Many thanks to PubliusNaso, editor supreme whose light handed touch has knocked off the rough edges and produced a story which I hope you agree is polished.

*

The funeral was sad, not only because of Gary's death, but also because I was the only person attending who wasn't employed by the undertaker.

Gary didn't have many (in fact any) friends but me. We were both nerds at college. We were called the 'Boys in the Lab'. I guess many thought we were gay, but it was just that sniffing out a root took more time than we were prepared to spend. The lab at that time was our mistress.

Gary was strange: his drive was enough for both of us. I sort of tagged along for the ride. Initially, I thought that his high IQ, measured by MENSA at an amazing 167, was the cause of his strangeness. But I later discovered that his whole family had been killed in a road accident which he blamed himself for: his parents and sister had decided to visit him on the night they were killed because he had refused to return home for his sister's birthday. This incident left Gary with a guilt-conscience you could drive a truck down, which manifested itself in his inability to tolerate fools. Of course relative to Gary's IQ he believed everyone was a fool (except, I like to think, maybe me with my IQ of 141).

His parents' death left him very wealthy. On leaving college Gary bought a factory on Main Street which he converted into a laboratory. He said he was working on a product which would make people seem less foolish.

Two weeks ago, he was found dead in his factory, surrounded by the under-garments of four different women. The police were unable to believe that his death was the result of an orgy involving four women, and I couldn't believe he was a fetishist.

I was pleasantly surprised at the reading of the will to learn that he had left his factory and contents solely to me. I had always envied the location thinking it would make a great place for my psychology practice with enough room for an apartment if I built a mezzanine. The rest of his family wealth he left to his mother's favourite charities.

Gary had hand written his will just before he died. It was perfect, like everything he did. It contained a strange reference to the contents of the factory: "PT80" As I was the only real person (charities don't count) to inherit it was clear that this was a message for me. I collected the deeds and the keys for the property to see if the factory gave me any clues to translating Gary's code.

Gary and I had done a chemistry major together. I completed the degree to ensure my scholarship conditions were met, then transferred to psychology: a much more entertaining field.

Gary often spoke chemistry shorthand to me. When I remembered this, the clue was solved: "PT" referred to the periodic table, and 80 is the position of the element mercury. Mercury was also the Roman messenger of the gods, so Gary was trying to tell me that the contents of the factory would give me a message.

He knew how tidy I was, his message was to stop me tidying up the lab and possibly lose some of the message he had meant me to find. Because Gary had gone to great pains to leave a message that would survive him I figured that Gary must have anticipated his death. This meant that either he did commit suicide through a chemically induced heart attack, or he knew that his life was threatened by someone else. I would have to tread cautiously.

I arrived at the factory and was surprised that some of the storage space had been converted into a studio and a small apartment. This had been done very recently (I had visited Gary two weeks earlier and had not noticed these alterations). The space seemed to me to be renovated to my tastes. It was painted blue, a colour Gary disliked, and I loved. There was a message painted in small neat letters on the back of the studio door: "KWS 1520"

KWS was the local radio station. I tuned in the next day at 3: 15pm, (the starting time for the daily quiz). I had heard the quiz before. The DJ was, as usual, happy to give clues to the answers for the first 15 questions. At 3:20 the DJ said 'you are now on your own -we are now entering the clue free zone'. I took this to mean that I could move into the apartment without interfering with the message which Gary had left me.

I decided that for the moment that I would not move into the apartment Gary had thoughtfully provided for me, until I had a handle on Gary's apparent knowledge of his death. If someone else was responsible for the death of my friend I would find and expose them, for sure!

Late on Saturday, when I had finished with my last patient, I was finally able to get to the factory and play Da Vinci code with Gary. I wondered what he was trying to say through code which he couldn't have told me directly? It was strange that I thought of the Da Vinci code: a book Gary would never have read, and yet I found a copy lying on a work bench.

I spent a bit of time wandering around the factory taking in the ambience. Nothing seemed to be talking to me. I returned to the book. In flicking through to see if any notations had been made I found a two playing cards: a king and a joker. An "X" was inscribed on the face of the king, and "11.4" on back next to the 'Jim Beam' logo. The joker was from a different pack: just a plain red pattern, with no inscriptions..

Gary clearly thought that I would be able to 'read' this message, he used beat me at almost everything. I was beginning to believe he would continue his winning streak even though he was dead. I retired to my studio to make a coffee and think.

I woke well into the night, surprised that I had fallen asleep. However, I now had a thought. In my earlier tour of the factory I had seen a Bible in a bookcase in the Lab. This was not like Gary either, but it helped me break the code: King - 'Jim Beam' (James) the King James' version of the bible, 'X': the tenth book, 11th chapter, fourth verse. I rushed out of the studio to Gary's office and over to the bookshelf. I opened the bible at Samuel 2, 11. Verse 4 started the story of how David seduced Bathsheba. That didn't leave me any the wiser, and a quick examination of the book yielded nothing out of the ordinary. Back to the bookshelf. I saw nothing obvious so I tried again but now with much greater care.

On the second search of the office I found a CD. Bingo! It was called 'Wild Card/A Word From the Wise' by Pennywise. Now I knew what the joker meant: a joker was a wild card in many card games, and "word from the wise" was clearly a reference to the wisdom of David in the bible story. I opened the case, and pulled out the CD, it was a little sticky and smelt somewhat like pine nuts. On turning it over I saw that Gary had written the simple word 'enjoy'.

I felt a little let down. Surely Gary hadn't gone to all this trouble to tell me to enjoy his gift of the factory? The message certainly wasn't referring to the CD! It was too sticky to play. I decided it was time to go home, so I locked up and left. The whole affair had left me quite tired, even though I'd had a nap, I was further frustrated at having to stop for petrol. I really should be better organised.

The service station was quite empty at 1 am. The attendant was a pretty brunette who looked disengaged. She displayed studied indifference as I walked up to pay. Clearly I was intruding into her boredom (this was the reaction I normally received from women).

She drawled '$20 please'.

As she looked up to take the proffered note, she seemed to sniff the air, and quite suddenly her lacklustre air was replaced by colour. She just lit up, like those old movies which start in black and white and then turn to colour after the credits.

