Tales of Lust and Magic Read online

  “Please boys...” was all I could manage.

  They took the hint, Josh leading me up to the bed.

  “Hey...” Hugh greeted us. “I’ve been waiting for you...”

  I tried to be discreet, but my gaze was magnetically drawn to the precious metal that was his body. I climbed onto the bed beside him and watched as he held his cock in his hand, rocking it up and down ever so slightly. Josh climbed onto the bed too, pulling the thick red curtains around us, so that our mischief was concealed from the moon and the stars above. The darkness helped me shed any fear I may have harboured before this moment and before too long I was lying on my side, with my lips locked to Josh’s in a tender yet determined kiss. Hugh was behind me and running his hands all over the newfound territory that was my body. As his exploration led him to my ass, his breath quickened as though he’d discovered treasure and he pressed himself closer to me. Now I was trapped between the heady desire of the two, my breasts and lips being tended to by Josh, whilst Hugh took care of my behind, tantalising me with the proximity of his throbbing member. As the intensity of Josh’s kiss grew, so too did the hardness of Hugh’s cock. Hugh slipped a couple of fingers into me and I know he liked what he found.

  “I want to taste you....” he whispered.

  Josh took the cue and gently pulled away from my lips.

  “Get on your hands and knees Emily...” he instructed authoritatively.

  I obliged, positioning myself in between the boys, so that Josh was kneeling in front of me and Hugh behind, ready to taste me.

  “Would you like to suck my cock?” asked Josh.

  “Yes...” I replied, needing no further invitation to lean forward and get my first taste of him. I let my tongue swirl around the tip of his glistening member, before taking him deeper. He tasted so exquisite that I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. This didn’t matter, for Hugh had now positioned himself under me and was starting to lap up my arousal. At first he flicked playfully at my clitoris, but before long he couldn’t resist and his erect tongue dove deep into me and fucked my pussy rhythmically. I mimicked his pace, bobbing up and down on Josh’s cock and starting to drive him wild. His manhood was weeping with preliminary joy and I knew that it was only a question of time before he exploded. He began to pull out of my mouth.

  “Hugh’s turn...” he explained, feigning altruism instead of powerlessness under my expert tongue. I smiled to myself.

  “If you insist...” joked Hugh, sitting up for a moment. His lips sparkled with my pleasure and I glanced at his impatient, untended cock, springing restlessly from his body. It was also shining in the moonlight in lustful anticipation of what was to be.

  I lay down on my back, deliberately spreading my long legs as far apart as possible, inciting the entrance of whoever’s cock arrived to me first. Hugh made his way up the bed, kissing my lips passionately and letting me taste my sweet arousal. He then replaced his lips with his balls and I teased them with a frenzied tongue, taking their weight into my mouth as he groaned. As I sucked them, he began to masturbate gently and the musky scent of his desire lingered in the air. When he could stand it no longer, he fed me his cock. By now I was practically doing the splits; my legs were so far apart that my pussy was shamelessly begging for attention. Josh took this as an invitation and proceeded to enter me. His dick slid perfectly into my soaking sex and what ensued was the most erotic of all experiences I had ever had. Josh and Hugh were very attuned to each other’s moves and though they avoided all eye-contact, their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, so that I might well have imagined being alone with each of them, rather than this being a threesome. Josh slipped in and out of the tight confines of my pussy, whilst Hugh dipped in and out of the humid vacuum of my mouth. Josh’s fingers also worked my clitoris, rubbing in circular movements that sent orgasmic waves rippling through my euphoric body. This orgasm made me clench tightly against Josh’s cock and he ground his teeth in an attempt to withhold. I was so enthralled in the moment that nothing else mattered, only our immediate satiation. It was coming, I could feel that both men were about to yield to my feminine charms.

  They both withdrew and I knew the finale was near. I instinctively flipped onto all fours; this was something of a sexual default position for me, allowing smooth and uninhibited access to my innermost desire. Hugh now took his place behind me and didn’t hesitate to follow the compass that was his dick into the north of my sex. He was a greedy lover, thrusting into me with an all-consuming passion that I knew was to be extinguished all too quickly. The friction of his sex rubbing against mine was driving me to the brink once again, but it was only when Josh guided his cock into my screaming mouth that I really did explode. The vibration of my cries onto his dick seemed to have an effect on him too, for within seconds he was coming very hard. Although he had considerately pulled out of my mouth, I craved just a little taste of him, so I held out my tongue and he brought his erupting member back to me, just in time to let me partake in the sweetness of his orgasm. I licked hungrily at dick, all the while feeling Hugh preparing to climax. A sharp intake of breath and a final deep thrust signalled his orgasm and he quickly pulled out of me whilst masturbating hard. My very own orgasm was still whirling through me and the intoxication of the moment led my lips to his cock. Once again, I savoured his liquid euphoria and the feeling of my lips grazing against the tip of his sensitive dick made him shudder with unexpected delight.

