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Julius Hampton was a brilliant chemist. He was, in fact, brilliant in all things, but he liked chemistry best. The order and symmetry of it called out to his logical mind in the beginning, but his brilliance reveled in the possibilities of the endless combinations, interactions and reactions of otherwise totally predictable elements.
Stewart Chemical allowed him great leeway in what he spent his time doing. The old man that had hired him was pedantic and dogmatic about the business and had held a tight rein on his ability to be creative. The greatest leap of insight the old fart had ever had was in recognizing the brilliance of Julius and hiring him as an intern right out of college.
The daughter, who took over the company upon his death, was a totally different person. Her innovative mind had allowed the stifled company to grow exponentially and she truly recognized, and more importantly utilized, her company assets. This was never more clear than when she made Julius head of research and development, gave him an almost unlimited budget and then got out of the way; content to market and profit from his genius, rather than try and control it.
Julius was no mousey science geek and had never had problems attracting pussy to his bed, but Adriana Stewart was an ice queen in every sense of the word. Tall, long legs, tight, trim and proportionally curvy, she screamed sensuality and promised sexual pleasures unknown, but she remained detached and unattainable… well, inaccessible at any rate, at least until he found the correct alchemy to thaw her out.
Hence his late night machinations in the lab, working on his latest passion, when Ronnie Fitzgerald, the clean up kid, disturbed him by dragging his cleaning cart, with broom and mop handles askew, through the narrow confines of the lab door. The kid was a potential walking disaster, especially in the delicate environment of the research lab. How they had not all been killed in a toxic spill or massive explosion because of this inept and clumsy kid was one of life’s many, as yet, unanswerable questions.
Tired and frustrated Julius snapped at the youngster… “I have told you over and over again Ronnie… leave that cart in the hall. You don’t need everything in the lab just to empty the trash cans and wipe the counters.”
“Yes Sir Mr. Hampton. Sorry.”
Ronnie reversed course and struggled to get the many armed cart back through the doorway with a maximum of clatter and confusion. It would have made for good comedy if it wasn’t so real and disturbing.
Julius was done. He knew himself well enough to know that he would get no more work done tonight after this disruption of his concentration. He thought to himself as he shut down his computer, I will go grab a few hours of sleep and hit this again fresh in the morning. He could feel how close he was to a breakthrough but it evaded him, staying just beyond his grasp.
He knew it was cliché but he was working on the chemical attraction of the sexes, all in an effort to attain the, seemingly, unattainable. History was on his side, even though it was full of failures, it was also replete with examples of genius making great discoveries with the proper motivations. Adriana Stewart would be his willing sex toy… it was only a matter of time.
She would pay for her dismissive rebuffs of his advances and biting insults when she recognized his first desperate and ham handed experiments with pheromones. She laughed at his attempts, wrinkled her nose at the smell and claimed that she was gay… “Well,” he thought at the time, “she just had not had the benefit of his company… he would ‘straighten’ her out.”
Julius met Ronnie walking back through the door.
“I am going home for the night. DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING! Just empty the trash and get out.”
“Yes Sir Mr. Hampton.”
Ronnie watched the lab coat disappear behind the swinging door. “Fucking jerk.” Came out softly, under his breath. He knew he was no great shakes compared to brainiacs like Mr. Hampton, but that did not make him a moron.
As usual, he had the room to himself and he took his time, looking at everything, wondering how most of it worked, and being careful, in his own way, not to disturb anything as he went about his specific duties.
There was more left out than normal. It was Friday so maybe the geeks figured to do some overtime geeking on Saturday early.
His attention was grabbed when he saw a tall water glass, with what was obviously water, sitting out on a counter. He gravitated to it, suddenly very thirsty. He knew it was verboten to touch anything but the garbage cans, but how could a clear glass of water be an issue.