She sat up straight, tidied her clothing and pulled her shoulders back enough to display her perky mannequin sized breasts.

She looked hungrily at me as she parted and wet her lips. Her lack of interest melted. She boldly took me in, 5' 10" lean and muscular (for a nerd). Blondie/brown hair. Her eyes drank my body. She nodded slowly as her look flowed smoothly from head to toe and back again.

Ignoring my attempt at payment, she turned off the service station lights, flicked on the electronic locks and said, "Please, you look so strong, could you please help me move some boxes in the back?"

"Sure" I said, a little puzzled at this turn of events.

I followed her into the storeroom. I liked the way her arse swung, not exaggerated like a catwalk model, but just enough so that her uniform miniskirt clung slightly on each buttock showing a glimpse of high thigh.

As I followed her through the storeroom door, I though I was being attacked, maybe mugged, but this thought was soon dispelled by her urgent cries of "fuck me, please fuck me NOW!"

She reached past me to lock the door and turned on the light, I could feel the taut tips of her breasts press into my chest. "You will fuck me, please!"

She stepped back, and slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. She held my gaze as she shrugged the garment off her shoulders, and then hooked her thumbs, under her uniform mini-skirt and into the elastic of her panties and thrust them down her legs. Instead of high stepping out of them she turned away from me and bent down, driving her panties to her ankles showing me her smooth firm arse. She looked over her shoulder at me with a wicked smile. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I fully expected some hunk to step out from behind me, push me aside, and take the prize, but there was no one behind me, and the prize looked like it was mine.

"Fuck me!" she pleaded as she swivelled round and reached for the waistband of my trousers, she deftly and quickly worked her way through my clothing releasing my penis, which she then boldly grasped.

She hooked her foot around my heel and pushed me off balance into a pile of empty boxes which slowly crumpled. Before I had stopped falling she had followed me, still holding my penis firmly as if her life depended on it. She scattered the boxes which hadn't been crushed as she threw her dripping wet pussy onto my penis. I felt the heat of her slide down my shaft.

This was happening so quickly it was surreal: almost as if I was removed from my body. Whilst my penis was fully involved in the experience, I felt a little emasculated by the passive role I seemed to have been assigned. I watched as she ripped of her bra, pinching her nipples as she continued to ride my shaft.

Her commitment to her own pleasure was awesome, I began to share some of her urgency. She dropped her hands from her breasts to my hips to give herself greater leverage.

Her breasts were perfectly formed, inverted question marks, her nipples rock hard and protruding ½" I watching them jiggle with her gyrations: they were too firm to swing.

I reached up to her breasts, touching them lightly; marvelling at their firmness and colour. They were evenly tanned with dark brown areolas. They felt so good, I massaged them, pushing my thumbs into her breasts just below her nipples. Excited as she was, this elicited a groan to reward my efforts.

"Touch me, Do it to me. More. Don't stop. Yes. Yes. Yes" she was becoming louder.

She was both swinging backwards and forwards on my shaft, but at the end of each swing she was lifting her arse, almost disengaging my cock before slamming back down for the next swing. The tempo of her movements indicated she was close to climax.

I dropped my hands from her breasts to her stomach, and lightly grazed my nails across her abdomen, slowly circling, she clasped my hands and held them to her stomach, as she came, "Don't stop. Yes. Yes. Yes Ohh. Oh! O!!!"

I found the feeling of her juices running down my shaft so erotic , that I joined her, delivering a "haven't had a fuck in a long time"-quantity of cream so forcefully into her snatch that she groaned again as she felt the impact of my pent-up load.

Even though she had climaxed she continued to ride my cock, but more gently and becoming slower. Eventually she stopped moving altogether. She continued to flex her pussy muscles. My prick liked this, and happily stayed hard. Finally she looked into my eyes.

"Hi I'm Bridget, I'm sorry that was a bit quick, but you are SOOO sexy I just felt compelled to feel you inside me. It's so strange, I have never done this sort of thing before, I've never been so brazen, but I'm sure this happens to you all the time. You really are irresistible" and with this she added a rotary movement of her arse.

Let me tell you: I am Mr Average; even Mr Sub-Average. There is no way that women throw themselves at me, but if she believed it, who was I to disillusion her?

"Hi I'm Karl"

I took the opportunity to slide my hands, from where she still held them on her stomach to circle and clasp her arse. It was as firm as it looked.

Bridget reached down and unbuttoned my shirt sliding it off my shoulders making umming sounds as her hands brushed my chest and shoulders. I was clearly still turning her on.

"You have such a beautiful body Karl, I could ride it all night"

"Please do" I responded with much more bravado than I felt.

She bent over and kissed me, she didn't push her tongue into my mouth (I hate that) instead she moistened my lips with the tip of her tongue before she drew my bottom lip into her mouth and gently sucked it.

The feeling was sensational. It bypassed my brain and went straight to my cock. When she felt my cock twitch her circular motions speeded up a little, as she ran her tongue lightly on the inside of my lip, once again sucking gently.

This was so erotic and tender, I moved my hands from her arse to her back to give her a massage. Direct sexual contact seemed to cheapen the pure feeling that I was experiencing.

I cannot describe the pleasure her kissing was giving me. While she continued kissing her fingers cupped my face and her thumbs covered my eyes, she ran her thumps lightly around my eye sockets. I remembered that my mum used to do this to get me to sleep and I had not realised how sexually stimulating it was. I really had to control myself. I was about to come again with a kiss and an eye rub, I guess it shows you how incredibly pleasant it was. This was some lover: she certainly knew how to please a man.

Bridget disengaged from the kiss. As she straightened my hands fell from her back. She clasped them.

"Do this to me," she said, "I liked it before."

She rehearsed my hands in brushing from her stomach to her breasts, circling the nipple, then back to her stomach.

I repeated the movement lightly and independently, as her hands fell to my stomach. I loved doing this to previous lovers because of the goosebumps that flowed in the wake of my hands.

Bridget clearly enjoyed this too, her breasts were covered in goosebumps. Her nipples we so hard the little bumps showed. Whenever I pleased her, her arse marginally increased its tempo. This slow fucking was absolutely magic.

Bridget brushed my stomach, and hit an erogenous zone. Her other hand dropped behind her arse brushing the inside of my thigh. This was incredible. She had found another erogenous zone, one I didn't know I had: it was as if she knew where to look.

