The Spell of Five

by Casey Morgan

  I continue to read, creeping my hands closer to my crotch. My lips, and my clit are shielded within my skirt and panties. They are that oh-so-precious spot that I’m not supposed to know about, let alone be touching, but that makes it all the more exciting to me. And it makes me bring my fingers in closer, hovering just over my panties, before turning the page. After that, I’m right back down to my panties. Touching my little bead through the fabric. The very tip of which I can just make out through my layers.

  At the moment, the touch I’m giving myself is more soothing than anything. It gets me into a bit of a trance as I read, rather than twisted up into a tizzy. But that’s okay, it helps me focus, begin to paint to the details in my mind.

  Charles is racing across landscapes, over bits of a land bridge. As he does, he begins to shift out of werewolf form and to human. As he does, he is a dark-haired, golden-skinned beauty. His hair is long and black. Curly, a wild mass around his dark, keen eyes. His nose is thin, but his mouth is full. Sensual. Carved onto his face with extra beauty and care.

  His body is a thing of sculpted muscle. Beautiful thick and heavy proportions. In his legs, arms, chest and back. All of them ripple with strength and precision. Glisten with sweat as he continues to run, hunger to reunite with her. Already, even if he runs, his cock is standing tall. Proud, thirsting for her. Searching to meet her as well.

  I turn the page, and then another, quickly moving my hand from the front of my panties to down the front of them. To inside the dark, devilish cocoon created by my skirt and underwear. I’m wearing a thong. Something Dad would never approve of, and would have never agreed to let me purchase. Which is why I purchased it without his knowledge with a bit of my birthday money last year. They have become my “fantasy” panties.

  Panties I wear when I’m reading these kinds of books; spending this kind of time with myself as I finish snaking my hand down my skirt, and onto the thin, silky barrier of my thong and resume stroking. As I do, I give a little gasp. A little lick of my lips, feeling how much more sensation I get now. How much soft and squishy greets me on either end. And my clit, it’s getting nubby. Hard in the best way, and with just some soft, intermittent “scrubbing” motions of my fingers. My nails, because I like a little bit of pain with my pleasure.

  As I’m stroking myself and widening my legs a little bit for a little more surface area, I focus back in on the story. How Charles has just seen Starlet running toward him. Like him, she is naked. Where his cock is standing at attention as he runs, her nipples are out straight. Her breasts are full and perky, giving their own “hello” to him.

  As I read her description—short, reddish-brown hair, blue eyes and a heart-shaped face, I begin to stroke myself a little faster. Quicker, and make the strokes longer and lingering, not so rapid-fire. I feel my heartbeat and temperature increase, along with my breathing. It’s a little fast. A little shallow. Starlet looks like me. She is me, I think, deciding I’m going to do just that: put myself in her place, though I’m not nearly as busty as she’s described. Nor do I share her shapely hips. I’m well proportioned, but I’m not “thick” in that way, and I’m not necessarily well endowed. I’m a bit on the flatter side, but that’s just fine with my parents. They say I’m “not much to look at” that way, which is just fine.

  With them, but so not me. Thinking this, I keep up my stroking. I pause a bit, but only enough to turn a page, and anticipate what happens next. Charles and Starlet finally meeting up. I massage and whisper my fingers around my clit as they run to be reunited, but I hold off from really touching. Really doing anything special, until they actually hug. Begin touching each other the way I’m touching myself.

  Begin fucking, which is actually what I’m here for.

  As I just do this barest bit of stroking and attention, my clit and folds are already growing damp in my thong. Every inch of my body is practically begging to be touched. Sucked. Pinched, much like what’s happening with Starlet’s nipples. Her and Charles have finally reunited, literally run into each other’s arms and started fucking right then and there, on part of the land bridge. Except Starlet is not Starlet; she’s me. I’m the one with her nipples in Charles’ vicious, hungry mouth. Getting harder and harder as his tongue lashes around her tender, sensitive skin.

  I shiver at this, feeling my nipples go hard. Round themselves out in my bra. Pucker under the slightest touch of the pad, but I don’t touch there. I keep touching my clit. Stroking every inch of my folds, my long nails biting into the tender flesh a bit. Giving them a little slap as I move back up to my clit. In and around the tender bit of flesh, I’m beginning to feel myself quake. Shudder, to the point where I have trouble keeping my fingers on me. Add to that, the fact that my thong is practically soaked. So laden with liquid, that it’s not even really staying on me anymore. One little brush, and I would be touching myself directly.

  Which I decide to go ahead and do, just as Charles decides to start licking my navel. My hips and thighs. My innermost heat, remarking on how long he’s been waiting for me. How beautiful and curly my hair is down there. How motherly it makes me, and how much he can’t wait to fill me to the brim. Make babies with me.

  “Tabitha,” I imagine him saying in his sexy, growly whisper as his long, luxurious hair hangs in my face. He’s gotten up to start positioning himself for extra fun. Penetration of my sopping-wet pussy, which he’s promised to lick clean after making a mess of me. “Tabitha, I’ve waited for eternity to be with you, and now that I am, I’m going to make love to you. I’m going to penetrate and fill you so deeply, no distance will ever mean anything anymore. No connection too far.”

