Just West Of Happy, Part 2 free porn video

Warning: Same old same old. This story contains blatant acts of sex and sexualization, do not read if these things bother you or if you are underage (if so...shoo! Why are you here at all!). Any semblance to people living or dead is accidental and unintentional. If you wish to reproduce this story, please contact me at [email protected] and I will likely allow it, so long as credit is given. Just West of Happy, Part 2 By: Whimsy When I awoke, dazed and confused, my head swimming with dreams and memories that were indistinguishable from one another, I immediately wondered if it had all been just that: a dream. I could scarcely believe that a girl, a girl for whom I had been particularly fond, had driven hundreds of miles across country to come and see me just because she "liked me." I thought it must have been and rolled over with a sigh to go back to sleep. It was, perhaps, a testament to my overall pessimism that I was not overly broken up about the whole thing proving to be just a dream. After all, this was my life. Things like that just didn't happen. Then I saw her. Mousy brown hair falling in waves, obscuring parts of her face, which remained impassive in sleep despite my movements, big eyes shut lightly, twitching ever so slightly in some unseen dream. A supple, lithe naked body hiding ineffectually beneath the sheets. I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat, not daring to believe that I was seeing her--that I was awake. As I stared at her, her eyes cracked open and I could vaguely see the dim, sleepy brown orbs gazing at me with the same dazed confusion I felt, though hers faded somewhat quicker than mine and her mouth a more ready smile. "Morning," she said sleepily, stirring only enough to press her body into mine. I could feel her sweaty, moist skin, her small breasts pressed against my shapeless torso. "Did you sleep well? Did you sleep?" This last question was asked with that charming playfulness that I'd come to expect from Melinda. I couldn't speak. I couldn't believe that I was awake, that this wasn't a dream, all evidence to the contrary. I tentatively reached out to wrap my arms around her and bury her into my body and she giggled a bit. "I'm real, Ian," she said as if she could read my mind. This wasn't the first time I felt like she'd preempted some of my more depressing thoughts and I was beginning to think she was psychic. "Last night really happened. And it was amazing. Though we need to work on your stamina a bit." I felt my cheeks burning. "But it was your first time," she added, looking up with a playful expression. "And your second," she added, tweaking my nose. "And your third." I blushed under her gaze. "I...I can't believe it really happened," I managed to say, my voice hoarse and tired. "I can't believe you're here." "Shh..." she muttered, rolling over so her back was pressed against my front. I could already feel my member hardening against her butt. It was like it had a mind of its own! "It's early still and I'm exhausted. We'll talk more later," she yawned. I could hardly bring myself to argue, as tired as I was, though I could already feel the urge to go at it again. Stamina nothing, I seemed to want nothing more than to have constant sex with this woman, I thought with a blush. But I was hardly one to push the point, and I could already feel her drifting off, so I lay in the steely gray dawn light, staring at the back of her head, trying not to push my luck with my hands too much, though I did let them rest on her gently rising and falling breasts after a time. She didn't wake. *** I must have drifted off at some point because I woke up again much later. The afternoon sun was streaming intrusively through an open window, a cool breeze filling my room. I went through the whole "it must have been a dream" affair again, but it resolved itself much quicker this time when I looked around the room. The first thing I noticed was the naked girl sitting in the middle of my floor. The second was that the room was immaculately clean. Almost unsettlingly so. I checked the clock: 12:00 pm. Plenty of time had passed since we woke up the first time, but assuming she did indeed go back to sleep, even for an hour or so, there was hardly enough time for her to have cleaned this much. And certainly not without waking me up. She was sitting silently, legs crossed, eyes closed, almost as if she was meditating. I stared at her for a moment, just watching her. This behavior was as peculiar as the cleaning and I couldn't help but wonder if I should interrupt her or not. It turned out to be unnecessary. Either she heard me moving around on the bed or simply sensed that I was awake, for a moment later, her eyes opened and she smiled at me. I wasn't sure, but I felt like her smile was a little sheepish, like she was hiding something from me. "Morning, sleepy head," she said, trying to keep her tone casualy, though there