Lavender Love

Mr Sneezy

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Joanne Franson paced thoughtfully around in her Surfer’s Paradise apartment. She was thinking of her lover Mandy, and about the events of that day.


Mandy and Joey - as she demanded everyone call her - had been together for eight months, This was Mandy’s first lesbian love affair, and Joey’s second. They had known each other since the previous year, when they had started university together, but although Mandy had caught Joey’s eye at once, she had made no particular move to declare her interest. Joey had thought that the older, cultured girl was out of her league and almost certainly straight.

As it turned out, she’d been wrong on both counts.

Wandering one evening into what she knew was a gay bar along the Broadbeach tourist strip, she’d spied Mandy sitting alone and looking downcast a solitary table by the window. Joey had walked up to her classmate and plonked herself in the chair opposite her.

"Come here often?” she’d blurted, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

Mandy had blanched considerably at being seen there. When she’d recovering sufficiently, she’d managed to stammer out an offer to buy Joey a drink.

"Sure. I’ll have a pretty girl, no ice," Joey had answered, straight-faced.

That had done it. One round of drinks later, they’d been leaving together to go back to Joey’s apartment. Some intense talking and revelations had led to kissing. Kissing had led to slow undressing, touching and then quite a few other things.  By midnight, the girls had been belatedly thankful that the building was old, and with very thick walls. From then on, they’d been a couple, although their relationship was common knowledge only to Joey’s small group of gay friends at university.

The girls quickly discovered they had a number of things in common despite their different backgrounds. Mandy’s family had business interests Australia-wide with more money than they knew what to do with. Their daughter and heiress had never wanted for anything except, she confided to Joey, love. Joey, on the other hand, was pure working class. She payed her way with an Education Assistance Scholarship, and worked weekends at a coffee shop in Broadbeach.


Now Joey stopped pacing and flopped down on the sofa. The Degree of Behavioural Science and applied Psychology she was studying for didn’t cover what she knew she had: a sexual fetish. Her mind drifted back to the evening where Mandy had unwittingly awakened in her a whole new cornucopia of lust.

The girls had finished an energetic session of lovemaking in Joey’s bed and were lounging against each other, fingers trailing over bare skin. Lazily, Mandy had turned her head away, bringing her  hand toward her face. Joey had had a clear vision of her, but had not registered what was about to happen until it was too late.

Mandy had her hand neatly over her mouth, thumb up one side of her nose. "Atishoo.... excuse me... Atishoo... oh excuse me again."

The sneezes had been light and bouncy. It didn’t sound like Mandy had to put much effort into them. She’d uncovered her mouth and Joey had stiffened beside her. It had been the first time she had ever seen Mandy sneeze, although she had wondered constantly about it.

Joey had always become excited at seeing and hearing a pretty girl sneeze. She could even become unbearably aroused when doing it herself. Then, heart hammering, she’d spoken.

"Bless you, honeybunch," she’d said, managing to keep her voice steady. "God, it turns me on seeing you do that."

"Turns you on? Goodness, it was just a sneeze" Mandy had been clearly embarrassed.

Joey had plunged in, unable to help herself. "I get horny when I see another girl sneeze. I think it’s a fetish. Don’t be embarrassed."

Mandy wasn’t going to be drawn. "That’s a bit too weird for me", she’d said. "It’s a rather unhygienic act. Speaking of which, I’ve got saliva on my hand and I need to blow my little nose. Tissues are in the sitting room, aren’t they"?

She’d hopped out of bed and striden naked towards the door. "You want coffee, hon"? she’d called back. "I’m dying to try that new Morroccan stuff you got from work"

Joey had sighed and climbed out of bed, reaching for her underpants. The moment had been broken and she had made a fool of herself in the bargain. Her vagina had ached with unrequited arousal. “Might be best to let the incident go - for now,” she’d thought.


For the next two weeks, life had gone on. Then university had broken for the holidays. Joey had worked in the coffee shop every day and had pored over two psychology assignments in the evenings. Somewhere in between, she had made time for Mandy; their lovemaking was as intense and sweet as ever. Neither girl had occasion to sneeze in the other’s presence and Joey’s confessional incident was not mentioned.

