by Dante King
“Yeah,” I said, “well, trust me, if you were looking at what I’m looking at, and having the ideas that I’m having, you’d be pretty excited too.”
“How do you know that I’m not having the same ideas that you’re having,” Enwyn purred.
A slow grin spread across my face. This was the sort of thing that dreams were made of.
“I can’t help but think that you have me at somewhat of a disadvantage,” I said. “Here I am, caught off-guard and butt-naked, but for all I know you could be fully clothed under there.”
Enwyn gave me a look of such heat and intensity that it could have cut through sheet metal. With devastating, delicious slowness she grasped the top of the sheet with two fingers and drew it downward.
That slow reveal should have been accompanied by some sort of ethereal chamber music or something—or maybe, in Enwyn’s case, a couple of deep notes on a bass. The effect without any sort of soundtrack was quite enough, though.
The glimpse of the deep cleavage that I’d spied in my uncle’s shop that morning–hinting at a pair of tits that would have given even the most avid ass-man pause for thought–had not been a case of false advertising. Enwyn’s breasts were perfect—the perfect size, the perfect shape. They sat on her chest like a couple of cherry-topped crème brûlées, her nipples hardening as she watched me feast my eyes on them. The sheet inched its way lower, dragging my eyes with it. The swell of her breasts were complemented by the contrast of her flat, toned stomach. I could discern the vague outlines of her abdominals, and I followed these contours down to her jutting hip bones, my eyes pulled ever southward until—
The sheet pooled like red silk on the floor by the side of the bed, and I was left regarding one of the most stunning women I had ever had the good fortune to see naked. Enwyn was stunning—every inch of her—but what heightened the intense aura that seemed to have suddenly infused the room was the fact that she was, essentially, one of my teachers.
As I gazed at her naked form, Enwyn cupped a breast with her hand and gently toyed with the deep-pink nipple. She gave a little groan of pleasure, then said, “So, Mr.Mauler, would you consider us on even footing now?”
I took a step toward the bed, watching as her eyes slid over my body in turn. I took another step, so that my knees pressed against the edge of the mattress.
“I’d say that we’ve probably crossed whatever professional barrier there might have been when we first met,” I said.
My cock was as hard as a rock. Enwyn’s eyes glittered as she took a good, long look at it. Her tongue protruded from between her lips, ran slowly along them, moistening them. She bit her bottom lip, and her deep, dark eyes, sliding up the ridges of my stomach and over my chest, locked with mine.
“Not that I have anything wrong with this whole scenario,” I said, “but to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
Enwyn didn’t take her eyes from my face but shifted closer so that she was lying along the edge of the bed. My own eyes flicked down to her smooth pubic region, a single line of precisely shaved hair guiding my gaze toward that part of her that I most wanted to get my hands—and tongue and cock—on.
“I went to see Chaosbane,” she said softly, “he told me that you were a Creation Mage.”
My breath caught, as she laid a soft hand on my thigh. Her touch was beautifully warm. In fact, it felt as if waves of relaxing heat were emanating out from where her fingers rested, flowing down my leg and upward to my cock. I felt myself twitch with anticipation and grow even harder. I swallowed.
“That’s right,” I said. “He said that Creation Magic was also known as Sex Magic…”
Enwyn nodded her raven-haired head. Her hand crept upward, inching closer to my throbbing shaft, the heat building as her fingers moved north. “That’s correct,” she said, in the voice of a teacher whose favorite student had just pleased her. “And when that information gets out—and you can believe that it will find its way out soon—you will find yourself an object of great curiosity to a lot of people. Not all of them will be friendly.”
I moaned as Enwyn grasped me by the base of my cock, massaging my balls with firm, capable fingers. Heat flooded through my groin. Vaguely, I recalled that Enwyn was a Pyromancer. Maybe this heat was an added bonus to messing about with someone with a proclivity for the Fire Magic. She stroked me, all the while looking into my face.
“You’ll need to take on power to defend yourself, Justin,” she said, her hand working a little faster.
Suddenly, she stopped. I realized that I’d closed my eyes. At the cessation of her rhythm, I looked down.
