Angel the Genie

A/N: When I first had the idea of this story it went in a much different direction. But as I always say, I just press the keys on the laptop - the stories write themselves. I can only follow where they choose to go. This one chose a much different path. Thank you for reading, rating, and commenting. Ollegio

Wandering through the woods of his seven acres, Tristan spotted something shining, under the dead branches of a fallen pine. Curious, he pulled back the dead limbs until he could reach in and get the object in his hand. Pulling it out he was astounded to find it was a silver bottle, wide at the bottom and narrowing to a thin neck, capped with a matching silver stopper.

He turned around and followed the trail back to his garage, stopping at the outdoor workbench on its back porch. Rummaging in the supplies cabinet in his garage, he came back with several all-purpose cleaners, some of those scrubby green pads, and naval jelly.

Starting with the mildest, he began cleaning what appeared to be many years of dirt and grime from the bottle. That first cleaner did a decent, but far from perfect, job. So once the worst of it was gone he moved to the naval jelly and then finished up with Nevr-Dull. At that point the bottle gleamed like new.

Taking it into his cabin, he placed it on his mantle, thinking he'd lucked into a great decor piece. Then he fixed dinner, cleaned the plates, and relaxed on the sofa to watch some tv.

Suddenly a movement caught his eye. Not sure where it came from, he eventually decided it was something on the tv, mounted to the wall above the mantle. He went back to watching his show until it happened again. This time he knew it wasn't on the tv, but still didn't know what it was. A reflection from the windows, he thought.

The third time it was undeniable as he both heard and saw it. The silver bottle had rocked. WTF? he thought. Rising from the sofa he walked over to the mantle and grabbed the bottle. He took it with him as he returned to sit on the sofa, bottle now on his lap.

Then he felt the bottle move. Sheesh! he thought, there must be something alive inside this thing. Thinking things through, he got two thick plastic bags out of his pantry and put one inside the other. Back on the sofa he put the bags over the neck of the bottle and held the open ends with one hand. With the other hand he carefully removed the stopper from the bottle, expecting some animal to rush out but be captured by the bags.

Something did fly out of the bottle and into the bags and Tristan was able to slide the bags off the neck of the bottle while pinching them tightly closed. Whatever was trapped in the bags was definitely alive. In a moment, the bags burst open and a 8 inch tall woman popped out onto the sofa next to him.

"Hello, Master," she said. "I am at your service." At that she snapped her fingers and was instantly transformed into a full-grown person, 5'2", thin but shapely, and beautiful. She appeared to be about ten years younger than his 62. "I am your genie, tasked to do your bidding. I have no one name but you may call me whatever you wish."

"Okay," he said, "what kind of prank is this? There's no such thing as a genie, and no one can grant wishes or the rest of that bullshit."

"I understand your skepticism, Master. Belief in genies faded hundreds of years ago, but we have always existed. May I demonstrate?" she asked.

"Sure, give it your best shot."

She snapped her fingers again and a glass of Oban single malt appeared on the end table next to him. "I believe this is your favorite," she said.

Astounded, he picked the glass up, put it to his lips, and immediately recognized the excellent 12 year old scotch. "Nice parlor trick," he told her.

"I grant wishes and take care of you, Master. I do not do tricks. I suggest we both go to sleep and tomorrow I can perhaps convince you that I am real."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Should I make up the guest room?" he asked.

"No, I sleep in my bottle, but I would appreciate you're not inserting the stopper unless you have some strong reason to keep me trapped inside," she told him. At that she snapped her fingers again and disappeared, presumably into the bottle.

Not even believing what had happened, he headed to his bedroom. His instinct was to lock the door but after seeing her trick with the scotch decided it wouldn't keep her out if she wanted in. It took an hour for him to settle enough to fall asleep.

The next morning he woke, looked around, and realized that he had survived the night with a potential supernatural murderer in the next room.

Getting out of bed and making it up, he dressed and opened his door, to walk into the great room of his cabin. He didn't see her anywhere.

As he popped a pod into the coffee maker and poured in a mug full of water, he heard a whooshing sound. Turning, he saw her fly out of her bottle and then grow to full size. "Good morning, Master. I trust you slept well."

