A Lonely Witch

This is a Halloween Story Contest 2023 entry. I hope you enjoy the read and please add a vote. All characters in this story are adults.

I love autumn. It is a witch's best time, and before you ask, NO, it's not because I mount a broom and fly around in the skies in the October nights! No, I love fall because it is the season of the harvest, and I have long found solace and relaxation in the harvest. I keep a close hand on all things nature.

My long, straight red hair has always drawn the eye of men and women alike, as does my curvy body. I like having my womanly curves, my breasts with their nipples stiff and pink, and the little thatch of curly hair between my legs protecting my loins. I like the swell of my buttocks and the graceful arc of the muscles in my leg. I should be curvy and shapely - I walk nearly twenty thousand steps a day, every day! I know this because I have an Apple Watch, which really - a witch does not need - but really, what a convenience!

My home is in a rural area. I have slowly amassed about forty acres of land that is centered on a small, freshwater pond where I have built my home. Behind my home the land slopes upward a little, not much, but a little, and there is where I have planted an enormous garden. I grow vegetables, quite a lot actually, more than enough to keep me fed throughout winter. I have onions and carrots, broccoli and lettuce, potatoes and corn, and beans and peas. The other half of the garden is devoted to my herbs I grow for cooking, and the flowers I require for my charms.

I love my home. I love my life. It's quiet and serene, and I study often and think always. I walk to make sure that the plants and mosses and ferns that I also need for my charms - that grow naturally in the forest surrounding my home - have their routine inspections and so that I can sing to them. My voice is admittedly not the best, but it's soft and high pitched and over the years I have gotten better at hitting the right tones.

But I am lonely, and it's been weighing heavily on me of late.

Today I have gathered up a great deal of my herbs and packaged them in the manner that I do. There is a large country fair that is in the town nearest my remote home, and one of the ways that I generate income is by selling my wares. I am actually quite successful at this through my online store!

I am a modern witch.

But I am still lonely.

With my small, economical but spacious car loaded, and wearing my normal attire of a long flowing skirt, a loose-fitting button down top and a bandana pulling my hair back, I am quite aware that I look like a hippie. I have gone to these fairs wearing a tiara made of flowers, but did not feel like putting up with the inevitable side-eye today. I might become irate and send a mild curse towards the person looking askance at me. Perhaps they might get a painful ingrown toenail.

The drive did not take long, and I pulled in and handed over the cash for my space, and then followed the directions to my booth. I got out and set up my ten by ten pop up tent, an act I have done many times. I set up my tables in the usual U-shape and carefully set out the goods I had for sale, organized on my racks. Last, I got out the little chair I used, and my iPad. It has my credit card device, because I have learned that being a modern witch means that I need to accept modern forms of payment.

The fair was due to open in about thirty minutes. It was a warm, clear day, only a fortnight before Halloween, and I was expecting a throng. Some women would wander through, wearing tee-shirts with some humorous quip about Halloween. Some would walk through wearing little cat ear headbands, both adding that Halloween flavor while doing the job of keeping their hair out of their eyes. Most of the men at the fair would shuffle along wearing expressions ranging from abject boredom to lukewarm interest. Few men entered such a fair, their faces alight with joy at the prospects of shopping!

I hummed a song I had learned long ago while browsing my phone. I had to fulfill three orders, which I was going to do on the way home this evening. The local post office was unlocked until late; all of my packages were prepaid and would be shipped out on Monday. I put that all over my website, that I ship on weekends due to my timing of harvesting the various orders.

But as the clock hit the top of the hour and the doors opened to the event, I donned my smiling face and awaited visitors. I did not have to wait long. I slowly stood as first I got a trickle of women, and before long a crush. I had a steady stream of customers and as my inventory dwindled my account value increased. I would have to repack tonight when returning home so that I could have a successful day tomorrow, too.

It's rare for me to experience a tingle in my groin. I've been around for a long time. I've had lovers, and some who have captivated me and others I've forgotten with ease. I am always acutely aware of my body, and each and every time that I get a tingle, I have to smile. Perhaps my period of some loneliness might be drawing to the end. It has been a while.