  The three of us collapsed on the bed, with the blissful satiation that only comes once in a while when your body and mind have been simultaneously satisfied. As I lay there between my two young seducers, I realised that something had changed. Staring up at the moon, for the first time in many years I felt like an active protagonist in the play of my own life. I felt free, so wonderfully free. The image of Sleeping Beauty and her Prince came to my mind. Though I may not have had a happy-ever-after with these men, I felt like I had been woken from a comatose state and was now buzzing with this newfound adrenalin and marvelling at how thrillingly magical life could be.

  As I tottered away, abandoning my gleaming princes, who were sleeping under the moonlight, I knew that I could never go back. After all these years, I was finally free.

  The Librarian

  Our university library is a magnificent old building, an architectural masterpiece with vast circular rooms, a spiral staircase running through the middle of the building and connecting the many floors. One can easily lose oneself in its splendour; the wooden shelves seem to reach the sky and the innumerable departments provide the perfect labyrinth for those who might want to escape for a while. Like any library, an air of reverential silence is the only sound humming across the aisles and the slightest sound can provoke the head-turning of the odd student, scattered in the sea of literature.

  I found myself there all that summer; exams were approaching and the only place I could find tranquillity was in the cool confines of that space. Many a day would find me poring over some great work, endeavouring to concentrate whilst trying to forget that outdoors I could find hordes of students enjoying the summertime pleasures, ice-creams here, beach trips there. Life was so jovial at this time of year; all cares just seemed to float away into the summer breeze. That was, until I swiped my identity card through the library turnstile. Then I would be reminded of school, the imminent threat of resits and of my future depending on them. All summertime joys just melted away. My sentiments were echoed by the librarian’s face. She was always coolly professional, to the point of being stonily serious. An overdue book meant a real scolding and I often felt her eyes were scouring over me as I left the library for lunch, checking perhaps that I wasn’t smuggling out one of her precious books.

  She was strikingly tall and slim, with long dark hair that was usually restrained in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her eyes were dark, her skin was pale and she spoke with an unplaceable foreign accent, though she dominated the English language as well as she did all the students. She was known for her se
verity and this reputation was enforced by her appearance, for her clothes were dark and formal and she wore a pair of glasses which served to keep a very close eye on all around her. I was quite sure that when her hair was released and a smile unleashed, she would be most beautiful. However, I could only imagine this as I’d never seen it happen.

  I would often stare at her as she whizzed through the aisle, determined in her classificational pursuit. There was something very enigmatic about her that fascinated me. Perhaps it was my desire to see that her apparent severity was simply a mask behind which she hid a bubbly and outgoing woman, a little like myself. Or so I liked to believe. Maybe she was simply moody and unpleasant. Or else sexually frustrated. Yes, I could spend hours dreaming about what she may or may not be like. Though I hated to admit it, for the first time in my life I had been captivated by a woman and as she wiggled past me in those long, tight skirts, she seemed to be almost amused by my frustration.

  Please don’t misunderstand me; I had had my fair share of men. I knew that I was an attractive young woman. When I looked into the mirror I would be greeted by my almond-coloured skin, my thick shoulder-length brown hair, my soft feminine curves and some twinkling emerald eyes shining back at me. I knew that I exuded a certain aesthetic charm on those who beheld me. I frequently dated different boys, usually those from a sports team or else those from some band or other. I was attracted to all types of boys, as you can see. I had never seriously contemplated a woman before, but as I watched her day after day that summer, going about her daily business with a perfect silence and severe demeanour, I recogniszed that I was somewhat mesmerized.

  Occasionally she would offer me a half-smile here or a raised eyebrow there and I would feel my pulse starting to race and would practically start to tremble with nerves. How could I have been so intimidated and especially by a woman? This was all so novel to me and I put it down to the fact that I had been so chaste of late, spending too many hours studying and I really needed to get out.

  When I did manage to get out, I might fool around with the odd boy or two, the librarian far from my distracted mind. However, as evenings drew in and the fun drew out, I would find myself in a compromising position with a guy, searching desperately to extinguish the ravaging flame that had started burning in her presence. With my eyes closed and legs parted, I would feel a probing tongue devouring my sex and I would imagine for just a few seconds that it was her. Then my eyes would open widely in the realisation of what I was fantasising about. Within seconds I would be coming over my lover’s tongue, filled with guilt yet infused with a secret desire. I knew I wanted her.

  So I found myself in the library at every available opportunity. My academic prospects may well have been flourishing, were it not for the fact that I was far too preoccupied by thoughts of her. To the rest of the world I was a conscientious student doubled over her French literature and motivated in my studies. What I was really seeing on those pages, though, were images of her and me here in the library, consumed by mutual passion, and exploring every inch of each other with our hands and mouths. I was so absorbed by these imaginings that the sound of her heels behind me made me jump, knocking my pencil case onto the floor. My cheeks were on fire and I scrambled to the floor to try to retrieve it.

  “Stop!” she demanded, bending down to help me and simultaneously placing a hand over mine. “Let me get that for you...”

  As she picked the pencil case up in what I was sure was deliberate slow-motion, I was exposed to the sight of her ample cleavage, thrust forward and offering itself to me for display purposes only.

  “Thaaaanks...” I blurted out, tearing my eyes away from her breasts and feeling a deep blush run from my head to my toes.

  “You’re welcome...Rose. Just don’t let it happen again.”