was something strained to it. "Or, should I say afternoon? I must have really wore you out." She stood up and walked to me, kissing me deeply before adding, "I know you really wore me out." I stared at her, blinking my confusion for a moment before looking around again, "How did you clean so fast?" I asked. "Did you not go back to sleep?" "Oh, I did." she said, sounding even more tense now, "For several hours. But you weren't awake when I woke up the second time and I felt like I owed you for last night. So I cleaned." "But how could you have cleaned this much?" I asked, looking at the clock again. "You couldn't have had more than an hour or two if you went back to sleep. And how come I didn't wake up?" I rubbed the back of my neck. She didn't respond immediately. I could tell she was wrestling with something, but I couldn't imagine what could be so troubling as to give her pause. She didn't seem to be shy about anything the day before...and the night before. What kind of secret could she have that would make her this nervous? "Ian," she said, sitting on the bed next to me and running a hand through my hair, "do you love me? Be honest." I blinked at the frankness of the question. It seemed awfully early to be making such proclomations, at least from what I understood about the courtship process. It was usually a big step to admit that one party loved the other, and one not made lightly. But I never really understood that myself. It wasn't like claiming to love someone signed an unbreakable vow with that person. You can love someone in the moment, I feel, even if it won't last forever. And I certainly felt like, over the past two days--even longer, now that I thought back over it--I loved Melinda. So I nodded, keeping silent, expectant. "I need to hear you say it, Ian," she said, implored really. The need in her tone, the worry, struck me, and when she took my hands and stared into my eyes, I felt the gravity of the situation acutely. "I love you," I said, this time without hesitation. "I know I do." She seemed to weigh my words for a moment as if she was sifting the honesty out of them to make sure they were genuine. Finally, she seemed to accept me at face value and stood, spreading her arms out in front of me. "I'm a witch." I stared at her for a long moment before, perhaps predictably, I stammered, "You're...not that bad. You're very nice!" She actually seemed to find my response amusing and had to bite back a giggle, "Ian, don't!" she protested. "I'm being serious now. I'm a witch. A real life, magic-slinging, ass-kicking witch. You asked how I cleaned your room? It's an anti-chaos spell. After you claimed ownership of this room, your aura clung to it and permeated it," she gestured around. "Everything in this room has a proper place. Mess and clutter is chaos, entropy. The room knows where everything should be. All it took was a simple spell and everything went there. It's my...woman's touch," she added with a tight smile and a blush. I stared at her for long moments before looking around the room. It was extremely clean. Supernaturally clean almost. It hadn't been this clean when I moved in. Everything seemed to be imaculate--perfect. "I don't believe you," I finally said, looking at her. I felt like my tone was almost challenging, "You're playing a game with me." "I'm not!" she protested, sounding almost hurt. "Ian, I'm not here to make a fool out of you. You're still worried that all this is some joke, some gag to make you look like an idiot and make you miserable. But it's not," she gestured to herself again, still standing naked before me. "I'm really here, Ian. Last night really happened. And I'm a witch. Do you remember when you said you didn't have any condoms? One of the first spells my mother made me learn was one that instantly sterilized any sperm that entered my body. I can't get pregnant unless I want to. That's my birth control." "That's...still not proof!" I protested. She could have been taking pills. Hell, maybe she wasn't and she could still get pregnant! I hadn't thought about that since the fleeting moments last night between raging carnal lust. I felt a bit of panic wash over me, but I tried to push it aside for this new, confusing situation. "Ian, don't you trust me?" she asked, gazing at me imploringly. I choked on my words, suddenly panicked that I was going to push her away. My rational mind and my heart were at odds...but thankfully, Melinda was rational, and she let out a little laugh, "I know, it sounds really stupid. I don't blame you for wanting proof. I was going to wait for you to wake up before I cleaned your room but...well, you know. I got so used to mine being clean that I couldn't take it!" "I'm sorry, ok, I'm just not that tidy!" I protested. She laughed and waved her hands soothingly, "It's ok Ian, I'm just saying when you're used to having magic, you're used to things being done the easy way. Mom would kill me if she could hear me say