"Umm, I did, thank you. So, what happens now?" he asked.

"Whatever you wish, Master. If I may, I would suggest that I provide you with a few examples of my abilities. For example, I know you have a classic car in the garage that you've been working on but have hit some snags. I can help with that, she said.

"But first, let me make us breakfast." Snapping her fingers, the table was instantly set with plates filled with fluffy omelets, hash browns, and toast. The coffee mugs steamed.

They both sat to eat and his curiosity took over. "What do you eat inside that bottle?"

"Just as there were no eggs or veggies in your fridge yet I conjured up these omelets, I can create whatever food I need inside my bottle. I've lived there for 127 years since I was last out, and you can see I'm perfectly healthy," she explained.

When they finished eating she snapped her fingers again and the dishes were instantly cleaned and put away. Then she led him out to his garage. His '58 Morris Minor Tourer was still up on jack stands. He'd replaced the anemic 948 cc engine with a 1275 and matching transmission but then run into problems trying to replace the wiring harness. So the car sat, unfinished. The dual carbs were on the workbench, awaiting rebuilding. The bumper, grill, and radiator were in the attic above, having been removed to facilitate the engine swap. Other miscellaneous parts needed to be reinstalled.

The genie looked around, seeming to gather in all the aspects of the situation, and then snapped her fingers. Instantly the Morris was complete. Tristan couldn't believe his eyes. It was like the parts flew invisibly through the air to reunite with the car - one second they were scattered all around and the next they were where they belonged.

"The fluids are all filled and correct and the gasoline is fresh. Give it a try," the genie said as she handed him the keys.

Tristan got behind the wheel, inserted the ignition key, and pumped the gas pedal as you always needed to do back in the carburetor days. Turning the key, the engine spun over two or three times and then caught and ran. After a couple of minutes it warmed up and the choke released, dropping the idle down to a smooth, easy lope.

"Wow! That's fantastic. Is this real?" he exclaimed.

"I assure you, Master, it is. You released me from the prison of my bottle and now my purpose is to please you every way I can, except sexually. You and I can never have sex as it is forbidden. Beyond that, I can likely fulfill any desire you might have."

"We need to talk," he told her as he led her back into the cabin.

"Please explain this all to me. Nowadays we don't believe in genies and magic and stuff, so I need explanations," he stated.

"We know. Humans no longer believe in genies, or fairies, or leprechauns, but I assure you we are all real. Your refusal to believe in us is one reason why you rarely encounter us. Ironically, many of you believe in ghosts, vampires, and werewolves, which don't exist."

"Okay, so how does this all work with you and I?"

"You freed me from my bottle and thus I am indentured to you. I will remain with you and fulfill all your wishes within my abilities until you either dishonor me, entrap me back into my bottle, or die. In that case my bottle will disappear and likely remain hidden until someone chances upon it, as you did yesterday."

"So the whole Master/Genie thing is a lot like Dom/Sub but without the sex? he asked.

"That isn't far off."

"Well, I'm not into that. I don't want a slave, even if she has magical powers. Since you are now 'indentured' to me, I would like you to act as if you are a partner. I pay the bills, you fix our meals, clean the house, and so on, but stop calling me Master. I'm Tristan, or Trist if you prefer.. And choose a name you like - genie doesn't work for me."

"Thank you, Mas...Tristan. I would like it if you call me Angel."

"Now, can you fix my classic Mini like you did the Morris?" he asked.

"I already have, Tristan," she said with a smile.

Over the next few weeks they settled into a comfortable routine. Tristan went about his typical, retired life week filled with workouts, volunteer work, and odd jobs around the cabin. Angel surprised him by choosing to do many household chores manually, dusting, running the vacuum, and so one. She did snap her fingers to clean the bathrooms, though.

After she had been there for six weeks, Tristan called for a discussion. "Angel, I have a problem we need to discuss. I haven't had sex for six months. It's very hard for a 62 year old man to find a sex partner around here, as rural as we are. Is there anyway you can help me with this?"

"Tristan, you know we can't have sex, so I hope that isn't what you're asking," she replied.

"It isn't."

