A Very Strong Smelling Love Potion

The year had settled heavily on Camelot. The winter months had arrived with a cold, hard frost, and to herald this cheerless dusk, the great King Arthur had summoned the lords and ladies of his realm away from their holdings to feast in his royal court.

The festivities were to take place over a week. The courtyard stamped with hooves and the air snapped with knightly banners. Dirt was slicked up by boots and slapped back down over and over, by then men and women making preparations for their betters.

The rest of the country was awash with quiet, the common folk being driven in by frost and ice. Everywhere. Every town, village and hamlet was in a dolorous state. All except for the jagged collection of stones called Camelot, heated orange and stinking of wine

Inside the keep, a great many hearths were at work to keep the cold out. Elaine of Astolat, to her gratitude, found herself inside this orange warmth. It was her second time visiting Camelot--the first when she was an oblivious child, nevertheless no less awed its splendour. Now, at the age of nineteen, she had come with a cognisance of wealth and glamour, and also now of the romance that the castle held.

Back then, in her younger years, she had spied Lancelot and saw him as the handsome French knight he no doubt was, but upon returning, the man had been coloured tenfold by the many stories of his splendid tourneys that had crossed the realm.

The Astolats were noble enough to earn an invitation to the feast, but yet not noble enough to make a place upon the dais. And neither did her father, Bernard of Astolat, posses the heroics to have fought for a place on the Round Table either. The family stood, therefore, modestly to the side without seat, while King Arthur customarily heard the pleas, requests and, on rude occasions, the demands from his subjects.

The court had sunk two hours into this ordeal already, and Elaine's feet had begun to ache inside her shoes. Perhaps there were one too many hearths, or maybe the gown her handmaiden had sewn in winter weight was a thread too heavy, because the frost, far from creeping under her garments, had been burned away at the great keep doors, and Elaine was beginning to sweat from the inside.

Her deep green skirts moved with a faint hush of wool at her every fidget, and her poor shoes and hem wore honest marks of the journey north to Camelot now danced with discomfort. Her sleeves hugged her arms, and soft squirrel fur lined her wrists for warmth rather than ornament. A simple pleated leather belt drew her gown in tightly at the waist, buckled with a bronze clasp passed down from her mother, the origin of which she had been told several times, but never cared to remember.

She had brought two fine 'special occasion' shifts, one of which she wore now, clasped neatly at her throat. To her dismay--and to the later, sharper dismay of her mother-- Elaine had already sweated through half of her good linen undergarments. As she was standing in the great hall she could feel the fine linen soak under her arms, making each squirm even more excruciating.

The court was dismissed, though a line of prospective (now dismayed) peasants remained. Elaine was relieved that she could retire to her chamber to prepare for the coming evening's feast. If she were going to present herself in front of Lancelot, she would, of course, need to bathe first and change out of her soiled clothes. She couldn't allow herself to be so filthy in front of such beauty.

At once, the court, its people and their order, collapsed inwards, passing every which way, killing the echo of the great ceilings with a tremendous hum of voices and footsteps. The Astolat's family maid, Yvette, a comely widow of middle age, reached for the arm of Elaine, but the young lady was too elusive and clouded with thoughts of romance to be bothered by whatever dull instruction was to be offered.

Yvette had been with the family for five years now, ever since her husband had passed away. With nowhere to go, her father, rather too generously, offered to take her in the service of the family. The offer being overly generous since the Astolats were hardy folk accustomed to cold nights and empty stomachs. Inviting another mouth to feed was more trouble than the servant's labour alleviated.

Elaine passed by each court attendant, not raising her eye to anyone, nor drawing any eye to herself. She passed inoffensive and unnoticed. Walking through the crowd, she thought of Lancelot on the dais-- possibly that he was watching her leave.

Elaine had moments of silliness like this; glimpses of fantasy that slipped from her imagination into reality. Later on, when she would be washing in the tub, she would surely think of this moment and feel embarrassed for herself.

Elaine had always felt on the cusp of life. She was a lady, but not quite a princess. She was pretty, but so beautiful as Guinevere. Her family were not beggars, but short of rich. If she had all these things in plenty, she felt Lancelot might very well love her.

Elaine made it to her bed chamber safely. She was to sleep in four simple walls of stone, a hearth and a single ogive window at its end. She backed up against the shut wide door and brought her hands to her head.

