Taste Is Everything

First Edition: June2015

Story: 34,322 words, 47 pages

When botanist Dr. Greene discovers a plant that can change the way a person tastes things, his wife discovers that the source of ambrosia is in his pants. A secret she doesn't hesitate to share with her sister and best friend. 


Dr. Green is not a selfish man, and makes sure his brother-in-law is deserving of a sample, and before long, the women decided this is something that deserved to be shared far and wide, with interesting results.


Warnings: This title contains extensive oral sex, and plenty of regular sex, with the lucky Dr. Greene getting more than his share. Stick around for the surprising ending!


FMF, Oral, Exhibitionist, Celebrity

I exited the greenhouse, my latest treasures cradled in my hands. The hybrids were doing nicely, thank you very much, and it was time for me to test the results.


It only took a few moments for me to ensure that Brooke wasn't around. She was exceedingly tolerant of my hobby, allowing me both the time and finances to indulge it. There are not a lot of wives out there who would let their husbands build three separate greenhouses on the back of their property, and spend a couple of hours each day lost in them.


Of course, I made sure she got some benefits out of them. Fresh herbs, exotic vegetables, bouquets, orchids. My Grandma called it a green-thumb; if it grew out of the ground, it would flourish for me.


The one thing my wife would not tolerate was the risks I sometimes took. Like I was about to. I made a paste of the smaller berries, removed the skin of the larger ones, and combined them in the mortar. I selected my treasure, <i>Lymania Brookiana</i> a unique subspecies of the Lymania Bromiliads I had discovered on my botanical safari in Brazil's Amazon. In exchange for a week spent at Ipanema and touring Rio, I was encouraged to disappear into the selva with my guides, searching out new and interesting plants.


One of my guides, an ancient by any measure, had been excited by the discovery of the unusual Lymania, with distinctive deep blue flowers. He'd pinched a couple off, and handed one to me, then popped the other in his mouth, gesturing for me to do the same.


I did, which is exactly why my wife would kill me, if she ever joined me on one of my annual excursions into the interior. I chewed the flower, almost flavorless, observing my native mentor. He was grinning, then reached into his backpack, searching for a while, before coming out with a small shaker. He shook it over his hand, releasing a few small white granules, and passed me the device. I glanced over at the translator who grinned. "Salt," he said. "Taste."


Curious, I shook out a little and licked my hand. "Nothing," I told him. It was totally tasteless.


His grin was enormous, when he took the shaker, and upended it over his mouth. He shook his head quickly, wincing. "Salt."


Passing me the plastic container, I used more, licking it up. Nothing but a hint of a subtle sweet flavor. The ancient laughed, waving the flower.


Could it be possible? A new flower, with properties similar to Thaumatococcus, or Synsepalum dulcificum, except instead of changing sour to sweet, it turned salty to nothing? It should be possible, something like Amiloride, blocking the salt taste-bud receptors. 


I was exceedingly familiar with Thaumatococcus and Synsepalum dulcificum, two very different plants, both named Miracle Fruit although the Synsepalum was more recognizable by the name. They were one of my primary fields of study.


This was new. At least I believed so. There were several of the plants growing in the area we were in, and investigation found one with several pups ready for harvesting. I carefully removed them, and placed them in my care carrier, protecting the fragile roots and moistening them. I took an abundance of pictures, and logged the GPS location. I spent a moment marveling at nature, and it's infinite variety and miracles.


A year later, in my greenhouse, I had seven flowering plants. Seven. I'd named them after my incredible wife, of course, although nobody knew that yet. Shortly, these plants would pup again, and I'd have a sustainable colony.


For now, I held several of the small flowers in my hand, and it was time to verify the plant's properties. I tasted a bit of sea salt to give myself a baseline. Yep, very salty. Rinsed my mouth, gave it a minute, then chewed a flower. Tested again.


Not salty. Hint of sweetness, maybe, almost invisible. 


I was so excited that I was almost shaking. A botanist's dream.


I placed a few of the flowers into the mortar, and ground it into the miracle-fruit paste with the pestle. Dipping my finger into it, I sucked it clean. Very sweet, too sweet.


