The Shaman's Secret
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2014 by Unca D

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Ned Sommerfield is a middle-aged chemistry professor in a small university. He has an on-again, off-again, casual relationship with Caitlin, a younger assistant prof in another department who is on the rebound from a failed affair. She discovers that Ned possesses a rare root from a plant he collected in the rain forest years ago when he did fieldwork there. He tells her the natives claim it is a powerful aphrodisiac. Intrigued, Caitlin pesters him to try it and eventually he agrees.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Enema  

The beeping of his alarm clock jolted Ned awake. He pressed the button to silence it. Dawn twilight was beginning to seep around the curtains in his bedroom.

Caitlin lay on her side, still asleep. He kissed her forehead and caressed her cheek. "Hey, gorgeous ... wake up."

"Mmmph..." She blinked and rubbed her eyes.

"Alarm just went off."

"I was in the middle of a nice dream."

"Oh? Was I in it?"

"You were."

"Tell me."

"I can't remember. As I wake up it slips from me. What time is it?"

"A few after six. Shall I make breakfast? I can poach some eggs."

"How about some coffee?"

"I'll make some." Ned headed to the bathroom, returning in his robe and carrying hers.

"I'll take a quick shower," she said, taking a travel kit from the soft duffel she had brought. "I need to freshen up. Sex is a sticky, sweaty business."

"Well ... Done right it is."

"I won't do my hair. I did bring a change of clothes. When's your first class?"

"Ten," he replied.

"So -- you can go back to bed, you lucky bastard."

"I do need to meet with a grad student at nine-thirty."

Ned measured and ground some roasted beans, filled the crock and started the coffee maker. He heard the water running in his bathroom.

Caitlin stepped into the kitchen wearing a calf-length denim skirt and an embroidered vest over a long-sleeved blouse. Ned poured two cups of coffee and set one before her. "Anything to go with this? Toast?"

"I'm good." She sipped from her cup. "Mmm ... You do make good coffee."

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

"Think about what?"

"Last night? Did we disprove Chad or what?"

"You're right about one thing," she replied. "He expected me to turn on like a light. You know me better -- you know it takes me a while to get warmed up."

"Watching you warm up is a big part of the thrill for me." Ned sipped some coffee.

"It's so easy for men."

"Too easy for me," he replied. "I wish I had some staying power. I'm not exactly a two-pump chump but close."

"Even when it clicks," she continued, "even my all buttons are pushed in just the right order ... It's still an effort for me." She reached across the table and put her hand on his. "You can carry me to the brink but I have to push myself over it. It takes concentration and focus and everything has to be just right."

"I can't crawl inside your head," he said. "There's no way for me to know what it's like to be you. I dare say, once you manage to push over that brink, the sensations you experience look like they must be nothing short of extraordinary. A man's orgasm is a grunt and a squirt. Yours looks like something transcendent."

"When I can have one, that is."

"I guess the tighter you wind a spring, the more forcibly it unwinds."

Caitlin drained her mug. She stuffed some remaining personal items into her duffle and zipped it closed. Ned approached her. "Take some time to decompress," he said. "Any time you want to hang out ... talk ... screw -- I'll be here."

She kissed his lips. "Thanks for a wonderful evening, Ned. I had a great time." She kissed him again. "So -- you going back to bed?"

"No. I don't think so. The coffee would just keep me awake."

"See you later." She gave him a little wave and headed out the door of his bungalow.


Ned sat in his office. Caitlin breezed in carrying a paper bag. "What's this?" he asked as she handed it to him. "Little chocolate-covered donuts?"

"I know you like them. It's a way of saying thank-you for last night."

"What we did last night was thanks enough for me ... I do appreciate the gesture. Thanks, Caitlin. Are you feeling better?"

"Do you mean, like I'm finally over a nasty virus better? My mood is much better ... my students appreciate it, too." She approached a large cardboard box on his desk. "What's all this?"