The feeling was unimaginable, my prick was being muscularly massaged and rotated on. Two erogenous zones were being worked, and I was really turned on by the effect I was having on her breasts.

Bridget felt my high sexual tension through my prick. I felt that if it got any harder it would probably burst. She groaned gently as she started to come again. She didn't increase her tempo this time but maintained the slow gyration and muscle flexing.

The look on her face was superb, a mix of pain and pleasure, with the pleasure clearly winning. She maintained that look while she milked sexual pleasure from her body, and mine.

She had been coming now for almost two minutes and showed no indication of stopping. The grunts of pleasure were interspersed with "Yes. Yes. Yes Ohh. Oh!"

That was it for me. I joined her with another volcano-like eruption. She managed to extend the pleasure of my coming for ages with her steady relentless squeezing and gyrations.

After what seemed like 15 minutes, but was obviously less, we both collapsed. Her head fell on my chest. She nibbled my neck as I caressed her back. She stayed mounted on my shaft, like a limpet, just squeezing occasionally to keep me stiff enough to stay in. I hated to imagine this stopping.

I was amazed at her ability to please me sexually in everything she did. In fact more than please which sounds passive, she was the Mistress of sexuality, driving from one erotic sensation, which alone would be enough, to another. She had not only read the book on how to please me sexually, she had written it.

There suddenly was a banging at the locked door of the service station. We sprang apart, an event which seemed impossible just seconds before. Brigit grabbed her shirt from the crushed boxes and quickly buttoned it before she left the store, her breasts were so firm she didn't need her bra..

As the door swung too, a corner of a crushed box caught underneath it and held it ajar, I glimpsed a police cruiser, and a burly officer at the door.

Brigit walked calmly to the kiosk flicked on the lights and flicked the electronic lock.

The policeman entered.

"Hey Bridget, you OK?" he shouted from the door.

"Yes fine, Joe. I was taken short and have been sitting on the toilet. I thought it would be better to make the station look closed rather than unattended."

"That's fine Bridget, I thought you might be in trouble."

"What's with the car by the pumps?" he talked now. He had walked to the kiosk.

"Oh, he filled up, then discovered he'd lost his wallet, so he went back to see if he could find it. He'll be back soon I expect."

"No worries, Bridget if you're OK its fine." he said as he turned to walk out of the door.

"Hey!" said Bridget, and as he turned around she threw a chocolate bar at him. at the same time ringing up the till for the sale and paying with her own money.

"Thank you for being concerned about me Joe, I appreciate it."

Joe smiled as he walked out to the cruiser chewing on his bar.

Bridget walked out of the kiosk into the storeroom.

"Can we do this again?" she asked as she stepped into her panties, and picked up her bra.

"Sure" I said.

"I finish at 8.00 pm tomorrow night. You could give me a lift to my flat if you like. It will save the bus" she tried to keep her voice light, as if it was not important to her.

She was not a very good actor. Still, you can't be good at everything. Sex is enough!

I had reassembled my clothing as she was speaking and looked almost respectable.

After rooting for over an hour, well not merely rooting but having the best sex ever, I strangely felt embarrassed. The best I could do before I left was to kiss her lightly on the forehead. I had to escape and think.

It all came to me driving home. I was no super stud. To get women to notice me I generally had to hit them over the head with a chunk of wood, so Gary's message of 'Enjoy' on the sticky CD and the biblical text about the seduction of Bathsheba took on a new meaning. Maybe the stickiness was an aphrodisiac? That would match Gary's aim of making people appear less foolish. 'Foolish' certainly would not be a term I would use to describe someone who was fucking my brains out.

I sniffed my fingers, they still smelt a little of pine nuts. I resolved to test my theory on my new neighbour. As soon as I got home.

Many thanks to again PubliusNaso, his continued assistance is greatly appreciated.

*

After returning home from the best sex of my life with Bridget (see The Phycologist-The Beginning) I had concluded that I hadn't been sexually attacked and pleasured because of my stud-like qualities (these were sadly missing) but because I had discovered an aphrodisiac, or more accurately Gary's aphrodisiac.

Gary had died under strange circumstances. He had left me his factory and a series of clues in his will. The clues had lead me this far.

My fingers still smelt of pine nuts. I thought this could be the smell of the aphrodisiac which drove Brigit mad with sexual passion. I resolved to test this theory on my new neighbour: 'The Ice Queen'.

I had christened her 'The Ice Queen' for the obvious reasons that she appeared cold and unobtainable, and also because her beauty made her regal. She was blonde (natural? I hoped to be able to prove that soon) and this connected Scandinavia and ice in my mind.

It was difficult to pick her best feature (most women would kill for any bit of her) but perfect as she was I always appeared to have difficulty lifting my eyes from her breasts. Her breasts were full (I guessed two standard handfuls) but were so beautifully shaped, almost spherical, they appeared to defy the gravity which affected the rest of the population. Yet the most alluring feature of these magnificent breasts were her nipples. Not only did they appear always semi-erect, but they were positioned so high on these heavenly mounds.

Every time I saw her I had an almost overwhelming desire to explore her bosom in an attempt to explain this perfection.

Her body however was not merely a vehicle to transport these magnificent breasts, it too was perfect. She was about 5' 9" and athletically slender. She was probably heavier than anorexic fashion dictated, but if that was so it was caused by muscle not fat. To my eye, she was ideally proportioned: long slender legs, with natural muscular definition, which didn't need high heels to accentuate; a thoroughly grabable arse perfectly curved from her upper thigh (her arse was another gravity-defying feature).. Her stomach was flat. Her arms shared the same muscular definition as her legs.

She had a long slender neck which mounted, haloed with almost white blonde wavy hair, the most beautiful face. Her eyes were translucent blue. Her skin was healthily pale. It seemed the sun kissed her perfection rather than darken it. All of these features were connected, as if by a architect, with perfect French curves.

This woman was superb, only using the word perfect eight times in a description of her was to sell her short. If my theory was correct I would soon be carnally experiencing this heavenly body.

