A Gift of a Spell

It all began when I was a sophomore in college. I was young, immature, pretty, and arrogant to a fault. I thought I knew it all. When I visited a 'secret' group of witches, wondering if they would welcome me or not, I became angry when it was clear they would not welcome me to their precious wiccan.

The young witches even went so far as to insult me, telling me I had no talent within the astral plane. As a result, in my anger I expressed contempt for the idea that they -- or anyone -- could do magic. Their non-reaction further infuriated me. I guess you could say I had issues, back then.

I knew I had some innate ability, and I could tell they knew it, too. What it all came down to was that they simply didn't like me. Well, to hell with them, thought I!

The group of witches were all quite attractive, putting the lie to the image that witches were ugly. It was something I said, I suppose, but the youngest of the witches took an interest in me; she could see through me, and she saw my wound, manifested as anger, at being rejected. I was too smug to see it, so it never occurred to me that when she told me she gave me a gift, she might have been telling the truth.

"When your birthday of the tenth entry in the Fibonacci sequence occurs, blink rapidly three times, and you will see things nobody else can see. Blink three times again to stop. Use your new power wisely, or it will be your undoing," she said, rather self-importantly I thought at the time. "Use it well, and you could become powerful."

Yeah, right, I thought. I knew all about the Fibonacci sequence and the tenth number in it is 34. I had just turned 20, so I'd have to wait fourteen years to see if her prediction were true, and if that "gift" actually existed. What a load of crap!

I was 20 and arrogant and in college, but I had one major fault, that even I recognized. I was terrified of sex. Not of sex per se, but of good old-fashioned fucking. I don't know why I was so scared. Part of it was fear of the unknown, I suppose. I had taken the precaution of birth control pills, so it was not the threat of an unwanted pregnancy, nor was it especially of disease; it was simply an irrational fear.

This fear had its consequences. When it was time to get intimate with a man, I would buy him off with a handjob. Sometimes I had to give the man a blowjob. I'd even more rarely let him fuck my tits. Once -- and only once -- I let a guy fuck my ass. It was clear I was not going to get away from the guy without letting him fuck me, so I managed to buy him off with the girt of my virgin ass.

I'm thin. I've always been thin. I'm not anorexic thin or anything, I'm just naturally thin, but I have these rather large boobs, and they look even bigger on my diminutive frame. I firmly believe my body attracts a special kind of man. It makes sense: I'm sure different men like different things in a woman's body. For a few men, even the personality matters! (That's a joke, by the way.)

I dress for success. I quickly learned that if I wore baggy clothes, my big boobs made me look fat. If I wear figure hugging clothes, I look hopelessly sexy, and many a man wants to undress me to get at my boobs and well, at various other parts of me, too. Most men of course never did, but more than a few got me naked, and by that I mean down to my panties.

My favorite outfit was my skinny jeans, coupled with a tight sweater that stopped at my tiny waist. It would draw the eye to my waist (assuming said eye ever left my boobs -- my outfit made them look even more prominent) with a little body jewelry in my belly button (a special chromium tiny dangling chain), and a special belt. The belt had lots of brass charms embedded into it. I thought I looked hot, but not at all in an in-your-face way. Subtlety: that was me.

My senior year it finally happened. Evan got the prize all of my previous suitors had wanted. The key to having sex for someone like me, I finally learned, was Xanax. Lots and lots of Xanax. I became a big believer in pharmaceuticals. Drugs however are a double-edged sword, and when someone slipped me ecstasy at a party, I unraveled. My true nature revealed itself to the world, as well as to me!

At that fateful, shameful, and ultimately humiliating party, Evan seduced me. That, in and of itself, was no big deal, since we had a regular thing going on. What was different was that it was in the middle of a party, with six other people around us. I don't know what Evan ultimately wanted, but he kept removing items of my clothing, and I guess due to the ecstasy coursing through my body, I didn't seem to mind.

With my bra off he played with my boobs, all the time while kissing me. People were staring at us, but that just seemed to turn both of us on even more. Soon my yoga pants were down and off, and all I was wearing were my pink lace panties, as Evan's hands seemed to be all over my body. At one point I noticed Evan had four hands, and by the time I got a chance to look, I discovered that Mark was playing with my boobs while Evan was removing my panties.

