The Witches: A Night To Remember

Models: Honey Gold & Arya Fae

Brad was entranced the moment he laid eyes on her.

The Midnight Lounge was the most popular club in the city and like every other guy there he’d come in the hope of finding droves of drunken girls, their inhibitions dissolved by booze and their plans for the night revolving around one simple desire: mindless sex.

But even when surrounded by so many beautiful girls, they all paled in comparison to her.

She was slim and athletic, her shapely legs clutched tight by dark jeans and her torso wrapped in a figure-hugging red off-shoulder crop top. A wealth of beautiful tattoos decorated her honey-gold skin, the ink somehow lighter than the wavy raven hair she wore swept over to one side. Her features were mesmerising – sweet and gorgeous and sultry all at once. A thin choker looped around her neck and she held herself with a kind of confident swagger, as if she knew she was out of the league of every man in the club.

She was alone in a small private booth overlooking the thronging dance floor. Every so often she would rise from her plush leather armchair to lean on the railing and stare out across the club, her eyes bright and probing as she seemingly assessed each member of the crowd in turn. Then she would take her seat once more, a gorgeous queen watching over her domain while the club’s flashing purple lights played over her divine body.

Brad had been watching for some time before she turned to face him. His heart skipped a beat when she made a beckoning gesture. Cautiously pointing to himself, this time he feared his heart actually stopped as she nodded. Unable to believe his luck he picked through the crowd to join her.

Up close he found that despite her stunning figure it was her eyes he was drawn to: deep and dark and swimming with the same playfulness that drew her glossy lips into a smile

‘Hey there, babe. You’ve been staring at me an awful long time.’

Blushing furiously, he offered a hand. ‘Hi, I… uh… I’m Brad. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I mean… I guess I did, but I promise I’m not some creep, honest.’

She laughed melodiously and shook his outstretched hand. Her skin was warm and smooth and he longed to feel her touch elsewhere. ‘How reassuring, I’m sure no creep would ever say anything like that.’ She shifted closer to him. Only a step, but her hand fell against his on the railing and she did not move it. ‘I’m Minerva.’

‘I didn’t realise you’d noticed me,’ Brad admitted. Something about her seemed so self-assured, and he got the distinct impression that if he made any attempt to lie or omit any truth she would know it instantly.

‘I got that,’ she smirked.

‘Can I, uh, can I get you a drink?’

‘I’d like that.’

After trying and failing to calm his thumping heart on the way to the bar, Brad tried to seem more confident than he felt when he handed over her drink. ‘So, I saw you watching everyone like you were looking for somebody to join you. What made you pick me?’

‘Let’s just say I’m a good judge of character. And something tells me you’re just the kind of guy I’ve been looking for.’

It was all Brad could do to stop his legs giving way. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, hiding the tremble of his hands by leaning more heavily on the railing.

Minerva turned to look out over the dancefloor. ‘You see all those guys out there? They’re too stupid to know what they really want. They came here for a night to remember, but then they get completely hypnotised by the first bit of ass they see and after that they’re just dumb animals: cavemen fascinated by fire.’

Brad blushed as she went on. ‘I’m not an idiot: I know you’re here for the same reasons. But you didn’t lose your mind over all the vapid sluts. Instead you were watching me – admiring me – and imagining all the things we could do together in private. Non-creepily, of course,’ she added, giving him a conspiratorial wink that made his stomach flip. ‘In my experience the only nights actually worth remembering are the ones that turn fantasy into reality. All the rest are just about self-serving lust. And I think you and I both want the first option. Maybe together we really will be able to make it a night worth remembering.’

For the next several hours they enjoyed one another’s company. Occasionally she would edge closer – close enough for her breasts to brush against him, her hand to feather his leg, her ass to rub his side – and though every time was ostensibly accidental, Brad could not help but feel as though she were purposefully teasing him.

Either way, by the time the club was emptying out and his balance had become as unsteady as he deemed appropriate, he was hornier than he had been in a long time and he fought to conceal a raging boner.

Brad felt as though he had won the lottery when Minerva invited him back to her place.

If he was honest, Brad didn’t really see what her house actually looked like. No sooner had the taxi drawn to a halt than she was eagerly tugging him across the pavement, the rest of the world fading into insignificance compared to her stunning smile, and before he knew it they were inside.

