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Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 01

By: 100 Angry Bananas



Melvin never had much luck with the ladies.

Everyone had been surprised by his marriage, but no one was surprised when his wife was caught being hammered to multiple screaming orgasms by the barely legal teen they paid to come over and mow the lawn. It seemed the front and back yards weren’t the only lawns the kid had been mowing since he’d turned old enough to vote. The towheaded beach bum thought he’d died and gone to heaven when given the opportunity for afternoon delights a day every three weeks or so with a horny housewife, and if Melvin had been a more violent man, the kid may HAVE died and gone to heaven... literally... by way of the shotgun. 

But Melvin was far from a violent man and not much more than a scrawny, stick-limbed individual with glasses, a timid nature, and a nose for money. He’d found success in accounting, enough so that he was in never in want of money and always carried a few extra bills to pass to the outstretched hand of a beggar or drop into the hat of a street musician. 

Melvin had slowly climbed his way up the ladder of the financial world, working his way to the very top, and then rammed up against a cold-hearted bitch of a boss who liked to see him squirm for her own twisted benefit. By now he should have been a partner in his firm. Instead, Mrs. Olivia Crabapple (recently divorced, she kept the last name as she liked the sound of it) loomed over him, devouring him with her shadow and stalling his career with her greed. Why not take credit for the miracles that Melvin worked when he allowed you so readily? 

It was common knowledge you could walk all over Melvin, and he’d simply stand up, wipe the grime off his suit, and apologize for standing in your way. Too many people took advantage of this. His wife, the screaming cream queen of lawn boys, got half of everything. Crabapple rode his wave to wealth. Melvin, he hated to admit, had become something of a joke.

And here he sat, staring dreamily at the form of the redheaded pretty waitress at his favorite outdoor cafe, wondering what her hair would feel like if he ran his fingers through it and watching the dimples form at the corner of her mouth as she smiled and took the orders of a table of laughing customers. This cafe was his favorite, he knew, only because she worked there. 

She began to turn, and he looked quickly away before she could catch him staring. It had happened once before, and at the time, Melvin thought he was going to vomit. His body had wanted to reject his chef salad like women rejected him: with a huge, retching gag. Rejection had been his middle name since elementary school, but he still wasn’t used to it. He knew that his ex wife had only married him because she smelled his money the way monkeys smelled bananas. He had been her money tree, and she had been more than happy to pluck the green right off of him. Then she’d peeled the shorts right off of the lawn boy and got a good taste of THAT particular banana. 

Melvin didn’t think his waitress had the capability of sniffing the dollar signs on him. She looked too pure, too innocent, and therefor, had no reason to be attracted to him because he knew the only thing he had to offer was money. Her dimples clued him in to her innocence. No woman with dimples and a smile so bright and disarming could have an evil or manipulative bone her in perfect body. 

“Anything else, Mr. MacMuffin?” his waitress asked. She must have walked over after finishing the the orders at the table of guffawing fat men. He hated the way his name sounded coming out of her mouth in her sweet musical voice; his last name had been the butt of so many jokes, he could only remember a third of them and the third had to number in the hundreds of thousands. He turned to face her, his throat tightening as he gazed upon her smiling beauty.

“N... nothing. Thank you. Just the check,” he stammered and gave her a weak smile in return. She winked.

“Ok, be right back with the check, sweetie.”

Dammit. He frowned as he watched her walk away in her cute green apron, her hair tied in a ponytail with a green ribbon to match. Why did he always have to be such a goddamn loser? He sighed. One day, he told himself, one day he’d gather up the courage to ask her out. And then he’d have the courage to not spew his meal all over her when she told him nope, no thanks, maybe some other time.

What he needed, he thought, was Dorothy to come skipping along the yellow brick road (probably yellow with urine as this was the city) and bring him to the Wizard, so he could ask for some courage. Then his problems would be solved. He glanced up and down the street from his table. No Dorothy. Not even Toto. He was shit out of luck yet again.