that. Ok, how about something simple?" she walked to her rolling luggage and opened it up. "I made this last year," she said, reaching into it. I watched with mounting awe and confusion as her hand, forearm, her entire arm, even her shoulder, dove deep into the suitcase. It was like she was reaching well into the floor. "Where is it?" she muttered, looking very much like she was rummaging around in that bag, even though she couldn't possibly have had her arm that deep. It had to be a trick of some sort. She finally let out a triumphant laugh and began to pull out something that was far too large for the small suitcase. It looked like a rolled up piece of tarp, of fabric of some sort. I realized after a moment that it was giving off a metalic rattling sound as though the fabric itself was wrapped around some sort of metal. It took me a moment, but I finally figured out what it was that she was extracting: a tent. A full-sized tent, easily two or three times larger than the container it was being extracted from. "I wasn't sure how things were going to go," she said, placing the rolled-up tent aside. "I have a car obviously, but it's not very comfortable to sleep in if things...well, if things went wrong." she reached in again, pulling out a 12-pack of soda, a loaf of bread, a carton of milk ("Don't worry, it's refrigerated in there," she added casually), a large box of cookies, a bag of chips...it just kept coming. "Wh-What is that?" I stammered feebly as she continued to pull food stuffs out of the bag. "It's my infinity bag," she said, smiling at me as she squatted in front of it. It was a testament to how unbelieveable all of this was that I barely even noticed she was still nude. "I have tons of stuff in here. It's kind of a misnomer, it's not really infinite, but I can store almost everything I own in here as long as it actually fits into the opening," she flapped the opening of the bag open and shut a few times to demonstrate. "As much as I'd love to drive my car in here...speaking of which, I'm not going to get towed if I stay parked in that community spot outside the coffee shop, am I?" I shook my head lamely as she began to put the food stuffs and tent back into the bag. "I always bring lots of stuff with me when I travel," she explained as she zipped up the bag, "better to be prepared when you have effectively unlimited storage space! I'll never run out of underwear, that's for sure," she grinned as she pulled out a pair of frilly, silken panties and tossed them at me. "Keep them if you want," she said with a playful wink, seeming to enjoy how I fumbled with them like they were in fire. "I have plenty. And it's not like you haven't already gotten into them." For what felt like the hundredth time in the last two days alone, I was struck speechless. I still could barely believe that there was something "magical" going on here, but the evidence was really piling up. "Come on, Ian," she said, sounding almost exasperated as she hopped onto the bed beside me, her breasts bouncing slightly as she did, "Do I have to pull a rabbit out of my hat? Because I can't do that. Give me something to do, come on. Let me prove it to you." I just shook my head lamely, staring pathetically at her. I couldn't think of anything at the moment, let alone some request for a magic trick from my maybe-girlfriend who might be a real witch. "Come on," she said in a teasing voice, rubbing up against me like an affectionate puppy, "think of all the fun we could have with real magic, Ian! You're a boy," she said, looking down to my crotch where my penis was standing semi-hard from all the attention I was now getting from this naked girl, "I'm sure you can think of something." I stammered out pathetically as she continued to rub up against me, moreso when she reached down and wrapped her fingers around my member, "Or maybe you need a little inspiration," she cooed into my ear. "Is this helping you think?" I fell back, only just catching myself with my arms behind me as she began to rub my shaft slowly, sensually with her smooth hands. I wasn't entirely sure whats he hoped to accomplish with this. I could barely think as it was. I nearly lost it when she breathed into my ear, nibbling on the lobe, "I know all sorts of fun spells from my parents' spellbook," she said softly. "They were real dirty in the bedroom." "I--I dunno," I breathed pathetically, my hips bucking a bit. "C-Can you...uh...m-make your breasts bigger?" I was afraid, in the heat of the moment, that I'd offended her, but as I heard her whisper more of those nonsensical syllables and, almost immediately, felt soft flesh growing against my arm. I looked down and, with a gasp, saw that her breasts were indeed inflating like baloons on her chest. The small orbs were growing in size from apples to oranges to melons, the aereolas growing proportional with them. I lost it. My cock spasmed and spurted gooey white liquid all over, spraying her hand, my torso, some