Font of Fertility Ch. 15

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All Characters are 18 years or older.

This story is a continuation of the Font of Fertility series. I would suggest reading Chapter 1 if you have not already. This chapter includes MFF and anal.

Jeremiah dates, dances, takes a drive and has his first actual one-night stand.

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The car key didn't have a brand symbol on it, and it didn't have any buttons for electronic locks or an alarm. It was too old for that. Or, well, 'classic' I guessed.

"Well?" Stacey asked me. "How does it work?"

I smirked and shrugged. "It's a magic car, so..."

"Magic," Stacey sighed and rolled her eyes teasingly.

I held the key firmly and did the only thing I could think of doing other than just miming keying open a car door - I focused and slipped a strand of the pool of fireworks towards the key in my mind. The strand got pulled in and narrowed, sucking up just a drop of my power, then stopped.

"Well?" Stacey asked.

"I don't know," I said. "It took a little bit of power, but I'm not sure what's actually supposed to happen."

"Does it need more? Maybe we should just call an Uber if it's going to-"

The roar of the engine echoed down the beach and off of the nearby towering hotels. It was the growling roar of power; the deep thrum of a custom, overtooled engine firing on all cylinders that you could feel somewhere in your guts and would turn heads on any road in America. Stacey jumped at the sudden burst of sound, grabbing onto my arm as we looked up and down the street.

And then the black muscle car came screaming out of the sky, coming in for a landing as it trailed fire in the air behind its tires. Its headlamps were blazing with an internal fire that was mirrored by a metallic paint job of flames across the sides and hood that seemed to flicker and move when you weren't focusing on them. The front grill looked vaguely like a sinister grin, and the hood ornament looked like a chrome rearing horse except that the head of the horse was a skull and its mane and tail were modelled as fire.

It hit the ground and bounced heavily once, coming down onto all four wheels and screeching to a halt, leaving short skidmarks that flickered with flames for a long moment. The windows were down, and despite the roar of the engine and the screech of the tires we could still hear the music blaring inside. Considering everything, I would have assumed it would be some metal music or at least a heavy classic rock tune.

Instead, as the engine quieted to a dull roar while the speakers inexplicably boomed, "But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door."

The passenger door popped open on its own, and the radio scrambled for a moment and then in a mash of various smooth and gravelly radio announcer voices said, "Who the fuck are you, youngblood? And where the hell is Ezekiel?"

Glancing around, there were people in the nearby hotel grounds and walking down the street that were looking over at us and the car, but no one seemed to be freaking out at the flying nightmare vehicle. It had to be some sort of natural magical glamour about Victorious that was obfuscating things. Mostly the people looking at us seemed annoyed just like I would be by a loud-as-hell car idling nearby. I leaned down, sticking my head into the car. "Hello, Victorious," I said, trying my best to put on a commanding and assured tone. "Ezekiel's dead, and he passed down your key to me. My name is Jeremiah Grant and I'm the new Seat of Fertility. I was wondering if you'd like to party with my beautiful girlfriend Stacey and I here in Miami."

"He just passed off my key?!" the radio voices said. "How long ago did he die?"

"About eighteen years, give or take a few months," I said.

"And that little bitch Adama didn't come try and find me?" Victorious said. "I've been locked in that fucking garage for almost twenty years!"

"Uh, from the way she talked, she seemed to want to leave you there," I said. "But I think that's something we can handle later. Mind if we get in?"

Victorious didn't have eyes or eyebrows, at least that I knew of, but I got the impression that he narrowed his gaze for a moment. "Fine," he said. "Fillies first, though."

I snorted and turned to Stacey with a smirk, offering her my hand to help her in. "Filly?"

"I'll take it from the car, but not from you, nerd," she chuckled, taking my hand and giving me a quick kiss before letting me help her down onto the leather seat. The door shut by itself, making me pull away, and as I walked around the hood of the car I could hear the radio voices saying something to Stacey. By the time I got to the driver's side door, Stacey was laughing along with the radio voices.

"Please tell me you two aren't plotting against me," I said.

The door popped open for me and I slid in.

"Don't worry, Jeremiah Grant," the radio voices said. "Your filly doesn't have the trunk space that I like. I just wanted to make sure you weren't some limp dick."