He saw more of the interior – enough to notice the broad marble entrance hall and roomy corridors that seemed to branch endlessly – though even then he only caught brief glimpses. Nevertheless, he saw enough to have the impression that this was more of a mansion than a house.

And as Minerva led him on, Brad began to sense the sordid atmosphere pervading every detail of the luxurious dwelling.

Depictions of naked men and women were inlaid into the marble floors, transitioning into similarly erotic rugs in the carpeted corridors; explicit paintings lined the walls along with lewd statues that ranged from the tasteful to the taboo; sensual groans drifted through the air like a mist that seeped arousal into his pores. The corridors were illuminated by what Brad could only describe as ‘mood lighting’, while here and there discarded lingerie and the occasional jockstrap provided plenty of evidence that in this house depravity was not always a private affair.

What was more, it soon became clear they were not alone. Several of the doors they passed were swung open, their occupants clad in everything from suits and evening gowns, to gleaming latex attire, to little more than underwear that did absolutely nothing to conceal their immaculate bodies. They passed a dozen or more individuals wandering through the corridors in various states of undress, culminating in a beautiful woman with a rich tan and long black hair who wore only a blazer drawn around her shoulders and a pair of sheer black panties to hide her modesty.

She smiled disarmingly as they passed by, but before Brad could smile back Minerva had dragged him into an adjacent room and closed the door behind her.

It was a luxurious space, the floor largely dominated by a sprawling bed, the rafters stretching up above and the warm glow of the lamps on the walls imbuing a cozy feel. He marvelled at the place, but then his eyes fell to Minerva and the rest of the world simply didn’t matter anymore.

They couldn’t have been in the room for more than a few seconds, yet somehow she had managed to strip off and stash her jeans and crop top out of view without Brad noticing any of it. What was more, her lingerie made no sense: the delicate lace and sheer mesh hugged her torso and was held up by frilled straps, all of which would have been visible in her previous outfit.

A part of Brad’s brain knew what he was seeing was impossible. Nobody could change that fast – it was almost like magic. But the rest of his mind was focused on how jaw-droppingly hot Minerva looked in her impossible lingerie.

‘See something you like?’ she purred, peering at him over her shoulder as the low light glowed on her honeyed skin.

Brad’s mouth hinged open and closed uselessly, his speechlessness drawing and impish giggle from her lips.

‘Well you’re not the only one,’ she said. And a heartbeat later, she was on him.

Pulling him over to the bed kissing passionately as they went, Minerva tossed him down onto the duvet and crawled on top. He could barely believe what was happening, but as she began to kiss his neck and stroke his hair he lost focus on his disbelief and could think of nothing besides his arousal. He groaned as her warm flesh pressed against him, his hands instinctively sliding to grope her soft, pliant, cushioned ass.

All at once her voice was in his ear. ‘I want to tie you down.’ Taken aback, he couldn’t think what to say as she pulled up just enough to fix him with bright, mischievous eyes. ‘Will you let me, lover?’

‘I… I don’t know… I’ve never been with a girl… a woman, I mean… someone who would… you know tie me up…’

A seductive smile spread across her face. ‘You’ll like it, I promise. Besides, I’m not some creep…’ She paused, slipped free of her shoulders straps, let them drop down. ‘Honest.’

His eyes locked on her plump, perky breasts, all Brad’s confusion about this strange place dissolved. Minerva’s words came back to him: the only nights actually worth remembering are the ones that turn fantasy into reality. He realised then that tonight was one of those nights. Minerva wasn’t just any ordinary hook-up; she was a creature of lust and she had chosen him to satisfy her needs.

Somewhere deep down Brad knew that tomorrow he would wake up a changed man. But right now, with her perfect body pressed against his, he just didn’t care.

Before he could change his mind, Brad nodded. ‘Okay.’

Stripping him with an almost manic glee, Minerva produced a padded restraint from each corner of the bed, which she buckled tightly around his limbs to leave him spread-eagled and exposed. Once finished she straddled him in her lingerie before easing herself down, her breasts pressed up against his chest, her heat invigorating, her smell intoxicating.

She was so close he could feel her breath on his neck. Her hands snaked down to his crotch, closed over his dick. And then, all at once, Brad was howling with eviscerating orgasmia.

