Just a Little Magic Ch. 12

Ri had fixed up her hair, with a top knot, and she'd gone all out with the makeup (which, to be honest, I didn't care for all that much). But she was making a special effort for me, so I made appreciative noises.

She served me tea, kneeling on her carpet at my feet (that, I have to admit, was a bit of a turn-on). When she fiddled with the top of her kimono, loosening it just a little, I got the hint. I leaned over and took her in my arms. Then I kissed her.

Ri turned her head, trying to avoid my kiss - which surprised the hell out of me, because she was broadcasting arousal on every frequency.

I pulled back, and concentrated on reading her. Shit - she had a rape fantasy. To be more accurate, it was a reluctance fantasy. She wanted to be overpowered, forced against her will to enjoy being ravished.

That was definitely not one of my fantasies. But if it was going to work for Ri ... I grabbed her head, and forced her to kiss me. She tried to squirm away, and started making her little 'Eep!' noises.

I wrenched open the top of her kimono, popping out her pretty little boobies. She turned her head (in shame?) as I roughly squeezed and played with her tits. Ri's arousal was though the roof - this was exactly what she'd been hoping for.

The kimono came loose in several key areas, but remained held in place by the obi - the wide belt. She was tangled up in the folds of her kimono - trapped, a prisoner. Yet 90% of her naked body was exposed to my sight - and to my attentions.

She chirped, and squealed, and came like a freight train as I entered her. She was having the time of her life (her only regret was that she hadn't thought to videotape the whole thing).

Fucking a woman tangled up in her own kimono wasn't exactly my idea of a good time, but I gave her my best. Ri writhed about on her bed, as I tried to nail her to the mattress. I didn't want to stain her beautiful clothes, so I came inside her, which sent her right over the edge. She was near tears as she hugged me.

- "So good." she said. "So good."

She came to my hotel the following night, wearing a karate gi with an orange belt (another of her fantasies? Or just some costume play?). I'd given considerable thought to her little cries (which made me feel like I was violating her), and how to avoid them.

I made her shower with me, first, to wash off the excessive makeup she'd put on. Then I went down on her in the shower. I couldn't hear most of her vocalizations over the running water.

After we'd dried off, I sat in a chair, and pulled her onto my lap. She was impaled on my cock, with her little boobs and ass available to my wandering hands, while I kissed her - stopping her mouth with my tongue. It was a highly satisfactory fuck, by my estimation.

***

Taiwan. Sandra hadn't changed: she was talkative, and funny. When we got around to fucking, she was just as aggressive. But there was something else - a little bit of affection.

When I licked and sucked on her nipple, she gently cradled my head. It was a very loving gesture. And when I entered her, in the missionary position, her eyes were on my face the whole time, as she tried to read my feelings through the expression on my face.

She was afraid, and highly vulnerable - a new experience for her. Sandra wanted to confess her own feelings ... so I did it first.

- "You're a beautiful woman, Sandra." I told her. "We have fantastic sex together. I don't want to spoil it, but ... I think I'm falling in love with you ..."

She didn't cry (thought it was close, for a few moments). Instead, she opened up, and told me about her medical history. Some people just get shitty cards dealt to them in life. Sandra had been poked and prodded, tested and re-tested, ever since she'd been a little girl.

The loud, cynical front she put on was just that: a front. She was afraid. The doctors and specialists all had their own pet theories; the truth was, they just didn't know what was wrong with her. One 'specialist' suggested that she should keep researching her own illness on the internet, in case new treatments, or a possible cure came about.

I held her close. That night, we became closer than we would have after half a dozen spectacular fucks.

***

Singapore. Vicky was absolutely amazed when I ended up in her 1st-class section.

- "I can't believe it!" she said. "Again?"

Once again, for several hours, I had nothing to do but read her mind as she worked. She was ready. Vicky knew that I was just as obsessed with her as she was with me. The uncanny coincidences of our encounters had finally convinced her that we were fated to be together.

She felt it - but she wasn't about to do anything. If something was going to happen between us, it wouldn't be on her initiative.

Lillian had once again booked us into the same hotel. I asked Vicky to have dinner with me - she accepted. I didn't suggest dancing again; instead, I steered her back to my room.

Vicky wasn't a true submissive (I think). But she did prefer for the man to take charge. I did. Once I had her in my room, I happily stripped her of all her clothing. I was already infatuated with her beautiful face. Her body was a revelation.

She had high, unusually-shaped breasts: they were soft, and saggy, but with large dark-brown areolas. Her skin was flawless. She had a flat stomach, and powerful thighs that made me think of a boa constrictor.

