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Genie in a Bottle Pt. III
by Caresse Mandylor

We walked home together, hand in hand. It just seemed right and it was. Twenty minutes of nonsexual intimacy that I'll never forget as long as I live. We stayed naked (well, maybe it wasn't completely nonsexual - I was out of wishes and couldn't ask for clothes even if I wanted to). If you think I spent several moments flashing passing cars and mooning the police officer sitting in his cruiser eating a doughnut (Oblivious... but what's new?) then you would be absolutely correct.

Genie was a fascinating man, intelligent, well-traveled, multilingual (Oh, watching is tongue move as he told me I was beautiful in about six or seven different languages!) He possessed an amazing storytelling ability and it saddened me to know that as soon as we returned to my apartment he would have to return to the bottle.

Like I mentioned earlier in my story, my cat Steve had a fetish for bottles and jars, anything glass with a hole in the top. I laughed when we walked in through the front door and Steve was working desperately to free his fat, furry paw from the opening of the bottle. Thank you, Steve! This guarantees you an enormous Christmas present this year. Heck, I might even splurge and start buying canned food!

"Ooops, looks like you can't go home yet. Wanna stick around and give me a couple more wishes?"

A sigh escaped from deep within Genie's chest and a tired look crossed his eyes, "Ma'am, I must say it has been a pleasure serving you, granting your wishes. It will be an experience I shall never forget. You are like no other, but I fear I don't have the strength to give you another wish."

"Sure you do," I giggled enthusiastically and pushed him into my great-grandmother's rocking chair. (I'm sure if she was still alive she would have done the same thing.) From Steve's toybox I quickly removed a couple worn out and frayed knee-hi stockings and before his instincts could give him adequate warning I had just enough time to tie his wrists to the cherry oak armrests.

"Now who said knee-his can't be sexy?"

Then again, how could a Genie be so slow witted and survive. That is unless...he was just humoring me. Oh! I'll get you for that!

"Oh, Ma'am. I can't! I have not the strength!" He grinned wickedly at me.

"Oh, hush. You won't have to work at all. Just relax and enjoy the orgasm."

He was beautifully naked and I got to watch his arousal from the beginning, starting with the little twitch that my words created. I took his semi-hardening cock in between my fingers and smoothed over the veiny length, trying to feel the pulse of blood just below my fingertips. I was told in high school gym class, by the other cheerleaders, that men with veiny cocks were the most sensual, the most passionate, and so far that little piece of advice and never been proven wrong.

I took him in between my lips, lapping at the thick head and the cute little hole in the tip. My tongue became well acquainted with the tiny place just below the tip. I traced as many of those veins as my tongue would allow, drinking in the warm male scent and taste of his cock. I'd never known a more intriguing fragrance.

I took him in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down slowly to the rhythm he gave me with the gentle pressure his hands had in the back of my hair. Hey, how did his hands get there? I had him tied up. Oh well, I was having too much fun to retie him. Lower and lower I went until I had taken all of him in my mouth, my nose taping into the background of his belly. A couple more thrusts into my throat and I was comfortable enough to try anything. Gag reflex conquered my friend, want to see what I can do?

I pushed the chair and the rocking motion worked its own magic, easing his cock faster in and out of my hungry mouth. All I had to do was lick and suck, both of which I did with overwhelming gusto...

And he said he couldn't go any more. His cock filled my mouth with at least three spurts of thick, creamy come, more than I thought possible regarding the amount of exercise he'd been subjected to in the last twelve hours. But with genies, I guess anything is possible.

I swallowed every drop I could, missing very little and then leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. Here's your chance to taste yourself on me, sweetheart. Like it?

Poor baby really was exhausted and fell asleep sitting in the chair almost immediately afterwards. He earned his rest and while he napped softly in the chair I went in to the kitchen and got enough butter to rescue my poor, miserable feline menace. The bottle knew my wishes were gone and the moment Steve's paw popped from the hole, I felt a gush of wind and knew my lover was gone, too. I didn't even have to look up at the empty chair.

Whoever said a genie's magic was never all good and never all bad was probably right. He's definitely distracting and has probably ruined my sex life for a long time to come. After all, who else could perform like he did?

I wonder why his previous owner left him at the side of the road. Poor souls, maybe you only get one rub of the bottle. Well, I haven't officially rubbed it yet. That's one. I can go buy plants with long leaves that swing in the breeze to keep by the bottle, start a cat sitting service. Let me get horny enough and I'll find a way.

This bottle might be staying with me for awhile. I might even invite a few friends over.

- The End -

 

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