The Witch's Cousins

Wise boy, a gentle, amused voice spoke in the depths of his mind. His eyes widened. Was the Goddess actually speaking to him?

Not often, my son, the voice continued, but even Goddesses become weary at times, and wish to reacquaint themselves with the delights of the body.

Hilda circled him again. With a frown, she moved his legs apart so she could get a better look at his legs. She nodded slightly, happy with what she saw. Johnny had just the sort of body she most adored. Not too tall, he would not loom over her when they were standing together, or be a mismatch when they were laying down. His body was slim and solidly muscled, but not bulky like too many meatheads she saw at the gym. She ran a hand down his chest, smiling as she felt the small muscles of his stomach jump in response to her touch. Reaching around, she cupped an ass-cheek with one hand, while the fingers of the other ran softly through the sweet arrow of hair leading from his navel to his crotch.

She raised her eyes to John. "You need to understand something, cousin. You will never be able to satisfy me by yourself. Hell, I am not sure if two or three men could do it. The Goddess has blessed me, or cursed me, take your pick. My pussy is always hungry and now that I don't have to take that damn potion anymore, my sex drive is off the damn rails. So if you're expecting me to wait patiently until the Goddess, in her wisdom, decides that is time for us to screw again, well, think again.

"The truth is that I'm a horny fucking nympho and I take what I want. If Steven turns out to be someone the coven will welcome, I am going to fuck him silly. And if you get jealous about it I will laugh in your big dumb face." Her right hand, much more gentle than her voice, rubbed his cock-head delicately. The other grabbed his chin.

"So, cousin, will you be my mate?" she asked.

John took a deep breath. "I'm going to be fucking six members of my family on a daily basis. I don't see how I have any grounds for jealousy. I'm dealing with a pervy sister," here Hilda's eyes opened in happy speculation, "and a cousin who glows during sex. Having a sex-hungry cousin who is at least honest about the whole situation is a bit of a relief

"So yes, Hilda, I will be your mate, if you will have me."

"Fuck, yes," she breathed. She jumped onto the bed, lay face down, and hoisted her well-sculpted ass into the air. Her legs parted wide, and her right hand darted between her legs, where she spread her lips with well-practiced fingers to ease his entry.

"Stick that beautiful cock into me, Johnny."

John knelt behind her. He let his cock rest in the crack of Hilda's ass, and stroked her thighs with his hands. Below him, he heard Hilda sigh in exasperation. She rose up to her knees and faced him, regretting that the only thing she could grip was something she desperately needed.

"Look, lover boy," she snapped, "If you want foreplay, fine. You can touch every part of my body you can reach. But if that dick of yours is not buried in my pussy in about five seconds, I am going to walk out of here and fuck the first man I see, and I don't care if he is sixteen years old or sixty.

"You might think that men get horny. But you have no idea about the need for cock that I have right now. So take your oh-so-sweet gentleness and toss it right out the Goddess-damned window.

"Fuck me. Right now."

Hilda's harsh voice did something to John. For one of the first times in his life, he got angry with his cousin. With a growl, he pushed her back down onto the bed, one hand on the small of her back. Not even stopping to coat his cock to make his entrance easier, he shoved himself hilt-deep into her.

Oh Goddess! Both of them sighed in rapture as they joined. Hilda's ass rose obscenely, taut cheeks taunting John, urging him to more and more violent thrusts. John's fingers clenched spasmodically on her hips, using them as handles to lever himself violently into Hilda's sucking heat.

"Harder, Johnny," she begged. "I need it hard."

John closed his eyes and threw off his customary gentleness. His strokes sped up, his belly slapping Hilda's ass with ever-increasing strength and speed. He removed his hand from her neck and curled it around her ribs, seeking the firm globes of her breasts. Hilda rolled slightly to her side to give him access and groaned as his fingers firmly pinched one nipple.

Suddenly Hilda's hips bucked violently. "Oh, Oh! Oh John I'm coming!" Her hand reached back, flailing, caught his, and ground down with crushing force. At the same time, the muscles of her womb caught his phallus in a mighty squeeze. Knowing without words what she would want, he drove past and through her orgasm, increasing her pleasure.

Hilda went limp on the bed, and John slowed down slightly. "Goddess, that was quick," he commented. He continued to pump into her, mesmerized by the sight of his penis disappearing and reappearing amid her beautiful folds.

