. She began to pant and lifted the tits towards me to help my ministrations, and after a few minutes she let go a breast to take the back of my head in her hand and clamp my mouth against the breast it was currently attending to. If I had any doubt about whether an older woman’s breasts would swell at orgasm they were agreeably dispelled. I felt the aureole harden and crinkle and the nipple stiffened between my lips.

She said, ‘Oh yes, please, I am going to komm,’ she said. ‘It is going into my body. Keep still now. Yes, it komms. Oh, that is good, that is goof.’

After some minutes I took my mouth away and we lay loosely embraced, till she said, ‘It is easier for komming now I am old. It makes me feel young again and happy. My breasts fill with good feelings, like they are full of milk again, the feelings go everywhere.’

‘That pendik escort was so exciting, Ilona,’ I told her. ‘I have never seen a woman come, or komm as you say it, just from her breasts.’

‘Also I komm from my csiklo. You know that from before.’

‘Could you komm from it again?’ I asked.

‘Oh yes, I think so, but don’t you want to go inside me?’

‘Yes, I certainly do, but I would like to see your csiklo and make it komm again,’ and reached for her knickers.

‘You must not be surprised that I don’t have hairs on my sexual parts. Old ladies lose them, you know,’ she said.

I told I had felt that earlier and that I was eager to see her naked sex parts, and I pulled off the knickers. As expected her labia were bare, but what took my eye particularly was the clitoris. It filled the upper end of her vulva, serving to part the inner lips. And though it was so large, much of it was hidden within the sheath. Its head protruded but its shaft was concealed. On the other hand, its presence was clear enough for the hood was distended by the clit within it. The glans was near purple, charged with blood, fully erect. It cried out to be sucked and I lost no time in taking it between my lips and tonguing its full length.

‘So long since someone did like that,’ she said, ‘I will komm quick, very soon. It is ready from the breasts. It is ready now. Now I will komm. I komm!’ Her voice choked in her throat with the intensity. Her breathing was ragged and she shook as if fevered.

I lay alongside and held her as she recovered and went limp.

Eventually she said, ‘You must go inside me now or I will be too dry.’

Of course I needed no urging. I manoeuvred myself between her legs, which she bent at the knees, and felt for her vagina with my cock. I found it, but it was, indeed, rather dry, and I got only part way in and stopped for fear of hurting her. I knew that after the menopause the vaginal walls thin, so the cunt can be sensitive, even impossible to penetrate without causing great pain.

‘Go in and out,’ she instructed. ‘It will make more wet.’

I hesitated to thrust too vigorously, but easing gently back and forth had the desired effect and each push took me further in. The climate, the sensation, in her vagina was different from that of much younger women. It was not so hot, and rather than the cunt opening, the walls adjusting, it was as if they were parting to let me in, as if my penis was burrowing.

She did not seem to be discomfited, however, and made encouraging remarks, ‘It’s going in. Is it good in there? I hope you like my old lady opening. You komm when you want. You are nearly all in, I think. Yes, I can feel you right inside. Are you ready to komm? I think you are. You are getting harder. Yes, you are going to komm. Komm, then, komm. Oh yes, I feel you komming. I hope it is good. Is it good for you in there?’

‘Ilona,’ I said, ‘It’s wonderful, magical, beautiful in there.’ And indeed it was.

She could not come again that night, that massive clitoris or csiklo being too sensitive now, and although she encouraged me to enter her again, I could tell as my cock-tip parted the vestibule that it would be painful for her. I withdrew and we promised each other we would be together again next evening, and contentedly slept in each other’s arms.

There were two more nights of the conference, in fact, and we took advantage of both, though she could tolerate only one nipple-orgasm and one clitoral climax per night, and I limited myself to only one penetration of her cunt. Indeed, one was really enough, because my awareness of its vulnerability added an extra dimension to the experience, of tenderness and gratitude that it was possible at all.

As you can tell, my memories of those three nights are especially happy. I will leave them and to highly contrasting encounters, ‘quickies’ brief in duration and near-desperate in their initiation.

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