A loud knock rang right behind Elaine's head, making her think for a split second her silliness had caused some sort of eruption in her brain, but it was just Yvette.

A second, sharper knock followed.

"Lady Elaine," came Yvette's voice, thin with annoyance. "Are you quite finished fleeing like a startled hen? Open the door."

Elaine pulled it ajar only a hand's width. "I am not a hen."

"No," Yvette said, pushing her way inside, "but you bolted like one. I've near worn my shoes out chasing you along those corridors."

"I needed a moment," Elaine muttered.

"You need a wash," Yvette replied bluntly, shaking her head at the dirtied hems and sweaty brow. "For goodness' sake, child; if you attend the feast in this state, the lord chamberlain will have you sent to the stables."

Elaine flushed, unknowingly tightening and bulging her eyes. "Yvette! Don't be so short. Need I have to remind you that you are not my mother?"

Yvette stepped closer, sniffed once, and recoiled. "Oh, do be quiet. Off with your gown. I'll fetch hot water before the whole of Camelot gets wind of you."

Yvette scurried off to prepare the tub, once again leaving Elaine in peace.

She slumped down with her back against the door, exhausted. Piece by piece, she untied, unclasped, unlaced and unhooked each part of her outfit, all while still on the floor, until just her undergarments remained.

She stared at her feet while she sat waiting for her matron to return. Her feet looked paper white, but pinkish-red at the sore points. She wriggled her toes and felt them stiff and clammy.

Despairing again, Elaine's eyes drifted over her long white legs, seeing that she had forgotten to shave them, and realising the horror that if she wanted to have them smooth soon, she would have to make Yvette do it for her, and it wasn't just her legs that needed shaving.

Drawn by curiosity, she shifted aside the gusset of her undergarments to inspect the damage. Instantly, she could tell that Yvette was right. Her nether regions stank. Out of the dense thicket of black pubic hair, she could smell her musky sex-- sweat, a bit of pee, and the daily secretions of flower. Wetness from her fantasies earlier in the day, too.

Curiosity took her further. Elaine put her hand onto her petals and felt the moist folds that fell out of her bush. Her vagina felt hot and wet, and now, with her folds disturbed, Elaine had invited the smell out of her body and into her bedchamber.

The scent was sweet, tangy, and musky. Her thoughts returned to Lancelot, but now to his strong hands--not gripping the hilt of his sword, but gripping his stiff cock. No, holding his stiff cock over her face, precum pooling in his foreskin, pooled there because of his love and lust for her, seeping out to drip onto her lips for her tongue to lap up, tasting his salty arousal.

She was lost. Elaine began to rub and finger herself unknowingly. The teen girl wasn't in the habit of frequent masturbation at all, but on occasion the urge took control of her. Numerous times she had gone to the privy to relieve herself, and been struck with an unyielding lust and unable to leave until she had sorted her needs out. And here she was again, the shy bashful maid of nineteen, dirty and unwashed, as naked as her first name day, imagining unspeakable things of a man she had never met.

Watching, from deep in the bedchamber, a darkened figure witnessed Elaine lose herself in her fantasies. From afar, the shadowy figure saw her petite breasts, crowned with fat puffy nipples, pointing to attention. Her pale white skin shone with sweat, and the brightness was punctuated by patches of thick hair on her head, on her vagina and between her armpits. Even from across the room, the intruder could smell the stinking arousal.

The hands of the shadow trembled. She would have denied it was because of arousal. She was here strictly to collect ingredients for a potion.

Morgan Le Fay had schemes to run. She had no time for courtship and romance. She aspired to be be Queen Morgana, high in the court of Camelot, and not just on the dais, but above her sweet brother, Arthur. By virtue of her sex, swords and spears would be no good. Oratory would fall flat. Tricks, deception, and most importantly, potions, were what she needed. A perfect concoction that would bend the will of any man to her own.

Morgana, still somewhat of a novice, had read book and manuscript, all of what she could find deep in the libraries of England. Ancient writings from the first men, long forgotten and disregarded by the modern healer. Her reading halted once she had come upon a page of an old druidic tome titled 'Bōc Hǣlung,' written by some long dead priest. The page described a recipe for 'Unsóð Wyrtdrenc,' which, from her limited Old English, read *Love Potion.*

The mixture required various bodily fluids and other items from a maid, and the more potent, the better the potion. Morgan was long past her virginity which excluded herself, and being a headstrong woman, standing six foot tall with a tongue, if she knew a maiden girl, she was not like to stay a virgin long.