Three days previously, though, Mandy had climbed out of bed after love to “do wee-wees,” as she put it in her quiet, cultured voice. Sitting on the toilet, her urine flowing smoothly, Mandy had blown her nose on a piece of toilet paper. Joey had been able to see her through the half-open door and her heart had begun to pound with excitement. However, nothing further happened as Mandy had wiped her recently aroused little pussy and returned to bed.

She’d sensed Joey’s excitement as they’d reached for each other a second time. As a new round of foreplay began, Joey had wondered how to ask Mandy if she was allergic to anything.


Now, Joey returned to the present, got up from the sofa and wandered over to the mirror to check herself out. Five foot nothing with the cutest elfin features you ever saw. At twenty, she was sill sometimes mistaken for thirteen, and many people found to their chagrin that she was not someone to be taken lightly. Long ash-coloured hair, firm ripe breasts under a thick flannelette shirt, the tightest jeans she could fit into accentuating the prettiest, miniscule pair of bottom cheeks this side of a fashion show. A heavy denim jacket topped off her look; Joey didn’t believe in jewellery and large amounts of make-up. She used even perfume on a very scarce basis.

“Basic, functional and cheap to run,” she often said to people about herself. “And packed with all the standard features,” she would add if they still didn’t get it.

Mandy, however, stood a foot taller than tan her compact girlfriend. She wore stylish flowing dresses over her trim figure, with skimpy underpants that Joey would often pull off with her teeth as part of their foreplay.

Joey returned to the sofa, sat on its edge and put her head in her hands. Her head whirled.

“Oh Mandy. Damn this stupid fetish. Where the hell did I get it? I don’t want it.”

Mandy had stayed the night with her, as she did at least once a week. The girls had slept soundly in each other’s arms. Sometime before dawn, Mandy had gently disentangled herself, climbed from the bed and moved in the dark to the toilet. Joey, only a quarter awake, had sensed the movement, mentally tracking Mandy’s progress. She heard urine running and then, abruptly, a sound that spun her senses into overdrive, her vagina beginning to moisten.

“Ah… ha… tishoo.”

The expulsion was muffled enough for Joey to tell that Mandy had suppressed it as much as she could.

Then came a nasal grunt, followed by a drawn out “shoooo…”

Mandy had certainly suppressed that one.  A few moments later, Mandy slipped back in beside her little lover. Joey  reached for her and Mandy responded at once. They made passionate love, kissing and nuzzling, only half awake, but both with a different need. Joey needed to hold this beautiful lady in the satin nightie that had just sneezed so sweetly. Mandy needed to be a part of this little munchkin in the thick winter pyjamas whom she loved so much. As daylight broke over the Gold Coast, they drifted back into sleep.

Work and study had Joey pushing herself to the point of exhaustion, and she slept deeply until nearly lunchtime. Wandering from the bedroom, dressing gown wrapped over her pyjamas, she found Mandy fully dressed and immaculately groomed, reading the paper.

“Hi sleepyhead,” she said. “You’ve been good company all morning.”

“I was tired,” Joey replied. “Some of us have to work for our money.”

She kept her voice light, but she had already noticed that Mandy’s pretty smile, present since the night they had confirmed their preference for each other, was noticeably absent. Deep within, she felt a pang of alarm.

“Yes, well I have long since had breakfast and washed up,” said Mandy. “Perhaps you can make yourself some toast.”

Her cultured high-class upbringing was more pronounced than ever, coming out in her anger at someone or something. Joey was about to ask calmly what was wrong when a pervading tickle entered her sinuses. Quickly, she plunged a hand into her dressing gown pocket and found the comforting feel of a handkerchief left in there from the last time she had worn it. At once, she had it out and open, conscious that this couldn’t come at a less opportune time. She half-turned away from Mandy, bringing the hanky to her face.

“Atchoo… Atchoo!” 

The two sneezes, caught neatly in the confines of the hanky, were big compared with Mandy’s light, bouncy ones. They convulsed Joey’s body violently. She blew her nose.

“Oh please, Jo,” Mandy snapped. “I don’t want bubonic plague.”

“I don’t have any plagues,” replied Joey quietly as she refolded the handkerchief. “And I used my hanky like a nice polite girl. What’s wrong with you this morning?”

“Yes, you used your hanky. Did it turn you on?” Mandy was visibly angry, now.

“What?” Joey was thoroughly alarmed.

“Two weeks ago, you said you had some weird fetish about girls sneezing. Well, you just did it yourself so you must be wet as a Tasmanian winter. I’m not fixing you up. Get some pepper and you can do everything yourself. You won’t need me anymore.”