even splattering against her new, generous clevage. I couldn't stop myself. I kept bucking my hips, my penis continuing to spasm and spurt for what felt like hours. Melinda giggled, "What is it with men and breasts?" she asked rehtorically, leaning back and swaying her chest from side to side to send those impressive breasts swinging back and forth seductively. "They're just sacks of fat." Sacks of fat or not, I couldn't help but stare at them, my eyes wide, my jaw slack. They had grown as big as they were going to, apparently, and looked like overripe melons, slightly ridiculous on her mousy frame. "H-How big...?" I managed to stammer out, my member still secreting the last of my orgasm. She looked down appraisingly, "I'd say they're D cups now," she said in a calculated tone. "Don't worry," she added with a playful grin. "I have bras in this size. I figured this would be the first thing you asked." I turned bright red, moreso when she leaned in and whispered, "And for the record, they're not A cups naturally. They're B cups. It's a common mistake." I looked down, embarassed, but she comforted me by kissing my cheek, "Oh, don't be such a downer," she laughed. "Anyone who says they wouldn't change anything about their lover is lying. I wish you had more stamina," she said, wiping her sticky hand on her chest seductively. "And you could do with some definition here," she said, running her finger across my chest. "It doesn't mean I love you less..." My next statement came out less as language and more as pathetic stuttering, my infamous broken-down car impression again, which she seemed to find charming because she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. I finally managed to compose myself after a moment, at least enough to say quickly, "Y-You can...change whatever you want about me!" She smiled sweetly at me, "I don't feel like I have to," she said, making me feel immediately bad, but she waved the sentiment off and laughed, "I asked you sweety. I know you don't need me to have big breasts. It doesn't mean you don't like to see them," she leaned back and swayed her chest again, causing those fleshy orbs to wobble. "Honestly, I couldn't live like this. My back is sore already." I forced out a tight, nervous laugh, but watching her breasts sway like that was making me hard again already. For all her talk about my lacking stamina, I did seem able to get it back up again quickly...or maybe it was just her. "Besides that," she continued before I could speak, "altering someone else requires a pact of sorts. Strong witches and wizards can affect people against their will, but it's considered rude and dangerous. I couldn't change you if I wanted to unless we performed a special ritual." "Well...I give you permission!" I blurted out, not quite sure of what I was saying. This fact was not lost on Melinda, who smiled somewhat ruefully and continued to rub her enhanced assets against me, "You don't know what you're saying, Ian," she said, managing to sound almost patronizing. "If you open yourself up to me, I would have full, complete control over you. We would have to perform another ritual to seal off the bond. Besides that, my parents would kill me. It's not something that's done very often." Despite her words, I could tell there was something measured about her tone, almost as if she was testing me. I remembered the previous night. "You like this, don't you?" she'd asked. "You like taking orders, don't you?" I had answered truthfully last night that I had, and I still remembered the high I felt when she'd barked commands at me and I'd obeyed. There was something thrilling about being told what to do and being forced to do it, the loss of control. The freedom from decision. She continued kissing my shoulder, but now that I thought about it, I could feel her eyes on me even though she was trying to act casual. She was watching me, waiting to see what I would do. How I would act. I remembered back to our sexual encounters online. She'd started to take control more and more the longer we interacted, and I'd enjoyed it. She told me who I was, where we should be, even what I should do. She enjoyed being in control. And I enjoyed being controlled. "What if I said," I began rhetorically, "that I enjoyed last night a lot. Every part of it." There was a long pause. I knew she was measuring my words, looking for what she'd wanted to hear, "What do you mean?" she finally asked, doing this conversational dance around the topic with me. "I enjoyed it too, I told you I did." "Not just the sex," I continued, not even able to look at her. Did this make me less of a man? That I was willing to give control over to a woman in our relationship? Maybe this was some kind of test. Maybe she wanted me to show some backbone, show that I wasn't just an easily-manipulated slug. But the more I thought about it, the more it thrilled me, so, for the first time in my life, I threw caution to the wind, "I