Chance would have it that Morgan Le Fay sniffed out Elaine of Astolat journeying up the north road toward Camelot. The tawdry girl had arrived with her family in a tavern a days ride from the city, bedraggled and sore, looking to gain a room for the night. The family had been sleeping in tents thus far, but that night they had parted with their coin, since Bernard could not risk being seen sleeping by the side of the road.

Morgan kept an eye on Elaine, spying her name, her family name, and of course her marital status. Bernard was planning to send Elaine off to farmer, newly rich and freshly divorced, for he was willing to pay a healthy dowry to marry into a landed family. Morgan would have to act fast if she was to secure her potion before the lowborn labourer got his hands on her.

As soon as Elaine and her family had departed the following morning, Morgan stalked into the room that belonged to Elaine the previous night. She did not need to make an inquiries beyond sniffing her nose; the maid left had left her body odour in the room, and Morgan knew it could only be her. Beyond the smell, Elaine left nought but a few hairs, not nearly enough for even a drop of potion.

Here Elaine was, in her bedchamber, naked and legs spread, her precious scent filling the room and the nose of Morgan.

Morgan decided to attempt the direct route, in approaching Elaine for a simple exchange.

Upon seeing the looming woman slowly emerge from the shadows, Elaine scrambled to cover her nakedness.

"Who in the hells are you?!? What are you doing in my bedchamber?!?" Elaine exclaimed.

Unmoved, Morgan replied simply, "it seems that you have something that I want, sweetling. Don't worry. I'm not here to tattle on your small fun here."

Elaine frowned in shock and embarrassment. "Uhm, excuse you! I was not..."

"Quiet. I saw all. There's no point pretending otherwise. I'm not unfamiliar or innocent myself; it's none of my concern. I'd rather us get down to business."

"--"

Elaine could not manage a word. She was painfully aware that even though her body was now somewhat covered, her stink was plain to anyone who was in the room. She thought to herself that she really should have listened to Yvette.

"At least allow me to wash and be dressed before we begin to talk," Elaine finally squeezed out.

"No. Absolutely not. You are in perfectly adequate condition for what I want."

"Wh- what? I don't understand."

"Listen carefully, Elaine of Astolat. I am making a potion, of which the ingredients are proving a pain to find. You have them, Elaine: between your legs, between the cheeks of your behind and under your arms. This potion will have the capability to make any person fall in love with you. My proposal: you help me make a draught, and you may have a small vial to use on someone yourself. Having said that, I call dibs on my sweet brother, Arthur."

"That's revolting," Elaine protested.

"Yes! That's how I need you," Morgan replied, losing patience. "Now do we have a deal or not?"

The thought that the her fantasy of Lancelot might be a real possibility filled her brain with such a weight that her head tipped forward in a furtive nod. Elaine was still full of doubts. Incredulity that her unwashed body could ever tempt anyone toward love. She did cede that despite stinking of sweat and with a vagina swampy with dirt, she only felt incredibly horny herself.

"Right. Now, do away with those clothes. I've already seen your bits anyway."

Still nervous about her sexuality, Elaine confused herself with a half-skip toward the bed; although trembling with arousal at the thought of Lancelot's hand being in hers, it was of course not enough to extinguish the shame of her nakedness (and as well her stink), which was on full display for this strange woman she had just met. With the covering clothes now adrift on the floor, and Elaine's bum square on the bedsheets, she slowly parted her knees to see the witch, Morgan Le Fay, at the foot of the bed, the sleeves of her gown rolled up.

As Elaine's legs parted, so too did the soft petals of her vagina gently separate. As Morgan got closer, she could see the first item on her list immediately. Covering Elaine's meaty lips was a white creamy discharge, and in the centre, as Morgan peeled the vaginal opening wide, a thin, shiny film of cum stretched to cover the hole.

The smell was intense. Morgan tried to breath through her mouth, but all she could smell was Elaine of Astolat's vagina. Out of her pocket she pulled out the first glass vial and tried her best to scrape the fluids to mix for later.