Joey had unconsciously slipped the hanky back into her pocket as she stood aghast at this outburst. Finally, she found her voice as Mandy paused for breath.

“I’ll go and get dressed,” she said. “I think you need a few minutes to calm down.”

“I am calm,” Mandy raged. “You’re just disgusting.”

Joey fled back to the bedroom, visibly shaken. She and Mandy had never exchanged a cross word since the day they had met. Distressed as she was, Joey couldn’t resist a look into her hanky before discarding it. She nodded approvingly. Plenty of saliva and some thicker pools of mucus. Her two sneezes had been real sinus-clearers. Finally, she began selecting an outfit that would showcase her cute little figure. The psychologist-to-be in her said damage-limitation was essential to save her relationship this morning.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from her bedroom. Her little buttocks fairly danced in very tight jeans. A thick flannelette shirt accentuated her breasts, and her shiny hair flowed. She had completed the picture by throwing on her denim jacket. She looked good enough to eat and she knew it.

Mandy was perched on the edge of the sofa, her expression still far from serene.

“Now, if you’re a bit calmer, can we talk about why so angry with me? It can’t be because I revealed a little too much of myself.”

“You should have kept your disgusting fetishes and fantasies, whatever they are, to yourself,” Mandy snapped. “If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would not have destroyed our relationship."

“Destroyed?” asked Joey. “But I’m not the one flying into a fury over her partner having a natural bodily function.”

“Well I am,” Mandy stormed. She stood up. “I can not continue to see you.”

Joey was horrified. Today couldn’t be happening. She threw psychology to the winds: “Come on Mandy, hon,” she pleaded. “This is ridiculous!”

“For you, maybe.” Mandy reached down beside the sofa and picked up her overnight bag, which Joey belatedly saw had been packed. She headed for the door. “I am sorry we have to part this way. There are other fish in the sea. Perhaps you can find one with hay fever.”

Then she was gone, closing the door firmly behind her. At least she had good manners and did not slam it.

Joey had stood looking at the closed door for a full minute. Then she let out a bitter laugh. A fish with hay fever. She should be so lucky!

Tears sprang to eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried and she wasn’t going to start now. Slowly, she paced the room, reliving the events that had led to Mandy’s anger. Was there a way to get her back?


Joey returned to the present. A glance at the clock startled her. She had been sitting for well over an hour.  Standing, she strode to the bathroom and opened the cabinet. Hiding at the back was a bottle of lavender powder. Joey had tried this only once before. She was allergic to the stuff, she knew that. An allergy to be used, not abused, and now she needed some relief to wipe away this entire mess.

She shook a generous amount of powder onto her hand and gently inhaled the smell. Far up in the back of her nose, a little tickle began, slowly swelling and intensifying. She inhaled deeper still, then quickly dusted off her hands, wiping them on a towel. Her eyes began to water as the tickle in her nose got ready to become a violent sneezing fit.

Joey took three steps to the bathroom door, and then reached out to the door frame for support. With a deep breath, she let her lavender-induced sneezes take her.

“Atchoo… Atchoo … Atchoo…” Her body convulsed with each explosion and she doubled over, saliva spraying in a thick mist from her mouth. A pause for breath, lips glistening, then two more, even bigger. “ATCHOO… HA... HATCHOO!”

Mucus hung from both nostrils, and she was dimly aware that there was saliva on the front of her jacket along with a familiar tingling between her legs. Belatedly, Joey realised that she hadn’t planned ahead for this little bit of self-excitement. She had not selected a clean hanky before beginning. She paused, nose dripping. Bad mistake, Jo.

She hurried out of the bathroom, breathing through her mouth. Throwing off her beloved jacket before she spilt anything else on it, she headed for the bedroom, a petite elfin-featured girl with a runny, tickly nose. Before she got there, she had to stop and cup both hands over her nose and mouth.

“Atchoo,” she exploded again, doubling over. “Atchoo… Atchoo… Ha… Atchoo… Oh my goodness… ATCHOO!”

She got a quick whiff of her own spit. Her palms and fingers were soaked. Mucus covered her top lip. She made it to the bedroom. Hankies were in the drawer beside the bed.

“Atchoo,” she sneezed into the crook of her arm. “ATCHOO!”