It was totally freaky and also kind of thrilling (again, I blame the ecstasy) to have two men enjoying my body at once. I couldn't decide if I should freak, or just give myself in to it, relax, and enjoy the flight. I chose the latter (again, blame the ecstasy).

At the same time I was being molested, I saw Judy giving Leo a blowjob. Once Leo filled her mouth with his cum, Judy was then passed off to Hank and he fucked her! Right there, in front of everyone, myself, and God. The two of them went at it like reborn rabbits. What a slut, I thought, but was I behaving any better?

Where was my horror at this blatantly public sex of Hank enthusiastically fucking Judy? Where was my outrage? Where was my fear for myself, given the direction things were going, all too rapidly? Lord only knows, but it wasn't there with me, any of it; all that was there for me was the giggles. And Mark. Oh yes, Mark was there for me, and he was all over me, as was Evan.

Soon, very soon, actually, I was lying on my back with a naked Mark on top of me, kissing me and playing with my boobs. I was kissing him right back, and I lovingly stroked his muscular, naked back. His bare flesh felt divine, his kisses tasted good, and his hard cock against my tummy made me feel sexy and desired. My usual reluctance born of fear and self-respect was gone; it had vanished into the night. So too had my panties, my last vestige of humility.

As we kissed, Mark gave a slight push to my legs, and they parted easily and rapidly, like the Red Sea once did for Moses. Mark then slid his body in between my wide-open legs, sliding down my body just enough so that his nice, hard cock, was at the entrance to my soul, no longer blocked by my panties. Oops.

My response was to giggle some more. I looked at Evan and saw that he was already fucking Marybeth. WTF? Evan, my Evan, my very own boyfriend, was fucking Marybeth? He was fucking her right in front of me? How could she let him do that? How could he himself do that?

As I had that thought, Mark looked at me. He was once again perfectly positioned. What he did next sealed my fate. He asked me! "May I enter you?" he asked.

I looked at Mark. I looked at Evan fucking Marybeth. How humiliating would it be to verbalize an answer? I was into it. Mark had spoken in almost a whisper, but I answered in full voice, loud enough for sure so that my idiot boyfriend Evan could hear. "Yes, Mark, please! Give me a great fuck. Do your best," I said, and I kissed his hairy chest, giggling as the hair tickled my nose. "Cum inside me, too!" I cried out.

The next sounds I made, however, were loud moans. I've always been a loud fuck, often to my chagrin, as the walls of college dorms are thin and porous to sound. Ascribe it to the ecstasy, or to the eros of the situation with both Marybeth, and Judy too, getting fucked on either side of me, but I was more aroused than ever before, and I enjoyed Mark's fuck to the maximum extent allowable by law. I felt so ashamed to be fucking Mark, and to be fucking him with an audience (!) and ashamed all the more at how much I was loving it!

I didn't cum. I rarely do when fucking, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. I love it. I feel as if the man is making me his own. I love that my body can make a man hard, and make him want to fuck me. It makes me feel alive. I feel desired, and I crave that feeling. I knew it was always the case, but just then, having Mark want me and not just the always already Evan, made me feel especially desired.

That night changed my life. Evan and I broke up. I dated Mark for a little while, but all he wanted was to fuck me some more, and he certainly did; however, there was no real romantic connection there, just sex, so I ended it. I mean sex is fun and enjoyable and all, but I wanted more.

When Mark and I broke up, another guy from that infamous party, Hank, came after me, and we became a number. Hank was good looking, thoughtful, and considerate. He was a good person. I liked Hank, but I somehow just knew I could never fall in love with the guy.

My affair with Hank lasted well beyond its shelf life, mainly because the sex was so good. Ultimately, though, I needed more -- much more— than just good sex. I was through with all of them except Judy. I had discovered with Judy that I was bisexual. Judy and I would secretly get it on, from time to time. It turns out Judy is a great person, and we became lifelong friends.

Judy had apologized profusely for having blown Evan at that infamous party, right in front of me. It seems she had been slipped ecstasy as well. Judy and I were more than just lifelong friends. We became lifelong friends with benefits, at least until I married and forsook all others but my husband. Then we reverted just to being friends. Benefits were a thing of the past; a lovely memory.

