Falco's frowned deepened. Just what did that mean? But then her fingers began toying with the jewel pendant on her necklace. There was an audible click—and the jewel opened up, revealing twin spirals. One for each of his eyes.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward more and more. “Won’t you consider what I have to say? I’d love for you to consider it very, very carefully.”
At first, his eyes tried desperately to stay firmly affixed to her cleavage as it closed in. But the spirals...the spirals...the spirals...
The spirals made everything in his life seem unimportant and everything she said make perfect sense.
* * * * *
Johnny Falco didn’t exactly wake up, but rather was just suddenly aware—he was in the middle of a hallway in front of his penthouse apartment at the top of the casino. Nearby, a tall mirror told him he looked as disheveled as he felt. He took some time and tucked in his shirt and buttoned his jacket. How long had he been walking for?
His balls ached, like he had been cumming for ages—like entire volumes of his lust had been written out due to some angel's happy inspiration. But when he tried to place how and why, all he could recall was simple, happy white-washed bliss.
He remembered some things—Selene talking to him in that perfect accent, sounding so perfectly even and wonderful, every last thing she said making quite a lot of sense. She was a smart, smart woman, that Selene. He ought to trust her with everything.
Falco walked through the front door of his home, tired and distantly horny. His wife Stephanie was there, sitting down in her chair examining a beauty magazine. Their maid Lola poured her a glass of wine. It was two in the afternoon—a little early for such refreshments, he felt.
Stephanie, lovely and pampered, was twenty years younger than him. They hadn’t been married for very long—only three years. But, already, it felt like much of the magic had abandoned them. They hadn't had sex for over a month, and hadn't had a decent bout in over a year.
Truth be told, he suspected that his blond, fantastically leggy wife was engaged in some extramarital activity. If he had considered that even yesterday, he would have worked himself up into a rage. But now, his anger at adultery felt distant, removed.
At the same time, all the sexual exhaustion he felt from whatever happened with Selene seemed to melt away from him. Instead, now, examining his beautiful wife's form, he could feel his lust rising again.
“Lola,” said Falco, admiring Stephanie's long legs beneath her tight sundress, “why don’t you take off for a bit?”
Lola left with a short, knowing smile. She’d propositioned Falco a number of times—or near enough for him to proposition her, anyway—but he’d resisted. She was a lovely sort—curvy and short, with bright blue eyes. She didn't seem to care at all that he was married.
But even so, Stephanie meant more to him than anyone, and almost more than anything. The casino, of course, would always be number one.
And Selene...Selene was definitely high up on that list. She deserved it. She was so gorgeous.
He leaned down and kissed Stephanie on the cheek. Thoughts of Selene's cleavage flashed in his mind, and his kisses became more insistent. Stephanie barely shifted attention from her magazine article—tips on how to make her hair really stand-out this season. Pressing onward, he listed kisses down her cheek and neck.
Still, she didn't seem to get the message.
“I’m horny,” he whispered into her ear.
In truth, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to fuck Stephanie, or to fuck Stephanie and think about Selene. He was sure, though, that he didn't care.
She put the magazine down briefly. “What?”
“I said I want to have sex.”
“Oh,” she said, surprise entering her voice. “Now? Did you take your pill?”
“I don’t need it.”
She shrugged. “Okay. It’s just...last time, when you said that, well...”
He didn’t want to think about that. The stress of running a casino often had a deleterious effect on his ability to make love—so sometimes he used a little blue pill for a little extra help.
Thinking about that hot spot of wounded pride was like anathema for his rising lust, and so he backed away from his wife.
“Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head, halfway hoping she would talk him out of his retreat.
“Okay!” she chirped brightly, turning back to her magazine.
Falco walked to the kitchen and poured himself a quick, stiff drink.
It had cheered his wife up, knowing she wouldn’t have sex with him. What was wrong with this picture?
