Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, Cheating, Incest, Oral Sex, Masturbation, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A friend provides a woman a potion to improve her sex with her husband but "the best laid plans..."
You'd think after living with him for 20 years I'd have been able to get my husband to pick up his own clothes. It's like having two children, I thought scanning our bedroom, my arms tightening around the bundle of soiled clothing.
I kept my back straight and eyes forward like a fashion model scampering down the catwalk on ridiculously high heels. But in my pink, fluffy house slippers, my reason was to keep the collection of laundry in my arms from toppling over. Slowly, very slowly, I carefully bent my knees and reached, hugging the clothing to my body even tighter. My wiggling fingers found nothing but air. Carefully tilting to the side and glancing around the huge pile of clothing, I extended my arm until my fingertips contacted the shirt lying haphazardly on the chair. Stretching a bit further, I gathered the shirt within my grasping fingers. It slowly slid off the slick black leather and, finally, my adversary was dangling in my hand. I hesitated momentarily and held my breath as the stack of clothing precariously shifted, but after maintaining control I flicked the shirt on top and stood tall, my now free arm quickly clutching the bundle.
It was the smell that caused my arms to drop like trees fallen by the axe man's devastating blow. Even now, with the clothing scattered at my feet, the odor lingered. Dropping to one knee, I clutched my stomach struggling to breathe, and then dizziness overcame me. I plopped onto my butt like a toddler learning to walk. Looking into space I tried to focus, but my mind wasn't cooperating. And then my eyes lowered, drawn to the white cotton shirt.
Fearing what I'd find, but afraid not to do it, I grabbed my husband's shirt and brought it to my face with trembling hands. Inhaling deeply, I flung the garment away. It couldn't be ... it couldn't. Not Ron.
The shirt lay on the floor with one sleeve extended and bent at the elbow. It was almost comical, like Ron was about to throw a ball. But Ron was not in the shirt, hadn't been since the day before. He wore it to work and then a business meeting, coming home very late. Maybe that's why he didn't put his clothes away. He came home so late so often that he must always be tired.
Staring at the shirt, I didn't want to know the answer. That's a lie. I had to know, but I prayed it wasn't what I thought. Getting onto my hands and knees I crawled the few feet to where the evidence lay. Leaning forward with my ass raised I sniffed like a dog. Then I sat, tears watering my eyes. My hand moved towards the shirt two times before my need eclipsed the fear. Shifting the shirt in my hands I studied the garment until spotting the red mark. Bringing it closer to my face, trying not to inhale the alien fragrance, I pulled the cotton material taut within my trembling fingers. It was the starched collar, and it had a hot pink smear on it. Rubbing my thumb across the waxy substance I clutched the shirt to my chest before dropping it onto my lap and burying my face in my hands. The tears fell freely. My husband's shirt smelled of a perfume I didn't wear and had lipstick on it.
Jumping to my feet, I stood in a daze. The reflection in the dresser mirror caught my attention, the shocked green eyes staring at me, confused and hurt. Turning my head to the left and then the right with my eyes locked on the reflection, I saw an older version of the teenager I had been. Especially with my hair pulled into a ponytail, it brought back memories of my youth. Studying my face, I smiled weakly. No wrinkles other than the small smile lines at the corners of my eyes, and my complexion was smooth and flawless. It always had been. When my teenage friends had fretted over acne, I was the envy of them all. Shaking my head, I watched my ponytail bounce. It was as blonde as the day I wed, and just as shimmering.
Taking three steps back, my body came into view, framed by the mirror like a picture. Sliding my hands down my sides I turned slightly, sucking in my gut and holding it. But soon the air whooshed out and the slight tummy reappeared. I didn't have a belly, but at 41, and having given birth, it wasn't the flat teenage one any longer. Sucking in more air I patted my stomach. It was still firm, and my figure was intact, and my breasts were firm too I told myself as I cupped them in my hands. Maybe it's because they weren't large, not that 34B is that small. After all, at 5' 3" anything larger would look obscene. At least I was able to do housework without a bra.
The confident gleam in my eyes quickly faded as my head turned to locate the discarded shirt crumpled where I had dropped it. What was I to do? Confront Ron? Tell him to move out? Ask for a divorce? Who was the slut? Why was he cheating?
My chin dropped to my chest. Why was he cheating? Maybe it was my fault. After all, we no longer had much of a sex life. I knew I lacked the desire. When we were young it was all so new, exciting. But after a while it became old, like Ron. Father Time wasn't as generous with Ron. His hair thinned ... Who am I kidding? Ron went bald! What he lost on his head he seemed to grow everywhere else -- ears, bushy eyebrows, nostrils ... hell, all over his body except his head. And it seemed like every year we had to buy him new pants and a larger belt. So although I loved him, I just didn't find him sexually attractive like when we were younger. But still, I didn't cheat on him so that was no excuse for him to commit adultery.