"I need some fresh air so I can fasten the vial properly. I don't want to have to do this again, alright?" Morgan explained, taking a few of steps away from the red faced girl.

With her back turned, Morgan screwed the cap shut and stuck the label 'vaginal fluids' onto the side. She looked at the goopy liquid in the tube. The girl was dirty, sure, but it was necessary. The smell wasn't so bad as the witch thought it would be. Morgan thought to herself the whole of Camelot would be after her hand in marriage with how strong this stuff was.

Morgan still staring at the tube tossed it about and tapped on it. Of course, she wanted to be thorough; she couldn't have any cross contamination. Morgan wanted to sniff the fluids properly, in isolation, just so she could make sure it was ok.

Her hands were shaking as she unscrewed the cap. "Everything ok?" Elaine asked in a worried voice.

"Yes. Just don't move."

Still with her back turned, Morgan held the glass tube holding Elaine's pussy juice and sniffed. She had never smelt anything so heavenly. She pulled her nose away, for a moment disgusted by what just happened. She was confused. She couldn't help but take another smell of Elaine's pussy. The tangy, sweet smell wrinkled her nose but she loved it. She felt her own arousal growing even more as she took another smell.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant. Now, Elaine, if you can spread your bottom for me we can move onto the next part."

Elaine saw Morgan turn back to collect the second sample with a changed look on her face. The arrogant smirk was gone, replaced with a blank, expressionless facade. She moved with more urgency now as well.

Elaine felt hands spread her buttcheeks, and Morgan's head lowered to be obscured by her thick bush. Both her holes were now in full view. Elaine wasn't as bothered by her anus being on view. She was unsure if she even knew what her asshole looked like. She realised, as Morgan was shuffled around between her legs, that she likely had not even seen an asshole in her entire life, and only had the vaguest image of a darkened wrinkled knot.

Elaine was lost in day dreams when she thought she felt a nose against her vagina followed by sniffing. She was confused, but had her suspicions confirmed when she felt the tip of Morgana's button nose nestle the hairs on her anus followed by an inhale of air.

"Excuse me! What are you doing? That was NOT part of the deal. I think it's rather impolite to smell my behind without asking or at least giving me an opportunity to wash "

Morgan's face reared up, even redder than her own, with two bright discs for eyes. Morgana slurred "I'm sorry. You... you... you just smell so good."

"Now this must be some cruel joke. I may be a maid, but I know which parts ought to smell good and which oft smell bad."

In an embarrassed panic, Elaine retreated up the bed, stealing the bedsheets to cover her body. Morgan's dazed face gave no reply.

"And I'll have you know I do wash regularly. It was this stupid journey that has put me in such a mess. I'll have you know, I do not usually smell like this down there."

Morgana was lethargically crawling up the bed to meet Elaine's scent, incapacitated with lust. She looked up to see Elaine's legs now closed, the source of her desire obscured by a thicket of public hair.

"Please, sweetling. It's for the potion."

Overcome with sex, Morgana grabbed onto the maid's feet. She felt how warm they warm, clammy with sweat and pounced on them with her mouth agape. She took Elaine's big toe into her mouth immediately and sucked. Morgana had never been into feet before this, but something about Elaine's pretty little toes, wiggling and dirty and stinky, sent her mind loose. She took each digit into her mouth and sucked dutifully, finishing by licking the shiny sole of her foot before starting anew on her other foot. Morgana's tongue was as good as a bath by the time she had finished.

Elaine lay stunned as the witch cleaned her feet. Confusion and revulsion gave way to arousal once she saw Morgana's hand under her own robes, clearly making a frantic rubbing motion. Elaine sniffed the air again, smelling the stink of her body, but this time the shame and embarrassment evaporated and gave way to rabid arousal.

When Morgana moved onto the toes on her right foot, Elaine threw off the bedsheets covering her nude body and resumed her masturbation which the witch had interrupted shortly before. She plunged her fingers inside her pussy as she fixed on Morgana's eyes looking up, a shiny toe locked between her tips and a tongue inside her mouth, swirling and bathing the grime off with salvia.

Elaine, unthinking, pulled her two fingers out of her pussy, briefly examined the thick cum that covered them, and brought them to her nose to smell. Sweet, tangy, musky stink entered her nose and finished her. Elaine's eye's glazed over and her body filled with a sexual warmth she had never known before.

