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Click here(This story is part of the Amorous Goods, A Lit Anthology Series.)
Prologue:
A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.
*********
I saw the guitar in the window and something drew me to it. I've walked down Main Street in our town a hundred times and I'd never noticed the store before, so I went in to check it out.
There were all sorts of trinkets and old used goods laying around, but that guitar called to me.
There wasn't anything special about it, it was old, clearly used, and looked like it's best days were long past.
"Hi," said the shopkeeper. "Go ahead and check it out."
"Thanks," I said as I took the guitar off of its stand. "Can you tell me anything about it?"
"Not really," She answered. "As you can see it's old, and the name has long worn off of it so I can't even tell you what brand it is."
I strummed the strings and was surprised that it was in tune. I played around with it, and I knew that I had to have it. The tone was so deep and rich. The nylon strings sounded new and soundhole picked up every nuance from their vibration.
"How much do you want for it?"
"$200."
I didn't balk at the price. Knowing guitars as I do, it sounded amazing and was a bargain at that price.
"Sold," I said handing her my credit card.
"There's a case for it in the back. Let me grab it for you."
I played it some more, while she was gone and when she came back she said, "You play beautifully. It's like it was made for your hands."
"Thank you. It's really playable. Say, how long have you been here? I've never noticed your shop before today."
"A couple of weeks. I inherited all of this stuff and I have nowhere to keep it all. Being a shop owner isn't exactly what I want to do with my life, but it is what it is."
"Well, thank you, and good luck."
**********
When I got home, my wife saw what I bought and shook her head. "Not another guitar, Randy."
"It was a steal, Dee. I couldn't pass it up."
"Yeah, yeah. Dinner will be ready in an hour."
I kissed her cheek and went to my den, or as I call it my music room. She's never been happy with my collection of guitars. She thinks it's a waste of money to have more than one, but I've only got ten.
I sat on my stool and started playing it. I don't know what caused me to play it, but I played the devil's triad. It was used as the riff in the song "Black Sabbath," by Black Sabbath. It sounded incredible.
Out of nowhere, my wife walked into the room and started taking off her clothes. "I want you, now!" She demanded. Who was I to turn her down?
She dragged me to the bedroom and roughly stripped off my clothes. Once I was naked she pushed me onto the bed and straddled my hips.
She wasted no time lowering herself onto my hard shaft and rode me like a banshee. Her eyes were rolled back as she bucked and slammed down onto me.
"Yes! Yes! She screamed as her body tensed from her orgasm. The moment it ended, she climbed off of me and walked out of the room.
"What the fuck?" I said to myself. "Hey, I didn't cum, I shouted out to her. Hearing no response, I walked out of the room, my hard dick leading the way.
She was dressed and in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.
"Hey!" I said. "Forget something?"
She looked at me like I had two heads and said, "Quit playing around, Randy. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Playing around? You left me high and dry. Aren't you gonna finish the job?"
"Go get dressed," she said. "If I'm in the mood later, we can go to bed early."
What in the fuck was she playing at? I left the kitchen annoyed, got dressed, and went back to playing with my new purchase.
I was running some chords and scales and playing flamenco style when I had the urge to play the devil's triad again. G, then D, finished with D flat.
It was mere seconds when she burst into the room again. Her eyes were glazed over and looked black instead of their usual blue. "I want you, now!" She demanded again. I barely had a chance to set the guitar down, before she dragged me into the bedroom again.
Well, I certainly was going to finish that time, so I didn't let her ride me. I rolled her over and took her doggie style. Slamming into her for a few minutes, I felt her squeeze my cock. Knowing she was close, I doubled my efforts. I pounded into her hard and fast and was able to shoot my load as she had her own orgasm.
She wiggled out from underneath me and walked out of the room again, without saying a word.
"Jesus, that's fucking strange," I thought as I dressed. I wondered what was happening, so I went back into the kitchen. She was on the phone like nothing happened as she talked and stirred the chili.
She ended the call and said, "Randy, my mom is gonna stop by for dinner. You know how she loves my chili. I hope that's okay."
"Uh, yeah sure," I said, still lost as to what the fuck was happening to my wife.
*********
Nothing strange happened before her mom showed up and then we had a nice dinner.
They got into talking about whatever mothers and daughters talk about and I excused myself to play with my guitar again.
I noodled around for a bit and then had the compulsion to play the devil's triad again. I played the notes and within seconds, both my wife and my mother-in-law burst into the room, both shedding clothes. In unison, they both said, "I want you, now!"
Oh, fuck!
You wouldn't happen to be friends with QMIL1 would you? Funny stuff amino 🤣, thanks, western
What a lucky guy. Buy an old guitar and got to screw wife and mother-in-law. Wonderful
Interesting. but would have really been interesting to see where the story could have gone, threesome with wife and mother-in-law, now that would be a truly interesting scenario, particularly after the effect of the guitar wore off. 5/5
Vignette, not a story. You can do better than to write stories interruptis. 1 star.