I cut a lemon in half, salted it heavily and bit into it. Damn! I could have been eating a nectarine! Took another bite, and laughed out loud. I was going to be famous. Well, not Einstein famous, but I'd get my own little footnote in horticultural history. Sure, there were already almost 3200 Bromiliaceae identified, the pineapple and spanish moss the most famous, but still!


It was a night for celebration. My wife should be back from her evening Yoga class any moment. I cleared the dining room table, and brought one of my precious plants in as a centerpiece, misting it carefully, and placing it to be as visually pleasing as possible.


A few seconds with my paste and some food coloring, and I had a 'pâté' cracker for an appetizer. Our best china was set out, with a half lemon, half grapefruit, steamed brussel sprouts, sardines, a pretzel stick, 90% Dark chocolate and of course individual salt cellars. Three glasses were set out, one contained a strong Cabernet Sauvignon, another tonic water, the third cider vinegar. 


I tasted things several times myself, to make sure the taste conversion was still happening, and to determine the duration of the effect. I knew the Thaumatococcus effect could last for hours, and my first try with the <i>Brookiana</i> had endured all afternoon.


At my desk, I pulled out the little placard I'd made on the printer, listing family, genus and species, with the dedication to my patient partner. I placed the draft of my scientific publication with it. I had photos of Olaf Bromelius, and Lyman Bradford Smith, accompanying the photo of my wife on Ipanema beach.


I was trembling in anticipation. Seven years of education, six more of research, and I had hit the jackpot. Sure, new plants are discovered all the time, but with rare, useful, even unique applications? That was something very, very different.


Brooke entered the house, chatting on her phone, tossing her gym bag to the side of the entrance. Her hair was still moist from her shower. I practically ran her over in my excitement.


She laughed, that beautiful joyous laugh of hers. "Gotta go Deb, Nathan's here, practically bouncing off the walls. Something's got him wired. Love ya."


She accepted my embrace, returning it. "What's got you in such a glorious mood?" she teased.






"Then have I got a surprise for you!"


I sat her at the head of the table, in my usual seat. The plates were covered with our best cloth napkins, a temporary wall surrounding the centerpiece.


She was chuckling, enjoying the surprise. "What gives?"


I removed the cardboard from the center of the table. "Ta-da!"


She gave me a patient smile. "It's beautiful."


"It's you!"


She looked at me quizzically. "Me?"


"Lymania Brookiana," I told her excitedly. "A new species!"


She looked surprised, and excited. "You named it after me?"


"Of course! It's the most amazing thing. You're not going to believe this." I uncovered the tiny plate at her side, exposing the 'pâté'.


"Eat! Eat!" I encouraged her, removing the covering from my own serving, and popping the cracker in my mouth.


She picked it up, smelling it. "What is it?"


"A surprise. The most wonderful surprise in the world. It's you."




"Eat! Please!"


She indulged, me as she usually did. "A little too sweet I think," she said afterward.


I felt like a kid with his first bicycle. "Have a drink," I told her, the three glasses uncovered the whole while.


She reached for the tallest, the vinegar, the grin I was wearing was in danger of splitting my face.


She looked at me oddly, then took a sip. "Apple juice?"


I giggled, reached over and removed the cover from her plate. "Taste! Everything!"


She looked stunned. "What kind of meal is this?"


"Please, Brooke. Trust me, it's the greatest meal ever. Eat!"


I uncovered mine, and took a bite out of the grapefruit, a sip of the tonic water, and popped an entire brussel sprout in my mouth. It was like Halloween. Candy everywhere.


She hesitantly dug into the grapefruit, and took a bite. "Not bad? What kind is it?" 


"Secret," I giggled. "Go ahead."


She picked up the brussel sprout, not one of her favorites, and took a bite. A shocked looked appeared on her face. She finished it, then lifted the lemon, biting into it.


"What...what's going on, Nate?"


"Isn't it amazing?"


"It's all wrong..."


"Sugary? Sweet?"




"It's you, baby. The magic of Brooke. Take anything sour, bitter, salty, and turn it into a sweet joy."


"How?" she asked, taking her time to taste each of the items.


"<i>Lymania Brookiana</i>," I explained, "With some Thaumatococcus and Synsepalum dulcificum." 


"English please, Dr. Greene."


"Miracle fruit and Brookiana flower." I jumped up, and gave her a hug. "It's amazing. Blocks the salty taste buds, and converts the bitter and sour buds reactions to sweet."