* * * * *
Early the next morning, he woke up in his enormous king-sized bed to find his hot young wife already far gone from his bed. This wasn’t unusual. She had ever been an early-riser. Tall windows lined the bedroom, letting in the morning sun over his prone form.
While Stephanie may have been an early-riser, Falco—who had been in the casino business his entire life—was well-accustomed to waking late. Most of the business he had to attend to happened late at night.
Last night, though, for whatever reason, he had taken off from work. Instead, inspired by his wife's lackluster rejection of his lovemaking proposition, he had jerked off in the bathroom, thinking solely of Selene.
Selene, Selene, sensational Selene. His darling, darling Selene, who he wanted more than he could measure.
But surely that wasn't all he had done. He got back about two in the afternoon, then he propositioned his wife, then he jerked off for a while, and then he went to bed around ten...
No. He couldn't have stroked his cock for more than seven straight hours, could he have? Just only thinking of Selene?
He felt his cock rising again, just imagining her perfectly arranged hair, her sexy cleavage, her wonderfully placed necklace...
Sitting up on his bed, he shook his head. It was really time to get back to work. Who knows what had happened while he was gone? At least he knew that he had left the dealings of the casino in the capable hands of...of...someone. He couldn’t remember who.
Why couldn’t he remember who?
God, that was probably a problem. There was chaos, no doubt. He picked up the phone near the bed, a direct line to the casino floor manager, Rick.
“How is everything? Is anything the matter?”
“Why, no sir. She’s done a great job.”
“She? She who?”
“That woman you introduced us all to yesterday afternoon. Selene. She’s wonderful. We love her. We love her, sir.” His voice had a religious sort of fervor to it.
Confused and a bit scared, Falco hung up the phone. He got up and put on his robe, taking a measure of the day through the windows of his bedroom.
He had a great view of the penthouse level pool—one of the perks of his position—he could see his wife sunbathing in a teensy sky-blue tankini set. And there, with her...
There with her was Selene in a black string bikini.
Instantly, he dropped his robe. His hand was around his cock, stroking passionately. He didn't care if anyone could see.
Fuck, Selene was so gorgeous. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he wanted his own beautiful fucking wife, who looked as hot as she ever had in that tiny swimsuit.
God.
Wow. Falco could feel the insanity of his hot lust washing over his mind, cooing and purring in accented tones about how he shouldn't care about the logic of his situation. He should just surrender, surrender, surrender...
One of the most intoxicating aspects of Selene's beauty was how it appeared so carefree, so effortless for her to look as good as she did. Wearing so little make-up, she made it seem like she woke up in the morning looking better than most women did after years of plastic surgery, perfect diet, and strenuous work-out routines.
And that lack of effort, how it was just so easy for her to captivate him, made it all the more arousing that she had the effect on him that she did. He stroked harder, thinking about h
ow fucking easy it was, so fucking easy to captivate him. So easy to take away his will when she was so goddamn gorgeous and perfect.
Selene turned away from Stephanie briefly, so that she faced Falco in his balcony. Of course, she didn't see him. She couldn't. But that didn't stop her from smiling at him. She brought a cup up underneath her tits, and slid down her bikini top. With a few slow massaging motions, she had started to fill up the cup with her breast milk.
By god, he had been right. She was fertile. That was...that was so incredible. His cock throbbed against the glass. Once the cup was full, Selene rearranged herself and handed the cup to his wife. She drank it down without a second thought—perhaps one of many she'd already been given. Stephanie's hands drifted up and down her tight, beautiful body, touching herself eagerly.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, wow.”
It didn't stop there. Very clearly, he saw Selene whispering something in his wife’s ear. A lot of something, actually. It seemed like a whole speech—and Stephanie was a rapt listener, nodding and smiling blankly. All the while as Selene spoke, she also toyed with her sexy little necklace. Those little spirals out again. Falco remembered now, even though he couldn't see them clearly. Not for a single second did Stephanie’s eyes didn’t tear away from Selene’s cleavage.
