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The Sea Witch: A Fantasy 1/3
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING!!!! The following story contains adult material. If you
are under 18, do not read this. If you are offended by graphic
sexual material, or anything otherwise that you might read
herein, do not read this. You have been warned.
The Sea Witch : A Fantasy
Part 1 of 3
by Lace (a real Witch)
Celena loved the beach. It wasn't just the love of a day in
the sun and the sound of the pounding surf. It wasn't even
getting to show off her graceful curves to the lifeguards. She
was a mermaid of sorts, a sea priestess. And that meant her
power was its greatest when she was at the ocean. She always
wondered what it was like for all of the mundanes, going to the
beach just to have a nice time in the sun, sand and sea. Not to
feel that rush of energy and the ability to control it. To her,
the water was the blood of her goddess, the world's biggest tub
of holy water. The sun was fire incarnate, and the sand was
earth. And from the slightest breeze to the fiercest gale, the
wind carried the power of the air. And every bit of that power
but waited for her command.
She knew her sea magic. She could pull the waves higher on
the beach, or turn the winds to cool the air around her. That
was tricky stuff and not of much practical use most of the time.
But that she could do it was a measure of her abilities. Most of
the time, she did simple things, like calling driftwood or
perhaps a shell from the surf. Driftwood made good magic wands,
and shells were useful tools in their own right. A shell or a
rock, charged with her wish and thrown back into the sea most
always brought immediate results. She had only to ask, and
Goddess provided. Her loved ones were happier now that she'd had
some time at the beach to ask favors on their behalf.
Her brother was back with his lover. A friend had a new
apartment which he liked quite well. She'd managed to get a
raise herself. At times, it was almost too easy. But she knew
her gods, and made sure they knew it was all appreciated. Her
will and ability might focus to bring the end result, but it was
all dependent upon the will of the gods. Sometimes, when she was
drawing symbols in the sand, or looking for just the right piece
of shell or reed, she knew the others on the beach were wondering
at what she was doing. People who lived there had seen such
things often enough to be truly curious. She let their unasked
questions remain unanswered. Things were still too dangerous.
They didn't burn Witches any more, but in plenty of places these
days, Witch still meant Satanist to the ignorant, and having
people think you were anything like that could get rocks thrown
through your windows, or worse. Best not to take chances on
people being well-educated and open-minded. Let them wonder.
This year, the curiosity came from a troublesome source.
The lifeguards were living in one of the beachfront houses,
sharing it among the handful of them that guarded the little
strip of beach. Usually they lived nearer the surfing ground, so
that they were closer to the waves when they were off-duty.
Still, she'd been coming to this little town since she was small,
and sometimes the lifeguards had gotten houses on this part of
the beach. It was convenient. She remembered being a teenager,
still naive, but knowing enough of the world and her own senses
that she knew how lucky it was when the lifeguards did live on
the beach. They played where they lived. And when they worked
there too, it meant tan, athletic, ocean-loving men around almost
24 hours a day. A teenage girl could build wonderful fantasies
with no more fodder than that.
Ah, but this year, it could be a problem. She'd been here
since the end of last summer. Writing was her living, and that
was easier for her at the beach. It had been an easy decision to
scrape together enough for the house. And when she'd moved, it
had been the first time she'd been at the beach for any length of
time since becoming Pagan. Last summer had been the first when
any significant number of people had witnessed her curious
activities. No matter, since they'd all been tourists, visiting
for a week at most.
But with the lifeguards spending most of their time on the
beach, she was just waiting for the time when one (or all) of
them would get curious enough about her to bring it up in
conversation. Never mind that a few of them watched her
activities more for the joy of watching a beautiful body in a
small swimsuit. Never mind that one of them had beautiful
red-gold hair that looked like fire as the wind whipped through
it. Never mind that he had a face and body that would have
inspired Greek statuary two millennia before. Never mind that
there wasn't just one of him, but two... Identical twins. A
fantasy in itself.
She had a thing for men with long hair, and doubly so for
redheads. And those abs, which made her want to scrub her
clothes on them.... Ah, well.... It was a lot like it had been
when she was younger. She could watch, and hope, and even
fantasize (though THAT was a lot more interesting with some years
of experience and knowledge under her belt). But unless the
world order changed, the most she could really hope for was a
small, subtle flirtation which wouldn't last a week, or go beyond
a few significant looks. Even with two of them, the odds were
still pretty small. Thinking about it didn't do anything but get
her hot, and she had better things to do than drool over
unattainable men, even if they were that delicious.
These days, she was spending her free time collecting
cast-off gull feathers, pink pebbles and cowrie-like shells. The
shells were held to be symbols of sexuality, since they were
shaped like a woman's cunt. The pink pebbles were for love and
lust. The feathers were the freedom of flight, and the power to
control one's course on the winds, and as symbols of air, they
would help the winds carry her request to someone who could help
her. None of those things were common on the beach, and it had
taken her a few days to find enough to suit her purposes. But
finally she was ready. This was to be a spell for a lover. She
knew better than to try to spell some acquaintance or fantasy man
into a relationship. Trying to crush another's free will was as
close to a sin as a Witch could get. But you could send out a
call for the right person, and if the time was right, they would
show up.