  In my head, I imagine the way I am under him. The way I squirm. The way I moan and whisper his name. Part of me hears that I’ve done this out into my bedroom, but I’m past caring. I’m more focused on caressing and vibrating my fingers on and through my lips. My clit, and even into my hole. My opening, already reaching out to grab me. My three fingers, as if they are Charles’s cock. A cock I imagine is already stroking the back of my leg. Teasing the ends of my lips, the edges of my moist, glistening hole.

  I imagine he flexes his muscles as he leans over me a bit more. I imagine I feel his cock whisper against my ass, and more of my silky, tense flesh as he positions himself just right. As he takes another testing dip in me. One that drives me wild. One that makes me open my greedy, salacious legs to him.

  “It seems my mate is more than ready for me,” he murmurs, after humming observantly. His eyes fix me in a similar way a second later, their dark color driving into me like intoxicating teeth. Claws. “It seems she is ready to have all of me in her. To let me make some glorious werewolf babies.” I imagine he smiles wickedly at me. “Which shouldn’t be hard, since I’ve got a lot to give you. My cock is nice and big. And ready for that beautiful, magical pussy of yours, my dear.”

  “I am,” I imagine I say, taking my fingers out of my wet, sticky opening and putting them back on my clit. There, I press out a frantic, intermittent rhythm. One that matches my heart, and my tenuous hold on the book. What I’m using to guide some of this fantasy. While also taking some creative license. Like a part where Charles kisses me. Bites my lip, before wiggling his cock inside me. Inserting the tip and then more, more. His length blossoms in me. Blooms outward, gently and intoxicatingly stretching me.

  I imagine him moaning. Groaning with a sexy, barely restrained hunger. It’s a deep animal sound in his throat, and one that makes me spear my fingers into my hole. As I feel my lips and walls expand to accommodate three of my fingers held closely together, I imagine that it’s his cock doing this. His girth dominating me in this way. As I begin to move in and out of myself, I imagine it’s Charles.

  I imagine I can see and feel him rocking above me. Beginning to pound me like crazy, his balls and hips slapping me like liquid muscle. Sinewy and soft manhood. Manliness personified. His musky, sweaty, earthbound sent fills me. As does the imagine sound of his rough, untamed breathing. The way his
hands and fingers dig into me.

  I let out a sighing whimper. I yelped out a soft, “Fill me. Give me all of your big, meaty cock. Ram me full of you, and your fucking cum.” As I say this, I finger myself faster and harder. I stick my fingers in as far as they will go. Pinch and rub as many of my little textured bits as possible, feeling my stomach rolling and clenching. My vagina walls doing the same, and more liquid is beginning to drench me. Try to push me out, as I say these dirty, lusty things. “Give me everything you have.” As I say this, I let out a hot, forceful breath of air. Something that’s between a growl and a sigh. I open my legs up more, though this is unconscious. Much like the way my hips are rising and buckling. “Don’t worry about fucking breaking me. I’m not pure anyway. I’m not weak, either.”

  “I know you’re not, my dear,” I imagine Charles says to me, as he begins to fuck me for all he’s worth. Slam in and out of me until my insides feel delightfully bruised. Delightfully punched and stretched by him, but I don’t want him to stop. If anything, I want to feel him swell inside me. I want to feel him shoot me full of so much cum, I’ll feel it drip out of me for the next day and a half. “You are strong. You are powerful. You are a werewolf just like me, and I will gladly break you. Beautifully. Sweetly. But not of your body and mind, but all of all the sorrows you’ve undergone.” Saying this, imagine Charles kisses me. Puts one of his hands on my breasts, and the other under one of my legs. Doing so, I imagine he presses himself in and out of me fast and hard. On each trip in, he lingers. On each trip out of me, he drags himself along my length. Drags me along his, each texture swapping. Joining. Swirling together.

  Soon my head’s almost swirling too much for my fingers to stay inside. Stay with the maddening rhythm I’ve started to do, but I can feel the itchy, clenching warning signs. The pleasure-pain of pre-orgasm. I breathe into it, forcing my wet, pruning fingers to keep stroking. Keep plundering my depths, though I keep wishing I had something longer. Something better.

  Like an actual man’s cock. An actual thick and massive tool, ready to spread me. Use me. Abused me with love and lust. Stretch and bend all of my secret places. I moan low and long, the sound sad and sweet. Lonely and mournful, but also lusty and wild. As the sound escaped me, my walls tighten around me. Clench around me, and begin to throb.

  In my ears, I can hear is my ragged, hungry breathing. My rapid, irregular pulse. The way the blood is rushing through my veins. Now I can’t hear anything that I might be imagining Charles says. All I can do is feel him. His strong hands bearing down on me. Pushing me into the rock and earth, as he bends upward in release. Pushes himself as deep in me as he can go, and unleashes his torrent of cum.

  The exact moment that I imagine the thick warmth rushing into me, bulging into all of my nooks and crannies, I experience a wet, warm and wild ride of my own. My muscles clench. Almost to the point where I find myself worrying about whether I should stop.

  And then, as if to shut that thought completely and totally out of my head, my body releases. Snaps the tension inside like a water balloon popping. Wet and viscous, warmth rushes through and out of me. Creates a lake that quickly spills over and out of my thong and into my pants. As it does, I let go of the book. Almost fling it away from me, and press my now-free hand hard over my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

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  I write super steamy shifter paranormal romance and urban fantasy reverse harem romance. My goal is to fulfill all your fantasies at once!

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