“I’m here,” Enwyn said, “to offer you mine.”
She lay back on the bed, turned slightly so that she was facing me and opened her legs to reveal her glistening wet sex.
I felt my heartrate pick up, my breathing coming heavy through my nose.
Holy fuck, I want this woman more than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.
The dark hair spilling down across her shoulders, lightly tanned skin, the red lips and eyes like pools of black ink… It was all I could do to stop myself jumping between her thighs then and there.
“Enwyn,” I said, my voice coming out in a low growl.
“Yes, Justin,” she replied. She ran a finger down her stomach, across her navel, and between her legs. She gave another soft little moan that seemed to tug at every one of my primal instincts.
“Enwyn, this isn’t just some sort of obligation, right?” I asked.
She smiled. “No. If I’m honest, I’m not doing this to save the world or anything, I’m not doing it entirely out of the goodness of my heart. I’m doing it because I find you extremely attractive, Mr. Mauler. I had to do my research on you as part of my admissions duties and what I saw… intrigued me. I’d like to get to know you more, but, for that, I need you to be alive.”
I knelt down on the edge of the bed. My skin was tingling all over with anticipation.
“It’s dangerous, is it? Being a Creation Mage?” I asked, my voice hoarse with longing.
With a sensuousness that elicited a groan from me, Enwyn slipped a finger into her soaking slit and looked at me from under heavy lids.
“Very,” she said, bucking upward slightly, and slipping another finger into her glorious sex. “Now, let me help you.”
With a sudden violence that I found singly appealing, Enwyn’s hand shot up and grasped me by the back of the neck. She pulled me down to her, pressing her face against mine. Our kisses were hungry, dirty, frenzied. There was no fairy-tale element to them. Our teeth clicked together, as our tongues thrust into each other's mouths. Bizarrely, in the back of my mind, I noted that Enwyn tasted like smoke and chocolate and chili—exotic, warm, comforting smells that conjured images of bonfires on Caribbean beaches and nights spent wrapped in blankets in front of roaring log fires while snow fell outside the window.
I pushed her back onto the mattress, kissed up the side of her face, and nibbled at her earlobe, ran my tongue down the side of her neck, biting softly. Enwyn groaned deep in her throat, and her hand slipped down my stomach and cupped me again. Her hands moved roughly now, desperately, as if there was some burning need to bring me as much pleasure as she could as quickly as she could. I moaned into her collarbone as she spat into her hand and pumped my cock up and down.
I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back so that she gasped in surprise. With the fingers of one hand tangled through her shadowy black hair, my other hand forced her thighs apart, as far as she could spread them, and I slipped two fingers into her slippery, eager sex.
Enwyn bucked against me, her pelvis grinding into my palm as I finger fucked her. Her breath whistled through her bared teeth and, looking up from my task, I saw that her glasses were askew on her pretty face.
“That’s it,” she said huskily. “That’s it. A good start. Give me more though, Justin, give me more.”
I slipped another finger inside her, and Enwyn let out a long moan of pleasure.
“That’s it. Faster now.”
While I fingered her, she continued to jack me off. The heat was building in my groin, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my own animal arousal or Enwyn’s own magical abilities. I continued to finger fuck her but started to kiss my way down her chest at the same time. I took one nipple in my mouth and sucked roughly on it, felt it stiffen against my tongue.
Suddenly, with a strength I would not have thought possible from the woman, Enwyn sat up and pressed me onto my back. I rolled with the pressure. There was a whirl of smooth, naked skin and black hair in the dim light and, all of a sudden, I found myself eye-to-eye with Enwyn’s gaping pink sex. I blinked, the remnants of the alcohol in my system making me a little slower than I ordinarily would have been. Then, I felt my cock engulfed by a fantastic, slippery warmth, and I realized that Enwyn had pushed me down and then swiveled so that we were now in the sixty-nine position. Even as this lightbulb came on, it occurred to me that the hot, wetness that had engulfed my shaft was Enwyn’s mouth.
