Spring Equinox

by Pendragon, Uther

  WARNING

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY.

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  Copyright © 2013 by Uther Pendragon

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  DISCLAIMER

  Please don’t be stupid and kill yourself. This book is a work of FICTION.

  Do not try any new sexual practice that you find in this book. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book. Every character in this book is over 18 years of age. The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.

  Writers’ Creed

  Spring Equinox

  Love, Sex and Magic

  Hardcore Sex

  By: Uther Pendragon

  ISBN: 978-1-62761-108-4

  © Uther Pendragon 2013

  Susan dropped back to look at the Prof. She wondered what a stranger would make of her companion in this setting. He wore a backpack and used a long staff to propel himself along. Incongruously, he was dressed in a black overcoat open to show a black suit and tie, a white dress shirt, and low black-leather shoes. With white hair and a trim gray-streaked beard, would he appear forty-five to an objective observer? Maybe a vigorous fifty-five? Even in the University setting, he had never looked like an intellectual to her.

  But it was one hell of a lot easier to think him an intellectual than a seventy-year-old. None of the recent students at his retirement party could believe it, but he was about to be professor emeritus of philosophy. It didn't seem to change him much, though. Few things did. Not even their chance meeting at a party for the sexually liberated in her senior year had changed his behavior towards her. It hadn't even changed her grade.

  She pushed herself to catch up. "Prof," she said when she had, "I didn't think that you believed in magic." He was notoriously skeptical about bent keys, pyramid power, and the discovery that every atom in the universe was in instant communication with every other atom.

  "There are business opportunities which will make many times your investment back; there are teenage boys for whom intercourse provides most of what Kinsey, Pomeroy, and Martin charmingly called their outlet; there are stocks which are worth thirty times earnings. But, in every instance, there are somewhat fewer than are claimed. More women wear white on their wedding day than bleed on their wedding night...."

  She looked at him. This was leading somewhere, but was it leading anywhere *this week*?

  "... And more wear black at midnight than can cast the simplest spell. If someone claims sorcerer status, you ask how sorcerers behave."

  "And how is that?"

  "For the most part, they don't claim sorcerer status without good immediate reason. A man who claims to hold sorcerous power is a fool or a liar or, quite possibly, both. Magic owns some people; no one owns magic. Read the Old Testament. Did the prophets go around making things happen for their comfort or prestige? Not often. Their most frequent question was 'Why me?' So a mage. Meeting a sorcerer is possible this eve, meeting a sorceress is more likely, but magic requires neither. Look at your feet."

  When she did, she saw them in worn leather sandals. Her companion was wearing sandals of a different sort, with bindings running up his bare calves. For that matter, his walking stick now had a metal spearhead; he was dressed in a dark cloak with the hilt of a sword sticking above his left shoulder. His hair now swept his shoulders and his beard covered the top part of his chest. His torso was covered by a sleeveless, coarse-woven, black tunic which fell to his knees.

  She checked herself for other changes. Her hair was held by a clasp rather than a rubber band, and that clasp was in the middle of her back -- about where her bra clasp had been. The ends of the hair brushed her hips. Her dress, still green, was now little more than a cloth draped under one shoulder and clasped over the other. Her spring coat, once a much lighter shade of green, was now a heavy cloak the precise shade of her dress.

  "Did you do that?"

  "Magic did that," he answered. "This place is magical. Enjoy it!"

  She shuddered for a moment. "This seems a good time for panic," she said. "Why aren't I panicking?"

  "Much too late. Here we are." Several guards suddenly confronted them. They seemed nervous about Prof's weaponry, but they passed them through when he showed them a token.

  A very narrow crack between two rocks cleaned them of any diseases as they passed through single-file. There were skulls on the rocks above them.

  "Did you see those skulls?" she asked as they descended a steep slope. As they walked downward, the air around them grew warmer. The change was welcome. Her clothes were of thicker cloth, but they seemed to let more of the chill air in.

  "Spammers, apparently. Curious. I wouldn't have thought spammers among the craniates. They must be more evolved in their anatomy than in their behavior."

  There were several clusters of people in the valley. They were dressed in a wide variety of clothing, but no one else seemed to have been given primitive garb such as they had, and Susan suddenly doubted Prof's denial of any involvement with that transformation.

