tagSci-Fi & FantasyA Magic Castle Ch. 02

A Magic Castle Ch. 02


Jus8tine helped with editing this, the second of two my wife wrote for me. It has been modified for posting on Literotica. If you haven't read Ch. 01, let me invite you to do so. We appreciate your comments and encouragement. I have been assigned to write Chap. 03 and should post it soon. Thanks for reading.


We awake naked in a tangle of downy comforters as the light of early afternoon sifts through the gaps in the velvet curtains of our bed.

"Morning," you whisper.

I toss my long red hair onto the pillow and turn to look at you, finally rested after two days of running all over London, seven-hour jetlag and magical floating spinning tumbling midair sex thanks to the wand on loan to us for our stay. I'm rested too, and shoot you a smile to let you know that I'm ready and willing to do it all again.

But first we're hungry. I lean over the bed and reach a pile of clothing that we shed earlier. I brush aside my bra and wiggle into my pullover sweater and toss you your jeans and flannel shirt. I ring the bell. Instantly, the house elf appears catching you naked in the middle of the room, your clothes scattered at your feet. With only my sweater on, I pull down the front to hide my still warm orifice, but not without having flashed her a view she could not have missed. But at least I'm covered now.

With nowhere to hide, you freeze with unabashed boldness. In our awkward silence, Mitzi, our house elf, surveys the firm ripples of your trim muscular body. I can't help being amused as the already enormous eyes of this pitiful, harmless creature grow wider.

"Mitzi?" I say to her.

"Yes, Miss Monica?" she replies in a soft squeaky high-pitched voice without shifting her gaze.

"That was a pretty fast response..." I trail off as my offering of an excuse fails to turn into the apology I intended.

"Mitzi is ready... to serve her masters, Miss."

"Give us about a minute to dress, and then would you take us to the dining hall?" I hoped she wouldn't notice your semen now trickling slowly down my bare thigh.

"Yes, Miss," she answers as she slowly withdraws from the room.

As the doors close, we look at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. Slowly we begin to grin and simultaneously we break into laughter. We finish pulling on our clothes, just as Mitzi bursts into the room, leaping with excitement at her assignment as our guide to the dining hall. She seemingly has forgotten what transpired moments before. Elves are exuberant creatures. I guess that we must be the first muggles she's ever met, and for her it's all quite a novelty, especially seeing more than any of us expected.

She leaps for the doorknob, but can't quite reach it. You help her by opening the 10-foot high ancient portal. I reach out to the bureau behind you and grab the wand and a small pouch, slipping them into my jacket pocket unawares to you. I hide a sly smile as we leave our room. We move down the hall as Mitzi bounces back and forth, from one side of the corridor to the other, jumping up and down.

"Pumpernickel," the elf tells a portrait of two peasant children jumping in a hayloft. The children stop chasing each other long enough to open the door.

We follow the elf into a vast room with stars on the ceiling. Hundreds of candles, suspended in mid-air, supply the room's only light. Seated at about twenty small round tables, are other couples, fellow guests in the Magic Castle. We are lead to a table tucked in the corner near the front of the room.

I pull out the pouch from my jacket pocket and giggle at it.

"What's that?" you want to know.

I giggle some more and push it into my lap. I'm not about to spill my plans, in part because my idea may be beyond what is possible, even with magic.

A frail, bearded wizard in a tall, pointy hat presides over the dining hall from a head table on a platform. I point at him discreetly as I lean over to tell you. He's Aryn Jubilence, the proprietor of the Magic Castle and a very famous wizard, according to the flakey travel agent who got us here. Other 'wizards' and 'witches' chat amicably one with another as they lunch.

We help ourselves to a big table for two, set especially for us. The long white cloth covering it sparkles as a candle arrangement overhead suddenly pops to life to welcome us, and a spray of springtime flowers tied with a bow to match the tablecloth appears as a centerpiece. Silver-covered dishes adorn the table and a basket on a stand holds a wine bottle set in ice.

You reach for the bottle and uncork it with a silver corkscrew resting on a pile of ice. Before you pour, you pause to read the tattered label that has aged brown.

"What does it say?" I wonder.

"I don't know. It's in Hebrew and hand written, and very, very old," you say as you study the curious paper.

You tip the bottle, and a deep red liquid fills my goblet, then yours. We lift our goblets. "To surprises," I say, sipping with a mischievous grin that leaves you to wonder.

The wine is very rich and fragrant. Its taste is full and a little sweet. You lift a dish cover, then another. Each releases a waft of steam as you set each cover aside. Under them is a personal banquet in a marvelous array. We savor each delicious morsel, slowly absorbing the wonderful flavor of each bite.

We're half-way done with our meal when the old wizard appears at our table.

"Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Andrews," he says, his arms spread before him in greeting. "We are honored with your presence."

You rise from your chair to shake hands with the wizard. "The honor, Mr. Jubilence, is ours."

He nods toward the wine on our table. "I see you've tasted the vintage AD 30 of Cana, Palestine. Our welcoming committee chose it for you. Is it not better still than the reputation that precedes it?"

