Love Sweet s*x Magic

Chapter One

Chapter One

“Cage or collar? What’s it going to be?”

Malaes curled his lip back in disgust. I didn’t give in. You always had to be firm with a slave. This was his punishment and he needed to take it.

“Collar,” he finally decided.

I was surprised, but that was his choice. He stood still while I reached up and circled the leather collar around his neck. It was dyed bright red and contrasted nicely with his pale skin and shiny, black hair.

The moment after I fixed the buckle in place, the change took place. He shrank down into a large tomcat, the collar shrinking with him. He angrily shook his head and twitched his tail. A moment later he dashed out of my den.

I much prefer it when Malaes wore his c**k cage. He stayed in human form and I could admire his naked body, but on the other hand he was a distraction that way.

I went looking for a different distraction. It was a wonderfully sunny and breezy autumn morning. I could smell the change of the seasons on the air when I left my family’s ancient home and headed toward the disgustingly boring suburban housing development on the other side of the orchard.

My family had lived on this land for generations. I had been gone many years when my mother fell ill and was forced to sell some of the land to survive. When I returned half our land was occupied by interlopers. I blamed myself but instead of taking petty revenge, I looked to my grandmother for advice and decided to use them to my advantage.

A modern witch had to embrace modern solutions.

As a modern witch I immediately regretted my choice of dress. It was traditional black with plenty of lace, but I should have worn tights or stockings instead of bare legs. No matter. My jacket was wool and warm, even if it left my legs bare. I eschewed the non-traditional pointed conical hat and wore a much more stylish beret. If witches actually rode brooms for transportation I would have embraced the switchover to vacuum cleaners. Much more efficient.

My first stop was at the Drysdale’s house. I needed supplies for the potions I would be brewing. Officially and legally I was a licensed therapist who dabbled in natural medicines and herbs to alleviate the problems of modern life. It was a convincing lie my neighbors were happy to believe. Besides, the basic upper middle-class white women, married and divorced and otherwise, were always looking for some alternative to make their empty lives fuller.

I was just providing a service they needed.

The Drysdale’s house was on the edge of the development. It was just another ticky-tack house of tan siding and white trim. There were three designs of houses in Apple Meadows. This was doubled to six when the builders realized they could simply flop the blueprints over and have a mirror image of the three houses. The owners could choose between tan or beige or sandstone siding with white or antique white trim.

It was truly horrible.

I emerged from my orchard and walked through the Drysdale’s backyard. Both Mrs. and Mr. Drysdale were gone to work for the day. Or perhaps Ellen Drysdale was shopping. I had never met the two. I had only ever spoken to their son who still lived at home and was a college dropout.

He was, however, doing well financially with his m*******a resale business. It was an illegal business, I had warned him, but like so many young men he wasn’t worried about the future. He bought his supplies across the border in Massachusetts and sold to college and high school students who either couldn’t buy on their own or were too lazy to make the hour drive.

He also sold the devil’s lettuce to at least one neighbor, a witch who lived in the farmhouse on the other side of the orchard.

I didn’t need the weed, but I did enjoy it. I also did occasionally need it for some of my potions. “Nick?” I called as I opened the back door. I had punched in the security code he had given me. That was a foolish choice of his, but twenty-one year old boys weren’t known for their wisdom.

The pungent smell of burning weed filled the air. I knew he was downstairs in the basement tending to his handful of plants he was growing. He had no talent for agriculture. Nicholas Drysdale had two talents: selling pot to kids and f*****g middle-aged witches.

I tried not to think about the fact that I was close in age to Nick’s parents. I especially tried not to think about it when I was in bed with him.

There was no reply and I closed the door behind me. Walking through the kitchen I headed to the basement door and opened it. The smell of weed hit me in the face like an elemental force. If his parents didn’t know he was getting high during the day, f*****g into the afternoon, and selling at night they were idiots.

“Nick?” I called again as I headed down the stairs. I grimaced as I looked at the recently redecorated living room on the edge of the kitchen. Shiplap? Really Mrs. Drysdale? Will you follow every trend?

“Down here,” he called up to me.

I walked confidently down the stairs, even in my high-heeled boots because they had a practical heel, and into the warmth of his hideaway. A third of the basement was for the boiler and storage. The second third was nominally his bedroom which contained a bed and a dresser and a ridiculous video game setup. The last third was devoted to an indoor growing operation that somehow never seemed to generate money for my dear Nicholas.