"You... you discovered this?"


"Not the Miracle Fruit, just the Brookiana. We discovered it. In Brazil last year."


She bit the pretzel, then nibbled the dark chocolate. I saw her close her eyes and savor the treat.


She stood, and walked over to me, her toned body driving me crazy. She sat in my lap. "You are the most amazing man. You did this, all the years of research, and time slogging through jungles and swamps, countless hours in your greenhouses, and you named it after me?" Her eyes were tearing up.


"Of course, baby! Without you there would be none of this. I'd be nothing. Just another professor, in a mediocre college, bored to death. You're my Brookiana. You make my entire life a miracle."


She reached out for her wine glass, and passed me mine. "To the most wonderful man in the world."


"I can't drink to that," I told her. "Let's drink to you, and to your plant. The Brookiana. Rosette the color of your luscious lips. The flowers as blue as your eyes, as soft as your skin, as miraculous as your love."


"I'll drink to my man, my husband, and the love of my life, or not at all," she said firmly.


We clinked, and drank to each other, our eyes locked. 


She was as beautiful as the day I met her. Natural, no artifices. Glistening long dark hair, worn free. Mesmerizing blue eyes which shifted colors with her mood. Heart shaped face, dazzling smile as big as the sky, button nose as cute as a three day old puppy. And she was mine.


"You're staring," she teased.


"I... I still don't know how you're here with me. How I could ever deserve you," I confessed.


She shook her head, smiling. "Still? After all these years? You don't understand?"


"You're brilliant, beautiful, charming. You light up a room with your presence. You could have anybody."


"You're right," she grinned. "Anybody. So why wouldn't I choose the best?"


She wrapped her arms around my neck, and her lips convinced me once more, I was blessed and fortunate beyond my wildest imagination.


Her actions, moving in my lap, wearing those crazy tight yoga pants, made my blood boil. Her stretch top only enhanced the glory of her breasts, exaggerating the narrowness of her waist. She was feminine beauty incarnate.


She grinned. "I think somebody likes me." The wiggle of her butt in my lap was driving me crazy.


Her eyes gazed into mine, and I saw the love and lust both, giving me goosebumps and setting my heart racing. She stood, and took the arms of my chair and twisted it so I was seated sideways. She dropped to her knees, and started unbuckling my belt, aggressively, anxiously. In seconds my pants and boxers were around my ankles.


She grabbed my shaft in her hands, and looked up at me. "Do you have any idea how much your desire excites me? And the thought that you would dedicate your life's work to me? My own plant?"


I shook my head as she started making love to my cock.


It was almost as big a surprise as my discovery. We had a great love-life, but oral sex was rarely performed, and only for a few minutes in preparation of the real loving. I didn't need it now, I was already hard, but she was kissing, rubbing, and licking my shaft like it was the most important thing in the world. Each time she'd look up at me with those dazzling eyes, my heart would skip a beat.


She stopped, pulled my hips out to the edge of the chair, so my shaft was sticking out more than it was up, and placed her lips over the head. She looked up at me, big blue orbs capturing mine, merciless, as her mouth slowly engulfed my swollen rod.


All the way to the back of her mouth, holding it there, pushing, before drawing back again, her tongue encircling the head before releasing me.




"Shh," she whispered, smiling at me. "Let me adore you for a while. I know you love this. After your incredible gift, I'm ashamed I don't do it more often."


I didn't have the heart to tell her it wouldn't be that long. Not the way I was feeling.


She devoured me again, teasingly slow, before moving faster, her mouth traveling the length of my shaft, driving me to unheard of feelings of pleasure.


I brushed her hair back from her face, the idea of missing even a moment of the visual banquet unimaginable.


Her hand stroked me, caressed, fondling and holding my balls, encircling my shaft, a sensuous counterpoint to her demanding, loving mouth.


"Brooke..." I moaned, the impending finish both desperately needed, and hated for ending the moment.


She extended her arm, palm forward. <i>Talk to the hand.</i>


My legs were trembling, toes digging into the rug. My hands clenched the arms of the chair hard enough to hear the wood whimper. I fought it, fought the release, clinging to the last moments of the glorious sensation, stiffening, clenching my ass cheeks, tightening my PC. Just a little longer, not yet. Not...