liked when you gave me orders and I had to follow them. Did you enjoy that too?" I added quickly, testingly, throwing it back at her to force her to make the decision. In a way, I realized, this too was a sign of me giving up control, but I didn't care. I didn't want to lose Melinda, I knew that...but at the same time, I wanted this. I wanted her to be in command of this relationship. Of me. "I did," she said, continuing to kiss my bare shoulder. "I...have a confession," she finally said with the barest moment of hesitation. "When I was planning this trip, I also--" she hesitated a moment longer "--I had hoped things would be like they were in our roleplays. I wasn't sure if you would go for it, and I wouldn't care if you did. But when I met you, I felt like...well, I felt like we could be like that in real life. You and me, not just characters. Ian and Melinda." I grew redder and more nervous--and harder--the more she spoke. I managed to feeble nod, but didn't dare to speak. Without another word, she stood up and padded to her bag again, "I did something...pretty awful," she admitted, not daring to look at me. "My parents would kill me if they found out. This is...this could be considered pretty dark magic." She began to dig around in her bag. This time, it took her a good deal longer to find what she was looking for. I got the feeling that, unlike the tent and the food, this was something small and hard to find. "Oh, to hell with it," she muttered, drawing her arm out of the bag and holding her hand out. She whispered those strange magical syllables and a small, velvet box flew from her bag and into her open hand. It was a small thing, but it looked unmistakably like the kind of box that people held wedding rings in. For a moment, my breath and my heart caught somewhere in my throat, like they were both fighting for the space to exit my body. Was she going to propose to me? When she returned to the bed, however, she didn't get down on one knee but, instead, sat down next to me, ignoring her breasts as they wobbled with the motion. I was so engrossed in what was going on that I didn't even notice. She flipped open the box and, inside was indeed a ring. Two of them, in fact. They weren't particularly ornate, however, and hardly looked like engagement rings. She gave me a wry smile, "They're not engagement rings," she said, reaching in and pulling out the first ring, a silvery band with no ornament on it. "This," she said, holding it up, "is a Thrall Ring. The wearer of this ring gives complete and ultimate control to the person who wears this ring," she pulled out the second, a golden ring, "the Master Ring. I'm not talking just being able to control actions," she added, looking at me now with an expression of utmost seriousness. "This gives the wearer complete control over the bearer of the Thrall Ring. Their actions, their physical appearance, their bodily functions and health, even, to an extent, their thoughts and their reality." I had seen a lot of strange thing that morning, but this was a bit more than a magical bag and inflating breasts. What she was describing was-- well, that was real magic. "I made these," she said, holding out the silver ring so I could examine it. "It took me a year to enchant the rings. I wasn't even sure if I would ever use them, but...well," she smiled a bit nervously at me. As I reached out for the ring, however, she pulled it back, "You have to be sure, Ian." she said, for the first time admitting that the ring was intended for me, that this was something she'd wanted as much as I'd realized I wanted it. "This isn't something to be taken lightly at all. I'll have complete control over you. You have to trust me. You won't be able to take off the ring unless I let you. You'll be under my control as long as you have it on." I looked into her eyes for a long moment. She was right, I knew. This was a serious implication, if the rings did indeed work like that. Even my mundane brain could fathom just how much she could do with something that could control my very reality, whatever that meant. But... I didn't hesitate long. I reached out and took the ring from her and, without much thought, slipped it onto my finger. It was larger than it looked in her hands, but as soon as I slipped it over my middle finger, it shrunk to fit. Melinda stared at me for long, unblinking moments before throwing her head back and cackling, "You fool! You are my slave forever!" I sputtered and choked on my breath, but before I could speak, she grinned and leaned in to kiss me, "Just kidding," she said, patting me on the cheek with a playful grin. "I can fix that heart attack you're having, just let me slip this on." She giggled the whole time she put the golden ring on her finger, heedless of the fact that I felt like I was going to pass out from shock. I could definitely tell I had no idea what I was in for. