by Asia Marquis
“What did you do?!” Screamed my mother as she grabbed me, holding me close to her chest. She often told me she wished she had killed that witch then and there, but I remind her it's near impossible to kill a witch. I would have just been left without a mother.
“I cursed your wretched daughter so that she may only have children with one man in the whole world. She'll never find him!”
My mother and father ran out of the house with my mother holding me tight as I wailed and cried, followed only by the crone's evil cackles.
Of course, they never told me about this until I turned 18. At first, I didn't understand. I'm not sure I do even now. What could that witch have seen in that scrying mirror that made her so upset? Maybe one of my children killed her or something.
Now I'm a practicing witch in a small town in Ohio. I make love potions, do tarot readings, and so many other things. I try to ignore that I've been cursed...
But I want children. Soon. I'm 28 and I've waited long enough. I don't want to adopt, either, I want my own children. It's selfish, but it's biological. The calling to become a mother is stronger for a witch than it is for non-magical humans, if you can believe it.
Maybe that won't explain to you why I started using my love potions on unsuspecting men, but it makes sense to me. I thought I'd put down on paper all the lovers I've had, as a way to keep track and hopefully make it easier to know in case I do get pregnant.
Today is Wednesday, May 13 2013. It's warmer than usual for May, and the sun is bright today. My little shop on the corner of a busy street has been getting a few hits from college girls looking to buy incense or books about angels, not many people actually wanting to use my services. I thought it would be a boring day until a handsome man, in his 30s, walks in.
He's tall and thin, and clearly he takes care of his body. I can't take my eyes off his bulging arm muscles as he reaches for a tarot deck on the top shelf and carries them over to me. “Afternoon,” he says as he pulls out his wallet.
“Good afternoon,” I reply, my heartbeat rising. This is the one. This will be the first man I seduce to see if he can get me pregnant. “I was just making some tea and I need to know if it's perfect. Would you mind trying it before I check you out?”
The man looks up at me, his steel gray eyes confused. “Uh, sure.”
I smile brightly and run to the back, happy that I really do have some boiling water just about finished. I steep my tea while I grab a seduction potion, pouring about half the bottle in before removing the tea bag and stirring the concoction. It smells of sweet lavender and vanilla. The man will never know.
Placing the mug on a plate, I bring it back out to the shop, happy to see no one else has walked in yet. “Drink up,” I say, handing him the cup.
“Thanks,” he replies, putting the cup to his lips. He breathes in the scent before taking a big gulp. “Say, this is really good!”
“Oh, I'm glad! What did you say your name was?”
“Jack,” he replies as he finishes off the tea. “What was in that? I'm starting to feel a bit odd.”
“Oh dear, I was worried about that. Why don't you come have a seat in my back room.”
He unbuttons one of the top buttons of his blue shirt as he nods, fanning himself. I scamper over to the front door and flip the sign so that it says 'closed'. We're going to need some alone time. Grabbing Jack's hand, I pull him to the back room and help him onto the couch.
As soon as he's settled, I straddle him, my skirt lifting up a bit so that my panties are visible.
“What are you doing?” Jack asks, confused. His whole body is hot, and I feel the pressure in his pants beneath my pussy.
“Seducing you,” I say, whipping my black hair behind me and pressing my lips to his throat. I've slept with a few men over the years, and all of them liked a woman in charge. It seems Jack is the same way. I bite down his neck and to his collar bone, before moving back up and nibbling on his ear. For a few moments he's rigid, seemingly scared and unsure of what to do, but as the minutes pass the potion starts to take control.
His hands move up to my ass, rubbing my cheeks and pulling me closer to his body. I love this potion, its a favorite among my clients. It makes the man's body hot, which is so pleasant when you're making out with him. I press my lips into his, he slips his tongue into my mouth and teases mine with it. Our tongues tangle and fight, making me giggle in spite of myself.
One of his large hands grips my breast, kneading it against my chest and making me gasp. “Ooh, that feels good,” I coo, biting his lower lip. His hand reaches up under my shirt, tracing lightly on my chest where my breasts fall, tickling my skin. Then his fingers gently circle around my nipple, barely touching it. I can't help but moan.