And it would be about time, too. She'd been alone for a
long time. She was only 24, but her last lover had been over 6
years ago. She was too picky, she knew. No one had been quite
right to really get serious with. And if you weren't serious,
you certainly weren't having sex these days. But Witches were
also inherently sensual and sexual people, never likely to be
called prudes, and she was not exactly the exception to the rule.
She loved erotic writing. The hotter the better. X-rated,
XXX-rated, a little light bondage or play, it was all great to
her. Movies were also great. A lot of them still treated women
like objects, but there were enough done by or for women or
couples that she could find some that were great to watch. Sure,
a lot of it was really off the wall compared to her actual
experiences. She'd only had one lover, and he'd been downright
boring, in retrospect. Sometimes she wondered if she was really
given the chance, how far into some of her fantasy scenarios
she'd really let herself go. She wasn't sure she really wanted
to find out.
But she was getting tired of getting herself off after
watching some hot sex on video, or reading a particularly erotic
passage in one of her favorite XXX stories. People said that you
always knew how to make sex best for yourself, and it was a shame
your partner could never replicate your own knowledge of your
body's responses. But that didn't mean that masturbation was the
best sex you could have. She remembered the feeling of a quick,
hard fuck. That was the one thing Tommy had been good at.
Ramming into her like he wanted his dick to pierce her heart.
You couldn't get that with your own fingers or a dildo. And you
most certainly couldn't bite and lick your own nipples while you
were getting fucked. She needed a man. She had for years. And
it was getting to the point where her desire to have a real,
live, hard cock in her pussy was driving her to distraction.
Spontaneous combustion was becoming a real possibility. Getting
off four or five times a day wasn't helping any. She could have
all the orgasms she could possibly give herself, and it didn't do
anything to fill the void of having her cunt stuffed.
So, knowing that need was the greatest criteria to a strong
spell, she was finally ready to see if she couldn't bring herself
a lover who could satisfy years of pent-up sexual energy. The
Goddess had her consort, and it was only natural that Her
priestess should have one of her own. Of course, finding a
mortal man to measure up to the Horned God might not be possible.
But since the word "horny" was probably derived from the Stag
King's own name, you could at least hope there would be a willing
and able male ready to answer the call.
It was the night of the full moon. A time for any positive
magic. And when the moon was at its peak, the magic should be
strongest. She set out for the beach, making sure to turn out
the lights which shone on the beach in front of the house. It
would be hard enough to avoid discovery and some difficult
questions without having her own lights making her look like she
was on stage for the neighbors. Especially since this had to be
done skyclad. She usually worked robed while outside. Sometimes
she went casual and wore her bikini, as she did when she was
collecting things during the day. But any ritual involving that
much sexual energy would be more appropriate done in the nude.
She just had to hope that the fact that none of the nearby houses
were currently occupied meant that no one would happen by to
discover and disturb her.
Just thinking about her future lover had her heart racing.
And the quickness of her breathing wasn't from the exertion of
the quick run down the stairs to the beach. The cool night air
whisked over her naked body, caressing the suntanned skin,
whipping her long hair around her head. Her nipples were hard
even without the breeze, and the moisture coming from the sea was
nothing compared to the stream running from her pussy.
Single-minded to her purpose, she quickly went through the ritual
motions of creating sacred space for the ritual. It was always
easier and quicker at the beach, just because of what she was.
But her eagerness pushed her pace even faster, as her mind raced
to the images of this future lover which her imagination
supplied.
She moved into the ritual itself, pouring her desires into
her tools. Shells, for sexuality, that they bring her a man who
knew how to really pleasure her, touched quickly to her cunt to
gather the juice as it continued to drip from between her pussy
lips. That would strengthen the call, and she was going to put
everything she had into this working. The small pink pebbles.
Pink for love and lust, that her lover be more to her than a body
to fuck. Small pink stones, the color of her nipples, as they
hardened to pink stones themselves, just thinking of the power of
the sex her lover would bring. Feathers, for the freedom to be
herself with him, and for the strength and power to control where
the winds of fate would bring her with this man. Soft feathers,
soft as her skin where she pulled them across her body, reveling
in the sensation on the sensitive flesh of her breasts, stomach
and thighs.
These things she wrapped in red cloth, cloth dipped again in
her body's own juices, as a regular river flowed onto her thighs.
Tied shut, the bundle was a powerful enchantment ready to be
loosed to do its intended job. To toss such a charm into the sea
was to release its power into the world, where it would bring
about what she desired, if only the time was right. She quickly
opened a door in the sacred circle of magic, passing through with
her charm, and dispersing the barrier after her. A few short
steps to the water. She could feel the sexual power pulsing from
the charm, in time with her heart beat. It beat faster now, as
she reached the point of release for her spell. Her blood
pounded in her veins, swelling her breasts and clit as the
hormones of her arousal did their work.
