A chemist of intoxicating beauty and a man researching perfumeries in the south of France create their very own seductive fragrance of desire.

We first met when I was on assignment in the south of France. I was researching perfumeries for the purpose of choosing one to create a fragrance for the designer house I work for. I am of Midwest extraction and certainly accustomed to a different variety of women than that which one meets in Europe. Lianne, quite simply, was a vision of elegance and beauty.

My introduction came by way of Lianne’s grandfather, who spoke first. “This is my granddaughter, Lianne. She’s a walking encyclopedia of our family’s parfumerie,” the white-haired patriarch explained. “She will give you the grand tour of everything, from flower harvesting to the final product.”

“Would you care for a sample of our house ·latest blend?” Lianne asked. Taking my hand, she turned it over, shook a drop of oil out of a flacon and brushed it onto the large vein in my wrist. The tactile foreplay had me almost reeling. “How long will you be visiting our parfumerie? And have you found a pension?” she asked pleasantly. She removed her smock, displaying the bloom of her allure underneath.

“I have a distinct feeling I will be a very slow learner about the fragrance industry,” I conjectured. “And Grasse’ s few lodgings are booked solid for your Festival of the Flowers, so I’ll probably commute from Cannes.”

Lianne explained that commuting that distance was too time-consuming and offered to let me stay with them. “I wouldn’t consider such an imposition.”

Her laugh played with my desire. “It isn’t an imposition; our chateau is always open to friends,” she replied. I dearly hoped that it was yearning that gave her voice its husky sound, and a slight flush deepening the natural rose in her cheeks seemed to confirm it.

We made love that same evening.

A superb dinner, prepared by a housekeeper, Madame Dubois, and accompanied by vintage wines, was heady. And our moonlit stroll through the formal gardens was absolutely intoxicating. It seemed as if every flower known to man emitted its sensual aphrodisiac fragrance as Lianne led me to a gazebo wreathed in exotic vines. She plucked a cluster of its tiny green flowers for me. “This is mignonette, Napoleon’s favorite scent,” she said.

She seemed prepared to wax eloquent on her favorite subject again, but I put my hand to her lips. “Let’s save shoptalk for the shop,” I suggested, replacing my hand with my lips.

We tasted fully of one another, our tongues intertwining to explore, softly at first, and then more and more intensely. By this time my cock was throbbing hot and hard between us, and Lianne acknowledged it by pressing her hips against me. Soft scents drifted between us on the night air as we devoured one another with the hunger of passion. I opened her blouse so that my tongue could slide over every sensuous curve of her firm breasts.

I kissed her again, more gently this time, and placed her hand on my hardness so she could· feel the urgency of its throbbing. My eyes were burning into hers; she responded by squeezing my . cock. We undressed one another there in the gazebo, and my breath caught in my throat at her loveliness.

Riveria moonlight was felected in Lianne’s blonde locks and creamy skin, and the lithe beauty of her body was bathed in the cloying fragrance of mignonette. As my hands explored each curve, Lianne’s hands playfully explored my erection, which was now prodding her stomach. I sought sanctuary between her thighs. Her pussy was wet and she was pressing herself tightly against me, pleading softly into my neck.

“You’re like one of those flowers, whose petals need to spread,” I muttered hoarsely. The feel of her nipples was erotic on my chest and I was aroused. But Lianne took the initiative and lay back underneath me on the chaise longue, her blonde hair framing her face as I hung above her. She closed her eyes, and her smile widened as my cock entered her. The warm wetness of her sex immediately closed around my shaft, and I gradually penetrated her to the hilt.

As we melted into one another, our union was a lazy swaying together, our bodies perfectly synchronized. As the pace of our lovemaking accelerated, my cock began wanting more of her pretty pussy. Then Lianne was writhing and moaning beneath me, her pussy tightly gripping my shaft. Her moans were rhythmic and her spasms swelling to a peak when we came together. A veritable volcanic eruption from my cock had her body shuddering with each pulsation.

The shimmering moon bathed us in its magic as we relaxed afterward, and I hoped that we could be together all night. “You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow; it starts at daybreak,” Lianne said. Still in a dreamlike state, I was idly tracing circles around her breasts. “Why so early?”

“You wanted the full treatment. The harvest of the flowers takes place while the dew is still fresh, to bring out the fragrance,” she explained. “Even at that hour, the sun is quite strong.”

My head had no sooner hit the pillow, it seemed, than the housekeeper was knocking a summons. “Mademoiselle Lianne is waiting, monsieur; time is of the essence,” she told me.

Breakfast was coffee and croissants en route to the harvest. Soon we rounded a bend in the road and came upon a panorama the likes of which I had never seen. Every color in the rainbow bled across the landscape-it was though I were looking at a gigantic Matisse. I was enthralled. Lianne’s keen nose was sniffing critically. “We’ve timed it well; the fragrance has a rich body that will soon be dissipated by the sun,” she announced. “Now for your tour.”

My mind busily recorded everything. My bursting libido had me totally hot for my blonde tour guide as she moved among the workers, who plucked only the brightest and most fragrant blooms. Every curve of her body was visible, as the sun backlit her white cotton dress. Her breasts pushed against the bodice, unable to hide their lushness.

The workers adored her, and why not? She was a sweet vision. They pointed toward me with good-natured grins, the women nudging Lianne and giggling with all the charm of lovely women. I was ready to take her again right there in the flower fields, and I suggested it to her.

“You are as incorrigible as our workers,” she smiled. Although I could discern no change in the fragrance around us, Lianne could. Bright sun had taken its toll, and the dewdrops had dried.