“I have a need,” I said to him.

Nicholas was slightly overweight and had shaggy hair. His youthful muscles were still holding on, but he wasn’t getting enough exercise in his new lifestyle. He had a handsome face and was growing a beard that was still charming because it was short. He wore a t-shirt with a ridiculous design for some obscure band and jeans. Inside of those jeans was a c**k that had pleased me to no end.

But I wasn’t going to let him know that.

“A need for me?” he asked crudely. He set down the pipe he had been smoking and looked over his plants. I could have given him both practical advice and unnatural assistance in making his plants grow. I did neither.

“A need for your product,” I told him.

“How much?”

I told him and he was disappointed at the amount. “So little?”

“My needs are limited.”

“How are you going to pay?” he asked as he produced a small baggie from a locked box under his bed.

“How would you like your p*****t?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of his mattress. It smelled of weed and his sweat. It wasn’t a bad combination. I crossed my legs and let my dress slid up my thigh exposing much more skin than was acceptable.

I wasn’t an acceptable woman. I was a witch.

“Cash would be nice,” he said, staring at my leg.

I shifted on his bed. My dress wasn’t low cut, but I do have impressive t**s thanks to both genetics and a little unnatural help because I was vainer than I liked to admit. Just the shift was enough to draw his eyes up to my chest. “I’m a little short of cash right now,” I lied. “But I can offer you a blowjob or an enthusiastic fuck.”

I blinked innocently at him. I had happened upon Nicholas’s little operation because the smell wafted over to my house and, like I’ve already said, I have needs both physical and material and magical.

“Does it make you uncomfortable having s*x for weed?” he asked me. “Doesn’t that make you a prostitute?”

“No, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” I told him. “s*x work is an honorable career. What would be wrong with it?”

“Uh…” If he was trying to shame me, it wasn’t going to work. “But if you don’t like it I can offer you fifteen dollars for that small baggie,” I said indicating the m*******a in his hand. It was half the usual p*****t. Thirty dollars for a f**k with a beautiful woman—I’m not modest or delusional—was a good deal. What Nicholas didn’t know was that I wanted to f**k him for reasons that he couldn’t possibly imagine. “Nothing I guess,” he finally decided.

“So how would you like your p*****t?” I asked him as I rose up from my seat on his bed, took the baggie out of his hand and slipped it into my purse where it would be safe, and pressed up close to him. “Hmm?” I could feel his c**k through his jeans. He was hard. That was no surprise. To push things alone, I kissed him on the lips.

“Oh f**k,” he moaned.

Young men are so easy.

“A f**k it is then,” I decided for him as if there had been any doubt to what was going to happen.

Stepping back from him I took off my jacket and placed it on one of the chairs that filled the small room. After that I untied my dress at the waist. I love wrap dresses because they are easy to get in and out of. Letting it slip from my shoulders and onto the floor I stood boldly in front of him.

Young men are so easy especially when presented with a woman in elaborate lingerie. And I wasn’t wearing lingerie that was all that elaborate. Push up bra. High-waisted panties. Both black lace. That was it. But that was all it took.

“Fuuckk,” he breathed as he sat back onto his bed.

“We already established that,” I said, enjoying his stare. I understand that many women don’t like to be leered at by men, but I wanted Nicholas to leer at me. I took power from his gaze. But, that being said, if he had done the same thing to me on the street, I would have put a curse on him. Something that would make his d**k fail to work for a week so that he thought he had cancer of the c**k. “Stand up and take off your clothes. It’s easier to have s*x that way.”

He struggled and stumbled out of his clothes. It would have gone smoother if he had removed his sneakers first, but youngsters need to figure out things on their own.

He was naked before I had even considered removing any of my lingerie. I was determined to leave my boots on. Call me traditional, but I think they’re sexy and Nicholas was the type to either have a foot or shoe fetish. Maybe both.

His c**k caught my attention. It always did. While not excessively long, it was thick. I liked that. More importantly my eyes focused on his balls. They were my primary interest now. Not his c**k. Not his weed. What he had in his balls. For such a critical component in potion work it was both surprisingly easy and difficult to acquire.

Nicholas’s body was on that cusp. If he kept using his steady supply of weed and kept snacking and he’d cross the boundary from burley to fat. He still had his muscles, even if they were partly hidden at the moment.

