Old Magik

“Go forth at midnight, under the dead oak, and under a full moon. There cast your seed with your true-love’s image in your mind. Cause her to swallow your emission and she shall be yours.” Or something like that. 

I read a lot of Wiccan stories, and I shared this one with Tig who giggled, then considered it a moment. “Hmm…ok, boyfriend and girlfriend, but she isn’t putting out. So, he mixes his cum in a mug of milk or something, and she drinks it. There’s a duck load of testosterone in semen, and if he does it a couple of times, it will increase her sex drive, making it more likely she’ll go further each time they’re alone….hmm..yeah…could work. We call it HRT nowadays.”

Like many so-called ‘old wives tales’ there’s an element of truth buried deep within it. They may not have had any idea why it worked, but they knew it could. 

The full moon and fertility seem to be a thing too, but then a girl’s cycle is linked to the moon too. And sex, in general, plays a huge role in magic….and always has, particularly the so-called ‘dark’ magic….maybe that’s why the Church, being the antithesis of ‘dark’ is celibate. Fucking nine ways to Sunday at a witches coven, and not fucking at all (allegedly) in the Church. 

Magic, they say, is “causing physical change through pure will.” Ok, then in that case, last night, I practised magic. I’ll let you decide whether it was black or white magic. 

I felt horny. Emily is in hospital being treated for her headaches (caused by a tiny anomaly in her brain. She’s had an operation and is in no danger.) and for the first time, I felt truly relaxed, but I needed a cum. I had intended to masturbate, but then I wondered if I could get myself off purely by thinking sexy things. I wondered, in short, whether I could cause physical change by an act of pure will. 

Oh, I admit I was horny….no doubt about that. I was moist…I had that delectable yearning between my legs…my boobs felt hard and my nipples tingly. Yes, I can’t deny I was ready for a play. Ah, but in my playbook, there are many, many ways I can bring myself off, but this one would be in my head….and only in my head. 

I settled down on a bed in one of the spare rooms, on top of several towels. I didn’t want any familiar scents to be part of this experiment. Then I did some deep breathing in order to just settle myself and then I let Miss Brain out of her cage. She was definitely on board with what the plan was, which was helpful. 

I began to see in my mind’s eye, little sexual snapshots of things….Alison masturbating in her jeans that very first time….the first time I smelled another girl’s panties….the first time I went down on another girl….the first time another girl went down on me. So…’first times’ then becoming a theme for this? Dani’s first time with me. Yep…definitely first times. I felt a definite increase in vaginal wetness and my nipples seemed to feel every air current in the room, responding to every Eddie and swirl cause by the heating/air con. Perhaps a squeeze of thighs? NO! No physical stuff allowed. Behave, Anna!

Only one way to prevent that…legs spread, large stuffed elephant between knees….that’s what God made large stuffed elephants for…(apart from their trunks which make brilliant penis substitutes when rubbed against your panties when you’re 13!) 

So, back to it. A quick mental recap, and yes, we’re definitely in ‘first time’ mode for some reason. Then, as I got into it more deeply, it felt like I was just drifting through people I either knew or had seen and one face, one body kept coming into focus. Her name is Hazel. I have no idea how old she is, but I doubt she’s older than 13 or 14. She has that ‘transitioning’ look girls go through. Boobs that are only slightly more than bee stings, but couldn’t be missed as proper boobs. A curve at the waist and her eyes….yes, her eyes…something odd there. A girl’s eyes change. One moment they’re the eyes of a child, and then, seemingly overnight, they’re the eyes of a woman. Oh, it’s hard to describe….ask around….it’s as if the eyes suddenly have an extra depth to them.

And I found myself as an invisible presence in her room. She’s just had a shower, so she’s tingly all over. She stands in front of her dressing table mirror drying her hair and with the vigorous rubs of the towel, the one wrapped round her slips and falls away. She stops and gazes at her body. Boobs? Real boobs? Where….? She cups one, then both in her hands as if becoming aware of them for the first time. Her nipples, still small, spring to attention and are exquisitely, almost painfully sensitive. She looks at her tummy. The puppy fat seems to have disappeared and instead, there’s a gentle swell there that she’s seen on older girls. And lower still, what was a fine covering of downy hair is now noticeable, thicker, more wiry. Pubes. Real, life, proper pubes. 