Gotta be a team player, I thought and grabbed Enwyn’s asscheeks and pushed her crotch down toward my face. Once again, when my tongue initially entered her, I was amazed at how hot it was. Not sexy hot—though it was certainly that too—but temperature hot.
It must be something to do with the fact that she’s a Fire Mage, I thought. I wondered whether, using this logic, if I slept with someone with an affinity for Ice Magic, whether giving them head would be like sticking my tongue into the middle of an Eskimo pie.
This train of thought did not run for long until it was derailed by the very immediate pleasure of Enwyn tonguing my balls.
We stayed intertwined like this for what might have been minutes or hours, I couldn’t say. Time lost all meaning. After a while, my entire world narrowed down to the sensation of my cock hitting the back of Enwyn’s throat as she bobbed up and down on it, and the taste of her juices as I ran my tongue up and down and in and out of her vagina.
After a while though, Enwyn’s grunts and groans became more frantic, the grinding of her pelvis into my face more urgent. The blood was thundering through my ears, as I reached up, grabbed her, and flipped her off me. She landed on her back at the foot of the bed with a delighted gasp, her breasts bouncing in a way that made me pounce straight on top of her and pin her arms over her head.
With very little fuss, she grasped my cock in her warm grip and guided me into her. The sensation of actually pushing into Enwyn, of entering her, was something that I could only compare to getting into a perfectly hot bath. Enwyn’s back arched as I thrust into her, her nails running down my back and leaving trails of pleasurable fire in their wake.
It was the sort of rough and ready sex that hearkens back to the times of our bestial forefathers. We ground against one another, and the only sound was the slap and hiss of skin on skin, the grunt and rasp of our breathing and the wet sucking noises as we fucked. At some point, we ended up on the chaise longue, and I bent Enwyn over so that she was pressed up against the end of it. Her ass was a work of art in itself, and the sight of it, as I fucked her from behind, sent my lust skyrocketing into unknown heights. I smacked her asscheeks as she bucked vigorously backward to meet my every thrust, and my hands left prints which, unless my eyes deceived me, smoked as if they were brands that I pressed into her.
With a sudden rushing exhalation, Enwyn reared back from the chaise lounge’s backrest and pressed herself to me. I cupped both her tits in my hands, pinching the nipples as she shuddered against me.
With the knowledge that she was climaxing, it was as if the dam inside of me, that held back my own ecstasy, suddenly broke. I thrust up once more, lifting Enwyn clean into the air, as she wrapped her legs backward around my waist. It would have looked, if anyone had walked in at that instant, like we were recreating a scene from the pornographic parody of Dirty Dancing.
Then, in a rush of spent sexual energy, the two of us collapsed backward onto the king-sized bed in a heap of tangled limbs, sweat, and Enwyn’s tangled hair. For a while, all we did was pant and grin dazedly up at the ceiling. Then, slowly and with more effort than I thought the task would require, I reached over Enwyn and pulled the sheets up and around us. Enwyn moaned softly; a mewling sound of pure contentment. She pressed that perfectly sculpted ass up against my crotch and, despite what it had just gone through, my relaxing prick gave a little twitch of interest.
“That,” Enwyn said, “has earned you your first A, Mr.Mauler,” she said, her voice drowsy.
“Not an A plus?” I asked, running a hand over her flank and brushing my fingertips across her breasts.
“That depends,” she murmured.
“On what?”
“On whether you can help me find my glasses tomorrow.”
I awoke the next morning to the freshly minted sun shining through a chink in the heavy drapes. For a while, I watched the dust motes floating happily in the beam of crisp sunlight and listened to Enwyn breathing. Despite the obviously early hour, the fact that I’d been involved in a life-threatening brawl with a horde of zombie skeletons and drunk at least half my body weight in assorted magical alcohols I was feeling good. So good, in fact, that, if they could have bottled how good I was feeling, I was pretty sure that the resulting tonic would have made childbirth a pleasure.