Slowly, clearly moaning, her hips gyrating with aching need, Stephanie began to finger her pussy as she watched Stephanie's spirals twist. Her fingers worked rapidly, hotly—and Stephanie had told Falco that she never even masturbated in her whole life! It was too coarse an exercise, she always said.
But there she was, hot digits sliding in and out of her tight young cunt. Falco's strokes only got faster and faster, watching his wife finger herself.
Stephanie's orgasm was easily seen—even with Falco not being able to hear anything. Her gorgeous head tilted back, long cries pouring out of her mouth, her entire body shaking with bliss.
He knew that, with his windows tinted as they were, it was most likely impossible for Selene to see him. But he saw those emerald eyes of hers tilt upward—knowingly—and then she delivered a soft little wink as he stroked and stroked.
Groaning loudly, Falco came, spurting his hot seed all over the window. Leaning against the window, his breaths fogging on the glass, he watched her casually strut away. Every step was carefully portioned-out grace.
This woman was dangerous. And he couldn’t help but be turned on by her.
* * * * *
In the late afternoon, Falco made it down to his office to find Stephanie there already, along with a young black jack dealer who Falco dimly recognized.
Stephanie wore a slim, form-fitting silk robe, draped down over the shoulders. Between the thin material of the robe and her lusciously tanned thighs showing, it was fairly obvious that she was naked beneath the rope. The sides of her breasts could be seen easily. They looked bigger. They looked...fertile. Like the way Selene's were fertile.
Behind the desk were a number of high-definition monitors, capable of showing him almost any spot in the casino at a moment's notice. He had planned to use them to track down Selene and try to narrow down what it was she was doing in his business.
Yes, sure, that was it. He didn't want to rip his pants off the second he saw her and jerk off uncontrollably for hours at freeze-frames of her unbelievably gorgeous body. He wanted to just spy on her.
Sure.
But, with Stephanie and the dealer there, he couldn't exactly do that anymore.
“Can I help you two?” Falco began, not exactly sure what was happening.
Had Stephanie seen or caught him, somehow, after what he had done at the window?
No, impossible. He cleaned up thoroughly. He took a long look at the blackjack dealer—a tall fellow with broad shoulders and a dimpled chin. He had short blond hair and a confused look on his face that probably mirrored Falco's own.
“This is Randall,” Stephanie explained. “He’s the guy who I was sleeping with while I was married to you.”
Randall held up his hands. “That is me. Guilty as charged. It's an awful thing I've done, and I'll be sorry about it for as long as I live. Selene taught me that I needed to be sorry.”
Falco took a moment to digest all of that. Instead of rage—which he would have expected as his go-to emotion in such a circumstance—he felt only confusion.
“Who you were sleeping with? While you were married to me?” Falco sat down on top of his desk, shaking his head. “Why all the past tense all of a sudden?”
Stephanie slipped up on top of the desk with him, pressing her hips against his. She looked wounded. “Well, I’ve taken care of it all now. Certainly I wouldn’t bring Randall up here to see you if I wanted him around anymore, right?”
He supposed that made some sense, but still, he was completely puzzled.
Randall nodded eagerly. “I don't really deserve to be around anyone anymore, Mr. Falco. It's an awful thing I've done, and I'll be sorry about it for as long as I live. I'm not sure I want me around anymore either. ”
Stephanie nodded sympathetically. “Gosh, isn't that the truth? You really are just a horrible person, Randall, for doing what you've done to my precious Johnny here. You just don't matter to me anymore. Only making my Johnny feel like a man matters to me now. I'm so glad Selene taught me that.”
Randall nodded with her. “I'm so glad Selene taught me.”
Their voices, combined, had taken on an oddly robotic tone that Falco found, for whatever reason, rather arousing.
Falco tried to ignore the oddness of the situation, focusing only on the facts. “But, why are you saying you were married to me?” He rubbed his eyes for a moment. And why wasn't he angrier, for god's sake? “What’s going on with that?”