"Are you kidding?" Hilda sighed softly, voice blurry with satisfaction. "I've been on the edge for the last two days. I had to frig myself three times before I was able to sleep last night. You could've got me off just by sucking on my nips, if I had let you do it.

"No, don't stop," she moaned, in response to his slower pace. "I like this bit even more, when you work me up to my second come." Her hand stole down to her crotch, and her could feel her skillful fingers on his cock as she played with her love-button and her lips, fervidly stoking her passion to a fever pitch again.

John pitched forward, bracing himself on one arm with his head near hers.

"What if I do stop?" he asked teasingly, mouth tickling her ear.

"Then get your tongue ready," Hilda gasped, "cause you're going to make me come so many times I lose count."

John continued to screw her. Long, slow strokes, different from the savage pounding he had given her moments before. She could feel her second orgasm building, and blessed the Goddess for the ease and frequency with which she reached a woman's delight. Wantonly, she spread her arms and legs wide, head down, eyes unfocused, mind occupied with the marvelous feelings John was bringing her.

John, in turn, was lost in Hilda's lushness. Her open lust, completely unfettered, affected him on a primal level. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her spine, hands roaming over every part of her he could reach. Withdrawing himself from her for a moment, he ignored her short moan of loss, and flipped Hilda onto her back.

"Much better," he grinned. He lifted her thighs and plowed back into her heated core once more. Elbows beside her shoulders, he bent his head for a long, leisurely kiss that left them both gasping, then moved down to her breasts, shaking only slightly, in rhythm with his thrusts.

"What was that you said a few minutes ago? That I could get you off just by sucking on your gorgeous tits? Let's see if that's true." Letting his hips take over the mindless work of sawing into Hilda's pussy, he bowed his head and worshiped at the altar of her stupendous breasts. His hands cradled the amazing globes, while his mouth worked on the nipples, kissing, licking, flicking, and nibbling.

Yes, that's it, my child. The voice spoke again. My power is strong within her. And that of her ultimate grandmother. Wicked, wanton, woman, to want so much.

Shunting the teasing voice to one side, John brought all that he had learned over the last, Goddess, has it only been two days? to the task, and he was quickly rewarded. Her moans grew deeper, more guttural. Her hands came up to clench at his hair, holding him in place, or guiding him to where she needed his lips to be. Her back arched, demanding that he suck more and more of her succulent woman-flesh into his ravenous mouth. In response, the muscles of his cock tightened, balls drawing up close to his body. As he finally released his seed into her, Hilda came again, shouting her passion skyward as he spurted deep within her.

As John climaxed, thirty miles away, a mid-level executive for Iowa Independent Electric, who had though he was merely marking time until retirement, had a revelation. He spent the next fifteen years working to install cheap wind and solar power throughout the Midwest. By the time of his death, he had reduced the carbon footprint of small towns and cities in Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana by over forty percent, and through his efforts to hire locally, saved dozens of small farm towns from extinction.

Chapter 9

Steve Johnson was wasting his time.

Which was exactly what he wanted to do.

Delirious with happiness after his conversation with Claire Chamberlain, ecstatic at the prospect of escaping the prison which had been his existence for the last seven years, he had spent all night plotting his escape. His clothes were packed in cardboard boxes which he had filched from behind a liquor store. So, too, were the few books which had escaped Calvin's regular purges. The rest of his belongings, mainly toiletries, were stuffed into a canvas knapsack which lay beside his sorry excuse for a bed.

He had sat through Reverend Grant's sermon at the church, one which he had heard before on a dozen different locations at seven different churches, though Steve had to admit that this one was even more spittle-flecked and incoherent than usual. He had noted, with grim amusement, the wary looks that the parishioners were giving each other, as unease at Grant's unhinged language took hold.

You'll learn, he thought, You'll learn, just like the rest of them. Grant, when he chose, could appear sane, rational, even charming. But once he had a job, the rot set in, and he grew more and more offensive to anyone who had a thought which was contrary to his own beliefs. And sometimes sooner, sometimes later, he would be asked to leave. Sometimes politely, usually not.

Once back at the house which Grant and his pale wife, Rachel, had rented, near the Tabernacle of the Blessed Savior, Steve had struck quickly. Not even bothering to change out of his restricting church clothes, he had grabbed a mighty pile of pamphlets and announced his intention to go out and distribute them in the business district.

