May 042016
 

There is magic in books. A good writer pours their heart and soul into a book. A bad writer puts in whatever it takes to fulfill their obligations. Both of these have power. Readers add their own energy as their expectations are either exceeded or failed. The book often absorbs the energy of the books it sits beside, soaking in strange influences like a literary marinade.

Every book lover who walks into a bookstore can feel this power. Every child who beholds a library for the first time knows this truth. Even those who don’t like to read recognize this power and their jealousy causes them to scorn those who do read.

Books about magic are no exception with regards to these energies. The only difference is that they sometimes need to be recharged.

The prostitute arrived early at my house. She was heavier than she appeared on her personal ad. Her age was about ten years older than advertised. Despite the claims in her email, she was not remotely a natural redhead.

She was perfect.

“Hello, are you Samuel?” she asked.

“Yes,” I lied. “And your name is Scarlet?”

“Yes,” she lied. One thing magicians and sex workers have in common is our use of aliases.

“Come on in,” I said.

As she stepped through my doorway of her own free will I took out the money we had negotiated. I gave it to her before she had a chance to ask for it. She gave it a quick count. I wasn’t offended. There are rules in sex work as powerful as any found in magical rituals. Come to think of it, I am not sure there are any rules in magic as important as the first rule of sex work; make sure you get paid.

“Ready, stud?” Scarlet asked.

“Yes, please undress in the living room while I get the book,” I said.

“Whatever you want,” she said in a way that thrilled me in a way I didn’t expect. Unlike most people who say things like that, I believed she was sincere.

Scarlett walked into the living room and glanced around but didn’t say anything. I wondered what she thought of the strange dark rug with the golden arcs. Did she think the multiple lit candles were there to set a romantic mood? If she had questions about the large crystal ball in the fire place, she didn’t voice them.

She pulled her halter top over her head in a slow luxurious manner to reveal round breasts held barely by a tight purple bra. Before proceeding she took a moment to shake out her bright red hair. Her belt was next as she slowly snaked it from around her waist. She hung her belt over her neck and I had a sudden vision of putting a leash on her that made my breath catch.

A knowing smile crossed her face and she turned around to present her firm ass to me. She unzipped and unbuttoned her pants out of my view before her fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants. Ever so slowly, she pulled her pants down as her hips shimmied back and forth. A beautiful pale ass presented itself as a purple thong disappeared between her buttocks.

Stepping out of her pants, she turned back to me. Her heels were still on. I was impressed at the stripper’s magic she possessed. How did she get those heels through the pant legs?

Scarlet grabbed her bra-clad breasts. She squeezed. She pulled. She writhed as she stood while she played with her breasts. She smiled again and reached back to unclasp her bra. One strap went down followed by the other. After a slight delay, she pulled her bra down to reveal her breasts.

They were lovely. A heart tattoo decorated the right one. Her areoles were large and dominated half her breast. Small pink nipples waited to be bitten.

She grabbed her breasts again. Painted fingernails sunk into pale flesh. It was easy to imagine my hands doing the squeezing.

Her hips began to sway and I knew what was next. She released her breasts and pressed her fingers against the wet spot on her panties. The fingers pressed down and she moaned. Up and down her fingers rubbed and her hips continued to dance.

This time I moaned. I may be a magician and have had sex with a thousand strange and beautiful creatures but I still appreciated a good performance. No, an excellent performance.

My moan brought another smile from her red lips. She brought her legs together and pulled her panties down to step out of them. When she stood back up, she ran her fingers through the lovely shaved lips of her sex.

I exhaled and turned to the book case. I took down Lords of Guilt by Ofit the Hung. The large book was lighter than it looked despite being the size and shape of a phone book. The dark leather binding felt warm in my hands. You had to look to notice the stains on the spine.

“This is the book I want you to use,” I told Scarlet.

She took it from me and looked it over. “It looks old. Are you sure it can take it?”

“It has before,” I said, “and it will again. Don’t worry. I won’t hold you responsible for any damage.”

She nodded with a professional’s confidence. “Alright, where would you like me?

“Here,” I said, pointing to the center of the rug. “If you could stay between this curve, and that one, that would be great.”