It was 3 am when I drove into the car park, wondering how I was to meet the Ice Queen at this time in the morning. I needed to contact her before this smell of pine nuts disappeared. Looking up to her apartment window, I thought I saw a dark shape moving on the fire escape, and suddenly I had my excuse to 'knock her up' (both meanings were valid) at 3 am.

I climbed the stairs to her apartment, approaching her door I decided that one loud knock would be better than many softer ones, so pretending I was a 'drug squad bust' I bashed the door so hard the frame rattled. Surprising quickly I saw an eye flash over the spy hole, followed by an angry "What!!"

"I'm your neighbour" my confidence was beginning to slip.

"I know. What?" she was persistent as well as good looking.

"I've just got home and saw someone on the fire escape outside your window" I said

The locks on the door started clicking: there must have been about six (she was a worried lady, this one)!

"Come in!". She almost grabbed me by the shirt, such was her urgency to have me enter her apartment. She then refastened all the locks (there were seven!). She turned to face me, she was so pale she was almost translucent and she was visibly shaking. It was the closest I had been to her, and such was her distress that I didn't even look at her physical attributes. She then fell into my arms and started crying. I held her for a long time, trying to ignore the feel of her breasts and semi erect nipples. She obviously needed help, not rooting. She gradually composed herself.

Pushing herself away from my chest, she said "It's my ex-boyfriend. He was so insanely jealous I could no longer live with him. Even though I've tried everything to hide myself, he has obviously found me".

She broke down into tears again and snuggled back into my chest, which was clearly a haven for her. I felt like a louse. If I had guessed I'd do this much damage to her composure I could have delayed my experiment. I could have gone to Gary's lab later got some more aphrodisiac and tested my theory another day. Still, I couldn't leave her like this. I would have to see if I could repair some of the damage I had done.

When her crying stilled a little, I held her shoulders, and pushed her away from my chest, I looked into her eyes, trying hard not to be sexually affected by her beauty.

I reached up and brushed the tears from her eyes. She seemed to sniff and pause briefly. Her face seemed suddenly become infused with colour, as if a pot of pink paint had been spilt over her face. Her eyes brightened and sparkled, and for the second time that morning I was devoured by hungry eyes,

She turned, in the fall of a tear, from a susceptible, frightened, exposed child to a brazen, warm, wanton woman. Even though this was what I had wanted from her, my phycologist's brain was finding it hard to adjust to this change, and how her pain had so quickly been submerged.

The sound of her falling dressing gown as it slid to the floor, and the view of her naked body soon got my thoughts back to 'sexual'.

My earlier attempts at describing her perfection were woefully inadequate in face of the reality, but I was not allowed long to study her form. She was quickly on me, part undoing and part tearing my clothing from my body. I thought Brigit was a tiger, but this performance made her more of a pussy cat.

"God, you are beautiful" she snarled " how could I have wasted time crying, when your body is here to use?"

Grabbing my prick, none too gently, she said "Use this on me NOW!"

She attempted to mount me whilst we were standing, amazingly our heights matched exactly for this activity, she was so moist that she slid on me like an fireman sliding down a greasy pole.

Fucking while standing is pretty difficult. She solved this difficulty by swinging her hips sideways, like a pendulum.

"Make me come, Make me come" she repeated so often it seemed to become a mantra.

The full view of her body and access to her magnificent breasts were denied me by her athletic use of my erection, so, brushing her long hair off her face, I kissed her eyes and cheeks and worked past her mouth to her neck. The 'make me come' mantra was replaced by "keep doing it, keep doing it".

She was clearly close to climaxing. Her smooth action had become a little erratic, as if she was being distracted by her mounting pleasure. She leaned away from me, and grabbing my hands, she brought them to her breasts.

I thought she was going to come alone, but the feel of those mounds which far surpassed anything I could have imagined flicked a switch, and I was now trying to hold back to extend the pleasure of fondling her.

Her breasts were firm but amazingly soft. In kneading her I brushed my thumbs over her nipples which responded manfully by hardening like little missiles. Her groans which had been in the background for a while became louder, and louder. She placed her hands over mine forcing them almost brutally into her breasts, and as she screamed her climax, so did I, my voice joined hers in a shout of ecstasy.

Usually a quiet lover, I screamed and moaned with her as our coming seemed never to become a going. Our caterwauling decreased with our erotic pleasure, but even after we had become silent, the pleasure from our coupling continued more as erotic warmth, than the earlier sheer soul-bending pleasure.

Eventually we stopped and just held each other. Experimentally I let her smell my fingers again by running my fingers around her beautiful face and under her nose. The effect was almost instant, there was no doubt now that Gary had invented an aphrodisiac.

She grabbed my hand, and pulled me like an errant child into her bedroom. She dug her heel into the carpet, and athletically swivelled on it, like she was doing the shot put. Centrifugal force was added to the linear motion which she had already initiated in my body. The effect of these combined forces slingshotted me onto her bed, I felt like a crash dummy in a controlled car crash. Thank goodness the bed was soft.

Before I had regained my composure she was on top of me

"Lets fuck again" she said

I might be a bit old-fashioned, and I was certainly in no great need of another fucking, so I said.

"Hey slow down a bit, we haven't even been introduced"

The incongruity of this statement struck me as soon as it left my lips. This was the most gorgeous female I had ever seen, including all the models, cover girls and porn queens which had ever stared at me from the pages of magazines or the television screen. And I was refusing to fuck her because I didn't know her name

"Regina" she said "now lets fuck!"

"Sure" I said, with a swagger that Errol Flynn would have been proud of. "My name is Karl"

"Karl, you are fucking beautiful. God I don't ever remember coming like that before. Let's do it again. Now!"

Even her parents knew she was going to look like a queen: the name 'Regina' was so appropriate. These thoughts soon disappeared. The ability of my brain to operate above the navel was being quickly eroded by her tongue, which with unerring accuracy was exploring the erogenous zone on my stomach.

She then added a light touch to the erogenous zone on my inner thigh. The touch was so gentle, barely there, just like a gentle breeze. It was doubly erotic because of its gentleness.

I had already come three times in the last 4 hours, and not just cast my seed to the wind, but had sex that was both fulfilling and demanding, my balls were communicating by their ache that much as they enjoyed this activity they needed a holiday. Fatigued though my balls might be, it was clear that Regina was going to have them working again, and soon.