His waitress brought him the bill, told him to have a nice day, and was quickly waved over to the table of fat guys, still laughing over some lame joke, needing more beer. Melvin didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. Frowning, he left the cash on the table with a healthy tip for his waitress and made his way into the afternoon. 

***

The afternoon gave way to evening. Mrs. Crabapple left for the night after ranting at Melvin, calling him names until she was red in the face, grabbing the new financial graphs for their biggest client out of his hands, and demanding that he start from scratch tomorrow. Melvin knew that she was merely going to take the graphs and claim them as her own, taking more credit for his work during her meeting with the Board of Directors. To hell with it. He didn’t care.

He turned off his computer and stared at the blank screen for a few moments. At times like this, depression threatened to swell upon him and crush him with one devastating blow to the skull. BAM! And that would be the end of it. He almost wished it would come. He listened to the seconds ticking away on his Rolex. How many seconds of his life had been wasted away at times like this, sitting and feeling sorry for himself, for his sorry state of affairs, and doing nothing about it? 

Too much. 

He decided it was time to go book hunting. As a hobby, he liked to search for rare or unique books; they didn’t even have to be worth anything as long as they offered some kind of interesting jewel for him to unearth in the pages between their worn and dusty covers. The last book he’d found was a diary of a man who claimed to be a werewolf, and that had proved to be some interesting reading, especially as the man went into graphic detail of his animalistic sexual encounters. He recalled his eyes burning through the words, flipping from one page to the next, a pleasurable throbbing coming from the crotch of his pants as his arousal became evident, and then disgust at the accounts of the man’s eating of his victims, sometimes right after he’d coupled with them. Melvin doubted he’d find anything as page-turning as that, but half the fun was searching for the books anyway. 

Someone had told him of a rare book store, tucked away and relatively unknown by even the city’s most ardent rare book seekers, and this is where Melvin headed in his BMW, aware that he’d be driving in a part of the city where a BMW would stick out like a sore thumb. He figured he wouldn’t be there long enough to get it stolen. Anyway, no time like now to start working up that courage he so desperately needed. 

He pulled to the curb at the address he’d been given. All the buildings looked seedy, dark and foreboding. A look of decay hung over them, staining the bricks and casting a murky light over the dusty windows in the darkening night. He looked at the writing on his notepad, double checking that he was in the right place. Satisfied that he was, he stepped out of his car into the brisk night. He locked the BMW behind him with a push on his keypad, the car uttering an electronic beep. 

No markings or signs pointed him in the right direction, and all the store fronts looked the same. He scratched the back of his head. Melvin liked to have an excuse to stick his fingers in his hair, assuring himself that it was still there; of all the things that had happened to him, at least he wasn’t bald. He looked from door to door, wondering which was the right one.

He’d have to blindly pick one and choose. No guts, no glory. 

Being a Rolling Stones fan, he picked the door painted black, the paint peeling in strips at the top and bottom like picked-over scabs. He figured it was his best bet anyway since it most appeared to match the address he’d been given. A swaying handwritten sign proclaiming the shop was “Open” hung in a shadowy window. 

Melvin pushed his way through the door and knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he took a step inside. A few books sat on the shelves that lined the store walls, but these were far outnumbered by jars of strange looking ingredients. Melvin tossed a nervous glance to his right at one of these jars, one that seemed to be full of eyeballs. One of the eyes floated in the greenish fluid, turning to glare at him. Melvin began to back away, his hand reaching behind him to find the door handle so he could make his exit.

“I can help you,” a sensuous voice rang from the back of the store. Melvin paused and chanced a look towards the voice. A tall, dark-haired woman stood, her hands on her hips, a solemn expression on her face. She wore a black dress, and stripes of white streaked through her hair, you know, your typical Goth type. Melvin thought she bore a passing resemblance to Elvira, only the woman at the back of store was the most exotic looking person he’d ever seen. It was impossible to tell her nationality from her caramel-colored skin and her slightly slanted and stunningly blue eyes. 

“Excuse me?” he replied.

“I can help you,” she repeated. Her cold eyes looked over him, up and down. Melvin felt naked under her penetrating gaze. Her voice was persuasive, somehow hypnotic, and Melvin found himself believing her without even knowing what she was talking about.