  Understandably, the group didn't much notice their approach at first. Scattered over the field were several couples and a threesome variously engaged sexually. To their right one woman was announcing her approaching climax as her partner stroked steadily within her. Those standing, and even some of the participating pairs, gave this couple their full attention. Suddenly, the man's motions sped. His shout echoed her scream. He thrust arhythmically for a moment and collapsed over her. People deliberately turned aside to allow them some privacy.r />
  Several of these spotted Prof.

  The group turned towards them, looking puzzled -- if not particularly frightened -- by Prof's warlike attire. "I think that might be Uther," said one.

  "It might," said Prof. Then he noticed two toddlers. "Keda!" he called. "Thomas!" At his attention, they backed towards a very pretty woman standing behind them. They looked rather dubious. Prof stood still for their inspection until there was a scream from the children's right. Three men were carrying off a woman with lovely legs -- all that could really be seen in her position. Prof started forward with his sword in his left hand and his spear ready for throwing.

  "Uther don't!" called the woman holding the children.

  "Those are friends of Julie's." Prof stopped, but the children were truly frightened now, hiding in the woman's skirts.

  "What's wrong?" a man's voice called from behind Susan's shoulder. She turned, and memory flooded into her. She had forgotten the events in the castle from the instant she had left it, but from some sort of magical influence rather than disinterest. Those events had been memorable, especially her time with this man, her castle lover.

  "Uther got carried away," a woman said somewhere behind her. Susan barely noticed, her attention centered on the face of the man. That face had kissed her, moved above hers while she spiraled towards ecstasy, smiled up at her as she lowered herself onto him, contorted as she contracted around him, and finally returned to focus as she reluctantly raised herself from resting against his neck. She could still remember how the neck had tasted; she wondered if she would taste it again. And taste other things again....

  "Um," Prof said. "Technically, Julie got carried away. I overreacted."

  "Gus managed his scene, then?" His voice drew her one tentative step towards him. What if *he* didn't remember? What if he remembered and didn't care? "Susan!" he said. Her castle lover did remember and, from the tone of his voice, did care. "Love," he spoke over her shoulder, prompting a pang of jealousy, "could you excuse me for a while longer?"

  "Enjoy yourselves," called the woman. Then she murmured something to the two children. *There* was a woman without a grain of possessiveness. Susan was ashamed of her own jealousy, but that feeling washed away when his hand touched hers. She remembered his touch, a particularly knowing touch.

  "I don't want the twins to see," he said.

  "I don't want anybody to see." This surprised her as much as the jealousy. It was true, though, and she wanted to speak truth to him.

  "The barn?" he asked. She pulled her eyes off his face and followed his gesture. Across a stream was a large wooden structure. It looked awfully far away just now. She would follow him anywhere, however, especially away from this audience. He was already pulling her onward.

  She hurried to catch up, wanting to see his face. Instead of looking at her, he was watching their footing. While she would have rather had his attention, their footing was in danger. They were just going past a dense patch of shrubbery which seemed to be hiding a man dancing an odd jig by himself, when the dancing man stumbled forwards. The hand on her arm jerked her sideways, making her look down to catch her balance. The man fell onto the path ahead of them, impaled in a woman who had been hidden by the shrubbery until then. Neither of them wore a stitch below the waist. The woman shrieked, but another glance suggested that she had not been badly hurt. She continued to shriek and moan, but she never stopped thrusting her hips back at the man lying on her.

  They managed to reach the stream without another interruption. Her castle lover swept her up in his arms and carried her across. She was wearing sandals and a skirt that would not have touched the water; he was wearing slacks and shoes. Still, this way, she was in his arms. She spared one glance for the barn, then returned her gaze to his face as he strode towards it.

  The barn seemed designed for horses, but none were in sight. He set her down at the bottom of a ladder. She climbed into the loft conscious that he could see her thighs. Her only regret was that she had a breech clout between them. Well, removing that right now would delay more important matters. Once at the top, she saw hay bales in wall-like stacks with piles of loose hay scattered between them. When he reached the top, he stopped for only one brief kiss before leading her towards one of the closest piles of hay.