With his back arched and his head thrown back Brad never saw his manhood disappear, but he felt every second of it. In Minerva’s soft yet unyielding grasp the shaft and balls shrank, slowly at first and then with increasing speed. As they did so he felt his insides churning, muscles and tissues shifting as his masculine anatomy transformed. Soon enough his dick was nothing more than a limp nub and then even that was gone, the flesh between his legs parting to form a soaking wet pussy. Minerva’s fingers slid into his folds, sinking deep to part them until she was up to the knuckle and Brad’s face was a mask of blinding pleasure. Then, his feminine sex clinging to her digits until the last second as if desperate not to let them go, she pulled out and sat back on her haunches.

Collapsing to the bed, it took over a minute for Brad’s eyes to stop rolling and the tension in his limbs to fade. When he looked up he found Minerva sucking his pussy nectar from her fingers.

‘What… what did…?’

‘What did I just do to you?’ she finished for him. A wicked edge entered her expression. ‘Personally I’d say I’ve expanded your mind. You know, this is my favourite part – when you realise just how far down the rabbit hole you are.’

His chest heaving, Brad looked down at his glistening pussy. Words were hard to form but he tried anyway. ‘Who… who are you?’

Minerva chuckled. ‘I’m out of your league. Though not for much longer. That’s why I bought you here. See my wife is the sweet one. She’s the one who goes out and picks up strays and fulfils fantasies and turns wishes into reality. But me? I prefer the naughtier things in life. Sure, I’ll help the outcasts just like she does. But nothing beats a good old-fashioned corruption once in a while. Watching raw, shameless lust consume a mind, warp a body, twist right down to the soul – it’s the hottest thing there is. Of course, I don’t have to do it here, but tonight I wanted to take things slow; I wanted to mould myself a new lover piece by piece, moan by moan. And since my wife is out of town there’s nobody to interrupt our fun.’

She watched him for some time waiting for a response. When none came she cocked her head to one side. ‘Fascinating. You’re not resisting. Usually my playthings panic when I tell them the truth. Of course they love what they become, but before I transform them they fear leaving their old lives behind. But not you. Tell me, Brad – do you want this?’

Brad’s mind was tethered to his body by only a few fraying strands. The pulsing throb of his new cunt filled him with pleasure unlike anything he’d ever known, and no matter how hard he tried to water the seeds of fear or panic they simply wouldn’t take root. Because in reality, Brad knew that he did want this. But not because he craved the pleasures of womanhood.

‘I want to satisfy you. I want to worship your body however you desire. I want us to make each other hornier than we ever thought possible, then I want us to fuck ourselves stupid with all that arousal. And if you need to transform me a hundred times over to satisfy yourself, then I want that too.’

Brad knew what he was saying was crazy, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. The ecstasy infusing his thoughts had removed all inhibitions and as such he was compelled only by fantasy and desire.

Minerva leaned over him with glittering eyes. ‘In that case I think you might have just become my new favourite lover. I’m going to have to pull out all the stops to shape you a body worthy of all that lust inside. But don’t worry,’ she added, her smile almost demonically devious, ‘I like a challenge.’

Wrapped in an aura of corruptive arousal that seeped into Brad’s soul, Minerva lowered herself closer. Her bare chest pressed against his own and her thigh slotted between his legs where it pressed against Brad’s pulsing clit. Her beautiful face was close enough to fill his vision when he spoke.

‘Will it all feel this good?’

Minerva’s soft laugh sent thrills down his spine. ‘Every heartbeat. I promise. Now, I think I’ll start with your lips.’

And with that she was kissing him: hands on his cheeks, tongue probing his mouth, the sweet scent of her perfume in his nose. Surrendering to her power, pleasant warmth filled Brad’s lips as he felt them began to soften and swell, while the groan that passed through them was a sensual, wordless plea for more…

One week later

Morgana heard her wife long before she saw her. After centuries of magic, sex and hedonistic marriage Minerva’s moans were an unyielding constant of Morgana’s life – which came in useful to identify her given how often Minerva loved to jump bodies. Still, even Morgana had to admit that her wife sounded especially horny today.