"Artifacts from my trips to the rainforest. I'm using these as props for my lecture on ethnobotany." He picked up a basket made of plaited palm leaves. "This is what the tribesmen use to hold their curare-tipped darts."

"Are they really so deadly?"

"Deadly enough," he replied and lifted an object from his desk. "This is a blowgun."

Caitlin held the object and peered down its bore. "It's amazing how well constructed this is ... absolutely smooth and straight."

"It's a tool of survival."

She picked up a long-necked gourd with a piece of polished, hollow bone from a bird's leg affixed with hardened pitch. "What's this? A musical instrument?" Caitlin held it like a saxophone and blew into the polished bone.

"That," Ned replied, "is an enema gourd -- used by the tribe's shaman to deliver medicines rectally."

"Plah!" she exclaimed and began rubbing her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Don't worry -- that one has never been used."

"That's a relief."

Ned took the object from her and held it upright like a long-necked funnel. "The patient is put on hands-and-knees ... or, lying, knees drawn up. The tip is inserted and the infusion is poured into the top."

"You've seen this done?"

"Many times ... and not just for therapeutic reasons. The tribe I attended would use these for ritual purposes. For example, when adolescents were coming of age they would conduct a ceremony in which the youths would receive intoxicating enemas. There's a long tradition of this sort of thing in Central and South America. The Mayans were known to practice the same tradition. Somewhere I have a copy of De Smet's monograph on the topic..." Ned rummaged through his bookshelf. "Must be at the house..."

"Why would they use..."

"Why use enemas?" Ned interrupted. "For a variety of reasons. The colon readily absorbs many biologically-active agents. Perhaps the patient is too ill to keep oral medication down. Some agents decompose in the stomach. In many cases the rectal route is faster than oral ... not as fast as intravenous, but that's not technology available to them." He held up the gourd. "This is available to them."

"Do the gourds grow like that naturally?" she asked.

"They're cultivated for the purpose." He set down the gourd. "One of my first experiences in the field was assisting the village medicine-man treat a girl with ascariasis."

"What's that?"

"Intestinal worms," Ned replied. "It's a common affliction in the tropics.

Caitlin curled her lip. "Eww..."

"This girl had an intestinal blockage in her ileum..." Ned pointed to the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. "It's where the small intestine merges with the colon. The shaman brewed up a potion and had the girl lie on her side. He inserted the nozzle and began pouring the fluid into her ... nearly a gallon by my reckoning. The poor girl's belly began to bulge as he forced the fluid up into her small intestine. She lay in considerable discomfort until the medicine man had her squat over a bucket. She expelled a massive amount of dead worms."

"Oh, gross!" Caitlin exclaimed.

"We think the brew he came up with might yield a viable agent against intestinal parasites. It's one of the plant products we're studying."

"Did you witness the initiation rite you mentioned?"

"I did indeed. There were a half a dozen boys -- about fourteen years old. They were segregated in a hut and fasted for a day. Then, the shaman administered to each of them enemas brewed from bark that makes a powerful purgative -- to cleanse their colons. That evening he built a fire, adding leaves to fill the hut with scented smoke. Each boy stripped naked, got on their hands and knees and received a rectal dose of a concoction similar to ayahuasca..."

"I've heard of that. It's intoxicating, isn't it?" she asked.

"Very ... psychedelic ... hallucinogenic ... One effect is to make the recipient highly suggestible."

"Like hypnosis?"

"Like hypnosis," he concurred. "After receiving his dose, each boy lay on his back on a mat. As the drug took effect the shaman led them through a spiritual journey. They experienced fear and joy. They became one with their universe. The ritual culminated with the shaman leading them on an erotic trip. He described his earth muse and each youth imagined a beautiful maiden clothed in leaves and vines was making love with him. They all ejaculated simultaneously. It was quite an astonishing thing to witness."

"Did you sample it?" she asked.