She wrapped her hand around his crotch. His cock stiffened instinctively. God, she was a beautiful woman. He hadn't felt a lusty action like that from her in far, far too long.
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” she purred. “Won’t you let me watch you fire Randall, first?”
“Huh?”
Randall stood up. “Yes, Mr. Falco. Please, fire me. I deserve it. It's an awful thing I've done, and I'll be sorry about it for as long as I live.”
Stephanie focused only on Falco, stroking his cheeks intimately. “He’s slept with your wife, darling. He simply must be fired. You have to set an example for the rest of your workers, after all. Otherwise, they’ll all try to sleep with me. They all try anyway. There must be consequences.”
“All my workers try to sleep with you?”
“I can barely keep the cocks out of my face, sweetheart. Look at how fucking hot I am. You bagged a hell of a gorgeous babe with me—and everyone knows it. Now, show them who the boss is.”
For several moments, Falco just sat there, looking at the fearful, sorrowful tinge to Randall's expression. Stephanie's pulsing strokes on his cock only became more fevered as he waited.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “It’s you, darling. You're the boss. Show him. Show us.”
With her free hand, she pushed open her flimsy robe and suddenly started to finger her pussy, eyes gleaming with lust.
“Won’t you please fire him?” she moaned, fingers sliding hard into her pussy. Her strokes on Falco's cock through his pants only increased. There was a sort of religious glee in her eyes.
The front of her robe was wet. Two circle-shaped stains had formed right where her nipples were.
Lactating. She was lactating. Oh fuck. She was so turned on that she was lactating for him.
Falco didn't see how he had much of a choice in the matter. And a big part of him did want to fire Randall. He couldn't just let the man get away with sleeping with his wife, after all.
“Randall,” he said, shaking his head. “I am afraid you’re fired.”
“You're right, ” Randall said, shaking his head sadly. “I deserve it. I know I do. It's an awful thing I've done, and I'll be sorry—”
“Shut up!” Stephanie shouted suddenly. Then she
turned to Falco, a predatory glint to her smile. “Not like that,” Stephanie whispered in Falco's ear, fingering and stroking harder. “Make him sorry.”
She was right. He had to make Randall afraid. That was what a man would do. That's what somebody who fucked Selene would do.
He gathered all his reserves of strength, and raised his voice. “You’re fired, Randall, and you’ll never work in this town again!” He pressed a button on his desk. “Security? I need you to come throw a man out of my office and out of the casino, forever. He's dangerous, so you're going to have to use maximum force. Blacklist him when you're done with him.”
Loud and euphoric, his wife’s orgasmic moan filled the office.
“Oh god,” she cried, shaking and falling down on the desk, “Oh god, yeah! You showed him who's the boss! You showed him so fucking good, baby!”
Randall, shaking his hanging head, cried for several seconds. “I’m super sorry, Mr. Falco. I really am. It's an awful thing I've done, and I'll be sorry about it for as long as I live. But don’t you worry. You don’t have to worry about me no more at all.”
He walked out of the office—and immediately was intercepted by a team of security officers who began to beat him down to the ground. For several seconds, Falco watched, transfixed, Stephanie still stroking his cock through his pants. Randall's pained cries echoed through the walls. Then mercifully, the doors closed.
Leaving his raging hard-on aside for a moment, Stephanie slipped off the desk—leaving a considerable wet spot from her trail of lust—and picked up a briefcase at her feet. From that, she laid out several papers for Falco to read. He picked them up, struggling not to grab Stephanie and fuck her right then and there.
“These are divorce papers,” he said, a bit dumbfounded. “I just don't believe it. After all that, you want to divorce me?”
“Of course I do, Johnny.” She shook her head as if he was being rather silly, like he had spilled his own bowl of cereal. “I don’t deserve to be the wife of a great man like you, do I? I just told you how I cheated on you, for god’s sake!”
“You don’t...don’t deserve?”
Transformed! Nine Magically Erotic Stories Page 5