  His sudden lurch towards a more distant one distracted her. A woman rose out of the pile of hay, looking through them rather than towards them. Her intent scowl turned into a rictus. Susan would have found that evidence of another's orgasm arousing in almost any other situation, but now she was aroused already; she was mostly annoyed that those people (the man was invisible except for his hands on the woman's breasts) were occupying *her* hay pile.

  They finally reached an unoccupied hay pile, however; and she forgot everyone else. "You get your shirt," she said as she struggled to untie his wet shoelaces. He did, stepping out of his shoes at her direction. They reached his belt at the same time.

  "Your dress?" he asked.

  "Simple. Let me take care of this." She undid belt, snap, and zipper. Her cloak and then her dress fell around their feet when he undid the clasps. The clout between her legs and his watch and shorts were all that they were wearing. He removed the shorts and stepped out of the trousers pooled around his ankles. Then they took a minute to spread these clothes over the hay. She wanted to enclose him immediately, but he stopped to kiss her. His tongue was sweet in her mouth, but her breasts and groin were calling out for his attention. When she let herself relax in the kiss, he lowered her to the makeshift bed. They could hear rustlings about them but were all alone enclosed in their walls of hay.

  Then his mouth was on one breast while a hand was on another. He stroked her all over. Finally, he untied the cord binding the clout. "Please," she said, and lifted her hips. He pulled the cord off and tossed the top part of the cloth down between her knees. His hand stroked between her thighs while she spread them for him. She wanted *him* rather than any teasing.

  Before she could reach for him, however, his hand found her center. The touch was enough to ignite her, and she soared while he kissed above and stroked below. How long that lasted, she couldn't know. It felt like an instant, it felt like forever.

  Her spirit returned to the barn to find him gently kissing her brow. When she tugged at his arm, he moved between her raised knees. Once there, he dawdled again. The kisses on her breasts were delightfully arousing, but she had had enough arousal. "Please," she said again; but when his mouth left her breasts, it traveled downward. When it reached her center, she buried her fingers into his hair to pull him upwards.

  But her arousal was too great. His lips and tongue overcame her, and she pressed his head into her as she tensed again. Then she exploded. As she writhed in the delightful agony of her orgasm, he continued to suck.

  Finally, he withdrew his mouth; and they both gasped for breath. But she, with better access to the air, recovered first. When he began to nibble at her thigh, she drew him upwards by his hair. He continued to scatter kisses across her body as he moved forward fast enough to retain his scalp. She did allow him a long pause at her breasts. He licked the sensitive nipples on both breasts and eased one with a gentle suck. When he started back towards the other, however, she tugged his hair again.

  "I want you *inside*," she said. He came up then and kissed her mouth. Tongue played with tongue as his phallus eased between her labia. The feel of him rubbing along her groove was exciting, but she needed more. She reached down, placed him in the exact spot, and started to raise her hips.

  "Slow, darling," he said. "Let me be slow." That, she would allow. She guided him inward long after he needed that touch. Her fingers held a shaft of ordinary size and temperature, pleasant to the touch but not especially slippery. Her inner lips reported an incredibly smooth bolt of heat which stretched her as it entered her a millimeter at a time. An eternity later, she had to let go as his base pressed against her entrance. She was filled and, at last, held her castle lover again. She dropped her t
orso flat, no longer needing to twist to reach him. She curled her legs around him as he kissed her deeply. The play of their tongues was as rapid as his entry had been slow.

  Straightening until his chest was just brushing over her hard nipples, he began to rock his hips from side to side. He was moving neither in nor out, but all of her sensitive center felt the motions.

  He shifted until his hands were on her breasts. Now, his thumbs grazed her nipples; and his motion was slower and stronger. He looked into her eyes. "Susan," he said. She remembered that she had never learned his name, but this seemed one hell of a time to ask. They stared at each other while her tension grew. She tried to work against his motion, but her hips would only go back and forth. Her vision fogged. "Yes, Susan," he said. "Let me feel you around me. Come around me, Susan."

  And then she did, clutching his hips with her hands and his lovely cock with her cunt.

  When her vision cleared, he was driving into her with deep, strong, slow, strokes. Given no time to come down from her last orgasm, she soared away again. Then he was grinding against her and pulsing within her. Her last spasms forced him out. He tried to roll away, but she held on tight. They lay like that, gasping, and then hugging. He moved down enough to kiss her lips. They hadn't quite caught their breath, however, and had to break the kiss.