I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. At the same time, Enwyn slipped from between the sheets and padded naked to the bathroom. I watched her through the open door, as she attempted to tame her hair by running her fingers through it. There is something indescribably sexy about a naked woman going about her morning routine while you look on from bed. I thought it was probably because of the contrast, between the normalcy of her brushing her hair and what I remembered we had gotten up to the night before. One moment you’re fucking a beautiful woman from behind, one of her incredible breasts in each hand while she whispers pure filth into your ear, the next she’s putting on her respectable face and getting ready for work.
When Enwyn had gotten the best result that she could from the finger-comb method of hairstyling, she walked back into the bedroom and bent down—right in front of my face—and picked up her discarded clothing from where she had stowed it under the bed. Unable to resist, I reached out and grabbed one of those faultless asscheeks in my hand and squeezed. Enwyn snorted with amusement, reached around, and gave my hand a playful slap.
“I’m already going to struggle with not walking around the Academy like I got fucked silly last night as it is, Justin,” she admonished me, a crooked smile playing across her lips. “If we go for another round, I’ll have to call in sick.”
She leaned down and kissed me hard on the mouth.
There it is again; cocoa, rum, and cinnamon. Tastes that warm the blood.
I wondered, as a Creation Mage, what I tasted like.
“I’ve got to go,” Enwyn said. “Duty calls.”
“Plus, you don’t want to get snapped by my frat brothers leaving, right?” I asked.
“Like, I said, you’ve an astute mind behind that handsome face.” She kissed me again and walked toward the door.
“Hey!” I said, stopping her in her tracks in the open doorway.
She turned and raised an eyebrow.
Her glasses flew across the room, and she snatched them, with an athlete’s dexterity, from the air. She slipped them onto her face and gave me a look that pulled at those animal instincts of mine again. My cock gave a little sigh of longing.
“There’s that A plus,” she said, and disappeared out into the corridor.
I knew that if I lay in bed and continued to stare at the ceiling, as I was doing now, I’d replay the whole night’s fun in my head and be late for the Mazirian Academy induction. So, I hauled myself up and swung my legs out of bed. I winced slightly, as my muscles gave little protests at being used so indiscriminately the day before. I reached a hand around my back and prodded at the bruise that colored it. It hurt, but I took this as a good sign. It meant that I hadn’t s
uffered one of the most intense hallucinations to ever afflict a human being. It meant that everything that had happened yesterday really had happened.
Whistling, I walked bare-assed to the shower. I might have had one last night, but Enwyn Emberskull had made sure that I was far dirtier than I had been before the fight with Bradley and the skellies.
“Speaking of Bradley,” I said as I cranked on the shower. “I wonder what our low-man has got in store for breakfast?”
One thing was for certain, there was nothing like a fight to the death and a night of wild fucking to put an edge on a man’s hunger.
I let the hot water play over my aching body—entertaining myself by whispering, “Hotter, colder, hotter, hotter, colder,” and trying to trick the shower into fucking up—and let my mind play back the previous evening’s entertainment.
Shit, she is an incredible woman. Dangerous, scholarly, and severe, and yet with the skills in the bedroom that would make a guy believe that she was born horizontal.
My imagination was already whirling as I thought up all the possible things that we could get up to together. It was as clear as the nose on my face that Enwyn Emberskull probably had no reservations whatsoever, as far as kinky shit was concerned. The only limit, as far as I could see, was our imagination. She had taken me a little by surprise last night, to say the least, but I’d be ready for her next time. My head and memories seemed to be full of the smell and feel of her. As I lathered up my skin with some lotion from a bottle marked ‘Master Geronimo’s Wizarding Cleanse; For Ripe Pits & Stinky Bits’ and rinsed, it almost felt like a shame to be washing away her scent from my skin.
Still, I thought, at least I can’t forget the taste of her. All I need to do is have a swig of rum or eat a cinnamon scroll, and I’m right back in my bedroom, with Enwyn opening up those tight thighs to me…
This got me once more thinking down the whole different types of sex with different types of mage. With her Gothic looks, the taste of cocoa, wood smoke, and spices seemed somewhat incongruous with Enwyn herself, so I assumed it must have something to do with the type of magic that she practiced.