My mind could not disassociate itself from Regina's tongue and fingers. Just when it was becoming super intense, she swapped her mouth and her fingers. She moved her gently stroking fingers from my thigh to my stomach, and took her mouth to work my thigh. In passing she tongued my foreskin, licking down my shaft lingering briefly with her tongue and hot breath on my balls. Licking and sucking around my balls she ran her tongue almost to my anus, and toyed with the skin immediately beneath my sac. This was magnificent, so many erotic things had been happening to me this morning I was running out of superlatives.

My balls liked this treatment so much that they immediately voted to settle their dispute, and forgo their holiday demand. They forgave Regina for the overtime that she was causing them, and decided they would go on working without penalty rates, but slowly.

The 'go slow' that the Testicular Workers Union had introduced allowed me to revel in this erotic pleasure. Normally I would have shot my wad ages ago.

I began to imagine my hands once again on Regina's superb breasts, as soon as the image formed in my mind Regina moved her busy tongue from my thigh, pausing to enjoy the taste of my balls and foreskin.

She then slowly and smoothly snail trailed her tongue from my shaft exploring my body contours on her way to my nipples. She sucked my left nipple into her mouth, and at the point of maximum suction, she broke the seal her lips had formed so that the air she inhaled flowed past my wet nipple chilling the area.

This sudden change of temperature was electric. All my hair stood on end and my body convulsed in one synchronized shiver. This shiver seemed to find and excite every erotic receptor in my body, god I had no idea sex could be so pleasurable, I was more used to grinding and shooting. Up until Gary's aphrodisiac, sex for me had been mostly hydraulic, merely an opportunity to exchange body fluids.

Regina then switched to my right nipple, with similar electric effect. She spent time alternating between nipples, at the time when the feelings she was creating had dulled to superb, she moved her tongue to my neck.

Her tongue was not the only organ leaving a snail trail: my mind had become aware of a chilled area on my leg which had been made damp by the copious juices flowing from her pussy as she slid up my body. My mind switched its focus to the passage of her pussy lips, which had now moved over the base of my balls and was sliding up my shaft which was still enjoying the lubrication cause by the previous passage of her mouth. Smoothly the lips of her vulva sandwiched my shaft inching ever upwards. Her clitoris was engorged enough for me to feel it passing over the head of my penis, this was followed by her moist valley, then the cavern of her sexuality.

My thoughts were very pussycentric, but her hungry eating of my neck intruded briefly until she reversed the motion of her vagina, and as neatly as a driving instructor demonstrating a reverse park, she slid slowly onto my shaft. Her saliva previously so erotically delivered had begun to evaporate acting like a mini air conditioner.

I had not noticed how chilled my penis had become until it encountered the warmth of her vagina, slowly sliding down to my balls which sadly acted as a door stop. How I would have enjoyed being fully sucked into that warm, moist, sweet smelling piece of heaven?

The image of my hand slowing waving as it followed the rest of my body into her dark cavern was dispelled by the pleasure of her slowly riding my shaft. The heat flowed out from her, warming my chilled member magnifying the pleasure her soft friction was causing. Sinking once again on my shaft she sat fully erect.

"Would you fondle my breasts please, like before" she said.

This was the first time since she ripped my clothes off that I had had the pleasure of feasting my eyes on her naked form. As promising as the previous brief glimpse had been, it had not prepared me for the actuality. She was magnificent!

I reached for her breasts. I experimentally cupped one of her mounds in two hands, to gauge her size. She was a little bigger than two standard handfuls (the standard hand of course was mine). I gently flicked the high nipples on her perky breasts. I chased the valley which formed the change of contour between her breast and chest, fully around the circumference of each of her glorious mounds.

I dragged my nails lightly from her chest to her stomach, and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure, and her upper body shivered, demonstrating its pleasure by a show of goosebumps from her neck to where my hands had stopped. I continued to caress Regina's upper body, enjoying the feel of her flesh. Her skin was smooth. Even though the work out we had enjoyed, and were still enjoying, was strenuous, her skin was free of perspiration. My hands glided, as if lubricated. The texture of her skin was incredible: it seemed alive in its response to my touch. It was soft yet I could feel the strong muscular base which provided an underlying firmness.

My busy hands enjoyed the feel of all of the flesh I could touch, returning often like magnets to her breasts, where I fondled and pinched her nipples, cupped and caressed her breasts before exploring once again the wonderful feel of her taut skin.

Regina, whilst I was exploring her upper body, had maintained her slow use of my penis her motion metronomic in its precision. Letting my hands seek their own pleasure, I watched her face, it was beauty personified. I looked at her eyes which were closed her wrinkleless features were betrayed by a crinkling at the corners of her eyes which revealed a smile of pleasure. Her full mouth was slightly open, her lips moistened by her tongue. Her neck undulated with the motions of her hips.

Her economical motions increased in their tempo, now accompanied by a erotic groan on each downstroke. The smile at the corner of her eyes deepened, at the end of each groan, her tongue darted out, snakelike, to moisten her lips. Her blonde hair, which broke into curls a few inches from her scalp, provided the perfect palette for her changing facial expressions. As her smile extended further her groans increased in volume and intensity. The metronomic motion of her hips broke, signalling the beginning of her orgasm.

She rode my shaft like a horse-breaker working to extend and intensify her orgasm. Her upper body motion increased such that her breasts became involved, rocking firmly up and down. I now only had to hold my hands still to titillate her nipples, but chose instead to drop my hand to her hips, and help her ride me. I began to thrust in opposition to her movement, and like someone had turned up a light dimmer her facial expressions expanded. She was now panting between groans. She was clearly close to the peak of her continued orgasm. Her pleasure continued to excite me.

She clearly sensed my greater excitement and leant forward and kissed me. Her pussy was still working hard, in fact harder with each stroke. She licked and drew my lips into her mouth with suction, I reciprocated and her pussy got busier. We continued exchanging kisses, which together with her skilful pussywork caused my balls to boil and eventually succumb to the inevitable, delivering a forceful stream of seed.

Regina, feeling my climax, rode me down off my peak, then collapsed on top of me exhausted. We both enjoyed the blissful afterglow of our orgasms and felt our sexual receptors gradually closing down, so that sexual pleasure was gradually replaced by the warmth of each others' bodies in our continued embrace.