She fumbled the drawer open with a spitty hand and grabbed a hanky. Flicking it open, she raised it and blew. Hard. “ATCHOO!” came a final muffled sneeze as her nose protested as this interruption. Joey found a dry spot in the hanky and blew again. And again.

Having discharged what felt like a litre of mucus, Joey got a second handkerchief out and began to clean her lips and hands. Spit everywhere! Wow! Sensational. She could tell the sneezing fit had passed, but now there was another matter to be attended to.

She was fully aroused, her vagina begging for attention as her nipples tingled in contrast, puckering delightedly against her shirt. Joey unfastened her jeans, then opened her shirt to reveal her splendidly formed breasts. Lowering her jeans, she sat her gorgeous little buttocks on the bed before taking the pants right off. She picked up the hanky she had blown her nose into and lay back on the bed, shirt spread apart, smiling to herself. Forget the problem with Mandy for the moment. She was going to come like an erupting volcano.


Mandy’s apartment was, but a bare five minute walk from Joey’s. Mandy covered the distance rapidly, slammed the door behind her, and , when she had locked it firmly against the outside world, sat down and put her head in her hands. What on earth had she done? The love she had so long craved for, then suddenly received without question, she had thrown away in her confusion at Joey’s revelation.

The truth was that Mandy didn’t mind Joey’s fetish in the slightest. The problem was that in fact, it quite excited her. It was the intimacy of the whole thing. Not long after they had met, last year, Mandy had kept an eye on Joey’s compact little figure wherever she saw her. Her interest grew as she had more than one opportunity to watch the girl sneezing neatly into a handkerchief. Mandy had wondered if Joey was straight, swung both ways or what. She had tried straight sex herself, and hated it. Now she had found herself being irresistibly drawn to the cute little twenty-year-old who bopped around seemingly unaffected by anything.

Then came the night Joey had approached her in what was rumoured to be a gay bar. Mandy’s life had turned 180 degrees.  She had given love and had had it reciprocated with a calm trust she had never known. Now, she had blown everything because she was unable to deal with the whole fetish concept. She had not been angry with Joey. Such a thing was impossible. She was angry with herself. Mandy wanted to know more about Joey’s fetish and become involved in it; she just didn’t know how to ask.

She remembered an occurrence three months ago when they had been giving each other a slow sensual massage. Joey had been facedown, enjoying Mandy’s ministrations. Her exquisite little buttocks had been displayed invitingly. On impulse, Mandy had bent, parted the cheeks and slipped her nose in. She had been met with a musky, girly smell that had been far from offensive. The only response from Joey had been a giggle. Embarrassed, Mandy had withdrawn and continued like nothing had happened. But she’d wanted to do it again. And again. Only she was afraid to ask.

Now, she realised how Joey must have felt after Mandy sneezed in bed with her for the first time. When Joey had commented on Mandy’s sneezes, Mandy had pulled back, unable to deal with how easily her opportunity had arisen. In short, today’s loss was her own stupid fault.

She raised her head and stared around the empty room. “A sneeze fetish and a bottom fetish,” she said to the empty space. “It was all there and I threw it all away”.

She thought a few moments longer. Joey had reached for her when she’d returned from “doing wee-wees” that very morning. Mandy had tried hard to hold in the two sneezes she had been able to stifle, but Joey had heard anyway. Mandy’s anger had been a reaction to another missed opportunity. Her attitude had wrecked everything. Joey wouldn’t have a bar of her now.

Tears were running down her cheeks. Giving in, she put her head in her hands. She wept for a lost friendship. For a lost love.


After masturbating, Joey had showered and dressed again. This exceptional solo session had been enhanced when she’d lubricated her pert little nipples to the point of unbearable arousal with copious amounts of the mucus she had blown into the first hanky. She’d worked them first simultaneously, then singularly as the other hand had manipulated her labia. Then, timing it just right, she’d moved to include her clitoris. The result nearly made her see stars as she bucked and writhed on the bed. She could not recall many orgasms of that calibre.

Energised from sneezing and masturbating, Joey decided to plough into her assignments, which only needed a day’s work each. Her smile dipped as she thought of Mandy. This was a problem that could come back to haunt her. Still, no point in worrying about it now. The ball was in Mandy’s court. She pushed it from her mind and set to work.


Mandy opened her eyes. The last thing she remembered was crying herself silly over Joey.  She must have dozed off. A glance at the clock showed that the day was drawing to a close.

