Chapter One #3
“That coven chose a loser over you because you never showed them the full extent of your power, did you? We’re Natural Witches, the ones with the deepest connection to the source.
Other witches should bow to us, but we don’t have bullshit thinking like that in our community, thankfully.
But you amplified them to a level beyond their station simply by being there, practicing with them.
Trust me, if they haven’t noticed the difference yet with your absence, they will.
“I love you, but damn, I’m annoyed with you, Monkey. You’re off living out some fantasy life in the windy city, and now you don’t use magic at all? Did magic hurt you, son? Did it touch you when you were drunk at a party on too many wine spritzers? You’re a witch; act like one.”
“There is so much wrong with what you just said,” Schuyler gave up and used the only excuse he could vocalize, “I don’t feel compelled to cast a spell right now.” He didn’t want to tell the truth, that he’d grown tired of it. That it hadn’t brought him anything but trouble.
“You can’t break up with it; it’s in your very being. You’ve used it so many times today without realizing, or did you walk all the way around Main Street as opposed to the pathway doors?”
Marshall cleared his throat twice. “Beau, leave him be. Magic isn’t the answer to everything, all the time. You’re harping on him for no reason when this isn’t your concern.”
“Not my concern, I beg to differ, this is our son.”
“Look,” Schuyler interjected, “it’s just a thought that got into my head, and I’m seeing it through. Magic hasn’t always helped me; sometimes it’s made things harder. I’m just going about life not turning to it for everything.”
“It’s odd coming from you, the person who wro—”
“—I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Beau. If I concede and go to the ritual tonight, can we agree to drop this subject altogether, for good?”
“Agreed.” Beau reached for a second piece of pizza but thought against it. “And you’ll stay for the orgy.”
“Beau,” Marshall grumbled.
“What? The boy needs ass, Marshall!”
Schuyler’s bare soles pressed deep into the soft earth of the meadow, thick blades of grass pressed between and wrapped around his toes. A breath, inadvertently held, released and allowed the Earth’s entry through his feet which reverberated through his body.
Muscles relaxed in the light from the moon, which hung over the entire clearing, shining like a spotlight on the original site of Bairwick.
Covens of various sizes were spread across the meadow, all connected, all one, yet still holding court within their own circles, where they drummed and chanted, danced and sang, and wept in sadness and in joy.
And those who ushered in slivers of meditative silence helped blend the harmonious wave their collected cacophony produced as it rose upwards.
Schuyler felt the moon’s gentle caress upon and inside his body, similar to the ebb and flow of the oceans.
He knew the orgy, the climax of the ritual, occurring once their voices kissed the surface of the moon and their auras vibrated to the point of visible radiance, drew near.
Attractions would shift—focused on the illumination produced by their energetic bodies—everyone their ideal self within the radiance, allowing all to move through the crowd, finding bliss with whichever lights they found connection with.
There was a collective inhale. The moment approached.
Schuyler trembled. He’d not used his talents in months and an overwhelming amount of magic had built up.
A drunken giggle left his lips. He swayed, eyes closed, running his hands along his arms, the sensation sending fireworks through his nervous system, leaving him light-headed.
The ritual, their shared connection, all within the power of the full moon, created a euphoric trance.
The collective exhale released in a wave.
Schuyler remained in place as the covens broke apart and blended.
Though filled with a ravenous hunger, he found himself without the energy to engage in feeding it.
During previous rituals, he’d graze through the meadow plucking pleasure everywhere it presented.
Could he be okay with just himself? The ritual’s buzz flowed through him, his usual aches and pains wiped away, along with the nagging reminder of his post-divorce weight.
The high-speed rail of nonstop noise and anxiety in his brain found itself gliding through serene quiet.
He was glowing golden, a color he’d never seen before; normally, he was a non-aggressive red, the red of passion and lust. Gold struck him as odd, but he dropped his black hooded robe to the ground, nude beneath, and stretched his barrel chest, pushing forward.
He reached his arms up. His muscles relaxed.
The ground itself felt heavenly and welcoming as he lay down.
The grass caressed his back, soft and cool.
He placed his hands on his body, closed his eyes and agreed with his initial notion; he held no desire to move, to seek out someone, safely wrapped up in his own blissful vibe, with the tactile sensation of the dirt he dug his toes into.
The moon felt like the sun, heating his skin, giving him the same warm rush as in the summer heat, the need to be touched.
Everywhere his fingers glided over his chest burned with desire.
Each point of contact on his skin ignited like a firework, sending ripples through his body.
As he quietly accepted tonight would be about himself—moving his right hand slowly down into a familiar position—he felt two taps against his arm, stopping him as he neared his growing erection.
Knowing he was safe, he wasn’t startled, but he reached out, not opening his eyes, grabbing a forearm and lingering for a moment.
If he tapped back twice, consent was acknowledged.
Would this lover ruin the vibe he’d settled into?
Something told him no. He tapped in response.
And instantly lips, flushed with anticipation, met his, and delivered a passionate yet gentle kiss.
The kiss drew deeper, their tongue coaxing his own out.
They bit at his full bottom lip as the delicate scent of sandalwood filled his nose.
Even with his eyes closed Schuyler saw the green light radiating from the man.
As he kissed, he felt a sensation on his opposite arm—two more taps.
A pink light lay next to him; Sky felt their smooth, muscular body press against him.