Finally he lets his finger press against my sensitive nipple, making me shudder against his mouth as we continue to kiss passionately. Jack tweaks and plays with the hard nub as my panties get more and more damp. His other hand leaves my ass cheek and presses against my mound. “Yessss,” I hiss.
Pushing my panties to the side, his fingers press up into my slit and against the right side of my clitoris. Shaking his hand, he vibrates against my clitoris, forcing me to moan and yelp. “Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice full of lust that makes my dripping pussy tingle.
“Fuck yes it does,” I moan. He pinches my nipple harder now, causing me to gasp. I pull away from him. “Stand up,” I command.
When he's on his feet again, I can see just how erect he is. His prick looks like it's in pain behind his jeans. Falling to my knees, I unbutton his pants and slowly unzip them, looking into his eyes the whole time. A heat burns between us, a tickle in my stomach causes me to blush as I pull his pants down. Boxers or briefs? Ooh, boxers.
Slowly, I pull those down too. I breathe in his manly scent, happy that he's clean from a recent shower. His brown pubes are neatly trimmed above and around his 7 inch prick. Jack's penis is thick and heavy, and hard as a rock. Damn, he wants it bad.
I wrap my hands around it, tugging on it gently. Spinning my hand a bit with each tug, I start to give him a hand job, watching as his head rolls back and he lets out a happy sigh. I straighten my back and open my mouth, sticking out my tongue to lick the precum off the tip of his cock. “Ah!” Jack cries, surprised by the sudden wetness on his prick.
I lick all around his cock head and down his shaft. My mouth puckers and kisses around his prick, little smacking noises from my kisses filling the room. I twist my hand at the base of his cock and glance up at Jack, happy to see his mouth open slightly as he enjoys my attention. Swirling my tongue around the ridge of the tip of Jack's cock, I suck him into my mouth. I keep moving my hand at the base of his cock as I swallow as much as I can without choking. Still moving my tongue all over his soft skin, I bob my head, fellating Jack's hard prick in my mouth.
Lifting up my tongue, I put it at the roof of my mouth and continue moving my head up and down. The change in sensation as he hits the underside of my tongue seems to drive him wild. He runs his hands through my hair and takes control of my head movements as I let my tongue drop again and his prick slides down my throat. I use my hands to gently stroke his heavy balls, knowing soon the sperm from within these will soon be coating my womb.
Jack forces my head down, his cock slipping deep into my throat and my nose burying into his pubic hair. He holds me there for a few minutes before letting go of my head. “Sorry,” he says. “I lost control.”
I grin up at him before standing up. “It's alright.” I push him back down on my couch as I pull my shirt up over my head and slide out of my skirt and panties. Jack leans forward and kisses my pelvis, breathing in my girly scent and pulling me close. Placing a hand on my inner thighs, he pushes to spread my legs. He slides down to his knees and buries his face into my cunt.
Even though I really just want his cock in me, I can't help but enjoy this. His fingers spread me open, making me feel lewd and slutty as his tongue flits in and out of my slit. His wet tongue laps up my juices and
presses hard against my clit, forcing me to suck in air and run my hand through his hair to brace myself. The pleasure is making my knees wobbly, and it's almost too much for me. My eyes roll back and I feel an orgasm ebbing closer, so I pull away. “Sit on the couch,” I command.
Once he's back on the couch, I straddle him. My legs fold under me and his cock, pressed up against his stomach, also presses up into my slit. I rub myself against him, his hard cock hot beneath me. The ridge of the tip of his cock hits my clitoris and sends electricity running through my body. Jack's big hands gently rub around my areolas and over my nipples, making them hard. I hump against his cock, my breathing getting heavier. I push my hand against his chest to push me up, using my other hand to grab his cock as my legs swing behind his back.
