Chapter 3: SX69 Journal October, 2011

The pilot of the private jet I have rented has just announced we will arrive at London's Heathrow Airport in thirty minutes. Yes, I did say private jet. Let me bring you up to speed as to how my fortunes have changed since my last journal entry two months ago. At the end of the last journal, I mentioned a frail elderly heiress, Abigail Firestone, who had no family and was going to leave her $50 million estate to her cat. Well, I felt strongly that this money would be better used to further my research into SX69. To this end, I got an interview with her on the false pretext of doing a research project into prolonging the lives of cats. She agreed and when we met, I administered a dosage of SX69 with the normal result. She fell in total love with me and we married a few days later in Las Vegas. She and the two girls, Sarah and Mary got along famously during our honeymoon at the Golden Nugget Casino. Unfortunately, she passed away with a smile on her face during a hot-tub party with me and the girls just three weeks after our wedding ceremony and one week after making a new will leaving everything to me. I do not want to go into the details of our brief sex life but suffice it to say Abigail said she had never been happier in her life. I did promise to keep her cats in luxury as long as they lived and I will honor that. To protect the legality of the will, I had several psychiatrists examine Abigail to make sure that she was legally competent. I knew many people would question our spring-winter marriage. Of course, she had all her mental faculties and to my surprise, many of her physical ones as well. The estate turned out to be worth $90 million when revalued to today's prices. Abigail had properties around the world. So, here I am in England to see some properties I now own to decide whether to keep or sell them.

Gwyneth Maplethorpe, my lawyer here, will be meeting our plane. I will be here in London for a couple of days talking business and then going up to a small castle I have been told I own north of London. I will look it over for a few days this next weekend. Sarah and Mary will be coming to England tomorrow and going directly to the castle. I have grown so attached to those two beauties and it is very hard for me to be apart from them.

As expected of an English lawyer, Ms. Maplethorpe is here reliably at the VIP terminal after I clear customs. Standing beside the Rolls Royce limousine, she has the look of a true Brit, long strawberry-blonde hair and a high forehead on a slightly full but beautiful face. Her cheeks have a ruddy red glow and a number of reddish-brown freckles. She has no makeup other than a bit of pink lipstick. She is in her early forties but very well preserved. She reminds me of one of those attractive but serious BBC News anchors on TV. She is wearing a woolen tweed jacket and skirt with a cream colored blouse. She has a full bosom, maybe a 36D cup. I wonder if she has freckles on her breasts. Her hips seem full but that might just be the thick tweed material of her skirt.

Since I have been living with two girls who are basically always nude and constantly rubbing up against me, stroking me and wanting sex on any whim, I have taken a different attitude with women. I look at them as possible willing mates who I alone have the power to decide. I am always weighing the suitability new female acquaintances as subjects for the SX69 drug trial. I decide if I want to bring them into my female troop and fuck them several times a day, forever. This is not a casual one-night stand. It is a serious commitment.

I do need to see how well SX69 works on an older woman. Maybe, Ms. Maplethorpe will qualify. I had a detective agency check into her background. She has been divorced for ten years and is not currently going out with any men.

We sit in the back seat of the Rolls. As she enters, her knees part and I can see up her skirt and she is wearing old-style nylon stockings with garters with ivory skin above and blood red panties. That sticks in my imagination. The Rolls has a seat wide enough for three but I sit in the middle so our bodies are touching from knees and hips to shoulders. I have come to the point that I cannot be in a woman's company without constantly touching. If she doesn't like it, okay, but her firm will lose a very big client. The trip to my hotel is about forty-five minutes. She wants to talk about the will and the British assets that must be probated but I tell her that I am more interested in talking about London and the fun things to do there. We can talk about business in my suite at the hotel. I put my left hand over her shoulder and use my right hand to touch her for emphasis as we chat. At first I just touch the back of her hand that is resting on her leg. Then I squeeze her hand at some amusing part of the conversation. Then I move to squeezing her upper arm. Then her knee followed by her thigh. Her cheeks are soon flaming red from blushing but she goes along with it all even when the last squeeze of her thigh had my hand touching her girlie parts as we drove up to the ritziest hotel in London. I like her pleasing personality. She may yet prove a good candidate.

We get out and the porters collect my luggage. I turn to her. "Please come up to my suite." I can see she is flustered by all my touching and obvious advances.

She tries to escape, "I think it might be better if we meet tomorrow at my office."

But I know women now. She really wants sex but needs a nudge to fulfill her basic biological urges.

"I insist. Like I said, we can discuss business in my suite and see how well we can work together." I take her hand and look deeply into her eyes. Her hand is cold. She knows if she goes upstairs, I am going to fuck her.

She looks down modestly and says, "Well, Okay, sir." She is obviously turned on as well and to MY ears she just meant, "Okay, sir, please fuck me."

"Great," I think, "I can test this subject for sexual compatibility before deciding to administer SX69 for permanent bonding." I slip my hand behind to her lower back and upper ass and push her ahead of me towards the revolving doors of the hotel love-nest.

A young lady steps forward and says, "Hello, Mr. Vitello. My name is Elizabeth Churchill and I am a reporter with the Daily Mail newspaper here in London." I stop to face her. "We will be doing a story on your marriage to a very elderly rich American lady who owned the Brockhurst Castle and who died just a short time after you wed. Some people are harboring some suspicions. I am sure you will want to set the record straight about what happened before we publish."

This is a surprise. I see that Gwyneth has stopped as well. This is something I should deal with alone. I tell her, "Please check me in and go up to the suite and make yourself comfortable. I will be up shortly."