My eyes get big. You just smile. We both want to ask how he obtained the wine, but he's Aryn Jubilence. If he told us how, we probably wouldn't understand anyway.

"Yes, Sir, it's wonderful," you manage to say. I'm glad, because I'm still speechless. Jubilence seems pleased that his surprise has been well-received.

"I'll leave you, then, to your anniversary celebration," he tells us, a smile creasing the wrinkles of his usually serious face. "Wedding wine from Palestine then is indeed appropriate for the occasion." He winks and leaves.

I'm still speechless. You raise your goblet, and I raise mine. "To our love: rich and timeless," you say, and we touch our goblets.

The meal is splendid, but I'm eager for dessert, maybe a little over-eager. A pair of elves clears our dishes. Then a third brings a single dome of silver and places it in the center of our table. He lifts the cover and then disappears with it.

It's pumpkin pie. You reach for the silver pie server but I stop you. From my lap I pull the small pouch. Within it is a shimmering piece of fabric. I raise it and shake to unfold it over the floor beside me, spreading in my hands. I drop the invisibility cloak over my head. I can tell by your expression, that it worked.

"Monica? Where'd you go?"

I giggle. "Nowhere you won't be going with me."

I pull the wand out of my pocket.

"Levantum," I say, and I rise about two feet off the ground. The cloak securely in place, I remove my cloths, discreetly lift the tablecloth and shove them under the table. Then I flip upside-down in the cloak. To my relief, the wand allows me to float gravity-free, so my blood doesn't rush to my head. "Atrasum," I whisper, and I feel myself move just over the table. I slice a small piece of pie and rest it between my legs. Then I add a large pile of whipping cream. It covers my entire pubic region like a cool hand.

"Time for dessert," I say. I hover over you as you are still seated in the chair. With a shake of the wand, you begin to rise. The cloak hides you completely, and as you rise within it, you suddenly see me, nude and inverted. We kiss deeply. I smile as I push you away from my mouth and guide you to the pie. We rise above the room, invisible.

I feel your mouth nibble at the pie, as I unfasten your pants. I'm not surprised to find you erect. I lick the little trickle of semen that has begun to escape. I won't be missing out on my dessert as you enjoy yours.

It's dark and warm high above this windowless hall, except for the stars twinkling around us. People in the crowded room are far below us. I grip your penis with the hardest suction my mouth can produce. You crush your mouth on top of the pie in response, gulping the sweet cream and pumpkin to get at the treasure buried beneath. I thrust my mouth back and forth on your penis. Soon the food part of your dessert is finished, and you begin to consume me.

You caress my naked upside-down torso, gliding your fingers lightly over my back as we continue to grip one another around the waist, oblivious, this time, to the vast height below us. One hand lightly strokes my bare bottom. A finger trails through my crack and I spread my legs for you. I want you to have total access to whatever part of my body pleases you.

"Girium!" I command of the wand, and we begin to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I flick my tongue over the sensitive tip of your hard-on as I fondle your testicles, and you nibble my lips. We rotate to a horizontal position, still spinning, still eating, a whirl of entangled bodies at least 50 feet above the floor. I gasp as you suddenly begin sucking my clitoris. I thrust myself to your mouth. You lick and suck my hard button as a stray finger begins caressing my tender anus. A spark fires straight through to my burning nub.

Spontaneously, we begin thrusting each other with our mouths, hard. I can't last as I begin exploding in orgasm. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" I gasp, repeating my urgent plea over and over. I feel your hardness twitching in my mouth and prepare for the coming flood. You explode in my mouth as I try to swallow all of the fluid pouring into my already full mouth. I gasp and swallow as your eruption continues for at least a minute.

As we end our passion, we float gently back to our table on the floor of the vast hall, our cloak still in place over us. You reach to me and kiss me. My mouth still seasoned with your seed. You lick away a stream of your own cum from my cheek and look at me adoringly. It takes three gulps to swallow your semen, filling myself with you. I giggle, then reach around your neck and kiss you, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue.

You grab the goblets and wine as I reach for the bundle of clothes under the table. It's clear we're invisible; a naked woman, hair and face streaked with semen, would otherwise attract some attention. We rise again from our table and float just a few feet above the heads of the lunching wizards, oblivious to what we had done four stories above their heads. You grab me around the waist, invisibility cloak still in place, and we float by the head table where teachers are seated, talking amongst themselves as they sip their coffee after finishing their meals.

We ponder what we had just gotten away with in public as we float toward the archway that leads to our room. I could get used to this. Just think of what we could do, sight unseen, with no clothes on.

I glance at Aryn Jubilence before we leave. We've just sucked each other off 50 feet over his head, and he was none the wiser.

Suddenly, as you guide us out the archway, I see Jubilence turn his head our way. His gaze meets mine.

He lifts his coffee up in toast: "To the invisibility cloak," he says, winking. "And to the discovery of its many wonderful uses."

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