As a tall, lean woman walked into my booth, my loins went from a mere tickle to a full-throated roar. I have always had a thing for tall, lean women, and she was just the sort who tickled my fancy. She had a dainty silver necklace on, an infinity charm dangling between small breasts.

"Hi," I greeted her.

She looked up, her eyes sweeping me fast before locking onto mine. Her voice was firm, a lower register, and her smile was soft. "Hello!" She returned my greeting with warmth. Her eyes dropped to scan the wares. "What all do you sell?" she asked while sweeping her eyes left and right.

As I explained the different herbs and spice combinations, and their uses, and showed off some of my homemade candles, I kept watching her eyes return to mine. Each time she looked at me, my loins tingled pleasantly. Each time she looked away, I felt a pang of disappointment. Her pale green eyes were stunning.

She finally looked up and around. "You're very lovely," she said softly.

"I think the same thing about you," I assured her.

I saw her confusion, angst and dismay. I've been told by many lovers that being in my presence arouses them - at least when I'm aroused. I had a feeling that my reaction to her - triggering my own arousal - was doing the same to her, and she was not sure how to handle it. "I feel warm," she admitted.

"All over?" I asked, adopting a sweet smile. "Or in one particular spot?"

Two dots of color appeared on her cheeks. "All over," she said dully, hiding the truth.

I smiled. She was afraid of her own feelings; my inner eye sensed that she had been dealing with these sensations for a long time. But she had never allowed those feelings and needs to be voiced or experienced. I withdrew my inner eye; I cannot see thoughts. But I can sense feelings.

"I have a charm," I said slowly. Leading her a little.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing together. "What sort of charm?" she asked.

I turned and went into a little basket that I always bring with me, and never offer for sale. I brought out a small tea candle that was in a small glass jar. I handed it to her, and advised her to open the lid and take a sniff.

She held it uncertainly in her hand, but after a glance at my face where I presume she drew some reassurance, she opened it and sniffed delicately. "Roses!" she said.

I smiled. That was auspicious. "Each person seems to have a different reaction to it," I told her. "That is a gift and is yours to keep."

She blinked. "That is kind of you," she said haltingly.

I smiled warmly, feeling the warmth spreading in my body. Though centered in the cleft between my legs, it was radiating through my thighs and up into my belly, soon into my breasts. I knew that this form of all-body arousal was nearly impossible for many to resist, and my visitor's face showed an even deeper reddening in her cheeks. "What is your name?" I asked her.

"Suzanne," she said. One of the most beautiful moments in life, at least as far as I was concerned, was that moment where a face reflected her inner heat. Once more my eye gauged her feelings, and I felt the heated blood delivering oxygen to muscles that burned, thus requiring more breathing. How Suzanne's nipples had peaked and hardened behind the sturdy fabric of her bra and how she suddenly realized that it had been more than a year since the last time that she'd been touched. I saw the dueling feelings vying for mental supremacy - fear against lust, inhibitions against freedom.

"I am Nicole," I said, and extended my hand.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned softly when she pressed her palm to mine; all of my heat, all of my growing wetness, it flowed out of me and into her. My inner sense remained close and I felt that exponential rise in her need.

"Nice to meet you," I said quietly.

"N-nice to meet you too," she started off with a stammer before regaining a measure of control. Our hands dropped.

"This may seem forward, but would you care to take supper with me this evening?" I asked smoothly.

"Uh," she said, caught flat-footed. She searched frantically for a lie so that she could maintain that image that she'd been told her whole life to maintain, while the other part of her screamed YES YES YES to take the leap with both feet. "Sure, what do you have in mind?"

The true answer was my home, but we were not there yet. I named a restaurant, somewhat out of town, but on the path towards my home. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

She chuckled. "I know that place. Now it's a definite yes!" she said.

I grinned. "They buy some of my spices," I explained later, as we each sipped at our wines. The owner had come to our table to say hello to me, and her expression was a query to me.

"What spices?" she asked.

I smiled. Her emotions remained a wreck, jumbled about. A snap of one's fingers and she would have bolted, a mustang spooked and running full bore. Yet I sensed this lady's deep primal need. It had coursed through her for as long as she could remember and there had been those times where her resolve had weakened. And she had been so close.