He reached out and took the glass. It felt cool to the touch, which made his mouth want it all the more. He brought it up towards his mouth, and even in his thirsty state he noticed that it was not sloshing like water. His brain decided it was not water and over road his thirst, but before he could reverse casino siteleri the motion, an alarm buzzer went off in the room, a timer that Julius had set to tell him it was the top of the hour and time to go, that surprised Ronnie and caused him to jerk, sending the contents of the beaker, not water glass, splashing up over the edge and on to his face. Some got in his eyes, some in his mouth; the rest of the surprisingly thick but slick liquid covered his face.
He dropped the glass which, miraculously landed on the counter without breaking, which freed his hands to wipe his face. In the process of avoidance, he stumbled backward into another table, knocking other bottles and tubes, splashing some, on him, on the floor and on the counter. He rebounded, spitting and sputtering, eyes clenching and opening, hands pawing at his face and eyes, trying to wipe, only succeeding in mixing the different elements together.
What followed was classic pratfall comedy, knocking tables and shelves, ending with a face plant on the floor in a combined puddle of chemicals, both solid and liquid, some of the reactions causing puffs of gas, inhaled in panic.
Much as life on earth was supposed to start, Ronnie’s gyrations created the perfect environment for the perfect combinations in the perfect proportions to be absorbed into the perfectly prepared container. Through mouth, eye and skin of face and hands, the mixture was absorbed into his body, along with gas and atomized spray into tissue and blood stream, mixing with even more chemicals.
Ronnie pushed himself up off the ground, thinking he should, by all rights be in incredible pain, but surprisingly unharmed. Never the less he made his way to the sink, wiping his face, smearing the concoction, unaware of it leaching into his skin, filtering some elements allowing others, constantly redefining the end result.
He turned the water on and washed his face and hands wiped the residue from his cloths, starting another critical process of chemical reactions as liquid contacted solid, breaking down and reformulating on its way to contacting the underlying skin where certain parts are absorbed and other parts are filtered out and discarded.
Clear face and hands, rinsed out mouth, washed out eyes, all a part of the alchemy of what was progressing in Ronnie’s young body. He turned and looked back and knew he was in trouble, but set to cleaning up the mess he had made.
Several hours later he was closing up the lab, then finished up his other duties. He noticed a burning sensation that started in his hands and face, spreading out from there. He felt like he had too much caffeine… his heart was racing and his body started jerking slightly… as suddenly as it started it subsided… and Ronnie felt fine, a bit sweaty, but ok.
He went out to his little compact beater of a car and headed home trying to beat the sun up, knowing that his mother got up to see the sunrise and she would scold him for being out late after work. He looked at the sky and knew he was in for an earful… there was no way he would be in bed before she got up.
Betty Fitzgerald clumped downstairs to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee from the preset pot, forked out a Danish from the aluminum foil store container and settled into her usual chair in preparation for her morning ritual, the sunrise. It was the one time of day she was assured of quiet solitude. Ronnie was asleep in bed, home from his overnight janitor job and Donald was still sleeping, waiting until the last minute before he had to get up and not be late for work.
That boy was such a disappointment. She held out hope over the years, but each time it came crashing down in abject failure. He really wasn’t good at much of anything and did poorly at most things.
She had been scared silly when she found out she was pregnant. Unmarried, unskilled, no real prospects… she had been good looking, and had used those looks to snare Don, old enough to be her father, but easily manipulated and easy to convince that he was the father, and yes, she would be happy to do the right thing and marry him, giving their child a fair start at life. She hated Don for being the milk toast he was even though that very quality was what she needed, to be able to use him. She was bitter and took it out on both of the men in her life.
Sex with him was never good… he was boring and lazy, and getting old much too quickly. She had tried to add a little spice by trying to suck his pathetically soft dick, but he had freaked out accusing her of wonton behavior, of trying to turn him gay. That was his excuse for not doing it “Doggy” style, oral, anal, or any other variation of simple missionary sex… everything else was some form of homosexual trap.
Betty had not had a good fuck in forever it seemed. Even masturbation was not doing it for her… she had let herself go out of depression and now was too lazy to try hard to get it back just so she could cheat on her husband. She was disgusted with canlı casino herself most of all…
So this was her one time of the day she looked forward to and now she was really pissed when she recognized the sound if Ronnie’s little piece of crap car coming down the street, and turning in the drive.