I impale myself on his prick. I gasp and my fingers curl as soon as he slides into me, his hot prick filling me up completely. “God,” I moan, sitting still in his lap for a moment before I start to move. I need to get used to him inside of me.
Sitting like this, he's buried extremely deep in me. I feel the tip of his cock pressed just a bit against my cervix, just enough to feel good. I grab onto his shoulders to use as leverage, and begin to grind my hips against him.
His hard prick moves around inside of me, pressing against all the right spots. My ass wiggles against him, back and forth and in circles. I lean over and breathe into Jack's ear, hot air that flows past him as he grabs my ass cheeks and spreads them, pulling me even further onto his cock. My lips press against his while I grind against him, our tongues dancing. His mouth is so hot, and his penis is even hotter inside of me.
One of his hands leaves my ass and presses against my tit, gently manipulating it. He pinches and strokes my nipples while we kiss and fuck. I move faster, my back aching slightly from the motion but my need to cum is over powering the pain. I feel Jack's nails scratch down my back, and I watch as he lays his head back against the couch and groans. He smacks my ass. I moan and gasp each time the tip of his cock slides against my cervix.
I change my position now, pressing my feet against the couch and lifting myself up. I squat back down. “Aaah,” I moan, savoring the feeling of being impaled by Jack's huge prick again. Up and down, I fuck myself on his prick. I feel him swelling, and I feel my pussy start to pulsate. My inner muscles work his cock while I fuck him.
He gurgles and an urgency lights up in his eyes, telling me he's about to cum. I fuck him harder, my pussy gripping his cock as my own orgasm tears through me. My juices gush over him, onto his balls and his thighs. Finally, he grabs me and forces me down on him hard, and I feel hot sperm shoot into me.
The heat is almost too much for me, and it brings on yet another orgasm for me. I shudder and lay my head on his shoulder as my pussy contracts and spasms. “God,” I sigh. I lay against him for a long time before getting up.
I can see that, now that he's orgasmed, the potion is beginning to wear off. “Didn't you have something to do?” I ask him as I pull my shirt on over my head. He nods, absentmindedly. He'll be in a daze for a few hours.
We both get dressed, and as he leaves, I place my hand on my stomach and examine myself in my full length mirror. Was he the one? Did he get me pregnant? I flip the sign to say open before going back to the back room to look for something on my shelves.
I don't have time to wait for a pregnancy test, and I have something better anyway. Another potion. It'll make me warm if I'm pregnant, cool if I'm not. I sit at my desk and read as I wait an hour, which is all the time that's needed before the potion can be used. By the time the hour's up, I realize I've been turning pages but I haven't actually absorbed a single word. I was too focused on what could possibly be going on in my body.
I hope I'm pregnant, but I'm sure it can't be that easy. The first man I fuck with the intention of getting pregnant couldn't possibly be it.
I feel a flutter in my stomach, butterflies as I pour the potion. I set it, in the shot glass I got for my 21st birthday, on my desk and stare at it for a moment. Maybe I don't want to know yet. Yes I do. Maybe this is a bad idea.
Oh, fuck it. I pick up the potion and gulp it down, slamming the shot glass on my desk. I wait. I observe my body.
I turn cold.
And the bell on the front door rings, bringing another possible father.
Her Seductive Alpha
His Savage Lust
Wren Winter
I think two years is long enough to put up with someone who is a bore in bed, don't you? I was up late last Tuesday considering this, trying to think of how I'd leave my boyfriend of two years to seek greener grasses.
Jeremy's a nice guy, and he tries hard, but the sex?
It's not great, and he's not even working that hard at it.
It's often like he's plodding to a three minute lovemaking session. If I work hard, or if I smoke a bit beforehand, sometimes I can manage to get off but more often than not I'm left to myself with my trusty rubberized friend that lives in my sock drawer. It's embarrassing.
We started dating Halloween, two years ago. He’d been at a party my sorority hosted, invited by God knows who, and he was a real charmer. I might’ve been a bit liquored up, as well, but I was head over heels and he got into my panties that first night.