She sprang off the bed. Nothing like a cry and a nap to put things in perspective.  She was going to win Joey back. She had to. No Joey, no happiness.

Striding to the bathroom, she quickly found what she needed: a jar of lavender powder. She had tried this experiment only once before and been surprised by the result. She was definitely allergic to lavender. Returning to the bedroom, she got a clean handkerchief from the drawer and calmly undressed.

One thing Joey had taught her was not to be ashamed of nudity. She stood, arms raised, eyes closed, letting her pussy breathe and her nipples pucker. Then she sat cross-legged on the bed, hanky and powder at the ready. Carefully, she sprinkled the powder onto her hand and slowly inhaled it. Immediately, her nose began tickling irritably. She tried more powder and the tickle swelled. Mandy opened the hanky. She was nearly ready. For a moment, she was a glorious frozen picture: A pretty girl, handkerchief clasped in her hands, a beautiful pre-sneeze expression on her face. And then…

”Atishoo… Atishoo… Atishoo… Atishoo… Oh bless me… Atishoo… Atishoo…”

She paused, gasping for breath. Was it over? Her hanky was already wet with saliva. Dimly aware that she was fast becoming aroused, she was about to blow her nose when the second wave hit.

“Atishoo… KATISHISHOO… tishoo… Atishoo… oh excuse me… ATISHOOO!”

She was allowed another break while her sinuses thought about things.  Mandy desperately wanted to blow her nose, but decided to wait a little longer. Finally, with a deep breath, she let out a last wet “ATISHOOO!” Not waiting to see if she was finished, she blew her nose. And  again. And yet again.

She was feeling better up top now. But down below, she was throbbing, fully aroused. Still clasping her handkerchief, Mandy lay back on the pillow, opening her legs and parting her outer lips.

“Right, Amanda Jane Bennet,” she muttered. “Time for your penance.”

As her fingers slid up inside of her, Joey’s elfin face appeared in her mind’s eye.


Absorbed in her work, Joey didn’t even hear Mandy’s key in the front door. Finally, she felt a presence behind her and turned around, face expressionless. Mandy stood in the doorway, immaculately groomed as usual.

“Joey, I am so, so sorry,” Mandy said quietly. “My behaviour and words this morning were disgusting and unforgivable. The rest of my life is too short to apologise for how I hurt you. I wasn’t angry at you, I was angry at myself.”

Joey nodded slightly, either in acknowledgement or to indicate that she should continue.

“You heard me sneeze while I was on the toilet this morning, didn’t you?”

Joey nodded.

“And because of that, you needed me when I came back to bed?”

Nod again.

“Do you remember,” asked Mandy, “a couple of months ago, I put my nose between your bottom cheeks while I was giving you a massage?”

Nod again, a slow smile creeping onto Joey’s face.

“I wanted to do that again so many times,” said Mandy. “But I was afraid of your reaction if I asked.”

“Ask was all you had to do,” Joey spoke for the first time. She eyed Mandy’s figure across the room. “I wouldn’t mind examining between those firm cheeks of yours, for that matter.”

Sensing that things were improving, Mandy stepped into the room and walked to within three feet of her lover.

“Jo, I don’t mind the sneezing thing at all,” she said. “In fact, it excites me as much as it appears to do you. Guess we’ve both got fetishes.”

Joey’s smile widened and she stood up, shocked relief in her heart. “Come here, you silly sausage”, she said.

They stepped into each other’s arms and held tight. Barefoot, Joey only came up to Mandy’s breasts, so she lay her head between them, drinking in her lover’s perfume. Finally, they moved apart and gazed into each other’s eyes, Mandy keeping her arms around Joey’s shoulders.

“If there’s a problem,” said Joey, “ we talk it over. Getting angry is so counter-productive.”

Mandy watched her for a moment, her pretty smile having returned. “Love you, Joanne Nicole”, she said.

Joey giggled. “Love you, Amanda Jane,” she replied.

Mandy turned and opened her handbag, which she had thrown on the bed preceding the hug. “There’s something I have to show you, baby,” she said.

Joey looked in astonishment as Mandy took out a tin of lavender powder.

“It seems I’m allergic to this,” she went on. “Is that revelation of any use to you?”

Joey’s smile widened tenfold. “Why don’t I put the coffee on,” she suggested. “There’s something I’m just dying to tell you.”