I offered her my hand. She took it. My searing heat once more held her in sway, showing her the way. "I grow and mix spices," I said quietly.

"Where?"

"On the land I own, about thirty minutes north," I said.

My seduction was paused with the arrival of plates of delicious, steaming-hot food. We ate, the food delicious to our palates, the food warming our bellies. My arousal was not sated by the fuel, but it was mitigated, lessened, or perhaps only deferred. For the moment our needs ebbed, but as the meal settled into our bellies and we clasped hands once again, the deep need returned. Once more my body fed her arousal. Mine was nearly consuming me, as my nipples were hard as rocks and tingling, and my thighs now damp from the steady leaking from my cleft.

"I can show you my workshop," I said. My head tilted. "Perhaps you have a nose for mixing yourself!" I offered with a chuckle.

I knew what she was going to say before she said it. But it was her tone, low and throaty and fast. "Let's go before I lose my nerve."

"Allow me to drive you," I suggested on the way to our cars. I pressed my hand to her upper arm. She was slowly losing herself in her own body's needs, and that lust lowered her inhibitions. In the daylight and beyond my control, she would have scoffed. Now she agreed that it would be lovely and we got into my vehicle.

Conversation between two adults who have never been intimate yet driving to that point of intimacy is halting. We spoke in bursts, unable to carry a steady thread of conversation. The heat had hit my neck, and I willed the heat to stop. I could not stop it filling my lower legs, my ankles, feet and then toes.

The turns led to twists, the twists to dips, the dips over rises. I sensed one last rising pang of fear; in the woods, lost, in my presence. Yet I sensed she knew that I was not going to do her harm. But the fear remained. It would, I was certain, until she was immersed in my scents and charms.

I pulled up to my small cabin. "We are here," I said as I cut off the engine.

"You live here?" She leaned forward and peered out into the cabin lit up by the headlights of my vehicle.

"Live and work," I said. I stepped out into the cold night. I pointed as she got out. "My pond is here," pointing at the inky blackness of the still water; in the summer the bullfrogs were my companion. Now they were quiet. My point moved towards the house. "And my workshop here," I said.

I took her hand, the warmth passing into us but her fear was more effective at blocking. "Let me show you," I said. "In fact, you enter first, and explore," I offered.

I swung the door open inward, and she stepped inside. I knew the wood-burning stove would create a cozy warmth from which escape would be impossible. I entered behind her, closing the door and then leaning against it.

"To the right, my shop," I said. "And kitchen," I added with a politely soft laugh.

She walked slowly through the cabin, left from my living space with its small door back to the neatly made bed that was in the back room. Then to the right, where she took in the burning wood stove that allayed the night's chill, and the kitchen area where I had a vast array of cast iron cookware all of which was essential to my needs and all that shone in a deep black from the repeated seasonings.

"You live here?" she asked, her voice pitched high in disbelief. "No television?"

I smiled. For a moment, I tilted my head back, not enough for her to see, but enough that I let open the passageway of my arousal to begin to rise again above my breasts. The trouble was that once I was consumed by my own arousal, I was a wanton witch. Being lonely for so long made that throb of desire that much stronger, deeper and all-encompassing. But I knew that she was feeding off of my arousal. Her own body was betraying her just as mine was.

"I live off of the land, with it and through it," I explained. "Though I have modern toys like my iPad, I would much rather spend my nights listening to the world around me. That world whispers to me, you see," I allowed.

She looked up, her fingers remaining on the counter, her body turning. My inner sense now showed me her burn; this sense is hard to define. I saw her body glowing in shades of yellows, oranges and centered low at her abdomen, between her legs, a pulsing red. Her posture was awkward, trying to stand still yet clasp her legs together and bend those knees and twist her hips in a desperate attempt to either hide or escape that pulsing red need.

Yet she tried to maintain that decorum. "What do you mean, the world whispers to you."

I stepped forward. I could feel it then, my own heat rising along my neck. If she wanted to look close, she'd see the red splotches forming on my creamy skin. "I am..." I paused, and chuckled. It was so hard to not rush into her arms and kiss her hard on the lips and run my fingers over that lean body and touch it and caress it.