Grant gave him a glare under his eyelids, and for one heart-stopping moment, Steve was terrified that the sanctimonious prick had somehow learned of his plan and was going to stop him. However, he had dismissed him with a curt nod, and Steve had made his escape, driving downtown in the old Ford truck which had hauled their meager household up from Oklahoma.

Just a little longer, Steve thought. He had already idled away a couple hours in a coffee shop and it was past three o'clock. When Grant and poor lost Rachel left the house for the afternoon service, he would come back to the house, load up his stuff into the truck, and go to Claire's house. Even if she somehow decided that she wouldn't rent the basement to him, he wouldn't spend one more night under Grant's roof. Better homeless, he thought, feeling the bruises on his calves and back, than one more night under his control.

A block ahead, he saw a car pull up to a shop. A small, shapely woman, long black hair floating like a banner in the warm summer breeze, got out and heaved a box out of the trunk. Slamming the lid viciously, she opened the door of the shop and hauled her load in.

Looks like one place is open at least, Steve thought. He had been spectacularly, gloriously unconcerned about the fact that he couldn't distribute pamphlets in closed stores. Walking up to the store, he stared at the sign in surprise.

Chamberlain's Antiques, Used Books, and Oddities, he read. Could that have been Claire Chamberlain herself who had just seen enter the store? Dumping the remaining pamphlets into a handy recycling bin, he pushed the door open and entered, not even seeing the "Closed" sign next to the entrance.

There was no one at the front counter. Shrugging, he wandered into the back of the store until he came upon shelf after shelf of used books. And stopped, entranced.

@@@

Eleanor Chamberlain was frustrated, horny, and pissed.

Three times, she fumed. Three times I've been passed over. She shoved the hated bottles of potion into the small refrigerator in the break room and slammed the door shut. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. She had not slept well the last two nights, driven to distraction by the sexual urges that John's crossing had brought upon all of them.

She turned her back and leaned against the fridge. She tried very hard not to be jealous of her sister, who had mated with John on the first night, or her two cousins, who had been chosen over the last two days. Or her mother, who John had screwed without even needing to mate with.

Tomorrow, she thought. I have to be chosen tomorrow. But waiting for tomorrow did little good when she wanted to fuck her brother now.

She wandered back into the main area. She decided that she might as well spend some time in the store. She couldn't bear the thought of another interminable afternoon in her small house. She had already taken care of her papers and set up her lesson plans for the next week. Settling at the front desk, she turned on the computer. After scanning through her usual websites, she quickly grew bored again.

One way to cure that, Eleanor thought with a small smile. She typed in the web address of her favorite porn site and clicked on one of the highest-rated new submissions. Rising slightly in her chair, she pushed down her panties and hiked up her skirt so she could have free access to her pussy.

Thank the Goddess Mom and Aunt Sybil were willing to pay for high-quality DSL, she thought happily, only moments later. She watched a well-hung young stud ram into a surgically-enhanced bottle-blonde and moaned softly. She raised her legs up until they were resting on the desk and wriggled down into a more comfortable position. The petals of her sex were already unfurling, and her dancing finger unerringly found her swollen love-bud. She closed her eyes, the soft groans from the speakers serving as a goad for her lust, as she pictured her first time with her mate.

It has to be tomorrow, she thought hazily, doesn't it? The Goddess would not be so cruel as to keep her from her brother for another day. She knew that Johnny would have to screw Aunt Sybil to serve as a channel for her erotic power, but he would not be mating with her.

I will be next, she thought, and forced herself to relax. She thought of the best way to welcome Johnny into her body. Susanna would have had no time to prepare. Agatha was too crippled by self-doubt to try anything strange yet. Hilda? Well, Hilda was definitely the most well-traveled in the country of lust, but Eleanor suspected that today she would be as direct as a cat in heat. A picture came to her mind, and unbidden, the muscles of her womb tightened around her finger as she neared climax. Her free hand pawed at her breasts and her stomach rippled.

Close, Oh goddess, I'm so close, she thought.

And then she bolted suddenly upright in her chair, feet falling to the floor, as the clattering sound of falling books came to her from the back of the store.

"What the blue fuck was that?"