Of course his c**k was already hard. Young men are like that: always ready to f**k at the drop of a dress.

Doffing my beret, I reached out and caressed his manhood. He groaned at the attention. “Ready for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’ll have to help me out a bit. I’m a little older than you and it takes a girl some time and effort to be f****d by such a lovely cock.”

Nicholas didn’t have to be asked twice. He went to his knees in front of me. Without asking permission—permission that I would have happily given—he yanked down my panties and pressed his face into my cunt.

Styles and fashion come and go, but the scent of a woman’s s*x always brings a man to his knees regardless of what she has done with it. Shaving is fine. Completely natural is fine. I split the difference and carefully groomed myself to an appropriate length and shape. It was just easier to deal with all types of lovers that way. I’m sure young Nicholas would have preferred a completely bare cunt, but he got what I wanted to give him.

Leaning back I let his tongue explore my s*x. Nicholas wasn’t the best at eating p***y, but he was learning. I wasn't interested in his c*********s technique anyway. I wanted his c**k and I was going to get it.

Still, it was nice to have the attention. I wasn’t that much older than Nicholas, but my public age was old enough to cause a scandal if news of our liaison were to get out. I liked that. As luck would have it, it doesn’t take much to get me wet, especially when I want to f**k and need to f**k.

“Okay, quit wasting time. I’m wet enough.”

“I thought older women loved getting their p***y licked.” Nicholas was always a little slow on the uptake.

“I’m ready,” I said pushing him aside to get to the bed. I still had my bra on and didn’t bother to remove it. This was transactional s*x. Nothing more. I needed him to f**k me and he’d get what he wanted for it.

Nicholas climbed on top of me and I happily spread my legs for him. He wasn’t the smoothest of lovers, but he’d only had a few before me while I’d had dozens. More than I could remember. Still, it felt wonderful when his big c**k went into me. Despite myself I let out a little groan. I didn’t want him to know how satisfying it was.

I didn’t just lay there doing nothing. I took great pleasure in my work and there was no reason not to take pleasure in the necessary s*x that went along with it. I caressed his body. I thrusted upward with my hips to meet his. I made it better for myself, but there’s only so much an innocent witch can do when bedding a rather clumsy lover. For all his wonderful c**k, Nicholas was adequate at best.

The good part was that a nice thick c**k was all it took to get me off and because he was so eager Nicholas could finish in less than five minutes. He came in me and I savored every pulse of his c**k spurting thick semen into me.

He lay atop me for a minute, huffing and puffing. It was nice but started to get stifling.

“I need to pee,” I announced to him.

Nicholas begrudgingly rolled off me and I daintily walked to the bathroom, carefully snagging my small purse and panties as I went. I doubted Nicholas saw that. If he did notice he wouldn’t say anything because he’s a man and they so often let women have their little privacy especially when it came to s*x and the cleanup afterwards.

Silver or glass really make no difference. Sitting on the toilet in the half bath I carefully inserted the silver tube into my cunt and pushed out. I didn’t need a huge amount of semen, but the more I could easily produce from Nicholas’s deposit would mean I wouldn’t have to return to him right away. I rather liked silver because it traveled well, but the advantage of glass was that I could see how much was there.

When I removed the tube I could see that it was nearly full, no dip test needed. Practically speaking, I was stealing in repurposing Nicholas’s semen, but since it wouldn’t be producing a child he didn’t care. At least, that’s what I assumed. You can never tell with some men.

Coming out of the bathroom I made a show of adjusting my panties as I gathered up my dress and slid it back on. Nicholas watched me, his tree-like body sprawled on his bed, thick but soft c**k now flopped against his thigh. It was an inviting sight, but I had other duties to fulfill today.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, complaining.

“I’m a busy woman and I have what I came for.” I carefully slipped the silver tube into my purse and made a show of displaying the baggie of m*******a. Let him think what he wanted to think.

“Can I f**k you again?” he asked. “I’m horny.”

“You’re soft,” I pointed out.

“That can be fixed with your mouth,” he said hopefully.

I laughed and went to the bed while tying my dress into place. I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “For a blowjob and a f**k you’ll have to give me more than twice this,” I told him indicating the buds in the baggie.

“I can do that,” he said eagerly.

“But I don’t want it.” I found my beret and jacket and headed toward the stairs.

He didn’t chase after me. He never did.

That was good. I had other places to be.