Our next stop was the shed at the perfumery, where the flowers were plucked and the fragrant petals sorted into bins large enough for what, I noticed, still dominated my thoughts. And a bin filled with rose petals in the shed became the delicate site of our second rendezvous.

“You’re as much a romantic as I am,” Lianne laughed when we returned to the shed that evening at my urging and I made my desire known. “Making love in the flower shed has always topped my list of secret dreams.”

“It became mine only this morning,” I confessed.

Our love making was a culmination of foreplay that had occurred after dinner at the chateau. It had been a prelude so intense and express in its purpose that my cock was still rock-hard, my groin a relentless want from prolonged anticipation. Wordless and feverish, we undressed one another again. Lianne stared deep into my eyes as she dove, sinking into the rose petals, giggling. I could see her luscious flesh, her most private spots, peeking at me from beneath the petals. Sinking beside her into the softness was the most incredible sensation of my life!

Lianne cupped her breasts with her hands and held them up to my tongue invitingly. I took them one at a time, the pleasure making me close my eyes when I felt her grope among the petals and then run her fingers over my pulsing cock. My tongue swept its way down her body and her breathing quickened. When I kissed and licked the insides of her thighs, her trembling legs caused the petals to rustle softly. I sought the velvety softness of her vagina. I licked her stiff clitoris, which triggered a sensuous reaction and stirred up a scented turbulence around us.

Lianne Lifted my head from between her thighs and swung herself around so she could go down on my cock. The sensation of her licking up and down the bulging underside vein made me sell to the point of no return. Then she eagerly gobbled my balls before returning to savor my cock-head with her lips. Absorbing the whole stem into her mouth, she bobbed up and down rhythmically, making my body blaze in response to her expertise. Sensing that I was near the point of no return, she withdrew to let her pussy finish the mission.

This time she rode me. Her alabaster loveliness hovered over my own body, which was cushioned in the downy softness of the petals. Guiding my cock through her folds to the hot center inside, Lianne slowly lowered herself until my shaft was buried completely. The moist tissue of her channel fit my cock like a warm glove, and the rose bouquet anointed our bodies.

My entire body glowed from inside as we moved together, her passion greeting each of my thrusts inside her. My pelvis slid relentlessly over her clitoris. Each upward push I gave had Lianne sitting down harder; it was a soaring ecstasy that kept us both moaning. Every now and then she spoke to me in French I couldn’t understand. Her vagina clasped my cock tightly, urging me on until my body stiffened, my own release ripping through me like a wonderful warm tide. Lianne’s ride milked my cock dry, her hot cunt refusing to finish it until I went limp. Then rose petals blanketed us both as she collapsed beside me.

The next day, I learned more about the mystical process of converting flower petals to basic oils that would be blended into exotic perfumes, but Lianne’s efforts to keep things on a serious level were circumvented by my roving hands. Even though I had repeatedly wanted her intoxicating pussy, her body’s shape held out a constant invitation I just could never resist.

After Lianne’s morning lecture and tour, a picnic lunch was brought to us. We basked in the sun while enjoying it, and memories of bliss were fragrant between us. I was recalling the sight of Lianne’s nudity in the rose petals, the taste of her sex and its scent, the feel of her mouth pleasuring my cock and that sheer ecstasy of having her pussy ride it to victory. Total recall of our tryst had me hard and heavy with lust, but when I reached for her, she inched away. “Not here. Tonight, with the moon full,” her voice promised. “It will be time to experience the flower fields. They are never lovelier than in the moonlight.”

That evening, after another gourmet feast prepared by Madame Dubois, Lianne kept her promise. “It is time now to go,” she said, and my pulse quickened.

Moonlit flower fields were the nocturnal vision Lianne had rhapsodized over earlier; moonlight poured down silver and blue over a potpourri vista of jasmine, jonquils, narcissus, mimosa, hyacinth and lavender. Dogs roamed freely to protect the fields from flower poachers. Their warning growls became happy calls of pleasure when they recognized Lianne. The intense passion of the moment had us racing to remove our clothes.

She stood ethereal, bathed in the soft light; my heart was pounding as I tried to take her in my arms. She eluded me, sprinting gracefully through the rows of flowers with the delicacy of a deer.

I raced after her, ever the rutting buck, hot on her scent. When she finally allowed me to catch her, our hearts were pounding from the exertion and the sheer ecstasy of prolonged anticipation. We tumbled onto a soft clump of peat moss, rolling over one another until we ended up with Lianne’s breasts swinging enticingly over my face. “Please, Stuart, would you do it the way you did it the first time?” she asked.

I gently rolled her over onto her stomach and lifted her hips until they were high enough for my cock. Both of us shivered at the sensation as Lianne’s behind humped my cock, welcoming its thrust. Lianne shoved her hips back, and her delightful body pushed sensuously against my pelvis. I could feel her pussy blanketing my cock in its wet heat; I paused briefly to enjoy the magic of it. We both got lost in the thrusting rhythm until a wonderful orgasm thundered through me and into her. I kept pumping my cock into her pussy with deeper thrusts, wanting desperately to prolong this forever.

Tired but triumphant at having fulfilled our ultimate fantasy, we returned to the chateau and bathed one another in water anointed with a blend of hyacinth and orange blossoms that was originally created for Louis XV. My stay in Grasse lasted only a week, my memories much longer. Every time I pass a perfume boutique, I always check to see how Lianne’s house is faring. And I remember our time together and wonder whether Lianne ever found a fragrance more seductive and magical than the one we created that wonderful night in the flower fields.