Stacey scoffed and slapped the dash. "My ass is fantastic and you know it, Vicky."

Vicky? Really? I thought.

"I used to be a horse, filly," Victorious said. "Your rump is about a quarter the size I would have wanted then, and now I like a big, fat Cadillac caboose."

The mysteries of how a magical nightmare car decided on what was sexually attractive about other cars was something I didn't want to try and tackle. Maybe at some point I would look at helping him pick up a 'Cadillac filly' to... park next to him?

"So..." I said, trailing off for a moment. "You good, Victorious?" I hadn't thought this far ahead and now I was struggling to figure out how to interact in the situation.

"Just tell me this," Victorious said. "Are you planning on riding into battle, conquering your enemies and claiming your herd?"

"Yes," I said. I mean, what else was I going to say? "I already have an enemy to hunt down, a burgeoning harem, and I'm planning on romancing and then claiming Stacey over and over tonight."

"And over," Stacey grinned. The front seat was actually a bench seat, and she slid across and slipped her arm around my shoulder and leaned in to kiss me, her other hand landing in my lap and rubbing my crotch.

Victorious' engine thrummed. "Good! And don't worry, if you need to use the back seat I promise not to watch. Your puny human bodies do nothing for me."

I hadn't been considering having sex in the back seat of the sentient car, but that was good news I guess.

"Alright, well... Do I drive, or do you drive?" I asked.

The radio gave a staticy snort. "I always drive, Jeremiah Grant. If you pick up a filly who doesn't know about our world you can pretend to drive me."

"Fair," I said and laughed.

"Where are we going?" Victorious asked.

"I'm interested to hear that as well," Stacey said, still snuggled up next to me.

I shifted and pulled out my phone from my pocket, thumbing it open and finding my Maps app. I read off the address I had saved. "Bring us there, please," I said. "But first we'd like to do some cruising around if you don't mind."

"Cruising around and showing off is my second favourite pastime, right behind a thundering charge straight into battle with a bitter enemy, squashing them under my treads and splattering them across my grill."

Within moments Victorious had pulled away from the curb and was starting to slowly drive us down the beach street, his motor thrumming as 'I Would Walk 500 Miles' cut back on.

"I've gotta ask," Stacey said. "I love the choice of song, but it doesn't really match your aesthetic."

"It's the perfect romantic song," Victorious said, cutting off the song to speak. "To travel such a distance with puny human strides? To swear to stand by your filly through celebration and difficulties? It makes them prime for breeding."

"I was with you right to the breeding part, " Stacey laughed. "Though I'd never thought of this song as being a great romance before. It's just a great song to sing with a drunk crowd."

The song cut back on again, starting from the beginning, and Victorious gunned his engine for a moment.

I had to say, trolling the Miami beach and downtown with the windows down in a hotrod made me feel like a king. People would turn and stare, flashing thumbs up or jealous looks in equal measure. Women would try and catch a glance at who was driving. Even Victorious' eclectic music choices seemed to be perfectly suited to attracting attention, balancing between strip club themes and oddly romantic ballads and drinking songs.

Somehow he timed the drive to perfectly end as 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light' came to a close, pulling us into a parking lot across the street from the dingy little hole-in-the-wall bar illuminated by a few pot lights and an old neon sign calling it El Pequeño Baile. The front door was standing open and a moderate crowd was inside the colourfully lighted interior, and music was spilling out onto the street.

"Hmph," Victorious grunted through his radio, the feeling mirrored by a cough of the exhaust as the engine thrummed and cut off.

"Something wrong with my choice?" I asked.

"It looks dingy," Victorious said. "I've seen nicer mead halls."

"It's perfect," Stacey said. She hadn't left her position next to me, and she was grinning widely as she looked over.

"Will you be fine out here?" I asked Victorious.

"Are you coming back?" he countered.

"Absolutely," I said.

"Vicky, pouting isn't very manly," Stacey chided him.

He grunted again. "Just thought I should check. The last time a Seat walked away from me I ended up locked in the sub-basement of a parking garage for two decades."

"Look at it this way," I said. "If I don't come back, I'm dead and fully expect you to avenge me."