The woman had been waiting for him, and she took him in with her eyes. He wasn’t so bad. Lose the glasses and slap on a few pounds of muscle, and he’d be a regular sexy beast. However, his lack of confidence was evident in his hunched shoulders and nervous eyes. This was something she’d have no trouble overcoming; her powers seemed to grow by the day. Confidence was something that SHE didn’t lack.

“How?” he said. The woman smiled, her lips peeling back to reveal some sharp looking teeth. They shone in the pallid light cast by an ancient lamp. 

“Fate brought you into my store. You have trouble with women.” 

“How’d...?” Melvin began. Was it that obvious? Could she tell just by looking at him what a pathetic loser he was? Things were worse than he’d realized. He straightened his glasses. She was making fun of him; he was sure of it. 

“Oh, Mr. Melvin MacMuffin, are you always so insecure? So full of doubt?” the woman purred from the other side of the room. Her voice slipped past his defenses and caressed his heart.

“You know my name?” he said, unable to take his eyes off her.

“Look around you, Mel. I’m a fucking witch! I know all sorts of shit,” she said with a cackling laugh, throwing her head back, her long black hair flowing around her shoulders. Entranced, Melvin could only watch her.

“Come with me,” she said, beckoning him with a long finger. Melvin did so in rambling steps, his throat feeling suddenly very dry. The floating eye watched him silently from its place in the jar. Melvin cast a few glances around him as he approached, seeing monstrosities and creatures of all sorts floating in liquids all colors of the rainbow in jars of all sizes. They seemed to watch his progress with open, unblinking eyes. 

“Follow me,” the witch told him and slipped through an open doorway and up a small flight of stairs. The stairway was narrow and felt crooked, the wallpaper cracked and peeling in places; Melvin felt the need to place his hands against the walls to steady himself as he walked up.

The self-proclaimed witch led him into a small room. It must have been her bedroom because a bed was in one corner, and a dresser sat close to it, a large mirror reflecting his pale expression back at Melvin as he walked into the room. On the opposite wall, a tall cabinet stood, beakers and bottles littering its shelves. It was this cabinet that the witch approached, her long black dress gliding on the floor behind her. 

She opened the cabinet door and pulled out a blue bottle. It seemed to pulse with a kind of electric power in her hands, and she popped open the cork and inhaled. A thin veil of wispy smoke drifted from the open bottle and wrapped her head in a smoky halo. A crooked grin slid over her face. 

“Love juice, Melvin. Drink this and you will become irresistible to any woman you so desire,” she said, her voice dancing around him, touching his face, slipping under his skin and propelling him towards her. Melvin walked over in a daze, his hand out to take the bottle from her, clutching and unclutching the empty air as he approached. 

“It’s still missing an ingredient,” the witch said, putting the bottle behind her back, warding Melvin off with her free hand by pushing it against his chest. Her blue eyes sparkled. She would enjoy toying with this one. He was like a puppy with his big hopeful eyes and harmless nature. Why not cuddle? 

“Ingredient?” Melvin asked. His head felt a little dizzy, drunk almost. He blinked, trying to find that foundation inside of him that kept his inhibitions and logic at the forefront of his thoughts when he felt both trying to slip away after a few drinks. Only, tonight he hadn’t had anything to drink. He figured that the woman, the one who claimed to be a witch, had something to do with his lightheadedness. She was intoxicating. 

The witch leaned in and whispered into Melvin’s ear, her hand moving up from his chest and stroking his hair. Her body brushed against his, and Melvin became very aware of her breasts pressing into his chest. He began to tremble in fear and anticipation. What was she up to? 

“To make this potion yours and only yours, you must add your own special essence,” she said and licked his ear lobe with a flick of her tongue. Melvin tensed.

“Essence?” he croaked.

“Your semen. Cum. Spunk. Jizz. Baby batter.” 

