The couple days after my ill-fated liaison with my neighbour were somewhat surreal.

The haze of head spin and crotch-rousing electricity took another hour or so to fully subside. I’d jumped straight into our clear blue pool, letting the chlorinated elixir wash the sperm from my chest while I took a moment to fully comprehend what had happened.

In a nutshell, I’d inadvertently given myself a raging hard-on that made my mind, body, and skin dance to a feeling of electric bliss. Most obviously, the effect of what I’d created had set my sperm or cum factory into overdrive.

Given how it had felt during the experience, I wasn’t totally surprised by what happened. The sheer volume was what shocked me and my neighbour Claire as she did a standard physical therapy consult on my shoulder.

What had started out as a preliminary assessment and massage of a shoulder ended up with me blowing a load all over her consult room door and then ceiling before the last two dying shots landed on my own chest.

None of this was planned.

I’d admired Claire for years. She’s my neighbour with her husband Andrew. She’s about fifteen years older than me, and he is about twenty years older.

She’d had a secondary hit of the fusion I’d manufactured. I’d applied some and then been told that I was booked for a therapy session for my shoulder and that I was needed in haste.

Through contact with my sweat, Claire had been exposed to the effects that I was trying in vain to keep from her. The rest, as they say, was history. You’ll have to go back and read the first chapter to see what I’m talking about.

I’m Luke, by the way. I’m twenty years old and am back in my hometown for a couple weeks.

My sister, Ella, is here with her friends. She’s eighteen and just graduated high school. Her friends Kate, Rebecca, and Lily are staying with her for a couple of nights to enjoy our pool and the bayside living that we enjoy out here in Point Reyes.

The day after my appointment, I took a walk down to the bayside. Near the site of my trip the previous day. The water glimmered once again. The reflection of the red alder and willow resembled a photographer’s wide lens shot. Further in, Douglas-fir and pines sheltered the harshest sunlight from the shore as its banks lapped with the cool water.

Repeatedly I went over what had happened. The reaction I had to that mix was way above any of the others. The mixing of the ferric seemed to multiply the reaction's strength and its timeframe. As for Claire, I didn’t know what to think. I was embarrassed with what had happened but had also lived out a fantasy. Between Ella and her friends flaunting in bikinis and then Claire in her zip-up top and running leggings, I was exposed to a plethora of candy for my eyes.

Then there was the matter of what Claire had said to me as she left me to clean up my mess while she got her husband out of the building.

“I don’t know what the fuck that stuff is, but I want to know more about it.”

A mere five or ten minutes later, my phone had dinged with a text confirming my next therapy session. My mom had arranged three for me to deal with my shoulder.

The next one was a ‘community access’ visit at a remote beach. It was about fifteen or twenty minutes’ drive away at Indian Beach. Community access sessions are designed to be more of a rehabilitation in an appropriate setting for the patient’s goals. They’re for more able clients who don’t require specific clinical rehabilitation. Sports people often end up doing these sessions as they transition from acute rehab to more specific movements for their chosen pursuits. The fact that Claire had booked a community session for me was an indication of her assessment of my injury.

My mind wandered.

When I got home, I ran into Ella in the kitchen as she fixed breakfast for her and her friends.

“How’s your shoulder, poor boy?”

“Mom overreacted again, hey,” I replied. “She’s booked me in for another two sessions.”

Ella smiled. “How was yesterday’s session?”

I hesitated. Completely unsure how to answer such an innocuous question.

Ella stopped doing her busy work in the kitchen and caught my eye, waiting for my response.

“Interesting,” I blurted. “Very fucking interesting.”

She held my gaze as I tried to avoid it.

“What do you mean by that?” she pressed.

I tried to deflect her. “Ah, never mind. I’ll know more after today’s session.”

I glanced at my phone. It was just before nine.

“What was the idea of jumping into the pool in your clothes yesterday?”

She was nothing if not observant, my sister. I returned home yesterday and jumped straight into the pool in my fleecy shorts and took my shirt with me. The reason I gave her was poles apart from the truth.

I’d soiled myself with my own cum in Claire’s presence. She’d ended up using her curvaceous bust to help me, albeit briefly, such was my hair-trigger control over my arousal. I told Ella a tale of still sweating and not bothering to change. In reality, it was the fear of being caught in a cum-drenched outfit after a physical therapy session.

On the countertop next to me, my phone dinged. Ella snapped it up playfully.

“What lady is chasing you now, big bro?” She glanced at the screen.

“A reminder text,” she said before reading, “REMINDER. Your previously confirmed appointment with Sullivan Physical Therapy is 2.00pm today at Indian Beach (community access visit). Please call if you are unable to attend.”

Ella looked up quizzically. “Indian Beach? What sort of session are you doing?”

“I have no idea. That’s what she’s trained for, I guess,” I feebly replied.

Her inquisition continued. “She lives next door, but you’re meeting twenty minutes’ drive away?”