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I immediately felt an indescribable something when the ring wrapped around her finger as mine had around mine. It was impossible to describe except to say it was some strange sort of weight or sensation, a feeling of significance. I looked down at the ring and just stared at it for a moment. "You can take it off if you want," she said after that silent moment passed between us. "I'm giving you permission. In fact, for the rest of the day, I'll allow it. I want you to know what you're getting into. I wasn't lying when I said this was dark magic. But I promise you, I won't let anything bad happen to you." She leaned in again to kiss me, on the lips this time. Our lips lingered together for long moments before I broke the kiss and inhaled sharply in surprise. She'd wrapped her fingers around my member again and had begun to slowly caress the length of it. I moaned, leaning back again and letting her work, but something was different this time. Before, I'd felt the rush of an orgasm creeping up on me almost instantly. This time, I felt the rush coming, but I also felt like the ultimate release eluded me. I frowned, looking to Melinda's face. A knowing grin stared back at me, "I said we should work on your stamina," she cooed. "I'm not letting you cum. Not until I say so." I frowned and, for the first time in my life, felt almost defiant. Not that I was having second thoughts about the arrangement, but some small voice in the back of my head scoffed at the idea that I couldn't cum. I'd always cum rather quickly whenever I'd tried. It seemed completely silly to me that I wouldn't be able to with a cute, naked girl sitting right next to me, giving me a handjob. So, unlike before, I did not try to hold back. I closed my eyes and thought of sexy things, our romp last night, the sight of Melinda's breasts inflating and wobbling back and forth, even the vision of her hand on my member. But nothing worked. I frowned and furrowed my brow, but no matter what I tried to do, I couldn't make the orgasm come. But it still continued to build up, and with each stroke, my arousal continued to soar to new heights. I looked back to Melinda, my breath short and measured, and found that same knowing grin on her face, "Believe me now?" she asked sagely. "I wasn't kidding, Ian. I have complete control over you." She slowed her ministrations and ultimately stopped, ignoring my rather feeble protests--protests that died down when she pushed me back to the bed, "Let me prove it." she said, her grin becoming more mischevious as she positioned her moist slit over my throbbing member. "But first..." I let out an audible gasp as I felt--well, the only way to describe it would be to say I felt my cock inflate. Much as her breasts had done only minutes before, my unimpressive member began to grow. Six inches. Seven inches. Nine inches. Eleven inches. It was positively massive now, and even though Melinda was still elevated above my crotch, I could still feel the moistness of her pussy with its head. "I've always wanted to try one this big," she cooed, squirming a bit to rub her moistness againt the throbbing purple head. "And besides, turnabout is fair play," she added with a mischevious smirk. She gave a little bounce that sent her magically-enhanced breasts jiggling as if to illustrate the point. Still, as I watched my member pulsating beneath her, I couldn't help but wonder if that thing was going to fit inside of her. She seemed resolved to try, however, and I could feel the warm moistness of her sex begin to engulf mine. Begin being the operative word, for it was a long and apparently uncomfortable road. I could see the strain on her face as she slowly began to lower herself onto my cock. It was glorious bliss for me...but for Melinda's part, she looked strained and uncomfortable. "O-Oh wow..." she moaned, stopping her descent as if she needed a break. "Wh-why do girls keep talking about big cocks like this? This is...rrgh..." she made a grunt of determination as she lowered herself a bit more. Despite the discomfort, she seemed determined to see this through to the end. Unfortunately, I couldn't do anything to help her. Whether it was because I was still a novice to sex or because my new, increased member was extra sensitive, I could barely move. And on top of it all, I still found no release. In fact, my arousal just continued to mount higher and higher, to levels I'd never imagined possible--levels that may have been impossible without Melinda's "assistance." In practice, it rendered me utterly useless towards the sexual act. My whole body felt like it was crawling with sexual tension and my consciousness, what was left of it, was tenuous at best. But I still managed to watch her through hazy vision as she lowered herself, her vagina practically splitting in two on my magically-enhanced member, her clenched eyes nearly bugging out of her head until, finally, she was down as far as she could go...at least, I assumed she was for she