Again, Scarlet seem unfazed. Customers must make all sorts of weird requests.

“Got it, stud. Sit back and get comfortable.”

I took my place on the couch. Scarlet walked over to the rug and looked down at where I had pointed to. She studied them as acutely as any mage to make sure she stayed where she was supposed to. Her dedication to her job was the sexiest thing about her.

Scarlet began. She looked down at the book as if I wasn’t there. Her hand glided over the leather cover. A pink tongue licked red lips. Hips moved slowly back and forth.

She brought the book to her lips and kissed it. Another kiss and then another as she kissed her way to the spine of the book. There she stuck out her tongue and licked the spine from bottom to top. If the taste of the leather affected her, it didn’t show.

The air changed. The smell of filthy sheets assaulted my nose. I felt hot. The crystal ball in the fire place flickered briefly with unearthly light.

Scarlet didn’t notice or perhaps she didn’t feel it at all. She rubbed her cheek on the front of the book before pressing it to her breasts. Around and around she rubbed the book to her round plump breasts. Her hips swayed in time with her tit smothering.

Ofit would have liked her. The ancient pervert wrote endless odes to breasts. He wouldn’t have minded trading place with the book.

On the sixth circuit of tit cuddling, she slid the book down to her sex. Her breasts were red from being squeezed. The book left a quickly fading pink trail down the pale flesh of her stomach.

The book moved down to her sex. Scarlet moaned as if the book was a lover. She bit her lips. Her body spasmed as if she might have climaxed right there. A flush came to her cheeks.

Did she really come? Books were powerful. Could she feel all of Ofit’s many guilty pleasures? Or was she just that good of a sex worker? I wondered.

Still standing, Scarlet opened the book in front of her sex. She looked down and moaned. Her hips undulated and the book moved with her. The old pages were pressed against her sex.

“Oh fuck,” Scarlet moaned. Several candles were blown out by a wind I didn’t feel.

I wonder what she saw. Was it just text written in Ofit’s over large writing style? Or was it one of the many graphic woodcuts? I couldn’t tell from my angle. I hoped it was something visual and inspiring.

The book snapped shut. Scarlet jumped as if she was surprised. The smile returned and her hips went back into motion. The rest of her body joined the music-less dance of her hips.

Scarlet turned the book around so that the spine was facing her. She brought the book against the wet lips of her sex and she pressed hard against herself. A shiver went through her body and her breasts jiggled. A laugh fell from her lips and then she began to grind against the book.

I moaned again. She was a sight to behold. Her entire body moved as she humped the book in her hands. All of her focus was on the book. She tilted her head down and her long read hair formed a veil in front of her face.

She could have been an illustration in the book. Ofit would have been pleased.

Scarlet paused in her humping. She brought the book up to her mouth and kissed it again. Her longue flicked out and tasted herself on the spine. She peeked at me through her red hair and I felt the power of her lustful eyes slam into me.

I grunted. My pants were too tight. I popped the button on my pants and reached in.

Scarlet turned around. Her pale ass looked back at me. She returned the book back between her legs and resumed her former position except now I could admire it from the rear.

It was amazing to watch her ass clench with every thrust. The book slid up and down her sex between pale thighs. I could hear her moan and grunt as her body quivered.

My cock was hard in my hand. I pulled down my pants with none of Scarlet’s grace or performance. My need to have access to my cock overwhelmed any decorum.

She lifted the book and brought it behind her. Using one hand, she smacked the thick book into her bottom.

WHOMP! The book thudded into her ass.

WHOMP! She smacked her bottom again.

WHOMP! Her bottom was turning pink.

WHOMP! She stumbled forward a step before regaining her balance.

WHOMP! Ass cheeks clenched together.

WHOMP! One last spank before she turned around.

I wondered why she picked six spanks. That was one of the sacred numbers. Did she see the number in the book and subconsciously chose it? Did I ask her to do six in my email? Or was it just one of those happy synchronicities that happens in magic and sex work?

Scarlet fell to her knees and I forgot about numerology. She looked at my hard cock and licked her lips. In her eyes was a promise to swallow.

With all of my willpower, I stayed where I was and kept stroking my cock.