I was awoken by the undulating motion of Regina's hips. It was now light outside so a couple of hours had elapsed. Her head had fallen from my shoulder to my hand, she had obviously had a good sniff of the aphrodisiac and was ready to go again.

Amazingly, I was still hard, and was still encapsulated by the warmth of her vagina, which once again was in motion. I felt tired, sweaty, and used. I hadn't been in control of too much that had happened to me. I really wanted a shower, and the ability to process the events that had turned me into an apparent sex idol.

Regina stopped her grinding. She sat up pulling me with her, she motioned that I should swing my legs off the bed, and stand up, which I did. As I stood she wrapped her legs around my body so that we remained connected.

"Let's go and have a shower" she said

Here was another coincidence which needed thought, but what the heck. She was beautiful. Fatigued or not the subtle motion of her pussy on my shaft as we walked to the bathroom moved me from hard to rigid.

We arrived at the shower stall, set the water to match our mood – hot, and stepped in.

The shower was roomy enough for two. In fact I wonder at the motives of the person who built it. She gripped me with her vaginal muscles and on releasing her sexual grip then pulled herself further on my shaft by gripping her leg muscles. She repeated and alternated these muscular movements. The effect on my shaft was not describable by words, only by grunts of pleasure.

Whilst my, refreshed by sleep, penis was responding eagerly to this treatment, she reached for the soap, and started lathering my upper body, I came rather more quickly than I wanted. My balls were obviously trying to make up for their previous industrial action.

Regina sensed my climax, by pressing her magnificent breasts firmly into my chest as she kissed me, sucking and licking around my lips. She maintained these opposed motions of her pussy to milk the last ounce of orgasmic pleasure from me. Eventually Regina lifted herself off my shaft, and smiled as she handed me the bar of soap.

"Your turn" she said.

I needed no prompting. I spun her around so that her back was in the shower stream, and watched as the water flowed over her shoulder, and fell gently over her breasts and formed little waterfalls off her super-erect nipples. I fell to my knees, and slurped the little rivers back up to her breasts, caressing each nipple in turn with my tongue. Alternating her nipples in my mouth, I caressed her mound. I slipped my finger into her moist valley, letting it slide from her engorged clitoris to her vaginal entrance where I allowed my finger to cheekily and briefly enter before retracing its previous passage passing over her nub both on the upward and downward strokes to once again enter her passage.

She orgasmed quickly, probably influenced by what remained of the aphrodisiac on my fingers rather than the gentle friction I was causing up and down her pussy, but the effect was the same. She grabbed and pushed my head into her breasts, (fortunately there was enough air beneath those glorious appendages) as she ground against my finger. I tantalisingly refused to leave it in her passage, but maintained my previous stroking, her actions led me to believe this was both antagonising and erotic. Her hips gyrated hypnotically as she tried to follow the actions of my fingers up and down her sweet valley.

We played this, chasing the finger, game until eventually her orgasm subsided, she thrust my head from her breasts, and pulled my lips to hers, after a deep kiss she said.

"I hope you haven't lost the soap."

"What would you like me to do with it?", I asked

"That's up to you", she said with a wicked smile.

We switched positions again in the shower to avoid my artistic latherwork being destroyed by the water. I let my lathered hand caress her body. I started at her neck, over her shoulders, onto her breasts. Running my hands around her contours, down to her stomach and back to her breasts again tracing the full curve of her mounds I flicked her nipples on my way back to her neck. I persisted in this cycle. I then ran my hands round to her back and pulled her lathered body to mine. I felt the light silken touch of her breasts lubricated by the lather slide along my chest. When our bodies touched she swivelled at the hips so her nipples flicked mine on passing like windshield wipers.

Seeing the potential, she stepped out of my embrace, borrowed the soap and lubricated herself, and then set to washing my body using her lathered breasts. She ran her soft, firm globes around my neck and down my chest. I felt light slippery touch of her breast all over my upper body. We turned off the water, as we were having to form ever more athletic positions to achieve full coverage, and we didn't want the suds destroyed. Our bodies were covered in bubbles. I joined in the game too, using my penis as a sponge. We exchanged ever more adventurous passes of our organs over each others bodies.

She slithered her breasts down my body, briefly trapping my shaft between them. She then slipped between my legs and brought her breast up the crack of my arse, I felt the passage of her nipple over my anus, feeling my approval she ran her nipple up and down my crack, standing up she replaced her nipple with a lathered hand. Not to be outdone I reciprocated using my penis as a loofah, scrubbing from her neck down her body. While passing under her arm she trapped my shaft by squeezing her arm close to her body. The slippery qualities of the soap made it feel like a pussy.

I briefly ground her armpit before spinning her around. Pushing her upper body forward I then ran my slippery dick up and down the crack of her arse. This game continued, with us both trying to outdo each other.

Eventually the sexuality seemed to be disappearing from our continued contact. It was becoming just a game. The valour had disappeared from my shaft. It was the first time since midnight that I remember it being soft (some more thinking to do). We eventually tired of our athleticism now that it had lost its sexual context. We washed off the suds and stepped out of the shower to towel each other dry.

I thought this might re-arouse the sexual passion. Pleasant though the activity was, it did not. I guess the last of the aphrodisiac had been washed off. Looking at Regina, the blissful smile that she had been wearing non stop since she first sniffed my fingers had slipped from her features.

A crease had developed between her eyes. A crease on her face seemed like a physical affront. I touched her face and attempted to lightly smooth the imperfection away with my fingers, she said.

"What about my boyfriend?"

The spell was broken, it was back to business.

"You go back to bed" I said, as I gathered and put on those clothes that still had buttons "I'll look around to see if there is any trace of an intruder, I'll look back in shortly to let you know."

"I won't go to bed," she responded, "I'll make coffee and see you in a bit"

My concern had done more to eliminate the crease between her eyes than my finger. I set out to explore. Thinking I would replace my damaged clothing before I explored the perimeter of her apartment, I let myself into my own apartment. I was met by a surprise.

The intruder was not part of my imagination. The mess I saw as I entered attested to his violent physical presence in my apartment. My room would have made a teenager's room look pristine. It appeared that nothing had been left unopened, and everything which had been opened had been emptied.