After some more collegiate experimentation, my hunt for a good boyfriend continued. I had now been branded as a bit of a slut, however, and each guy, after he had laid me a few times, moved on to someone else. I fell into a depression. My thrill of being desired morphed into the downer of being used.

After graduation I got a job, and nobody knew my history. It was time for a fresh start! A couple of years later, at the still tender age of 24, I met Philip, a dashing, slightly older man who swept me off my feet and I fell head over heels for him! I remember well that I was wearing an asymmetric mini skirt colored in raspberry, and pink lace panties, when I fell backwards onto my own bed, my high heels in the air above my body. Philip grabbed my ankles, holding my legs in the air, and -- of course -- I giggled.

We married a year later, and then Philip began popping babies out of me. By the time I was 34, the tenth number of the Fibonacci sequence, I had been happily married for nine years and we had two beautiful children, Philip Jr., and Sam. I wouldn't have minded a third if she were to be a girl, but Philip thought two children was enough, and anyway I couldn't have handled yet another boy, should it have turned out that way.

Philip threw a birthday bash for me, when I explained that 34 was a special age, due to Fibonacci. (The Fibonacci sequence is 0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,...). It was an "intimate" affair, with nineteen of our friends there. I pointed out that with the two of us, that made 21, also a Fibonacci number. We stashed Junior and Sam with my parents for the night. My parents were thrilled, and so too were the boys.

Just before the party began, and I think just by chance, I remembered that young witch who had given me a "present" for my thirty-fourth birthday. When all the guests had arrived, I blinked rapidly three times in succession. As I expected, nothing happened. It had just been bullshit, and I set about being a good hostess at a party in my own honor.

Things got strange about 30 minutes later. All of the guests suddenly had numbers on their foreheads, with words after them. Some had something like "Two hours," or "Ten hours," and others had "Three days," or "Eighteen days," and one, namely Doris, had "Ten months" on her forehead.

Of course, I had no idea what it all meant! I knew Doris had lost her partner to an unexpected heart attack around ten months ago, but what about everyone else? (Her partner had been eleven years her senior, but still he was at a surprisingly young age to have had a heart attack. Poor Dolores was devastated.)

One thing that was curious is that all the couples at the party had the same things on their foreheads. Rebecca had "Two Hours," and so too did her partner Kevin. I took her aside and told her what I was seeing. Could I be hallucinating, or even insane? I had looked in the mirror and I had "One day" on my very own forehead. My husband Philip also had "One day" on his forehead.

We speculated together as to what, if anything, these numbers -- that only I was seeing -- could possibly mean. We came up with no answers.

"Is there anything special you remember from two hours ago?" I finally asked Rebecca.

"No, not really," came her reply.

"Tell me please everything that happened around two hours ago, okay? If you don't mind, that is," I said.

Rebecca told me. She had done some work on her computer, and then she began to change for the party. She was in her bra and panties, and she was in the process of changing her bra, since the one she was wearing was black lace and she wanted a beige one for the blouse she had picked out. Just then Kevin came in, saw her standing there topless, and ..." Rebecca giggled in embarrassment. I joined in the giggling.

"Did you climax?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, did I ever! Kevin is good in bed, or in this case, good with me bent over our overstuffed chair," Rebecca said. I was having fun imagining her bent over the chair, her legs wide apart exposing her sex to her always horny husband, and him pushing it into her. Would he be gentle or rough? Too bad the power to discern that, the young witch didn't include!

"Can't one see that chair from outside, I mean if the blinds are up?" I asked.

"That's part of the thrill, the risk you see, or at least it is for me," Rebecca said. "Nobody saw us though, thank goodness. Hey, when was the last time you had sex with Philip, if I may ask?"

Fair is fair. "Yesterday," I said.

"One day ago," Rebecca said, her voice dripping with import. We looked at each other. "Hey, what's the number on Karen?"

We left the kitchen, looking for Karen. Her number was six days. But how do we ask her? We couldn't figure out a way.

"Here's an idea," Rebecca said. "I'll take Kevin up to your bedroom and seduce him. All I have to do is smile a certain way, and he's hard and ready to go. He's always been like that. It's one of his best features."

"What good would that do?" I asked. I was not enthusiastic about other people using my marital bed to have sex, and at my own party, to boot!

"Well, my number might change, mightn't it? Kevin's too, for that matter. We could test our hypothesis," Rebecca said. "Mind if we use your bed?"