"Okay. You've said you think your sexual drought is due to age and location. What I can do is make you any age you choose, and place you anywhere you like. I can make you a 20 year old stud in a Russian whorehouse, or 30 year old gay male in Studio 54. The only catch is it will only last for 48 hours each time."

"Could you send me back into a real relationship I had, but screwed up at the time? Give me a second chance with her?"

"Yes, but it won't change anything in the long run. If that relationship ended for any reason, it's won't have a different outcome this time. I can bend history, but not change it."

"Okay, then that isn't a good idea. No need to put myself through the pain of rejection twice with the same person. How about this - if I show you a woman I'm attracted to on a dating site, can you set us up on a date and put the odds in my favor for ending up in her bed?" he asked.

"That's easy. And the odds won't just be in your favor, it will be a sure thing," she told him.

Tristan opened his laptop and navigated to the dating site he used. He went to the Liked tab and scrolled through women he had sent a Like to, with no reply.

"Her, please," he said, directing Angel's attention to his selection. "I'd like to have a date with her tonight, down near Atlanta where she lives."

"It shall be, Tristan. Be prepared before 6 pm as you'll suddenly vanish from here and find yourself at dinner with her. Enjoy."

At 5:30 he was shaved and showered and staring at the scarce pickings in his clothes closet. Living where and how he did, his wardrobe consisted primarily of jeans and t-shirts. When he'd lost 50 pounds 7 years ago, he donated all his dress slacks and the like. "Angel?" he called.

She came into the closet with him, oblivious to the fact that he wore nothing but boxer briefs. "How may I help, Tristan?"

"I need something to wear tonight. Can you suggest something and make it be?" he beseeched.

"Certainly." She snapped her fingers and six pairs of slacks and ten button down shirts appeared on hangers. "Having reviewed her social media, I would suggest these," she said, picking out a nice pair of dark gray dress slacks and a light blue shirt.

He took them and, adding black socks he grabbed the penny loafers he'd had since he worked before retirement.

"Oh no! Those will never do," Angel said. "Toss those into the donation box. Take these," snapping her fingers and handing him the brand new dress shoes that appeared in her hand.

The clock hit six and he instantly found himself at the hostess station of the restaurant Angel had set the date for. He explained that he was meeting his date here and the hostess said, "Bonnie? I've just seated her. Please follow me."

When they reached the table he was struck with the realization that Bonnie was much more beautiful than her profile pics showed. Reaching out to take her hand he leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I am so pleased to finally meet you, Bonnie."

She looked up at him and he saw something pass across her face.

He sat and they ordered drinks and appetizers. Conversation flowed easily, and with each topic they seemed to relate to, and become more comfortable with, one another. This was rapidly becoming the best first date he'd ever had.

They finished dinner and she encouraged him to accompany her to a club she enjoyed. He followed her in his car, giving him the opportunity to call Angel.

"Angel, I need your help. She's taking me to a club and I can't dance! Can you do anything?" he pleaded.

"You may not have danced in the past but now Fred Astaire would be jealous of your ability on the floor. Enjoy," she replied before hanging up.

At the club Angel once again proved that she was the real thing. Tristan squired Bonnie around the dance floor, twirling, dipping, and spinning every which way. At one point the other dancers backed off the floor and let them use the entire space, soundly applauding when the song ended and they stopped, bowing their heads in acknowledgement and appreciation.

"Wow! You're the complete package!" Bonnie told him. "Good dresser, conversationalist, and great dancer. Do you have to get back to the mountains tonight? Someone waiting, dog needing let out, unfed parakeet?"

"None of the above," he said.

"Good. Settle up the tab and we're going to my place."

He followed her home and as soon as they walked through the front door she turned, grabbed him, and pushed their lips together. He responded and she pried his open with her tongue. He relaxed and twisted his tongue with hers, as they kissed each other passionately.

She slid her hands down to his ass and pulled it to her, pressing her loins into him. He quickly responded in the manner she was hoping for, as she felt his cock harden and press against her vulva. She pressed back against him and raised and lowered herself on her toes, simulating fucking.

Tristan knew that Angel had ensured this would end with sex, so he cast off his normal shyness and slid his hands under the hem of her skirt, running them up the back of her thighs. She groaned as he reached her bare ass cheeks and squeezed them. Sliding up higher he felt a ribbon of cloth surrounding her lower hips and realized she must be wearing a G string.