"Oh, God, Baby!" I groaned, my entire body stiffening under her precious gift, moments from release.


I reached down to push her head away, and she slapped at my arm, eyes proclaiming her love, her need for me in that moment.


Only once before had I finished in her mouth, and that time an accident. She hadn't been furious, but she was clear that she didn't enjoy it, and preferred if it didn't happen. No demands, no threats, just a simple request, which of course I acceded to.


"BROOKE!" I cried out, a jolt traveling from the base of my spine, through my tightening balls, and up my trembling shaft. I erupted in her mouth, gasping, hunching over her head, thrusting into her mouth repeatedly, until the agonizingly wonderful pleasure spasms ceased.


Her eyes were open wide, in surprise, her cheeks hollowed, as I felt her swallowing. Swallowing. Taking my essence into her body, completely, without restraint.


She pulled away gasping, and clambered up my body like an Amazonian capuchin. She placed her mouth over mine, her slippery tongue piercing my lips. 


I was shocked by her action. 


She pulled away. "Did you see? It's... it's what you said, a miracle."


She kissed me again, her tongue delving deep into my mouth, exploring, leaving no corner untouched. I recognized it then, the subtle taste, familiar, but not. She pulled her face away, staring into my eyes. "Tell me."


I was trying to place it. "Custard?"


She shook her head, grinning. "Crème brûlée! Light caramel, powdered sugar. Exactly like the one on our cruise. Thick, creamy..."


"My cum?"


She laughed. "You're wonderful, magical seed." She jumped up and took me by the hand, pulling me out of my chair, almost falling over with my feet tangled in my pants.


"Come to bed, marvelous man. Claim your woman, take me, love me, and leave your wonderful dessert between my lips." She was tugging my hand, almost skipping, so achingly desirable


Her eager mouth brought me to life again, and I made love to her, with all my soul, a perfect union. I closed my eyes, yielding to my senses, each short thrust into her body a voyage of delight. 


"Say its name," she whispered.


"Lymania Brookiana."


"For me."


"For you. Everything I do is for you."


Her eyes teared up. "God, I don't deserve you. Why are you so good to me?"


I stopped mid-stroke. "Don't deserve me? Are you insane?"


"Please don't stop," she whimpered, thrusting against me, "Please, Nate!"


I started moving again, "I'm the lucky one," I told her.


"No baby. No you're not. I'm selfish. Not much of a housekeeper, can't cook worth a damn. Wicked temper. I spend far too much of my time with my friends. I know so little of what you do. I never really cared to learn. How selfish is that? It's your life, and I never made an effort."


I sunk my cock into her, deeply, holding still, feeling her body react.


"We are perfect together. Yin Yang, you are everything I'm not, and we complete each other, don't you see?" I kissed her lips, slowly piercing her again.


"You're outgoing, I'm an introvert. You're considerate, I'm forgetful. I'd have no friends without you, no status in the University without my perfect wife fighting for me, making the connections, pushing where I wouldn't. You don't need to know the minutiae of my research, yet you encourage me, allow me the time and resources to follow it up. Never once have you complained, no matter the cost."


"It's your money, baby. From your position, from your grants, from your family. I bring in nothing," she said softly.


"It's our money. Ours. And you understand and give me a freedom few women would. You spend time with your friends, and with your activities, but it costs us nothing. We still have our time together. Wonderful vacations and weekend outings, long quiet evenings, so much. Don't <i>ever</i> say you don't deserve me!"


I don't know where the anger came from, but I'd lost the moment, softening, no longer making love to my wife, just leaning over her, growling.


She climbed out from under me, and crawled into my arms. I held her, ashamed at my outburst. 


"I...I forget how much you love me," she whispered. "It's scary. Hard to feel worthy, sometimes. A little stifling."


She squeezed me tightly. "It... It's so much. Too much. Naming your discovery after me. Immortalized, and for what? For being an affectionate and patient companion?"


I pulled away from her, disturbed. What had happened to my incredible, confident wife? Where were these words and thoughts coming from? "You know that's not right. You are so much more. The love of my life, my reason for being."


She sighed, laying back on the bed, her exquisite body stretched out on display. "You don't understand. You can't."


I shook my head. "No, I don't."