I turn to the reporter. I can see instantly that she would be a good subject for the SX 69 trial. Here is a classy British woman in her mid-thirties that looks like she could be a tennis star or ride thoroughbred jumping horses. She is blonde, green-eyed, tall, athletic but slender with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She is wearing a pleated tartan skirt that ends slightly above the knee with a long-sleeved light green silk blouse. She is at least a yard away but I swear I can smell her musky perfume or is that the scent of her very delicious pussy? Once again there is this suspicion in my mind that SX69 is also changing me at some deep biological level. My senses seem so heightened around women that are ripe for sex.

All I can think about is that I must introduce this perfect specimen to Sarah and Mary. I could easily administer the SX69 without them meeting her but I just know that a permanent troop of females that is unhappy will be hell on earth to lead. Best to get their buy-in in advance. I also must check her background to be safe.

"Mr. Vitello, do you understand what I just said?"

I don't know how long I was standing there staring at her body and thinking about her and the girls but I regain my composure and say, "Yes, Ms. Churchill. I understand. Why don't you come up to Brockhurst Castle this weekend and I will tell you the full story. Two of my assistants - both women - will be there and they can also tell you how they experienced my marriage with my dearly departed wife. Just give your phone number and address to my chauffeur in the Rolls behind me and he can pick you up Friday afternoon. He can bring you back to London on Sunday. Don't worry about anything. My lawyer, Gwyneth Maplethorpe, will be there as well. We are completing the business on the estate of my dear wife. And do bring your husband or boyfriend and make a holiday of it.

To my joy she agrees. "Okay, Mr. Vitello, I will see you this Friday and by the way, I do not have a man in my life."

I smile and say, "Please call me Edward, Elizabeth."

"Okay, Edward, until then." And she gives me a big smile along with her business card, turns and walks off.

I stand there admiring her pleated-skirt covered ass as she walks away. That kind of skirt has a sexy sway to it when the woman is walking that always gives me a chubby. Those hips will feel so nice when she bends over and lifts up the skirt so I can mount her properly. I do so hope that Sarah and Mary like her.

But now I must go up and evaluate Ms. Maplethorpe. I know my suite number because it's the bridal suite on the top floor. I like the jacuzzi tubs that come with bridal suites.

I go up the elevator and knock on the double doors. Gwyneth answers and lets me in. It's a large room with a large dining table and eight chairs at one end and a full bar and sofas and large stuffed leather chairs at the other. The lights of the Piccadilly theatre district are visible from the huge windows. A bedroom door is off to the side.

I could immediately detect a strong sexual scent in the room. My senses have become so attuned to the biological mating emissions of human females in heat. Ms. Maplethorpe must have been up here waiting for me and getting turned on by imagining me ravishing her very attractive body. The scent is so strong; she may have even been playing with her pussy as she waited.

I truly believe SX69 is transforming me at some primal level. I am becoming a true alpha male with instincts attuned to finding and seducing mates. My senses seem to be keener and I am developing stronger muscles. These include six-pack abs that are likely due to the humping throughout the day with beautiful Sarah and pretty Mary. On the airplane over, when I walked down the dark isle to the washroom, I swear I could detect the women and girls that were in heat. Some of them locked eyes with me as I passed and somehow I knew when our eyes met that they wanted me to fuck them. Before working with the love drug, I was shy with women. Now, for instance, I know I will soon be mounting this English lawyer. I can smell her sex and her need and will soon be sliding my cock into her wet, warm pussy.

I go to the bar and say, "I think I will have a large scotch. What will you have my dear?"

She hesitates, looks down demurely and then says, "Gin and tonic, sir." She approaches me at the bar. Her demeanor has become much more submissive than when we were in the car. She seems to have accepted the fact that we are going to have sex and seems to be waiting to be guided to that end. My months with Sarah and Mary have given me the confidence to assume control.

I mix the drinks and hand her hers and propose a toast, "Here's to England, where this American owns a castle and feels like a king." We touch glasses and drink.

I continue, "I just love your tweed outfit, Gwyneth. It is so British." I feel the lapel of her jacket and stroke the fabric up and down so that my knuckles run under the lapel, over her silk blouse and stroke the tip of her breast at the same time. She catches her breath but does not move. "Yes, I love the feel of a good tweed." I put my drink down on the bar and take my hand and slip it to her hip and slowly slide it down the curve of her ass. "Yes, British tweed is so nice." She puts her drink down on the bar and places her hand on my chest just waiting for me to make the next move. Her buns are firm and womanly. I knead them slowly while watching her pretty face. She is blushing and looking down demurely. I can smell her sex and my cock starts to rise. The private investigators I hired did not find any relationships with men in the last year. Here is a woman that needs a good fuck.

"Why don't we have a seat on the sofa, my dear?" I take her hand and lead her to the stuffed leather sofa. I snuggle up to her with my arm over her shoulder and put my hand on her thigh. She has her hands folded together shyly over her crotch area and is looking straight ahead. Her lawyer skills may give her control in a courtroom setting but my courting skills are superior when it comes to male-female interactions.

I look down at the hem of her tweed skirt and legs. She has dark nylons on and I remember the sexy garters and the red panties that I had spied earlier. I was excited by the thought of peeling those blood red panties down her beautiful nylon-covered legs. It struck me that a woman with no man in her life would likely not have shaved her pussy. As an older woman, if she hasn't shaven her girlie parts for years, she might have a real fine fist-full of bush. Wouldn't it be great if her pubic hair was the same strawberry blonde color as the hair on her head? All this thinking about what's under that tweed skirt is getting me super horny. Time to get this moving along.