Following the sounds of sluttiness it wasn’t too hard to locate Minerva. Their house had many rooms, none of which were bound by time or space. As such, though she was on the third floor in the middle of the night, she was not at all surprised to find her wife writhing on the sofa of a ground floor apartment in broad daylight. The room was of oriental design and Morgana knew that a beautiful Japanese garden lay beyond the concertina shoji drawn across the opposite wall.

But Minerva was much too preoccupied to admire the architecture.

The woman straddling Minerva giggled impishly as they tribbed eagerly. ‘How does that feel, baby?’

Beneath her Minerva was a breathless heap of erotic energy. ‘Incredible and you know it, you dirty little slut. Though it doesn’t feel as good as these perfect tits,’ she added, reaching up to grasp the woman’s exposed rack.

The lithe woman’s naughty laughter filled the air again. Wavy hair of a shade somewhere between brown and amber swayed wildly as she rocked her limber hips while the dappled sunlight glowed on her supple skin. A piercing glinted in her navel just beneath a stunning floral tattoo that adorned the flesh of her torso and cleavage, the design complementing a handful of other inks reminiscent of the ones adorning Minerva’s current body. And though her crotch and upper body were bare, her feet were slipped into a pair of pastel pink heels and her legs wrapped in sheer pink tights that traced an elegant loop over her hips and around her back.

‘That looks like fun,’ the woman said with a grin as Minerva groped her chest. ‘Let me have a go.’

Minerva groaned as the woman pulled on her black mesh bra, slipped a hand beneath the material, then returned the favour with giddy enthusiasm.

Morgana couldn’t deny she was impressed: even in their house of magic and depravity it was very rare that anybody was capable of reducing her wife to the panting, needy mess of arousal currently pinned to the sofa before her.

‘Is this a private meeting, or can anybody join in?’

Both women turned to face Morgana, noticing her for the first time. And while Minerva’s face was flushed and twinkling with perspiration, the other woman wasn’t even out of breath.

Minerva’s tone was thin as she valiantly stifled her own groans. ‘Oh, hey babe, you’re back. This is Brianna. We’ve just been getting to know each other. Brianna, this is my wife, Morgana.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Brianna cooed, her gleeful smile unfaltering as she continued to frantically rub their sexes together.

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ Morgana replied before turning her attention to her wife. ‘So tell me, how long exactly have you been “getting to know each other”?’

‘About a week,’ Minerva grinned sheepishly. Her eyelids fluttered as Brianna’s hips rocked in just the right way to send arcs of pleasure flaring through her insides. ‘We couldn’t help ourselves. I can’t begin to describe it, babe; this nympho makes every night one to remember. And every day for that matter.’

Just then, Brianna dropped down to press herself against Minerva’s chest. Morgana watched a shudder of lust run through her wife as Brianna’s soft skin brushed against hers, warm ivory on honey gold. Minerva’s hands instinctively slid around to caress her ass and she let out a soft groan as Brianna continued to rub a thigh over her saturated crotch.

‘Maybe you don’t have to describe it, gorgeous,’ Brianna purred in a voice dripping with seduction. ‘After all, there’s plenty of me to go around. Just think how hot it would be having both of you transform me however you like to suit your horny whims? You could both become hunky bulls and I could be your greedy twink; you could make me a Dominatrix and serve me as my slaves; you could pump me full of silicone and drain my brains until I’m just a drooling bimbo to fuck in whatever body you please. Mmmmh, so many possibilities – it’s turning me on just thinking about it.’

Morgana wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Minerva speechless. Yet when the raven-haired beauty opened her mouth to respond no words came out and all she could do was stare up at Brianna, wide-eyed, slack-jawed and so horny Morgana could almost see the lust rolling off her.

And anybody naughty enough to render Minerva mute was worthy of Morgana’s attention.

Unable to reply, all Minerva could muster was a breathless groan. Brianna turned to face her wife. ‘So, what do you think, beautiful? Does that mean she wants to play?’

Smiling impishly Morgana nodded. ‘Oh yes, I think she does. And I know just how to get started. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I saw my wife this horny and I want to know how much she can take before she’s just a drooling cumdump. And you’re going to help me.’

With a wave of her hands she summoned a pair of intimidating strap-on dildos. Their leather harnesses swayed as she gripped the dildo shafts. At the same time her outfit of jeans and t-shirt abruptly shifted to something much more erotic: a fishnet bodystocking that hugged her elegant figure while leaving nothing to the imagination. Morgana’s pussy was immediately wet as she noticed the sordid glee dancing in Brianna’s eyes.