He had found a way to fuck this up too… staying out late and getting home during her time, or worse, screwing up at work and getting canned, forcing her to entertain the idea of Ronnie being one of those never leave the parents home, basement dwelling worthless shits.
By the time he was shuffling up the walk to the kitchen, she had worked up a good head of steam.
The drive home had become difficult for Ronnie. He was suddenly tired. It was all he could do to force his eyes to stay open. He shuffled up the walk to his parents home, having put his mothers anger on the back burner, just trying to get up to his room and lay down.
Betty got up, looking at her son, who appeared to be drunk or stoned… neither thing had ever been the case before, but she knew that anything was possible. She was prepared to skin him alive with her sharp tongue.
She opened the door as he stepped onto the porch and inhaled deeply to get a good long launch, but the rant never came. The breath caught deep in her chest. She had inhaled through both mouth and nose, but felt like she had hit a joint back in college and wanted to hold it in and get all of the high she could off of that one hit.
Ronnie hardly noticed that she was there; he did not care. He shuffled past her slightly brushing up against her bare skin, bare arm to bare arm.
She felt an immediate jolt. A “warmth” spread from their contact, radiating along her arm, warming her along the way. Slowly she was forced to release air from her lungs, little bit by little bit. Her body began to relax, her mind calm and her anger dissipate. She felt happy that Ronnie had come home, not sad or angry.
Ronnie had made it to the stairs and was moving steadily to his room by the time the warmth spreading through Betty reached her breasts. First one and then the other nipple hardened and stiffened up.
“That is pleasantly surprising and unexpected.” Betty looked down at her thin dressing gown encased body and saw the outline of her pointy nipples. They seemed extra sensitive and felt like they were continuing to get harder with every breath and movement she made.
Unconsciously her hands moved to her breasts and, first rubbed and then pressed and squeezed her boobs. Wow! I haven’t felt like that for… and then the warmth dipped into her pussy. Her knees got weak for a moment and had to sit down. She almost did not make it to the chair.
She could feel her pussy getting wet. Every movement she made caused her body to vibrate. She sat still and caught her breath. Twice she moved her hands to try and caress herself. She wanted to rub her cunt, pull on her tits. She felt like she could easily have an orgasm… she desperately wanted to do that, but her body was too sensitive to move… it was too close to painful, so she sat still for a bit.
It was only 5 minutes, but felt longer, before her body calmed down enough for her to move her hands without causing waves of intensity to wash over her. Her nipples still ached and wanted attention, and her pussy felt wet as if she had teased herself half the day. (not that she would know what that felt like…)
Her mind had not yet cleared sufficiently for her to put together Ronnie’s arrival and her altered condition. Frankly she had a hard time connecting Ronnie to anything remotely pleasant, and this was much more “pleasure” than she had experienced in quite a while.
Betty looked at the clock and saw that Donald would be getting up and going to work. He might come downstairs before she was finished, and that would be awkward enough to deter her… at least until after he had left.
Then again, maybe she could surprise him with a little morning nookie… anything to get this itch scratched…
Betty headed up stairs to her room and the bodily feelings got stronger as she got closer. The aroma she was smelling was just one of the many pleasant things she was experiencing, so it was not singled out as important… she thought it was just an odd desire that she had not felt in a while. She liked it and wanted more of it.
Don was still asleep, unaware of his wife’s desires. He became aware of a pleasant feeling in his crotch. Then his eyes popped open, fully awake because he thought he was going to pee before he could wake up and make it to the toilet. Instead he found his usually fridge, nag of a wife, greedily sucking on his still limp cock. At first it was pleasant, then he was aghast at his own homosexual leanings. Kicking out and shoving her away Don jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.
“What the hell Betty! Why do you have to try to turn me into some sort of degenerate pervert! I don’t want anything to do with that kaçak casino gay sickness!”
“Don, please, I was just trying to get you ready… I need some attention this morning…”
He stuck his head out of the bathroom. “Are you kidding me now? You know I have to go to work… when did you become ‘Miss Porn, I want sex first thing in the morning’ woman.