  I was dumbfounded, firstly because she knew my name and secondly because she had warned me not to drop my pencil case again – how absurd! Or had she been referring to the gazing at her breasts part? I felt dizzy with the summer heat, the literature in front of me and, most of all, dizzy with having had her so close and now being so far. I tried my best to concentrate but it was in vain, so I gave up. I begrudgingly packed my books up for the day and started to make my way out of the library, dazed by the afternoon’s antics and my longing for her. My bag seemed heavier than usual and as I trudged along I wondered how that could possibly be. It was only as the security alarm stated ringing, that I realised what I’d done.

  Why did it have to be her, I wondered? She came marching up to me, with a very stern expression on her face.

  “The bag please, Miss Black!” she demanded, offering a perfectly manicured hand to me.

  I gave her the bag, explaining to her, “I’m sorry... I just packed everything up without thinking...”

  By now she was shaking her head in total disapproval, pulling out several books and checking for their stamp.

  “Five books, Miss Black. You have tried to steal five books from this library.”

  “Steal?” I repeated, incredulous. “It was just an accident.”

  She was not listening now, she was just fumbling with a radio, clearly preparing to contact a superior to take matters further.

  “Please, this is not necessary...” I interrupted, some audacity from deep inside of me springing up. I dared to touch her slender arm as I questioned. “Can’t we just sort this out between the two of us?”

  “Very well,” she acquiesced with a deep sigh. “Come back here at ten tonight. I will be locking up alone. I will find a way to put you to use to compensate for this crime.”

  Crime? Was she crazy? These were just tattered old books.

  “Fine,” I agreed. “I will be here at ten.”

  “On the dot,” she reaffirmed in an accent which I now realised was very clearly French. How she dominated the English language!

  I spent the entire journey home wondering how I was going to pay for my apparent ‘crime’. I envisaged spending the whole night stacking shelves, categorising books and those kinds of mundane tasks that obviously filled her every second. There was no wonder she looked so miserable, I thought to myself. What she really needed was a little indulgence, thrills of some kind, administered to her by a handsome man or some other keen admirer. I smiled, imagining myself applying for the role of eager lover. If only she knew!

  Back at home, I found that my flat was empty. This was better for me, as I didn’t want to have to give any explanations to anybody about where I was going. When I thought about our twilight rendezvous, I felt a cool shudder ripple through my over-heated body. I needed a cold shower to freshen up my body and my mind, for I felt such a peculiar mix of arousal and shame. This feeling was so very new to me; I had never been made to feel this way by the male of the species. Men seemed so two-dimensional in comparison to this elusive and enigmatic woman, for while I craved only the physical attributes of the guys I knew, this was both a physical and psychological yearning. I wanted to know more about her and to explore her both physically and mentally. I let these thoughts wash over me as the cool water made my nipples tingle and my body ache more than ever. I caressed my body with the most divinely scented suds and let my hands linger for just a few seconds between my trembling thighs. I knew I wasn’t going to able to hold out; I needed to satisfy myself right then, so I pointed the water jet at my clitoris, already throbbing in anticipation at the evening in store. The unrelenting power of the jet sent waves of orgasm flooding through me and I thought of her as I collapsed under the downpour.

  As I made my way out of the shower, I caught my reflection in the steamy mirror. My face was positively glowing with the post-orgasmic bliss, so much so that I was pretty sure she’d suspect what I’d been up to. I checked the time and the ticking hands told me that I had just an hour to get back to her. I started to prepare myself for her, massaging my sun-kissed body with a luxurious body cream, drying my hair into soft waves and finally applying just a touch of make-up, a few strokes of mascara and eye-liner to
draw her in with my eyes, followed by the sweetest and shiniest of lip- glosses for when she claimed her prize. I laughed out loud at the audacity of my fantasy, reminding myself that I was going to stack shelves and nothing more. Yet in spite of this knowledge, I couldn’t help but spritz myself with the most subtle and freshest of fragrances, the kind that lingers in the air after you have gone. I made sure that I had the mintiest of kisses at my disposal, should she so desire. With such preparations I was almost done, save for the choice of outfit for the soirée. I rummaged through my wardrobe in desperation, for I had no idea what to wear. Once almost every fabric of varying colour, shape and style was strewn over my bedroom floor, I came to a decision. I picked out a short red strappy summer dress, short enough to reveal my shapely bronzed pins and tight enough to hint at a firm and curvaceous behind. I was being provocative and I revelled in the sensation. I have to add that due to the humidity of the summer evening I decided to forsake my bra, leaving my breasts to freely exhibit their pert roundness. My modesty was concealed by a little black satin thong, admittedly covering very little, for I enjoyed feeling the cool evening breeze whisper over every inch of me.

  Very quickly I was out of the house and floating into the dusky air. I seemed to fly to her, my wings propelled by the adrenalin pumping through every single vein and bringing me closer to what I fearfully longed for. The sound of the clock chimes confirmed my punctuality and I approached the library door, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach looping the loop time and time again. Through the darkness of the building I could see her tall silhouette making its way to me, at a steady yet determined pace. She seemed a confident predator, ready to skilfully ensnare her prey.