She was the ultimate canvas. Vicky let me take the lead - and then totally relinquished control. She gave herself to me - entirely. Her trust in me was absolute - and a little frightening. If I'd been a bad man, I could have hurt her.

Fortunately, Vicky hadn't made a mistake. She chose to surrender herself to someone who had only her best interests at heart. I kissed her, played with her intriguing nipples, and went down on her. She had one orgasm that way, and another as I fingered her.

She was melting, like soft ice cream, by the time I finally penetrated her. I had three excellent orgasms; I lost count of how many she had.

The next morning, Vicky surprised me by taking charge of our agenda for the day. She took me to her home, in Tuas - where I met her family.

Obviously, the consummation of our relationship meant something more to her. I met her parents, her brother and sister, 4 uncles, 5 aunts, and 17 cousins. There were other relatives, too - I just couldn't figure out the connections. Her family tree was more like a thorn bush.

Vicky was absolutely glowing. She had that 'freshly fucked and just thrilled about it' look to her. I couldn't imagine that any of her extended family were missing those signs.

I did my best. Smile. Eat whatever they put in front of you. Drink whatever they give you. Join in on all the toasts.

Vicky didn't sleep in the same room as me - not with so many family members around. The following day, she brought me back to Singapore, and submitted to me all over again.

***

India. Kavia was severely pissed off at me. She refused to have sex with me for ... a good fifteen minutes. We fucked in my hotel room, showered, and set off for her family's home in Surat. She drove like a maniac.

- "Are you trying to kill us?" I asked.

- "What's your point?"

- "If there's a convenient spot to pull over, I'll gladly go down on you there. But I'd prefer to arrive alive - if that's okay with you."

That sounded like a challenge to her. She found a scenic spot to pull over. It was private enough that I was able to eat her, and then fuck her in the car. Forget mind reading - I should've studied becoming a contortionist.

Kavia was confused.

She was demanding. Jealous. She'd never had a real boyfriend. Or a long-term relationship. She'd dated several guys, who belonged to the right social circle, and then fucked a few, who might bring her some social status points.

Kavia moved on from those ... liaisons. She might occasionally reconnect with a guy, if there was something to be gained - a few more social points, perhaps. Or if a fellow was particularly good in bed, he might be worthy of a repeat performance.

She'd never met anyone like me, obviously. Primed by Lillian's spell, she'd come to me - only to find that I was nothing like any of the men of her acquaintance. Just like Mirella, Kavia had no idea what to make of me.

She resented it - and couldn't get enough of me, at the same time.

***

Johannesburg. Esther didn't quite know how to respond. I'd been writing her letters, and Lillian had sent gifts for her mother, and for little Sunny.

She let me take her to lunch, and then brought me to her home. I took this as an indication that we were making a serious step forward. She introduced me to her mother, and to her daughter..

- "Mam, this is Mister Peter. Sunny - this is the man who sent who sent you the puzzles."

- "Hello, Mr. Peter. I did the first one. All by myself. Do you want to help me with the second one?"

- "With your permission, Gogo[1]."

Grandma smiled and nodded. Little Sunny and I worked on the puzzle together.

"I don't understand, Sunny. Why didn't you finish this one, too? You seem to be really good at puzzles."

- "I am. But Mama said I should wait until you were here so that we could this do this one together."

I can't explain it. I have no idea why I started crying. The tears were literally flowing down my cheeks.

"Mama - Mr. Peter is crying." said Sunny.

Esther started crying, too, which didn't help.

At the end of that evening, I asked Esther a question.

- "Can I come back - to see you?"

She looked down.

- "I don't understand." she said. "My old mother, my little girl. I don't understand what you want with us."

- "Esther. Your mother is a nice old lady. Sunny is an angel. But I didn't come back to see them. I came for you.. And I'll keep coming back to see you. I ... I just can't stay away."

Esther understood. Her attraction to me made no sense - which was why she didn't trust it. But when I confessed that I couldn't stop myself from being interested in her, she could relate to my irrational fixation.

- "I'll be here." she said. "But ..."

- "But?"

Esther had the courage to look me straight in the eye.

- "I am attracted to you, Peter. I don't understand why you would want a dried-up old woman like me ... No - let me finish (I'd begun to protest). You are a wonderful man, and I find myself thinking about you all of the time. I even dream of you, at night."

"But I can't change my beliefs. I can't have sex with you, Peter - however much I might want to. I won't have sex outside of marriage."

"I hope that you can understand."

*****

[1] Grandmother, in Zulu.