For a moment she pouted and then she went back to work. Every so lightly, she tapped one of her breasts with the book. She smiled and tapped her other breast. Both of her nipples were hard pink pebbles on her pale breasts.

She pressed the spine of the book against her chest between both breasts. Using her left arm, she wrapped her breasts together around the book. Pale flesh spilled over her arms and tightened around the book.

Up and down she slowly rubbed the book between her breasts. It was a movement of maybe two inches but you wouldn’t know it from watching her body. She shuddered, she groaned and she hugged that book as if was the greatest lover she had ever known.

I spat into my hand. In my excitement I had nearly rubbed myself raw. It was rare that I lose myself like that.

Scarlet leaned forward onto the carpet. She rolled over onto her back with her head pointed towards me. Her head and feet were outside the rug but it was okay; the books and her sex were where they needed to be.

Spreading her legs as wide as they could, she continued to hump the book. Her hips rose off the carpet to grind her sex into the book. Every thrust made her breasts jiggle in front of my watchful gaze.

She tilted her head back to look at me. Our eyes locked. She whispered my name as she fucked the book.

The crystal ball glowed in the fire place. A candle flared in intensity. I smelled old wood baking in a hot cottage.

It was almost time.

“This feels so good,” Scarlet said. When I looked in her eyes I believed her.

“I am so turned on right now,” she said. “I could do this all night. I am going to come on this nice thick book.”

“Yes,” I moaned back. I spat into my hand again and stroked faster.

“I can tell you like it,” Scarlet said. “Your big fat cock tells me how much you like it. I wouldn’t mind having that shoved right down my mouth.”

Blessed are the sex workers. They do what they are asked to do. They perform and add their own magic. They improvise and go beyond what is required to ensure your happiness and rewarding tip.

There was a reason I worked with prostitutes. I knew a local coven that would gladly recharge my books for me in exchange for participating in some of their rituals. There were several students of magic who would gladly masturbate with my book just for a chance to read the secrets within. One young lady would happily pay me just for the chance at having something so potent between her legs. They would all help me but they would ask questions or have demands. None of them would come and simply be what I needed.

Scarlet rolled onto her side. She scrawled around the rug until her sex was facing me. Lifting her leg, she gave me a better view of the book as it slid along her sex.

Shadows multiplied around her. I recognized past sex workers I had hired. To the left of Scarlet I saw the thick outline of Keysha humping an unseen book. To her right was the diminutive form of Asia, grinding away on a phantom book. Closest to me was the contortionist, Brittany, doing something I thought impossible.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Scarlet moaned. She didn’t see the shadows.

Other shadows joined us; forms I didn’t recognize. They filled the living room. Some peeked in through the windows. I felt them on the floor above us.

Eyes stared at me from the crystal ball in the fire place. One was blue and the other was blind. They seemed haunted and maybe embarrassed.

I nodded at Ofit and his eyes half closed in recognition.

“Fuck!” Scarlet cried. Her leg clamped down around the book. She bit her lip and shuddered. Her eyes clenched shut as her mouth opened in a silent scream. Did she climax or was she just that good at faking it? I would never know.

It didn’t matter. It was enough. I jumped to my feet. “Now,” I said.

Scarlet’s eyes popped opened. She rose to her knees with a supernatural quickness. The book was still between her thighs and pressed against her sex. Both hands held the book while her arms pushed her pale tits together.

I stood in front of her and kept stroking. Three strokes later, my cock released. A torrent of seed flew forward and landed on her presented tits.

“Give it all to me, stud,” Scarlet asked. “All of it.”

I did. I stroked until I was empty. I pumped my cock until a mess of seed covered her breasts. Some of that seed dripped onto the book and that was okay.

“Good,” I said. A smile of pleasure spread across my face.

“Good,” Scarlet agreed. Her smile was of a job well done.

  3 Responses to “Fiction: Recharged by Scarlet Thighs”

  1. That was SO hot – I really enjoyed reading it. More books should be treated this way, I think :)

    xx Dee

  2. One of my favorite parts about books is how they smell. My life is imprinted in those scents. I would remember that part fondly if I had books loved like that. Yummy!

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