I felt violated, I hadn't realised what a valuable commodity privacy was. The theft of my privacy was a bigger loss to me than anything which could have been stolen from my room. I shut the door, and went back to Regina's for coffee.

On entering Regina's apartment she seemed as equally concerned about the furrow between my eyes as I had previously been for her. She took me in her arms, not sexually, but supportively.

"What's the matter?" she said "have you seen a ghost?"

"Good news for you," I responded sharply (and then regretted my tone). "It wasn't your boyfriend sneaking around here last night. It was an intruder who has absolutely wrecked my room, my belongings, and my sense of security."

I began to understand why she was so shaken earlier this morning when she thought her security was threatened. I began to feel like a louse again for what I had done to her.

We sat and had coffee. Whilst she was no longer the Ice Queen in my mind (how could she be?) the sexual thing had gone, she behaved like a concerned neighbour.

Still feeling lousy, I took my leave as soon as was polite, gathered some belongings and set off to the apartment Gary had built before his death, in the factory which I now owned.

I got to the factory. Gary didn't have as many locks as Regina but his were much better quality. Before this morning however three locks had seemed excessive. Now I thought I might add some more.

My worst fears were not supported. No one had entered here. I quickly moved to the alarm panel to disable the alarm (Gary had passed on the complex code with the keys to the factory). The alarm panel was displaying the message 'Attempted Entry Zone 2 & 4'.

I found this message strangely reassuring, 'you're not getting in here , you bastard', I thought.

I suddenly felt immensely tired, even drained. Sleep was the only option: I had after all been rooting since midnight. I had probably come more times in the last eight hours than I had in the previous year. I lay on the bed and was quickly asleep.

I woke in the early afternoon, much refreshed. My memories of Brigit and Regina seemed like the remnants of a dream: it couldn't possibly be true.

Yet unlike dream residual all the details were crisp and clear, and came with smells. I was also able to relive my feelings and my penis stirred.

There was no doubt this had happened. I went back out into the factory to explore. I would look at the 'attempted entry violation' later, at the moment I was driven to discover more about the aphrodisiac.

I went immediately to the CD which was sticky with what I now knew to be an aphrodisiac, and studied it. Gary would have placed a message here somewhere, as this is where the last clue ended. I studied the closed CD and found nothing. Looking inside, also nothing jumped out and bit me.

I thought I would wander around and take stock of what I knew or suspected about the action of Gary's Magic Formula, I resolved to call it GMF in honour of its inventor.

Clearly GMF stimulated women's sexual desire to a point where immediate satisfaction was demanded. It might also quicken their orgasmic response. It seemed to endow the female 'victim?' with the ability to feel what the 'wearer' wanted sexually. Both Brigit and Regina had found unerringly my erogenous zones, and seemed to meet my wildest sexual fantasies.

While I wore GMF I stayed hard, until the time I washed it off. There was probably more that I hadn't discovered yet. Any one of these features would be worth a fortune commercially. There had emerged a clear profit motive for Gary's death, and now someone was after me. My room wrecker was probably also Gary's killer.

I went back to the CD. This time I noticed the name of the track 'Ultra Violet' was subtly underlined. Looking around I saw a magnifying lens with various lighting options. Ultra violet was one (they are quite common in chemical labs). I positioned the CD case under the lens and selected ultra violet light. A message was revealed:.

ChChOHx6.66??? ChCh6.66??? Ch6.66

The treble sixes struck my immediate attention. this was the Devil's number. I began to piece together all I knew of Satanism. I even wondered If Gary had sold his soul to gain the formula. I dismissed this thought quickly. Gary was much smarter than the devil. He had his IQ rated at 167, he said doing the IQ test was like answering children's questions. He modestly added that geniuses cannot be assessed by their mental inferiors (I was pleased some time later to spot the logical flaw in this argument but unfortunately I never got round to tackling Gary with it before he died). Gary wasn't a braggard, he had an instantaneous grasp of the myriad possibilities which surrounded every event, and was able to juggle and interpose them to achieve what looked to others appeared to be startling insights When Gary explained his thought processes to me, as he often did, his observations were not insights but, to him, obvious conclusions.

We played mental games often when we worked together in the lab, and I wasn't too bad at it. I was never truly convinced that Gary wasn't humouring me. The clues I was following to gain the message Gary had chosen to leave were obviously designed to maximise my talents, and not be able to be followed by others.

Then I noticed a small dot above the last six. If this meant the number was recurring then the answer could be at hand. Three multiplied by 6.66 recurring totalled a neat 20, so I added the columns, giving me:

3Ch2ChOHx20

I wondered if I was on the right track and then it dawned on me that if I corrected the notation to

CH3CH2OH x 20

It became the chemical formula for ethyl alcohol. I assumed that I was to dissolve the substance on the CD in 20 times its weight of ethyl alcohol. Looking around the lab, ostentatiously (and incongruously) placed, now I knew what I was looking for, was a container of ethyl alcohol (well, actually a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka). Taped to its lid was a perfume atomiser.

I was certain I was on the right track, but just in case I took two small scrapings from the CD and placed them each in a separate petri dish, and tucked them away. I then measured 19 times the weight of the CD (I adjusted for the samples) in a dish and dunked the CD in, covering it carefully to avoid evaporation. I decide to reward myself with cup of coffee, whilst the alcohol worked. I was becoming a caffeine addict. I smiled to myself that I had always tried to use alcohol by itself as an aphrodisiac (with mixed success) but that it had taken Gary to take the chemical's effects to its conclusion.

Whilst drinking my coffee I mused about the sequence of clues I had followed so far, and realised that, by chance someone could have joined the clue cycle at the CD rather than at the beginning with the biblical reference. This was sloppy work which Gary would not have been capable of.

Gary often said that the reason most people missed the obvious was that once an item, substance or idea had yielded its secret it was discarded. Gary claimed where one secret existed there were many. In our lab work together he would frequently return to areas many would have assumed had yielded all they had to give. Gary claimed he was a different person to the one that gained the original knowledge, and because of his growth in knowledge he could unlock further insights.

Walking back to my alcohol infusion, reinforced once again with my coffee fix, I realised that with Gary's mental grasp, there should have been something to stop a chance entry into the clue stream at the CD. I would have to fully review the cycle.