"Just be sure to close and lock the door, okay?" I said. Rebecca giggled. "And don't moan too loudly, or stuff like that, okay?" Rebecca giggled some more, but she managed to nod her head.

I saw Rebecca again about an hour later. She had a nice sex flush and was smiling from ear to ear. Sex agrees with the girl! "So, Joanie," she began, "What's my number now?"

I looked at her. I was in shock. "Fifteen minutes," I mumbled.

Rebecca pulled Kevin over, who was ignorant of what was going on. Rebecca looked at me questioningly. I nodded. Kevin's number had also changed from two hours to fifteen minutes.

*************

Just before the party was winding down to an end, I went around the party, greeting everyone a second time, and mentally recording their numbers. Luckily, I've always been good with numbers.

I found something alarming. Sarah's number was 45 minutes, and so too was Mike's. Both of them were married to other people. Not only were they having an affair, but they had gotten it on right at my party! They had had the disrespect to fuck right at my very own party, possibly even in my marital bed! I was outraged, but I managed to keep it bottled. Instead I sweetly invited Sarah to meet me for a drink after work on Monday, and she happily accepted. I steered clear of Mike.

I suddenly remembered the young witch's warning: "Use your new power wisely, or it will be your undoing." The young witch had understood the implications of her gift. I wondered what she was doing now? I made a mental note not to confront Sarah with my knowledge.

There was one woman I didn't know at the party. I introduced myself and learned her name was Sabrina. I was not even sure which one of our friends had brought her. Her number however was three days, and so I looked for men who also had a number of three days. I looked at my notes from earlier, and I found two: Josh and Ralph.

I figured one of Josh or Ralph had brought this mystery woman Sabrina. I went over to Josh, and cleverly wheedled out of him that he had come with Mary. Next, I found Ralph, and I discovered, sure enough, that he had come with Sabrina.

I took Sabrina off to a side room. There was something familiar about her, and after around ten minutes I realized that she had been the young witch who, fourteen years earlier, had given me this power I now had! She must have come to the party because it was my birthday of the tenth number of the Fibonacci sequence. Sabrina pretended that she had forgotten she had cast that spell, but she giggled when I reminded her.

"I had just learned that spell, and was eager to try it out," she said. "I hope you enjoy the power. Be careful; it's powerful stuff!"

"Did you have sex three days ago?" I asked.

"So! You're already using your new power? Good for you!" Sabrina remarked.

"What counts? Kissing? Masturbation? Oral sex?" I asked.

"None of it. Just copulation. Back then, I thought it would be kind of fun to look at someone and know how long it had been since he or she got laid, you know? I was fascinated by fucking when I was young. Also, I guess I was a bit of a busybody, you know? I sensed that you were, too. Maybe you still are? I think it comes from frustration. I see Xanax worked for you. I wish I had thought of that," Sabrina said.

"How did you know Xanax worked for me?" I said, shocked a bit, because I had told nobody that. I was so bamboozled by her telling me about my secret use of Xanax to help me overcome the anxiety of sex, that I forgot to ask her if anal counted on those clocks? Was anal sex copulation? Why did I even care about this?

"I'm a witch, remember?" Sabrina said, and she giggled. "Be careful though, Joanie. Knowing too much of the sex lives of your friends and work colleagues is a dangerous business. I suggest you use your power sparingly."

*************

I wish I had heeded Sabrina's wise advice, but alas, it was too much fun to spy on everyone -- even strangers at the mall -- to turn off my power. For example, Philip took me to the movies, and in line there was a father and a daughter, but as it turned out they were actually partners, just a May-December kind of thing. That's fine, but the man's number was two days, and his partner's number was four hours. I concluded she had fucked someone else a little while before their date. Whoa! I silently giggled to myself.

As it turned out, I was just a bit surprised, or a better word might be amazed, to see how much cheating and sleeping around was going on, all around me! Now, everyone loves to hate hypocrites, and I even discovered, when I went to hear him talk, that one of the chief bloviators of the sanctity of marriage, there with his wife, had a different number than his wife did! His number was one day, and his wife's number was five days, which meant she had last fucked on Friday night. The bloviator must have had some side action! Maybe his wife did, too, but that knowledge I couldn't discern.