‘If you handle this well then I’ll give you a dick of your own,’ Morgana promised as she bore down on the two lovers. ‘After all, I know how much my wife loves being railed by a big black cock. Maybe today she might even get pounded by two.’

Paralysed by arousal, Minerva could only groan as she lay pinned beneath Brianna’s perfect body – a body Minerva herself had created over hours and hours of painstakingly erotic transformation. Not for the first time that week she wondered if she might have turned Brad into the physical embodiment of desire.

And as her wife approached with strap-ons in hand, Brianna leaned in closer to whisper a promise only Minerva could hear. ‘I’ll always be your plaything, beautiful. But just for today, I think you’re about to be mine…’

Thanks for reading!

There are a few things I want to talk about regarding this one, but before I do I wanted to mention that this will be my last story until August. As usual I am taking a short break over July and so I will not be releasing any new content during that time. However once August rolls around I can promise you that I’ll be back with a bang, so I hope you’ll join me again for my return.

Now to my comments on this story. I’ll be the first to admit that it is quite the slow burn, though honestly I really like that. The Witches is a storyline I haven’t revisited nearly as often as I would like, so whenever I get chance to write a new instalment I don’t mind it being longer than my usual content. The only downside to the length of this one is that unfortunately it doesn’t contain as many images as I’d like for such a lengthy piece. But in the end I didn’t want to force extras in for the sake of it, and since I couldn’t find any other images that I felt fit organically within the story I limited it to the ones you see here.

However, the key point I feel worth discussing that is raised by this story is how I apply the ‘interracial’ tag to my stories. I recognise that for many readers the logistics of how I apply specific tags is of no interest at all, however as I have discussed many times on this blog I always attempt to be both ethical in my writing and open in how I approach that goal, which is why I felt it important to address this.

In general I typically tag a scene as interracial when there is some combination of Black, white or Asian models involved. However, when considering looks alone, models with mixed heritage like Honey Gold can make it difficult to know where to draw the line. And it is not just me saying this; this 2017 LA Weekly article discusses the difficulties multiracial pornstars can face in an industry where ‘interracial’ has very rigid connotations, highlighting how both Gold and her fiancé Donny Sins are ‘“not black enough” (and sometimes “not light enough”) for standard “Interracial” porn.’

With this in mind, the question for me then becomes ‘do I feel comfortable applying the present industry definition of interracial porn to my work?’ And upon reflection, I feel that the answer to that is no. The reason for this is simple: while the industry cannot decide whether Gold is ‘black enough’ or ‘light enough’, as the article above discusses those categories are defined by the fans – specifically those demographics who pay for porn. These individuals are the main ones who guide what kind of content is produced and how it is categorised, which of course means that said categories often reflect specific sexual fantasies rather than the nuances of real life. The net result is that the opinions of the models themselves are largely ignored.

When asked, Gold says ‘“I’m half-Cantonese, [and also] black, Cherokee Indian, Mongolian and Irish”’. Aside from the partial Irish heritage, none of those descriptors are considered Caucasian, which is what led me to tag this scene as interracial given that the other model in this scene, Arya Fae, is white. In contrast, by present porn standards this scene would not be considered interracial – or if it was, it would generally categorise Gold in a way that does not accurately reflect her mixed heritage.

To be clear, I’m not trying to label Gold as Black or Asian or any other racial category – that is simply not my place, nor does it ultimately really matter. The final word on how she identifies will always be her own. And as far as I’m concerned, that is the word that should be listened to when deciding whether a scene she stars in is considered interracial or not. While the porn industry categorises models based almost solely on skin colour, I feel that the approach that best aligns with my values it to consider how the models themselves identify.

While this is the approach I plan to take moving forward, I have no doubt that I will slip up from time to time. At the end of the day I’m no expert on any of this, and quite apart from that sometimes information about a model’s heritage or how they identify simply isn’t available. However, I will still always strive to correctly represent the models whose work I use in my stories, and I hope my comments on this have shown that respect for said models is always at the forefront of my mind when I use their work.

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2 Thoughts on “The Witches: A Night To Remember

    1. Thank you for your kind words 😊 it’s really nice to know the thought I put into these things is appreciated

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