The two women rose to wrestle together with Morgana's robe. Morgan Le Fay revealed her milk white skin; her breasts were remarkably round and globe-like with small pink nipples perky and pointing upwards. She had developed a shine of sweat and her skin stuck to Elaine's.

In a natural submission, Elaine went to her knees, and with two hands on either butt cheek, held Morgana upright. She came face to face with her vagina. Morgana had her pubes neatly shaved, with just a fiery ginger line growing from the top of her pussy. Her fat lips concealed her labia, but Elaine wasted no time in diving in, first pushing her nose into her folds and inhaling. Morgan was cleaner, but nevertheless had the scent of sex mixed with fresh sweat. She tasted salty.

Elaine furiously sucked and licked and nuzzled in her new lover's pussy. Cum gushed from the ginger woman's cunt, covering Elaine's face and mixing their scents. Her legs trembled and Elaine's whole head writhed and shuddered, climaxing with a large squirt and an orgasm.

Morgana collected herself, grabbed Elaine by the jaw, and threw her head down towards the bed. Instinctively, Elaine assumed the position with her butt angled high.

Still above the young girl, Morgana admired the view. She caressed the shiny cheeks with the thick fuzz of hair travelling full lengthways from her vagina to her asshole.

"I would like this much more if your cheeks were rosy, dear."

"Uhm-" was all Elaine could reply.

Without waiting for a full sentence to form, Morgana slapped her bum, both sides one after the other. Slapped and slapped with a fervent pace until the thick thighs wobbled and glowed red.

"You will give me what I want, slut?"

"Uhm, yes..."

"Yes... what?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Better."

Morgana adorned her new toy with a hand print, slapping with such force that Elaine squealed with pleasure.

"Good?"

"Yes, mistress"

"Good girl."

Another hand print was delivered to the other cheek.

Morgana spread Elaine's ass cheeks again, this time the girl did not protest. Next, Morgana put her nose against Elaine's asshole, and again, Elaine squirmed, but this time for pleasure over humiliation.

Morgana breathed in through her nose and sniffed Elaine's asshole, inhaling her sweaty, earthy scent. She was utterly in love with every odour this girl produced.

Without delay, Morgan stuck her tongue out and slowly started licking along the crevice of her ass, feeling the coarse hairs against her tongue. Suddenly, the hairs thinned out into a bald spot, and the taste and scent of Elaine's ass intensified as she reached the creases and wrinkles of her asshole.

Morgana ceased the long, teasing lick and put force behind her tongue to push inside the squirming girls ripe asshole. Elaine's ass pushed out, but puckered out, rather than in, to welcome the tongue of her lover.

Morgana, feeling Elaine getting closer and wetter and stinkier, flipped her over onto her back.

"You're going to cum on my face now, ok?"

Yes, mistress."

Morgana raised her index finger to her mouth and sucked, pushing as much spit out as she could. While her mouth approached Elaine's vagina once again, her wetted index finger also approached, but lower.

Arriving simultaneously, as Morgana gave the first flick of her tongue against the maids clitoris, her finger pressed against her asshole. The entrance resisted at first, stretching as one first steps onto a trampoline, but as Morgana flicked her tongue the second, third time, the wrinkled hole gave way, allowing her finger access to the depths of her body. Morgana, spat on Elaine's pussy and let it flow down through her labia and drip onto her intruding finger. Pulling out for just a second, she whipped up the salve of saliva and pussy juice, and eased her finger back inside her ass with much less resistance this time.

Morgana fully enveloped her pussy in her mouth; Elaine could hardly tell which part was being licked and what the tongue was even doing. The intensity in her bum, mixed with the rapid movements on her pussy, blurred her ecstasy into a vague but instead pleasure. Her mind couldn't focus on any one thing until it all culminated into an orgasm, felt from her scalp to the tips of her toes.

Like a damn, Elaine's climax had released every fluid from Elaine's body. A pool of urine, sweat and cum pooled beneath her on the bed. Her pubic hair sticky and dripping with her juices. The collection of filth mingled and mixed between the two women creating a noxious and addicting stink of sex and cum.

Morgana and Elaine, sitting within the mire of their mutual stink, were now glassy eyed eternal lovers.

For a minute they stared at one another, until they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Elaine dearest, your bath is ready."