"I have a special spiritual bond with nature," I finally said as I had to will the arousal from flooding my mind.

Her eyes went out of focus for a long moment. They sharpened and focused on me. "Wh-what are you doing to me?" she whispered.

I stepped forward. "I am not doing anything special to you," I told her. While that technically was the truth, it was not entirely honest, either. I have long known how my moods affect those in my close vicinity. If there were other people in this cabin, they too would be flushed with arousal. If I were angry, those in my area would fall to bitter infighting or saying what was really on their mind - even at the cost of eviscerating another.

"You are too. I can't..." she gasped. Once more I got the sense that she wanted to press her hands hard over the zipper of her jeans, though whether to try and hide a cleft burning with insatiable need or frantically tear at the little metal teeth was not certain.

"You cannot what?" I asked. I was now standing in front of her. I held my arms out away from my body a little, and once more I tilted my head back a little. The gates opened mentally, the arousal rushed through, dammed up water gushing through a formed crack that would decimate and leave in ruins what was left of that dam. I felt it, hitting my brain, the red forming and curling in the center of my mind, letting me know that I was well and truly in touch with myself.

All I now felt was that searing burn in my pussy. Decorum was gone. Subtly peeled back, giving to the base, the obscene. The dripping of my sex coating my upper thighs making me slippery, hot and fragrant. I looked at her. I knew my eyes were wild. My lips parted. My nipples hard rocks atop my breasts. Breasts swollen and reddened in that sex flush, and my labia swollen and parted, desperate to be touched.

"Fuucccccckkkk," she groaned and her hands fell to her pants. She could not look away from my eyes. Her jeans unzipped and she stepped out, hopping on one foot desperate to escape what felt like a trap for her. Her panties off, her cleft parted, open, dripping. She yanked off her top, not feeling her own nails scrape against her skin, leaving a line of pink from the passage on her own milky skin. "I need you!" she wailed.

I pulled off my top, my ripe body displayed for her. Pulled my skirt down, revealing the bright red bush. Her eyes darted from my face to my breasts to that cleft, and I knew the mixture of our sex scents to be the most delectable one I'd ever enjoyed. "And I need you!" I cried back, just as lusty, just as lost in the moment.

I stepped forward. There is something distinctly powerful about that first moment that aroused flesh presses against equally aroused flesh. There was a connection, a bond - chemical valences at the molecular level that brought our bodies together, merging them and making them inseparable. But nerdy, intricate science held no sway against the needs of flesh, the powers of passion. Her lips were upon mine, welcoming me. Mine were upon hers, savoring hers.

This kiss might have lasted an eternity. Our fingers found each other's bodies. While breast pressed to breast and hot thigh to thigh, fingers roamed and explored and found the exploration pleasurable, delectable. Her skin was so smooth, her flesh taut yet supple, her kiss magnetic. I could not have drawn my lips from hers, my tongue from her mouth. Yet as pleasurable as the kiss was, a deeper more urgent need.

"I need to taste you," I broke the kiss to moan softly in a voice not entirely my own.

"Yes what we both want. What we need," she panted. Her hips opened forward, her feet sliding a little more widely apart on the floor. My fingers trailed down her body, over the scant breasts topped with small, taut nipples. One hand remained there, the other joining me as I sank to my knees. Her aroma pulled me, a hard yank, leaving me utterly defenseless against her. I had that fleeing image of that water exploding now through the dam, as the remaining walls let go and now a wall of concrete was replaced by a massive wall of water, escaping and crashing into the valley floor below with a roar that would be heard for miles.

My tongue on her pussy proved that I was not the only one with a flood. She was perfect, spicy and musky yet sweet and delicate. My tongue lapped at smooth flesh and drew it into my mouth and savored the sensation of her body in mine. Her button, hot and demanding, was easily found and my tap-tap-tap on her clit with my tongue made her scream. One of her hands dropped to my head, pulling me in; the other clasped onto the counter holding on for dear life. One hand remained at her breast, applying pressure with fingers to that taut bud of flesh, the other gripping her thigh.