She patted the bed next to her and I reclined beside her. "Hold me, Nathan?"


I pulled her into my arms. She rarely said my full name, and when she did, it usually preceded something important.


She leaned her head against me. "We were equals. You loved me, I loved you. You were a handsome man, intelligent, maybe brilliant. You had a good job, and an interesting hobby. You're liked by our friends, maybe not adored, but well-liked."


She caught her breath. "I'm a good wife. Not hard to look at. I keep myself in shape. I'm affectionate to my man, and I always try to remember to place him first in my life. I support what you do, without reserve, and enjoy the fruits of your labors. In exchange, I do what I want, buy what I need. Drive a fabulous car. I'm spoiled rotten." She gave me a little smile. "Not complaining, you know. I felt I deserved it, I guess."


She shivered. "But now... now you're so much more. You see that, don't you? You'll be famous. Be offered better positions, more important ones. Government grants. Our friends won't think of you as the professor. You'll be the famous Dr. Greene. I can't help but think of the applications of your find. It has to be invaluable. It will change you, change us. I'll be Mrs. Greene, not Brooke. Trophy wife. I'm... I'm no longer your equal."


"Crazy. You're talking crazy. Nothing will change. Nothing between us, and our friends. I'll get published, sure, but it's far from the first time. Maybe some grants to explore the benefits, applications and side-effects of our discovery, but I've had grants before. You are the same Brooke you've always been, and I'm the same Nate. You've always been more than I deserved. Maybe, finally, I'll be worthy of you."


I saw the tears in her eyes. "Poor deluded man. You've always been so much more. Why can't you see it?"


"I see perfectly well. You are my soul-mate, in every way I can imagine. It's horribly clichéd, but you complete me. You know that."


"Do you honestly think so? Honestly?"


"Absolutely. I can't imagine my life without you."


She leaned into me, her lips meeting mine tenderly. "Make love to me Nate. Make it perfect, like only you can."


I did. Slowly and intimately. Felt her surrender totally. As she had since that first time, so many years ago. Tutoring me in the ways of love, dragging me out of my shell, kicking and screaming. 


Afterward I held her, feeling her warmth, our connection.


"Do you like making love to me?" she asked softly.


"More craziness," I teased. "It's amazing."


"I... we don't do much. Do you want more? I can be whatever you need, you know. More often, different things. Do you have fantasies, things you'd like to try?"


I pulled her slender body close. Brushed my lips across her. "You're my fantasy come true. Sure, I'd like to make love a little more often, but what we have is wonderful. What you did, with your mouth? Unbelievable. How about you? What do you want?"


"I want to make you happy. Be the woman you deserve." She grinned. "If you can get me some more of that magic stuff, I'll be blowing you a lot more." She blushed. "I never really liked to do that. The taste, it... it made me nauseous. I'm sorry."


"Sorry? Why?"


"I should have put up with it. I know you liked it."


"Never! Why do something you don't enjoy, something so one-sided, when there's so much we can do together?"


She grinned. "I know something I want to do together, right now." She gave me a firm push backward, and in moments she was straddling my head, her mouth engulfing my soft cock, initializing the mysterious metamorphosis from flesh to stone.


Interesting. The fruit concoction didn't change much about the way she tasted. Maybe just a little, like one of those fruit laced waters, a hint of sweet. 


It was a playful war, to see who could distract the other to the point of uselessness. The feel of her mouth on me was too new, too powerful, and I found myself failing her, head resting on the bed, moaning my pleasure. She wiggled her hips now and then as a reminder, and I'd resume battle, knowing damn well I was outgunned.


I whimpered as the end approached, and her efforts sped up, demanding, until I surrendered, filling her mouth again.


She sighed, rolling off me. "Different that time. Good but different."


"The effect of the Synsepalum berries wears off quickest. That may be what's happening," I explained after giving it a little thought.


She grinned. "Still, pretty fan-fucking-tastic." She rolled over onto me, her face hovering over mine. "We're going to be doing that a lot more often. I hope you don't mind."


"Mind?" I squeaked.


She laughed at me, her mouth covering mine, my hands wandering over her incredible body. I knew our play time wasn't over yet.



  • Facebook Classic
  • Tumblr App Icon
  • Twitter Classic

© 2014 by TT Tales. Proudly created with Wix.com