I remember how drenched I was at the time, and he spent so much time on the foreplay and ohhh those hands of his! It’s a blur in some ways, but I remember vividly that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that curling up feeling like I’d died and gone to heaven.
It didn’t last, that. I tried to encourage him, but the encouragement to some extent went to his head.
Then I got pissy, and I don’t mean to make it sound like it’s all his fault. It isn’t, not at all, and you’re obviously only hearing my side, as well. I know it’s not fair to him, but it’s not fair to me either to have to put my needs aside for him. You know?
I had my midterms back this week, and I was still riding high from the grades--not the best I’d ever gotten, but this class load was tougher than it had looked and I was pretty happy with high Bs on the midterms.
It wouldn’t hurt my grades, at least, and I could try to make a comeback in the next few weeks and maybe keep bringing my GPA back up from that first semester of drunken stupor. I went to the cinema, saw a film with Jeremy.
He’d recommended the film, said he’d heard something from some radio fellow and it was a bit cerebral to keep my interests but it wasn’t a poor film by any standards. He said he had work, kissed me and left me there on the porch of the apartment building. I let myself inside.
A drink was poured and I was sipping it and thinking of the good times. Like I said earlier, he was a good guy.
He worked a late shift and I’m sure that also contributed to his little problem, always seemed so tired. I thought again that I should give him a second chance, but I had to harden myself against that. I gave him loads of chances and what did he do with them?
I kept drinking and watching late night television. Another blur, not unlike the one from that first night, this time of older men making jokes that weren’t especially funny and probably sipping their martinis as quickly as I was sipping my Southern Comfort and I was willing to bet they knew full well what their lives had come to just like me and unlike me they couldn’t do a damn thing.
I started to write a letter on the pad we keep by the door for notes such as these. Or, at least, for notes. Most aren’t breaking up with each other. I’m sorry if I’m rambling, to be honest that state-based memory works great and I’m a little tipsy now.
But I noticed, a few poorly-written words in, that I was on a page that was used. Couldn’t tell you how I had missed it, I always check when I come in, but maybe this time was the exception. Nothing funny about it, really, I suppose.
It said “Meet me at the park at midnight,” and was signed with a big, swirly “J” that he always seemed to use.
There was a PS at the bottom, ‘Trust me,’ which was something he seemed to say all the
time and was frustrating because if I didn’t trust him, why would his pleas to trust him sway me, what a pompous ass.
I pulled my coat on. I was just about on time if I went now, and if he wanted to meet the least I could do was end it in person.
I frowned.
It seemed a bit weird. Maybe he was on break, I guessed. He should’ve been working, if I understood the hours right. I was sure he’d explain, though.
My time estimate was off; I was a bit late. Jeremy wasn’t there, not at the usual park bench where we met during the day, not in the square.
It was disconcerting and I was cold and afraid. A tall, dark fellow--I say dark as in shady-looking, as well as dark as in “obscured in darkness;” his skin color wasn’t visible to me--walked by and I was more concerned still, sitting there on the bench and waiting for things to make sense.
I made a note to punch Jeremy if I saw him again right in his belly for making me wait like this. I stood up, ready to walk out, when the man who’d been milling about walked up to me quickly, with an air of urgency.
He stepped into the light and I could see his ugly face, his pock-marked cheeks and nose that looked like it’d been broken and set back wrong. He spoke softly with a sharp, European accent that I couldn’t place but seemed to fit with the rest of him.
“Girl. I don’t know you and I understand if you don’t trust me, but you’re in danger.” He kept his distance, at the edge of the light. I turned towards him fully, now. I gave him an expectant look that I hoped said that I was listening. “That fella of yours--”
I cut him off with a slap. He must’ve been spying, if he knew who I was with. Even if he didn’t know, he was certainly quite presumptuous. His face was awash with emotions, first anger and then a slow gradient between vexation and grudging acceptance.
“I suppose I deserved that. We have been invading your privacy and I apologize. I might look a bit scary but I’m not a monster.” There was ‘we,’ a word that carried a fair bit more weight than it should’ve in that sentence.