stopped lowering herself. There was still a good few inches remaining of my member beneath her, glistening with her leaking juices. "Oh God," She moaned. "I'm beginning to think this was a horrible idea." Despite her discomfort, however, she was smiling tightly. She swiveled a bit on my member and I let out an almost pained gasp. "Oh, I forgot," she said, watching me with a playful smirk. "Well, this time you're waiting for me, Mister." With that, she began to slowly raise and lower herself, going through the motions of sex, though they seemed slower, almost pained and stiff. But, still, she seemed committed to the act as she was neither reducing the size of my penis nor giving me the ability to cum, which was driving me positively nuts. I was torn between wanting to ravish her with my hands like some wild beast and my complete inability to move. Needless to say, I was awash with conflicting emotions to the point that I was scarcely coherent. Eventually, she found a rhythm--a slow rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless, one that seemed to be finally tickling her just right, for she was beginning to make the same noises I would be making were I capable of any sort of speech or anything resembling speech--albeit she did so a lot cuter, and just watching her bounce around on my rod was driving me even more nuts if that was even possible. "You can...cum...when I...do..." she moaned, her speed picking up. Her thrusts barely took in half of my cock with each bounce, and I could barely hear her over the rushing in my head, but I understood more than heard what she was telling me--felt more than knew that release was forthcoming. It still felt like hours, however. I don't know if it was because of my inability to cum and soaring arousal or her ungodly, perhaps even magical stamina, but it felt like we would grow old and die before I finally got release. But finally, at long last, I felt her stiffen on top of me. The walls of her vagina tightened around me maddeningly, bringing me even higher than the highest peak of my arousal, but finally, the writhing grip on my member began to pulse and surge around it, which must have meant she was cumming because I practically exploded. No, not even practically, I exploded. I think I blacked out because I couldn't even see how she reacted to the orgasm at long last, but I'm pretty sure she was rocketed off of me like a bottle of Coke with mentos thrown into it. Distantly, I heard a woman screaming in ultimate pleasure. I remember being dazedly surprised when I barely made out her vague shape, surprised that she somehow managed to stay on top of me with the force of my orgasm spurting into her just before I blacked out. *** "I'm not going to be able to walk for a week!" I was jolted back to consciousness a few moments later by Melinda's laughing voice. I looked around like someone who'd just woken up after a alcohol-induced bender, uncomprehending of what I was seeing, to see Melinda sitting on the side of the bed with her back to me. It looked like she was examining her crotch. "God, I am never going to do that again," she said, still laughing giddily, sounding almost tipsy herself, "I like your penis just the way it was." I groggily looked down to my crotch. It was still engrossed, a massive tube of flesh just laying limp on my leg. I tentatively reached down to feel it and jumped with how sensitive it still was. It began to grow hard again already! Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your viewpoint), it was too sensitive to do anything other than just look at it, something I couldn't help but do for a moment. It was so weird to see that massive thing on my body. "It's kind of entrancing, isn't it?" I jumped a bit to hear Melinda actually speaking to me. I turned my gaze on her to see her grinning down at me, her eyes a bit glazed with post- sex giddiness. The way she squirmed, I could tell she was currently lamenting and pleased at her determination to fuck a cock that large. I realized after a moment of staring that her breasts were down to their normal size. She must have sensed me staring and grinned, "Yeah," she said, "the spell wore off after I blacked out." "You blacked out too?" I boggled. She giggled and nodded, "Yup," she said, kissing my cheek. "Only for a second, but yeah, you rocked my world, baby. I could recast the spell if you wanted." I watched her with a distant expression for a moment before shaking her head and reaching up to gently guide her to the bed, "I don't think I need any more stimulation right now," I said with a meek, weary tone. "G- God, that was intense." "It's only the beginning, baby," she said with another giggle. "We are going to have so much fun together." I couldn't tell if I was emboldened by her proclomation or terrified, but feeling her rub against my sensitive, monstrous cock and gaze into my eyes with those soulful brown orbs, I realized I hardly cared so long as I was with her.