“You always seem so tired after work… I really need you this morning Donald!” Betty was off the bed, talking through the door of the toilet. The words sounded hollow even to her… the closer she had gotten to her husband, the less she felt like fucking him, but she still wanted sex in the worst way.
She was very, very confused.
Don opened the door and pushed past his waiting wife.
“I will see you tonight. Maybe after dinner we can talk about this.”
Don exited the bedroom, Betty close at heel. He quickly walked down the hallway, down the stairs and out the back door heading to his car. She noticed an increase in desire as soon as she hit the hallway, but a drop in intensity the further she pursued him.
She stopped at the head of the stairs and watched her old, overweight, limp dicked, ineffectual husband run away from her sexual advances. And realized that the tug she felt was not towards him, in fact, the more she paused, the more repulsed she got, even to the point of gagging on the taste of his dick in her mouth.
Betty turned back towards her room, not really having a reason, knowing coffee and Danish awaited her downstairs. Two steps down the hall she figured it out. Her bed and masturbation lay up here, not downstairs.
With renewed purpose she walked quickly back to her room, determined to self pleasure, but it felt like hitting a wall when she went into her room. The pull was in the hallway, down at the end, not in her room.
Even in the fog of desire she had to wonder at herself, her feelings. There was nothing at the end of the hallway but Ronnie’s room. Betty hesitated at her bedroom door, but only momentarily… she was drawn down and standing outside her son’s door before she knew she had moved.
She felt anxious… desperate… wanting something that seemed to be on the other side of the door, afraid deep inside, of what that was and what that meant, not deeply aware of much, but extremely cognizant of the juices starting to wet her inner thighs in tiny rivulets running from her very excited pussy.
Her nipples were hardened again and so sensitive that the lightweight cotton had to come off. She dropped her night shirt on the floor outside of her son’s room and turned the knob, stepping through the doorway.
There was nothing physically in her way, but her body reacted as if it had been engulfed by pure pleasure. She orgasmed so hard that she fell to the ground, unable to keep her legs under her.
It lasted longer than she could keep track of… it could have been minutes, it felt like hours… it was probably only a few seconds… intensity like that, continuously over a long time period would tend to melt your brain connections, overloaded circuits…
She became aware of her surroundings to the sound of moaning and groaning. It dawned on her that she was responsible for at least some of those sounds. Betty pulled herself up to her hands and knees, and crawled towards the sounds coming from Ronnie’s bed.
There was a glow coming off of the bed, what she had heard referred to as an aura… it was bright but did not irritate her eyes like bright sun light.
Her son lay in the bed, naked, blankets kicked off. He was moaning, occasionally writhing as if in pain.
She recognized Ronnie, but he was different, not the same adolescent boy she had scolded last night on his way out the door for work. Harder, leaner…there was tone to his muscles that her son had never had before. Where a soft and skinny pooch had been, a deep cut 6 pack now sat… his arms had definition, his shoulders had some bulk, and even lying down and squirming slightly, he seemed taller.
All of this was taken in by Betty’s sub conscious, her active awake mind was focused on only one thing, the massive, blood engorged cock flopping back and forth like a third grader’s hand that had the answer and desperately wanted the teacher to call on him. Her mouth watered, her body responded and began to vibrate… in the back of her mind it felt like she was humming.
Her body ached for contact, her pussy screamed at her consciousness to sheath her son’s tool, to be filled and humping the cock in front of her. There was no morality or immorality about it, only intense driving need to breed.
She continued up the bed, crawling between his legs, fully intending to mount him and ride him, wantonly and openly, but as her face passed over the glistening rock hardness, her nostrils flared wider and the aroma of his precum fluids leaking from the swollen head hit her senses.
She dipped her face, nuzzling his cock, inhaling deep and cementing her desire to taste… where the slimy liquid touched her face she felt an intense feeling, unsure if she was being burned by acid or frozen by ice, but unable to stop her tongue from licking the length, from root to tip.
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