"This I can swear," he boomed with a laugh. "Enjoy your night out, Jeremiah Grant and his filly."

"Call me Stacey, or I'll start stashing some of my feminine hygiene products in your glove box," she said.

"Stacey," Victorious grunted.

"Good Vicky," she smirked, patting the dash.

I hopped out and jogged around the front, opening Stacey's door for her and helping her out. As she stood she pressed herself to me and tilted her chin up for a kiss.

"Thanks for this," she whispered.

"Are you ready to dance?" I asked her.

She grinned and nodded, and we crossed the street and entered the bar. The inside was tightly packed with tables and booths around most of the walls except for the cramped bar and the small stage where a small live band of older Cuban gentlemen were playing a dance tune. The place was about half full, with a couple of pretty Cuban bartenders working casually behind the bar, and four couples using the small dance floor. The entire place was lit by blue and red coloured lights and candles on each of the tables.

Stacey led me by the hand to the bar, leaning over and calling an order to one of the bartenders. She was a very pretty woman wearing a short dress that showed off a nice little package of cleavage from a pushup bra. She had a playful, soft smile and intelligent eyes as she looked us over quickly, and she asked for ID from Stacey.

Stace fished in her beach bag and pulled out her wallet, flashing a fake ID that said she was twenty-two. The bartender examined it closely, then handed it back over and exchanged a few words with Stacey that I couldn't hear over the music. Then the bartender went to work, mixing a cocktail of some sort and Stacey turned back to me, kissing me softly and then bringing her lips to my ear.

"She's cute," she said.

"You're cuter," I said back, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her to me.

Stacey kissed me, then turned back to the bar and waited a moment longer for our drinks. She slid a twenty onto the bar, thanked the woman and then handed me one of the fancy drinks. We clinked glasses in a cheers to us, and then both took a sip. Whatever she'd ordered, it was fruity and I could feel the alcohol more than taste it.

"Like it?" she asked me.

"Dangerously tasty," I said, coughing just a little as a burn in my throat hit me for a moment.

"Wait, is this your first drink?" Stacey asked me, pulling me out among the tables to find us a seat.

"I mean, I've had a beer before with Lauren and the guys."

"But like, your first drink," she clarified. "First liquor."

"Maybe," I said. "God, Lauren is gonna be mad."

"Pshh, I'll deal with that," Stacey said, rubbing my arm as we sat down. "Fuck, we need to do a shot as well. If this wasn't a date I'd make you drink a Pornstar or a Blowjob, but we'll do something sexier."

"Thanks," I laughed. We sat and listened to the music for a bit, sipping our cocktails and watching the dancers. I could tell that Stacey was itching to hit the dance floor, and as soon as our drinks were finished she was tugging me towards an open corner.

As soon as I had her in my arms I knew I was going to need more than the couple of youtube tutorials I'd watched to get the dancing down. Stacey wasn't exactly knowledgeable either, and we laughed together through our first song as we tried to mimic what the other dancers were doing.

As the band finished their song, Stacey hugged me.

"Need some help?"

We both turned and realized the pretty bartender was standing a pace away, smiling warmly. Her dress was short, maybe only long enough to cover her bum, but she had on tight pants with the shimmery 'wet look' like leather and staggeringly tall black heels that I could only think were totally impractical behind a bar.

"You two are so cute, but obviously don't know what you're doing," she continued, her accent moderately strong but easy to understand. "My shift just ended, want a quick tutorial?"

"That would be so great," Stacey grinned.

Soon we were getting a crash course on the basic steps of salsa and rumba. First the bartender taught us the steps together, then she recruited a nearby older gentleman with a broad smile and a jolly look to him to lead Stacey while the bartender showed me how to lead. Stacey and I kept glancing over at each other, grinning and laughing along with our impromptu partners and tutors, and at the same time I was quickly getting comfortable with the sexy, slender bartender moving and spinning in my hands.

We locked eyes multiple times, her warm brown irises looking at me through black strands of her hair. Her smile was quick and small, and she had a tendency to touch her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue when she was pleased with something I did.