“Ella.” I looked at my sister. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know how it goes afterward.”

She lobbed my phone up so that it fell in my hands as she sauntered out and continued down the hallway to her bedroom, carrying some breakfast supplies as she went. Her ass bounced side to side in her grey booty shorts and midriff-white singlet as she walked away.

By noon, I had gotten nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. I found myself questioning what to wear and what would happen. Why I wasted so much energy on it, I have no idea. The worst-case scenario was that Claire would’ve told her husband what had happened, and he’d come along and beat the shit out of me. I found that scenario unlikely.

An hour later, I found myself bouncing along a coastal, potholed road, ambling along as it flowed up and over small headlands and over spurs that hid the beach turnoff from the access roads. I pulled up in the small dusty car park under a prodigiously sized tree with a generous canopy. The same section of forest continued beyond the car park, following the beach as it curved out of sight. A narrow path offered the only access to the beach, which was barely visible through the thick vegetation.

I grabbed my bottle of mixture. Claire had asked about from the glove compartment and stashed it in my pocket.

And waited.

A few minutes later, and after a few aborted efforts to get out and check the beach to calm my nerves, another car came crunching through the unsealed car park and pulled up next to me.

The sign-written ‘Sullivan Physical Therapy’ car had a single occupant.

As the door opened, a familiar set of glasses and long blonde hair greeted me.

“Good afternoon, Luke.” As Claire climbed out, she stood and faced me. She wore a form-fitting black polo, embroidered with the same text and font as her car. It was paired with a short, tan-coloured skirt that stopped a few inches above her knees. The way her outfit melded to her shape was…actually dazzling. It was magnetic. Her long, simple ponytail was back, arranged into a side part on top with obvious effort to dry and straighten it as it flowed like velvet down her back. She finished off the look with her trademark thick-rimmed black glasses.

“Hi, Claire. How are you?” I replied as I took in the sight before me.

She came around the car and opened the passenger door. She turned, leant in, and fetched something from inside.

The shape of her back in the polo! The fit of her skirt!

She came out with a small backpack and then kicked off her shoes and socks.

She looked over towards me. “Beach session today. You can take your shoes off if you want.”

I kicked off my shoes with snap-neck reactions and followed Claire down the single track that was worn through the undergrowth.

As we emerged from the lush undergrowth onto the soft sand, she paused and laid her backpack against a tree trunk and sat next to it. She patted the ground next to me, indicating that I should sit next to her.

She spoke. “I assume you know that what happened between us was highly unusual?”

"Rather," I replied.

“If Andrew ever knew…” She continued.

“He won’t.” I cut her off.

Her serious expression didn’t change.

“What IS it that you were talking about? The effect was…quite noticeable to say the least.”

Claire wrapped her arms around her knees, which she’d drawn to her chest.

I explained what had happened and how what had started as an athletic pursuit had transformed and that the effect that we had experienced was nothing like what I’d seen before.

“Did you bring it with you by any chance?” she inquired.

I rustled through my pocket and brought out the vessel that contained the sweet-smelling paste.

“What did you do with it?”

I answered her by taking off the lid, smearing my finger like I’d done the previous day, and holding it up in front of her to see.

“I used about this much and rubbed it into my skin,” I explained.

“Well, go on then. Let’s see what happens.” She was dogged.

“Only if you do as well.” I offered her the container. She obliged by taking a similar amount and rubbing it on her exposed forearms. I followed suit by following her lead.

Almost instantly, the same general sense of warmth came over me. The dizzying mind fog descended.

“Oh,” Claire whispered, “that’s the same feeling as last time.” The last time, she’d only been exposed to the effect through my sweat. This would be much stronger.

My body followed in its descent into a warm bliss. The same feeling of buzzy vivaciousness hit my toes and all the way up. My groin started to burn with the familiar feeling of being connected to a nine-volt battery.

My cock twitched and jumped.

“I thought we were doing therapy for my shoulder?”

“We both know you’re going to be fine. I brought out the equipment if you’d prefer to stop.”

“No, ma'am,” I shot back.

Claire laughed and then sat her right hand on my left knee.

“You know I said Andrew and I are trying to conceive?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well, that’s half the truth. We are trying, but the other half is getting him motivated to want to. That’s why our last session was…was fucking amazing. I’d not felt that sort of lust in years.”

My groin’s buzzing sensation was back. The electricity was running all over my body. My heart raced. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the company I was in.

Claire’s stare landed on me. Her hand on my knee stroked up and down. Her pupils had dilated and her chest was starting to heave.

“Oh, I’m tingling!” she called out. “All over! I’m buzzing.”

Inside my shorts, my underwear was becoming uncomfortable. My swelling had taken up any spare room.

“Ohm!” She cried again.

With one hand on my knee, Claire took her other hand and rubbed against her forearm resting over my lap, seemingly trying to work the solution into her skin further.