I found a pair of lab gloves, to handle the aphrodisiac. Apart from being excited by GMF potential I was also quite frightened. I had been lucky in only experiencing the positive effects. What would happen if the wearer passed a women's basketball team, or visited a young mother's club, or worse still an old aged home? It was difficult to suppress the image of being attacked by a gang of dried out, saggy breasted geriatrics. Even worse was the thought that it could work on men. Despite the rumour that circulated around Gary and me, we were both heavily heterosexual.

Suddenly it occurred to me that Gary's dead body had been found surrounded by different styles and sizes of ladies' underwear. Had his heart attack been caused by the sexual excitement of a gang bang, rather than a sinister intruder?

I resolved, whilst I decanted the mixture, that I would not use GMF again until I had been able to assess the potential negative side of Gary's invention.

I found a quiet corner to store the decantation and labelled it GMF. I couldn't help thinking that a safe would have been better. I poured a little into the perfume atomiser, and my penis, rather than my brain, demanded that I put the atomiser in my pocket.

As a result of my previous thoughts I circled the lab, revisiting the sites of the previous clues, to no major effect.

On returning to the CD I picked it up to return it to its case. it was no longer sticky. By chance it caught the light and revealed what could have been writing.

It was definitely not there before. Obviously there had been an interaction with the alcohol. I went back to the magnifying glass and with its aid I was able to discern the words 'sock drawer'. Trying the ultra violet lighting again, I could just see the feint outline of a word that could have said 'review'. I was quite offended by the 'review' as I had already come to that conclusion, but if Gary felt it needed stating, then it was obvious that to proceed the previous clues had further meaning.

'Sock drawer.' Hmm.

Another Garyism was 'never overlook the obvious', so I searched for his sock drawer.

I found a drawer full of socks in a dresser in the corner of the lab Gary used as a Bedroom. He didn't like to be away from his work. Part of the reason we worked such long hours in the lab at Uni was that Gary didn't like to go home.

At the bottom of the drawer, covered but not hidden, was a shopping list. If this was a clue, it was another chance entry point, I began to worry about my ability to keep this thing going. The list it looked like this:

Samarium<1921: Iron USAUS

2 – Large pairs undr wear 4 – Regular DRESSr socks 10 – Large handkerchiefs 5 – Regular singlets 7 – Large T-Shirts void Samarium. I seemed to recall is a rare earth metal, an element discovered in about the mid 19th century. Gary's reference books proved me to be right. The chemical symbol was Sm. It was named after a Russian mine official named Samarski. (Clearly, chemists sucked up to officials even in the eighteen-fifties). The chemical symbol for iron is Fe. I started with the symbols because Gary loved making words from them, so I had SmFe. What about the <1921, does than mean before 1921 it had a different name? Back to Gary's texts, sure enough after 15 minutes' study I discovered that it had been renamed in line with international codes in 1920. Its previous symbol had been Sa. That gave me SaFe. Safe, what? Who is safe? what is safe? Maybe the USAUS might help. United Sates of America & United States, why put them together? I decided to break up the letters like an anagram. U/SAUS: didn't help. US/AUS: that was two countries US and Australia. Mixed countries, combined countries, combined nations mixed nations. A smile spread across my face as the clue clicked. The list was a safe combination. That also made sense of the shopping list. The 'Large' and 'Regular' were left and right. The numbers were obviously the safe combination: it was 2L, 4R 10L 5R 7L. This only left two questions: where was the safe, and what was 'Void'? A void is something missing, which implied that part of the safe combination was missing. This wasn't important until I found the safe. I studied the list. Gary never wore underpants. He called them knickers. Dress socks! He never dressed in anything but jeans, singlets or T-shirts and sloppy Joes. He always had a hankerchief on him. Why was 'under' spelt incorrectly? Why was 'dress' capitalised, and what did the little 'r' mean? Underwear and dress socks were not part of his vocabulary. This must be a clue. I decided to think about it while I reviewed the earlier clues. I started at the bible. I had left the playing cards in Samuel 2 where I had found an earlier clue. For some reason there was a fingerprint stain, in dirty brown, in the corner of the joker. It wasn't there when I found the card. I took the Bible over to the lens, and under magnification the pages of Chapter 11 looked dusty. I ran my fingers along the pages and they were definately floury, but with a powder so fine that I hadn't previously noticed. Thinking about not noticing, it occurred to me that last night the song title 'Ultra Violet' was not underlined either, and yet the alarm system confirmed that no one had entered, so how was that possible? I went over to the CD. I was pretty stumped. I thought I would run my powdery fingers, from the bible, all over the CD and case. Maybe the powder was a reagent to activate another message, like the secret ink we used to play with as children. Nothing happened immediately, but then the song title was not immediately underlined either. I would have to cross my fingers and look again later. I looked at the time. It was getting late, and I had agreed to pick up Brigit from work at 8.00pm. When I had agreed to meet her again, I didn't know her behaviour was caused by the aphrodisiac, and by its use I could have any woman. I wondered if I should reconsider, and leave her waiting. I would muse on it whilst I checked the alarm system.

I read the alarm manual, only to discover by Gary's scrawled notes that he had reprogrammed it. What additional features he had added was anyone's guess. I dicovered it was connected to his desk computer, and had permanent video surveillance around the building perimeter. After a considerable period of trial and error, I managed to get a grainy video picture of the person who attempted entry last night.

It showed no detail at all, it was too dark. I remembered Gary had installed external lighting, so I searched, found the controls, and switched them on. At least if he (or she?) returned I might gain a useful image.

Looking again at the clock it was 7.45pm. I would just have time to meet Brigit.

I pondered, and concluded what the heck, even though she was not in Regina's league for beauty she had a certain allure and a beautiful smile.

I arrived at the service station at 8.01pm, she was leaning on the counter waiting for me. Her smile was as wonderful as I remembered, although a little guarded.

"Let's go" she said as she linked arms with me, and walked me to my car.

She directed me to her apartment. After driving for a little while she said

"Karl, stop just over there".

I did.

"Right, you bastard, what did you do to me this morning? I don't respond sexually in that way. We are outside the police station, so you'd better start explaining or I'm going in there to report a rape!"

Clearly I had a bit of talking to do!