The surf grasped at her feet, and she took another step,
letting it climb her calves. Now, she paused, the images of
flesh-on-flesh filling her mind. Her body and soul were filled
with wanting, and it was this wanting which she poured into the
charm between her hands. It wasn't a bundle of cloth, shells,
pebbles and feathers any more... it was a living embodiment of
her desire, and she was sending it off into the world to bring
her a man. Goddess grant her that. And she hurled it into the
sea.
It sank with a quick pop, and her mind came to the state of
clarity that always came as the ritual energy was released, and
she returned to the normal world. It was almost like waking from
a dream. Sometimes it took a moment to come back to normal. It
was a good time to sit and watch the waves. So, she sat and
watched the waves. The moon's reflection rested on the ocean
swells. She lay back and looked up at the moon itself. It was
beautiful, bright and clear in the dark night sky. Her hands
rested on her stomach, but the feel of skin on skin was delicious
in the night air, and she began to run her hands across her body,
across the flat stomach, around in slow circles, just enjoying
the sensations.
From there, her hand drifted to her breasts. Her nipples
were still hard from all of the sexual desire she'd poured into
the spell. Her breasts were swollen with the increased blood
flow, and still very sensitive. The feel of her hands upon them
was wonderful. She grasped them from underneath, lifting them
upwards, squeezing them lightly. That was good. She squeezed a
little harder. It wasn't really painful, and the sensation
aroused her further. She worked them in her hands, squeezing and
massaging the flesh. She imagined a lover doing that to her;
big, rough male hands grasping and massaging her soft breasts.
His lips would trace their way from her mouth to her chest, and
his hands would leave them while his lips took their place to
caress and love her tits.
She continued to massage her breasts, thinking of the lover
who would take a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it until she
writhed beneath him. She pinched her nipples hard, knowing he
would see her enjoying the sensation of rough handling, and
realize she would really get off on having him bite her nipples
lightly. Yeah, that was it. She squeezed and pinched and
caressed, and her breasts began to respond, becoming even more
sensitive to the stimulation, the nipples hard and small like the
pebbles in her spell. Her breathing was fast now, almost
panting. The sensations were almost too delicious.
Her hands left her breasts, traveling back down the spanse
of curves and soft skin, grazing over her slender, rounded hips.
As the heel of her palm pushed against the top of her pubic
mound, her head rolled back, her mouth open in a silent cry of
ecstasy. She could feel the juices still trickling out of her
cunt and down the inside of her thighs onto the sand. She spread
her thighs wide. Her right hand reached down to dip her fingers
into the slick wetness. Just a touch. Right over the mouth of
her hole, not touching, but close enough that the anticipation
only made the stream flow faster. She rubbed fingers and thumb
together, enjoying the slippery contact. Then she reached down
again, using her left hand to hold her cunt lips apart. Starting
at the entrance, she slid index and middle finger into the slick,
not into the hole itself, but up to the edge, stopping to gather
the juices there, and then slowly moving upwards, collecting the
wetness until she reached her clit. Her fingers were drenched in
the stuff, and she began to spread it liberally around the
outside of the sensitive button.
She traced her fingers around it in ever-narrowing circles,
never touching it, but always closer. The flow from her hole
renewed the supply of the slick stuff, and she reached down again
to gather more with which to slather her love button. Finally,
she had thoroughly coated her clit in a thick mass of cunt juice.
She moved her left hand higher, holding the pussy lips apart
where they tried to cover her engorged clit. The lips themselves
were slippery from all of the juice, and as they tried to slip
free of her grasp, the sensation had her throwing her head back
again a silent cry. She gripped them again, with a little more
strength, and lowered her right hand back to her slit. The clit
was drowning in cunt juice, and she was as ready as she would
ever be to bring herself to an orgasm of historical proportions.
She worked her way around the clit again, circling ever
closer to the focus of the matter. Finally, she touched it
lightly, letting her slippery fingers graze its surface briefly.
Her knees, hips and back worked together to respond to the
sensation, bowing her whole body upwards at her pussy. The clit
was sensitive from all of the anticipation and preparation, so,
slowly and lightly at first, she began to run her fingers over
it. Her fingers were still slipping around her pussy like
wrestlers in a mudbath. It eased the sensitivity her clit might
ordinarily have had to the delicious friction of her rubbing
fingers. She felt it harden under her fingertips, swelling out
further from under its hood of skin. She began to rub harder and
faster, knowing it was the design of the thing to be stimulated
by the shaft of a man's penis rubbing up against the clit as they
were fucking. It didn't always work that way when it really did
come down to the fucking, but understanding the principle meant
she knew why the quick, glancing touches worked best to bring her
off, and why it worked even better when the hood or surrounding
skin rested between her fingers and the clit itself.
Her body started to respond to the delicious friction,
bowing upwards with the rhythm it took on when a man fucked a
woman with his penis. It assisted the screwing action when there
was a real man trying to get his dick as far inside her as he
could, but here, the reaction was purely instinctive. She could
diddle herself standing straight up, and her hips would still
jerk forward in their fucking rhythm. She rubbed harder and
faster, the rhythm of her hips speeding up with that of her hand.
(Continued in Part 2)
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