The thing was, I was still dancing barely beyond having two left feet, and glancing over Stacey was a little more naturally inclined but was still a beginner herself. The flash of her request, wanting to dance under the lights of a sweaty salsa club and have people watch us and think how in love and lust we were, flashed through my mind and I knew I wanted to make sure that happened. If we continued as we were, we'd likely come away with the basic steps and plenty of practice ahead of us so we could maybe, possibly find that goal in the future.

But I was a fucking Sex Wizard. 'Maybe, possibly in the future' didn't need to be our standard.

So in between dances, as the bartender showed Stacey something and the older gentleman was showing me where I should be focusing my attention, I instead let my focus slip. A spell quickly formed, not to just 'learn how to dance' because that would take too much power with the generality of it, and it would also look weird to these kind people who were helping us out. Instead, I cast a spell on Stacey and myself that, for the next two hours and in this location, we could perfectly learn kinetically and through teaching.

"Let's try it again," I said as the spell was absorbed into my pool of power. All of the limitations I had put on it meant the spell used about the amount of power I'd likely gain from a good blowjob from one of my girls - and that thought made me wonder if I should have let go of Lindsey's quantifications because I was starting to view spells in terms of what sex acts they would require. It was like considering buying something based on how many hours I would need to work at a part-time job.

We started dancing again, me with the bartender and Stacey with the older gentleman, and both of us seemed to magically 'click' and start understanding things. The bartender was smiling a lot more now, encouraging me and coaching me on some fancier moves. The next song the older guy went back to his own partner and their drinks, and the bartender coached both Stacey and I as we danced together.

Stace kissed me at the end of the dance and gave me a look that said she wasn't sure what I did, but knew I'd done something. She then stepped away and offered my hand to the bartender, and I danced with her again. Then back to Stacey. Soon, between the coaching and picking up tricks from the other more experienced dancers, Stacey and I were dancing close and naturally. We would stare into each other eyes, our lips an inch apart, our bodies brushing back and forth between spins and steps.

Then, every two or three dances, Stacey made it a point to offer me back to the bartender and watch us.

It wasn't as natural. Wasn't as pure. But she felt good, and she was skilled, and she wasn't afraid of getting close. It was sensual and lustful. She was a beautiful woman, her features striking and her expression shifting through different playful and sensual expressions.

Then, when the song ended, she'd kiss me on the cheek and pass me back to Stacey.

In no time, three hours had passed. Stacey kissed me on the dance floor at the end of another dance and then turned to the bartender but instead of handing me off to her she leaned close and whispered to her. Then I was getting pulled towards the bar and our bartender friend slipped behind it and poured three shots of tequila. We clinked glasses and downed the shots - they were clear but other than that and the warm burn as I drank it, I had no idea what I was drinking.

Then Stacey kissed me, and surreptitiously squeezed my ass with one hand, and they both disappeared off to the washroom together.

I sat on a stool at the bar, and only then realized how sweaty I was and had to laugh to myself. I'd lost track of time, and I'd lost track of how much effort I'd been putting out. It was handy to have a magically created physique - three weeks ago I would have probably gassed out in the first thirty minutes and needed a break. We'd been dancing for three hours!

Stacey and the bartender came back out of the washroom after about five minutes, and Stacey sauntered around the crowded tables and stepped right up and slid next to me to kiss me. Then she pressed her lips to my ear. "Her name is Amara, and you're going to kiss her," she whispered.

I pulled away and glanced at Stacey with a raised eyebrow, and she winked at me and nodded. When I turned back to Amara the bartender, the woman stepped close to my other side and closed the distance between our lips. She hesitated, right at the end, and I finished closing the distance to take command of the kiss. Amara kissed firmly, her tongue teasing my lip for a long moment before the kiss deepened. When she finally pulled away she softly panted, her tongue on her bottom lip again, but I moved forward and kissed her again, shorter but rougher as I took her lower lip between my teeth and softly tugged on it for a moment.

"Nice to meet you, Amara," I finally said once we separated.

"You too," she grinned, then turned to Stacey and nodded.

Amara went behind the bar and fetched her purse, and then we were heading towards the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked Stacey.

"Amara asked if I was interested in sharing you for more than a dance," Stacey answered me quietly as we followed the Cuban woman. "I said yes, and she said she wanted to make sure of the sexual chemistry and kiss you first."