Their lips grazed his chest, finding his nipples, which sent seismic shocks through him.
His approval was verbal, and the lips responded in kind, granting more sensual scrutiny, splitting attention between both nipples.
The green light straddled his left side, their furry body rubbing up against his as they kissed Sky’s ear, their tongue running along the edge before biting gently on the lobe. Schuyler’s body convulsed as splendor overtook him.
A newcomer—a blue light—nestled between Schuyler’s legs, reached over and grabbed his beard at the chin. Each stroke of the blue light’s fingers raking down through Sky’s short beard made him buck up.
Another set of taps. A purple light was cleared to join, sitting above Sky, moving his head into their lap, their hands running through his thick, dark hair, massaging the scalp.
They leaned over and kissed him, a job the four lights rotated between.
There were hands and lips all over him at every time, each as if they’d rehearsed this dance.
The blue light moved their lips down along Schuyler’s stomach to his penis.
The tongue teased, stealing the wetness accumulating at the tip before returning to wrap lips fully around the head.
When he was deepthroated, Schuyler moaned into the mouth that was roughly kissing him.
Sky’s body rocked, and the lights held him tightly.
Pressing close and kissing, all of them assisting him in riding the wave of ecstasy he surfed.
The green light moved their lips down and shared oral duties.
He’d wanted two mouths on him; the thought occurred a moment before reality manifested.
Every whim acknowledged before the opportunity to verbalize them could rise.
Sky thought of how he’d like someone to sit on his face, and the purple light sat a delightfully round, furry, and firm ass upon his awaiting tongue, which he quickly bathed with attention.
Buried beneath the ass, Sky felt the familiar squeeze of tightness around his own erection; one of the lights had lowered himself down on The small group, though focused on him, formed a connection with each other, mouth to genitals; no one left behind or unattended.
Schuyler wanted to sit up, to be on his knees, with the amazing cakes rocking up against him.
He wanted to see them, slap them, as another person stood over feeding him their cock.
He wanted to suck everyone but remained on his back, eyes still closed, the energy in him heavy with anticipation yet pinning him down.
He questioned why those pleasuring him were doing so without seeking anything in return.
Any time he tried to reciprocate affection, they lovingly stopped him and let him know the act was unnecessary.
Finding what they needed in each other while seeing his desires focused on.
Schuyler felt undeserving yet powerless from the pleasure swaddling him.
He summoned the strength to move, politely tapping the purple light, who repositioned themselves as Sky bucked up onto his knees, pulling his bottom toward him, their ass gripping onto his dick as he took control of the rhythm, holding onto their hips and pumping steadily while building momentum.
Each thrust, pushing a little deeper, arriving a little quicker.
Two others stood beside him, their generous endowments taking turns with his mouth, leaving salty wetness draped along his tongue as the sounds of emphatic and passionate lovemaking filled his ears in surround sound.
Every muscle in his body joined the mission to bring his growing climax to fruition. Schuyler swam in ecstasy, looking down, admiring himself, watching his thickness thrust in and out of the bottom in front of him. The one who begged for him to go harder. To push deeper.
Sky playfully obliged.
A tongue, flattened, warm, pressed against his skin, licking from Schuyler’s undercarriage to the dimple right above his right ass cheek in a long slow slide.
The pleasure reverberated through his body, muscles tightened, and rapturous pleasure took Schuyler out of himself.
He moaned loudly, floating for a few exquisite moments within the weightless bliss of utter sexual pleasure.
The rhythm of his own thrusting centered him back into his body.
The reverb of the pleasure rippled in waves through him, delivering the same experience to his bottom and through his lips onto the two cocks filling his mouth.
They all transcended momentarily as if gravity had been removed.
Schuyler found no respite; a moment later, a well-hung, still flaccid cock slid between Schuyler’s cheeks, rubbing up and down against him.
They held no inclination for penetration, only the throbbing pressure against his hole, the kink of his ample cakes being used as a toy.
Feeling his top’s erection growing invigorated him, his rhythm growing steadier, stronger.
The light behind him bit softly on his neck, thrusting faster.
Schuyler reached back, grabbing at the taut torso of his frottage top.
His other hand wrapped around his bottom, whose nipple he tugged on.
As Schuyler’s climax drew closer, he yearned for the feel of semen against his skin—and he was indulged once again.
The splash of warm joy arrived against the cool skin on his chest as the two lights standing unloaded on him, each smack of wetness against his skin pushed him closer to his own orgasm.
The pink light behind him growled into his ear, grabbing Schuyler’s thick, dark hair, and pulling him back as their final upward strokes produced a powerful climax, which Schuyler felt land on the middle of his back. A single rope found its way to his neck.
His bottom announced their orgasm and let it go onto the ground, an offering.
Schuyler’s release approached right behind them.
He stood up to find four eager lights with mouths agape under him. His rigid cock throbbing, the engines within him working overtime, ready to explode. He stroked himself until his toes curled into the ground, and he screamed out, feeding those waiting.
When spent, they returned to the ground, languishing within each other, holding one another, kissing, connecting, and sharing gratitude for the experience.
Schuyler gazed up at the moon with a smile a mile wide and thanked the beautiful rock, his body still humming, his cock still aching. Both spent and replenished simultaneously, lingering in between, desiring more but wanting sleep.
The rapturous sound of orgasms being achieved sounded off around them and drifted through the air.
He laughed to himself: Now, this is witchcraft.