Staring at the mess on the floor, I picked the shirt up and carried it to the kitchen where I retrieved a large plastic storage bag, you know, the kind used to keep food fresh. Folding the shirt into a small square, I stuffed it into the plastic bag and zipped it shut. Returning to my bedroom, I hid the package under my underwear, and then gathered the soiled clothing scattered on the floor and returned to my chores. I needed time to think.
Later that day my best friend, Janice, stopped by. She carried on like she always did, chatting non-stop. Then she suddenly turned quiet, her dark brown eyes peering over her coffee cup.
"Are you all right?"
I looked up and realized I hadn't heard a word she had said. "What?"
"Is something wrong?"
The tears began streaming down my cheeks. Opening my mouth I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat which was as dry as my face was now wet. Only intermittent choking sounds came forth until my lower lip quivered and short gasps were heard.
"Sally, what's the matter?"
Janice's cup almost tipped over, some coffee spilling on the saucer as it sat lopsided. Bolting from her seat, she pulled me to my feet and wrapped her arms around me, holding me to her breast. We stayed like that for some time, her hand gently patting my back.
I spoke without thinking. "It's Ron."
The hand on my back became still and then the fingers twitched. I felt Janice's entire body tensing so I pulled my head back and looked at her face. I saw the same look she had when she was going through her divorce.
"He's um ... Ron is..." I couldn't admit failure. "It's just that our sex life isn't so good."
The color returned to Janice's face and it softened, then her eyes lit up and the sides of her mouth curled into a smile. The patting resumed, now more of a circular caress.
"Don't tell me he's not interested in you?"
"No, I, um ... I don't know. But lately I haven't been, um ... in the mood."
Janice gripped my shoulders and extended her arms, creating space between us. Her eyes moved up and down my body and landed on my face, her smile broadening. The silence was uncomfortable, but I didn't know what to say. I already told her more than I would have under different conditions, even though it wasn't everything.
"Look, it's not the end of the world. It happens when we--"
"You don't understand!" I blurted out. "Ron is ... he's..." Again the words stuck in my throat. "If only we were young again it would be different."
Janice's face turned serious. Her pupils rose to the left, a trait she had when deep in thought. And then she smiled again.
"What if I told you how you could feel sexy again?"
Stunned and wide-eyed, I stared at her.
She smiled again. "I've had that problem too." My mouth opened but her soft fingertips on my lips kept me quiet. "Let me finish. I have something that helps women like you, um, us. It will bring back the sex drive you had as a teenager."
"Come on, that's bullshit!"
Sally, have I ever lied to you?" Janice's crossed fingers tightened behind her back. "Well have I?"
"But nothing. You're my dearest friend. All I want to do is help you."
"Have you used it?"
"Of course, that's how I know it works."
"Where'd you get it?"
Janice's eyes returned to their raised and left position. "Well, I can't tell. I'm not even sure it's legal."
"I'm not taking drugs!"
"It's not that kind of drug. I don't even think it's technically a drug. More like a potion that stimulates your sex drive. Once you take it there's no turning back. Ron won't stand a chance. You'll be on him like a nymphomaniac rescued after spending a year alone on a deserted island. Even if you wanted to stop you wouldn't be able to. The drug, um ... the potion is that strong. Believe me, Ron will love it."
"I don't know. It sounds dangerous."
"It's not," Janice quickly added. "It's perfectly safe ... like drinking bottled water. But it will give you the passion you've lost. And no inhibitions since the potion is controlling you. You will be free to have the greatest sex of your life. Ron will never want to leave the house. He will be yours forever."
I thought, Ron will be mine forever. Only mine. I drove him away but this is my chance to get him back. He'll never look at another woman again.
I slowly nodded and Janice's eyes sparkled. I wanted to know more but she was tightlipped. I assumed she was protecting the person she got the drug from. A potion, I reminded myself. Not a drug. More like medicine. Like a vitamin supplement. It was going to cure my marriage.
I was surprised at how quickly Janice was able to get me the potion. The next day she stopped by and placed a small bottle on my kitchen table. I stared at it for a while and then my eyes rose. Her nod and smile told me all I needed to know.
"Just one tablespoon will do it," she said. "If you really want to be a sex maniac, take two. But no more than that. Two will turn you into a sex starved slut." She giggled. "You will need sex so badly that you'd fuck the first salesman who came to your house."
My friend's laughter was contagious. "All I mean is that once you've swallowed two tablespoons there's no turning back. You will have to have sex. That's all I meant. So what do you think?"
Staring at me, Janice's fingernails tapped the tabletop and then she twirled the small bottle.
"I'll think about it."
Janice's eyes and mouth popped open as her upper body jerked back. I had snatched the bottle, clutching it tightly against my chest, caressing it with my thumb. The surprise in her eyes faded quickly, replaced with the glint of laughter.