"No. This particular brew was reserved for this and only this ceremony. It would've been sacreligious for me to do so. I did sample some of their psychoactive snuffs, though."

"It's quite a life you've led," she remarked. Caitlin picked up an ornately carved wooden box. "I've seen this but never asked..."

"That ... that contains my most precious artifact from my rainforest days."

She attempted to open the box. "It's locked."

"For a good reason."

"Why? What is it?"

"It is a rare root from which the village shaman would brew the royal nectar."

"Royal nectar?"

"When the village chieftain passes on and his son is elevated to the position, one thing must be assured -- an heir. The new chief selects a maiden as his bride and they attempt to conceive a boy. The belief is that if the woman achieves orgasm, then the likelihood of conceiving a boy is enhanced." He picked up the box. "The royal nectar is administered after the bride is prepped as for the youths' ritual. She is then sent to her groom."

"What does it do?"

"The nectar is the female equivalent to Viagra ... or, more precisely, a true aphrodisiac. Under its influence, the woman is guaranteed to experience orgasm."

"Did you witness this, too?" she asked.

"No. I only heard of it from the shaman himself. At the time, the tribe's chieftan already had an heir, so there was no need for the ceremony. We were foraging for some herbs and vines and came across some of the plants. It was a rare enough find that the shaman collected some roots to dry for future use. He gave me three of the roots." Ned tapped the box. "One is in here, one we've been working on in the lab to analyze and the third is in a safe-deposit box."

"How did your shaman come to entrust something so precious to you?" she asked.

"The chief's son and heir had the misfortune of encountering some red fire ants. He was stung up pretty badly and having a bad reaction. The chief came to the shaman in a panic. I could see the boy was going into anaphylactic shock. They don't see a lot of allergic reactions in the rainforest -- they live in such proximity to allergens they're for the most part desensitized to them. I, on the other hand, have always been sensitive to stings so I always carry one of these..." He took an epinephrine injector from his pocket."

"An epi-pen?"

"Right. I used mine on the boy and brought his reaction under control. The shaman was impressed -- he had thought the boy was lost. I traded one of my epi-pens for the roots."

"What does the royal nectar do?"

"Like I said -- it nearly guarantees the recipient will experience orgasm during sex."

"I always wondered what it's like to be a man," she replied. "Men have it so easy -- you never have trouble coming."

"In my case it's way too easy," Ned replied. "I need something to slow me down ... make me last. You didn't have trouble achieving orgasm last night."

"Not true," she said. "With me it's always an effort. I need just the right stimulation, and even then I need to concentrate."

"It sounds like for you it's a joint effort," he remarked.

"Oh, it is. I wish I could climax as easily as a man..."

"Maybe you can. Maybe it's a question of training your body. If anything, I think you have a mental block."

"Easy for you to say," she replied curtly. "Just like a man..."

"I do know there are differences between a man's response and a woman's..."

"Just once I'd like to know what it would be like..." She held the box and bit her lip. "Can we try it?"

"You want to try ingesting what's in the root?"

"Aren't you curious? You've seen other of your shaman's concoctions in action. Don't you want to know if it works as advertised?"

"It wouldn't be ethical..."

"I don't care about ethics," she replied. "Do you know what the active compounds are?"

"That's the problem -- I don't," he replied. "I've had grad students working for ten years to isolate and characterize what's in the root. As far as I can tell, it's a collection of alkaloids."

"Anything known to be dangerous?" she asked.

"No known toxins. Some of these alkaloids haven't been described before so we don't know anything about them."

"Your shaman wouldn't administer anything dangerous -- would he?"

"So far all the botanical agents we've identified have been at worst, harmless ... Of course, there is a definite lack of literature in this area."

"Admit it," she said. "You are curious to see what this root will do. I take all responsibility, Ned. I'll confess ... when I was younger I did some experimentation..."

"What? With psychoactives?"

"My share of them, yeah. I survived." She looked into his eyes. "Please, Ned? Please?"

 
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