A hand runs its fingers through them and accidentally a finger goes a little further and finds her clit. A shock races through her and she feels wetness. From the shower? No…can’t be. She stopped taking baths because, as every girl knows, a little water always gets inside and trickles out again. That doesn’t happen with a shower. Who needs to put on fresh panties only to have a vagina full of water choose that moment to run out? Even so….

Usually, these tingly feelings go away, but this time, her boobs and her vagina seem to join up….and the ‘nice’ feeling, as she calls it, remain. She touches herself between her legs again, this time allowing her finger to run through the slipperiness…and…yes…it doesn’t feel like water, this feels almost oily…and with a sharp intake of breath, she realises, this is female pre-cum…panty-pudding some girls at school call it….girl cum…although she hasn’t cum yet. 

She feels restless, can’t settle. She finds herself lying on her bed on a towel. There’s something new…something that won’t be denied this evening. Daringly (for her) she spreads her legs. She brings her feet up near her bum and lets her knees flop apart. “This is how I’ll be when I ‘do it’” she thinks. “When I have sex….when I get…fucked.” She’s used the word before of course, in those coarse conversations with her friends, but now she roles the word round on her tongue and spits it out again. “Fucked” … “when I’m FUCKED.” Too loud? Oops. More quietly she whispers, “When a boy puts his….cock…in my…cunt.” A twitch between her legs brings her hand involuntarily down there. She’s so wet now, it’s almost scary. Almost….but it’s niceness now outweighs any yucky feeling. 

Her finger finds her hole…..and this time pushes inside. She keeps going, she feels something blocking her progress…..her hymen? But wait….there’s a small hole….maybe if she……  With the utmost care, she works a finger inside and begins to explore the softly ribbed texture of her vagina. One day, a boy will finger her like this…one day, a boy will put his cock in here one day…. She gets scared and pulls her finger out. It’s wet, shiny, covered in a clear, slippery wetness. She smells it….then tastes it. After all, she needs to know if she thinks a boy would like to kiss her…there….to go down on her….to lick her cunt. 

Again, the word makes her shiver. Her hand returns, but not to her hole, this time her clit demands attention. Insists on it, in fact, so she strokes it lightly at first, but with increasing rhythm and pressure. Like an oncoming train, she is overwhelmed by the feeling of needing to pee. She stops instantly. Other girls have spoken of this. An intense feeling of needing to pee…ah, but they say it isn’t pee….it’s an orgasm….a cum. Apart from Mary. She said she felt this feeling and although she came, she did pee. Oh dear….what if…? Her clit gives her the answer. “You’re lying on a towel…who cares? Better you know than you don’t know…right? 

So she tries again…..once….twice…three times.._ four times. Each time she gets right to the point, but stops. I look at her. From experience I know how close she is….my heart rate is almost as fast as hers….my breathing almost as erratic. I allow myself a quick scan of my own body and I find I’m almost there too….my vagina feels….wide open…my clit pulsating….my tits actually hurt they’re so hard….so pumped. 

Back in Hazel’s room, I feel like I could simply drift forward, invisible in the ether, and kiss her clit. Instead, her hand returns, and this time, when the feeling of peeing rushes savagely towards her, she does what every girl has done at one time or another. She tries to hold it back until the briefest lack of concentration allows it to consume her. Hazel’s whole body rocks as her first orgasm overwhelms her. A trickle of liquid runs over her labia and into the towel. A small amount of pee….but understandable in the circumstances. Hazel doesn’t leave her clit until it becomes too sensitive to touch. She lies there panting. A smile etches across her face. 

When she gets up, she finds her school blazer, and with girl cum still leaking down her inner thighs, she moves a small golden teddy bear pin from one lapel to another. A secret code among her friends showing who has had the big ‘O’ and who hasn’t. 

Back on my bed, I’m literally and figuratively back in the room. The spasms of my own orgasm are just palpable. I’ve had a touchless orgasm……and I’m soaked. Wetter than I’ve been for a long, long time. I’m also exhausted mentally and need to sleep. 

Perhaps I should do this at moonlight, under a dead Oak tree? 

I read a story recently about orgasm by proxy. Making yourself cum, but ‘sending’ that sexual energy to someone else. I told The Lovely Chris about this and he said he once had a crush on a girl who worked in an office. He used to wank over her a lot, and he said, “I often wondered if she felt it in some way….you know…sitting there, working away, and suddenly, for no accountable reason, feeling horny or wet. Not necessarily thinking of me….just receiving sexual energy and responding to it.”

Now, there’s a thought!