@@@

Steve hadn't meant to knock over the pile of books. He had been so excited about seeing so much quality sci-fi and fantasy in one place he had simply stumbled into a side table heaped with used hardbacks, Clarke and Asimov from what he could see now tumbled on the floor.

God, this store had everything! Avaricious eyes ran down the list of authors in the five huge bookshelves crammed against the back wall. He thought sadly of his tiny collection of books. He had managed to keep some of the Heinlein juveniles, but almost everything else had been ruthlessly thrown out. Even his attempts to convince Grant that Tolkien and Lewis had been devout Catholics had been met with scorn, since according to Grant's fundamentalist creed Catholics were going to hell just like everyone else.

Butcher, Carey, Cook, Feist, Heinlein, Herbert, Lackey, Lee, LeGuin, Martin, Pratchett, Scalzi, Tolkien, Weber, Williams...Holy Crap, there's Rothfuss and Tonya Huff, too!

A disembodied voice floated from the front, sounding supremely annoyed.

"What the blue fuck was that?"

Steven frowned for a moment then shook his head. None of his business. His fingers itched as he tried to think of which of the books his thin wallet could afford. Or maybe he should come back later, when he had some more money?

Wait! This place might be owned by Claire Chamberlain herself. Maybe she would just let me borrow the books like a library.

"Oooof!!"

He was hauled around so quickly his head spun, to look down into the angry face of a woman a few years older than himself. Black hair floated around her cute face like a cloud, but she was frowning up at him in anger. He recognized her from when he had seen her walk into the store a little before, and she didn't look any happier now than she had earlier.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she snapped.

"Ummm. I....walked in?" he said, confused.

"The store is closed. Didn't you see the sign?"

"Closed? Aww....cripes. I'm really sorry." He tried to smile apologetically, but her scowl didn't ease up. "I saw you walk in, and I thought the store was open. I didn't even notice the sign. I'm sorry to bother you." He tried another tack. "You wouldn't be Claire Chamberlain, would you?"

"No, I'm Eleanor Chamberlain. Claire is...well...my mother. I help out here sometimes. I was just dropping off some stuff and should have locked up." She moved closer to Steve, and her frown was gone. "Who are you? How do you know my mom?"

"Well, I don't really know her," Steve said, "but I talked to her on the phone yesterday. My name is Steven Johnson." His face brightened. "Hey, I think I've met your cousin, though. Hilda? Tall redhead? I met her jogging yesterday. I mean, she was jogging, not me." Smooth, Steve, real smooth, his inner voice taunted him. But Eleanor kept getting closer to him. Somehow, one of the buttons on her top had come undone, and he was close enough to look down her shirt to the gentle swell of her breasts. He swallowed.

"Hildy? Yeah, she's my cousin. Loves her exercise. I like exercise, too. Just not jogging." Slowly, deliberately, she pulled back. She lifted her hands and slowly undid another button. Goddess, he smells good, she thought. Good honest sweat. Nice and polite, too. I bet he would be a fun fuck. Through the slowly descending curtain of lust, she asked, "Why were you talking to my mom?"

Steve tore his eyes away from the tempting vee of Eleanor's shirt. There was something incredibly...magnetic...about her. He blinked quickly, then said, "Well, your cousin told me that your mom had a room she might rent to me, so I called her up. I'm supposed to meet her later this afternoon for a kind of interview, I guess. I hope everything goes well. I really need to get out of the situation I am in. Hey, are you all right?"

Eleanor had gone deathly pale. She swayed on her feet. One hand reached out and the fingers gave the other arm a vicious pinch. Closing her eyes, she focused desperately on the pain.

"Excuse me," she heard her voice say. "I need to use the restroom. I'll be back in a second." She turned and walked unsteadily away on legs that felt like stilts.

When she reached the tiny bathroom, it was all she could do to next break down screaming. She turned the cold water on in the sink to mask the sound of her low-pitched wails. Another one! Another man I can't have! She knew better than to have sex with someone else before she mated with Johnny, but this was almost too unfair! She cast her mind back to the tall, gawky teenager, his face pleasant and earnest as they spoke, and the invisible roil of power which emanated from him like light from a candle. Hilda had been right, she thought bitterly. This was a man of power. And so innocent and unaware it was like seeing one of her own kindergarten students with a flamethrower.