He found the strap that extended down and through her ass crack to provide the minuscule coverage of her pussy. Pulling it off to the side, he ran his fingers down from the top of her ass crack until he found her rosebud. She moaned as his fingers teased her there.

"Oh my god! Stop teasing!" she said as she broke away from him and quickly stripped off her clothes. Naked in front of him she began undressing him until he, too, was naked. "Bedroom, now, please!"

He followed her into her bedroom and she ripped back the covers of the bed. She threw herself back on the bed, spread her legs, and said "It's all yours, do as you wish."

He surprised her by laying between her legs, his face at her Y. Her pussy was already very wet, so he reached his tongue out and placed it on the bottom of her slit, then dragged it up, stopping just before reaching her clit. Her groans of disappointment made it clear she was hoping for more, and she reached her hand down intending to play with her clit herself. He saw this and grabbed her wrist, pushing her hand to her side.

Feeling naughty and sensing she enjoyed sex a bit rough, he raised up on his knees and flipped her over. He reached between her legs with his left hand and pushed his thumb into her pussy. Then he used his right hand to spank her ass, hard enough to turn it red but not inflict and damage that would last past the morning. "Oh jeeze!" was her reaction.

He moved to the other cheek and delivered a matching blow. He alternated side for side for a total of ten strikes, then pulled his thumb from her pussy. By the way she relaxed down onto the mattress he knew she'd assumed he was finished with the corporal punishment. At that moment he thrust his thumb, well lubricated with her pussy juices, into her ass.

"Fuck!" she cried out. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Her protestations fell on deaf ears as her body contradicted them, hips forcing her ass back against his thumb, trying to drive it deeper inside herself.

Smack! His hand smashed against her ass yet again as he pulled his thumb nearly out of it and then thrust in again. He kept this up until both her ass and his hand were stinging. Her ass was a delightful shade of deep red.

He pulled his thumb out and, getting off the bed, leaned down to kiss each inflamed ass cheek gently. He walked into her en suite bath and opened the cabinets until he found body lotion. Taking it back into the bed room he squeezed some out on each cheek, then gently rubbed it in.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, "he punishes and then consoles."

"Punish? Unless I miscounted you've had at least three orgasms already. Is that what you call punishment?"

"Well, don't the French call orgasms 'le petit mort', the little death? Killing me three times must surely count as punishment," she smirked.

"Well then you are in for a great deal more punishment tonight. Twenty year olds come in minutes and then get it back up quickly. Seventy year olds need time to recover, but we last a long time before that."

For the next hour and a half Tristan fucked her in every position he could think of. He was careful to slow down and take rests so he wouldn't cum too soon. Finally, he lay on his back, had her kneel between his legs, and give him a blowjob until he shot into her mouth. They actually fell asleep with his softened cock still in her mouth, although it slipped out sometime during the night.

The next morning they woke and got up. Naked, she fixed scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee and they ate. Finished, he bent her over the kitchen counter, fucked her from behind until he came inside her and then dressed and left.

"Was it everything you wanted, Tristan?" Angel asked when he walked back into the cabin.

"That, and more. Thank you, my Angel!" he said as he chastely kissed her cheek. "I'd like to do this every Friday night if you can."

"Of course I can. You merely need to show me the profiles of the women you want and I will arrange it. I exist to serve you."

For the next six weeks she did just that. On two of them, when Trist was torn between two different women, Angel arranged for them to connect and he had threesomes.

On Thursday of the seventh week, Angel said, "You haven't told me which woman you want tomorrow."

"I don't think I want you to set me up this week, Angel."

"Oh? Why not? I thought you were having great sex," she replied.

"The sex has been great, but the situations have been hollow. Let's be honest, without your intervention none of these women would even consider fucking me. It's all been a complete sham, real as it may have been. I want to find one woman who wants to share her life with me, love one another, and also have great sex, even at our age."

Angel was distraught. No Master she'd ever had cared in the least about love. Making sure they had all the sex they wanted was all she ever had to do to keep them satisfied. This was a problem for which she was completely unprepared. She began to consider him in a new view.