“I loved seeing your cock. I’m fairly sure you loved the feeling of my tits around it as well, didn’t you?"

“Claire,” I started, “you have no idea how good that felt.”

She responded, “I think you’ve thought about me a bit over the years, haven’t you?”

Her left hand reached up under her polo and cupped her right breast.

My cock reacted almost violently in my underwear as it sprang to life and pushed with force against the fabric.

“You’re thick down there. Surprisingly thick. I loved the feeling of it between my tits.”

My breathing shortened further. She was talking about my cock now. The same one that was trying to break my shorts open.

“Oh, I feel like I’m on fire, but in a good way.” Claire continued massaging her own breast as her other hand slid down my thigh and brushed against my painfully hard shaft.

I looked out over the sand from our hidden spot. The waves were small but provided the sound of summer holidays. I took a breath.

“Claire. I’m harder than an icicle again. I want to hear you orgasm.”

Her hand slipped from my thigh and brushed over my crotch. The touch sent waves of nerve endings shooting across my skin.

“You’re not fucking me, remember.”

“I don’t need to fuck you to hear you climax," I retorted.

Her hand slipped beneath my shorts and brushed against my rigid member.

“I thought about your explosion all night. I was so turned on afterwards.”

She worked her fingers inside my underwear and wrapped them around my shaft. My thoughts became foggier; I could feel my heart race harder. My cock was in her hand.

“Oh my god, I’m so turned on now. This paste! Jesus!”

Claire did her best to wrap her hand around my cock. Her fingers fell short of completing the circumference. She sighed as she started to slowly work her hand up and down my shaft.

I sat up and leaned over towards Claire. I took my shirt off and laid it behind her on the lush undergrowth. Her feet were still in the sand where the beach met the surrounding canopy.

“Perhaps you’d like to lay back?” I whispered to her. She obliged.

On my knees, I made my way around in front of her, my back to the Pacific. I lifted her knees, so they sat either side of me, then teased them apart.

Without seeking permission, I slid my hands up her calves, over her knees, and up her thighs. They felt like silk-covered steel. So firm but smooth. So warm. So inviting.

Her tan skirt naturally lifted a little as I did this, but I now used my elbows to lift it further, exposing half of her thighs.

I could hear her breathing shallowly.

I leaned in towards her and sank my face between her legs. She was wearing a small pure white G-string. With another act of brazen assertiveness, I lifted the thin material to one side, then put both my hands on either knee and gently separated them.

I continued downward. Her knees spread further without effort from me.

I landed my tongue directly on the base of her pussy. I let it linger on her flesh. Her pink labia were damp and easy to separate. I let saliva run to the bottom of my tongue before gliding it up and over her pronounced clit.

Claire responded by inadvertently spreading her legs slightly further and thrusting ever so faintly against my pressure.

Her pussy tasted like fresh honey. Sweet and intoxicating.

I lowered my attention once again to her labia, working my tongue between them with an agonizingly slow length down before pausing, then back up even slower yet again.

Claire thrust against me once again. “Oh fuck!” she gasped.

I loved hearing her say that. It was working.

I moved up and found her clit once again. Slowly working my tongue over it, then pressing it between my top lip and tongue so that I could flick it three or four times before moving back down to her pussy to work deeper inside her.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“Stop. Stop right fucking now!” she said as she exhaled and looked up at me from her position. She continued, “You’re going to make me cum right now.”

Claire sat up. Told me to roll over onto my back. As I did, she hoisted herself up and spun around.

“I want to feel it.” She stated as she kneeled over me, placing one knee on each side of my shoulders. Without hesitating, she hitched her skirt up to her hips, rocked backward, and lowered her pussy onto my mouth.

She still had her G-string on but had pulled it further to the side. As she lowered her pussy toward me, I caught sight of a small patch of pubic hair above her pussy, but a clear set of labia travelled towards its destination, which duly arrived on my tongue.

My wet tongue easily slid between her pink folds as she lowered herself further down. She tasted fresh and sweet.

Further down, I felt hands lift my elastic waist band and tug my shorts down towards my ankles. My cock sprang from its enclosure with both of Claire’s hands wrapping around my girth.

“Oh fuck!” She gasped as my tongue explored her married pussy, and her hands tried to wrap around my veiny shaft. It was so full of blood it ached. The throbbing in my groin only increased as she started to stroke my shaft with one hand as the other massaged my smooth balls.

As I licked slower and deeper inside her pussy, her clit became increasingly pronounced. It was easy to slide up and flick before descending back to her depths. I could feel her starting to rock back and forth on my wet tongue. Her pussy was getting more and more wet between my saliva and her juices.

“I want to suck it.” She stated. “I want you in my mouth.”

Claire spread her knees further before moving them back over my head, one at a time. From there she lowered herself back onto my face.

I fumbled for her polo hem and tried to lift it up off her. She sat up and grasped the shirt, lifted it off, and tossed it beside her backpack. She had a bra on today....