She ticked the names off her fingers, punctuating each word with a smirk, and continued, “Whatever you want to call it, the potion has to have it to work.” Her free hand roamed along his back, took a hold of his ass and pushed his crotch against her thigh. She rubbed against him with her leg, feeling the heat building through his pants. 

“Why don’t you let me help you get it out?” she cooed, and her tongue was in his ear, circling and tickling him. Every muscle in Melvin’s body clenched, but he made no attempt to escape her clutches. Things like this never happened to him; being seduced by an exotic and beautiful woman, a complete stranger, was out of the question. Could this really be happening? Doubts mounted in his mind; panic began to set in. Should he leave now while he still could? 

Then the witch slipped a hand down his pants, took a hold of his hardening manhood, and made his decision for him. He’d never get a chance like this again. Might as well enjoy it, right? 

She began to stroke him slowly in his pants, and Melvin’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped, his tongue lolling inside of his mouth. Oh shit, he was going to shoot his shot right now!

“No, no, bad boy,” the witch gripped him hard, her long nails digging into his sensitive tissue, and Melvin’s pleasure was lost in a bolt of pain. He grabbed her arm, trying to get her to let go. The witch placed the blue bottle of love juice back on the shelf and used her newly freed hand to lightly slap Melvin on the face.

“We can’t use your cum if you just shoot it all over yourself,” she chastised him. “How do you expect to satisfy anyone if you lose it within twenty seconds?”

Her grip lessened on his erection and began to work on him again with swift sweet strokes. Her other hand began to unbutton the front of his pants. Melvin took some big, gulping breaths. His heart fluttered in his chest. 

The witch kissed him, her lips encasing his, her tongue slipping out and licking his lips, her breath warm on his face. Melvin felt the dizziness in his head threaten to buckle his knees and swat him out of his reverie. He clenched his eyes, trying to focus, feeling her hands roaming and stroking him, her lips on his own, her body pressed against his. 

She undid his pants and slid them to his ankles. He felt her body work against his, grinding, slipping down to her knees. Her hands dipped into his boxers and fished out his straining boner. Melvin hoped to God she didn’t giggle at its size. He was average-sized, or so he’d read, but a woman like this probably could have any kind of dick she wanted. Could she be satisfied with something merely average? He thought not. 

“Melvin, women are going to be eating out of your hands. You could have the smallest dick in the world and they will beg you to stick it in them and then scream when you make them cum,” her voice rose up from below him, soothing him, her hands rubbing his thighs. Melvin sighed. A man like him... worshipped by women? It seemed impossible. After all the pain he’d gone through, the miseries heaped upon him, didn’t he deserve a little bit in life? Of everyone he knew, didn’t HE deserve to have some happiness? 


As if in answer, the witch took him in her mouth, her black hair bobbing, her lips slipping around his erection and down to the root. Melvin gasped and his eyes popped open. Her hand began to glide up and down his pole, guiding him in and out of her mouth with expert strokes. Melvin sucked in air through his gnashed teeth, feeling pleasure shoot through him in waves that he’d never before experienced. 

He wrapped his hands around her head, his fingers sliding into her soft hair as she made love to him with her mouth. Melvin began to see stars, fireworks invisible to anyone but him. His head felt light. He felt as if he was floating off the floor, through the ceiling, through the night air into a flurry of stars. Was this the witch’s doing? Had she hypnotized him? Or was it simply a level of pleasure he’d never experienced before propelling him to new heights? 

She began to speed up, and Melvin felt himself lose complete control. His euphoria swam around him in a colorful haze, and then he was falling, the Earth rising up to meet him, the ground once again under his feet, and his cock spurting strands of white gooey cum into the witch’s open mouth. 

Finally, Melvin’s legs lost their strength, and he collapsed to the floor, his muscles turning to jelly. His glasses skirted off his nose and skidded to the floor. The witch stood up, her mouth still full of his seed, and took the blue bottle off the shelf. She spat Melvin’s load into the bottle, placed a finger over it and shook it viciously. Her breasts jiggled a little as she did so, and surprising himself, Melvin felt a tiny stirring from his limp penis. 

“Shake well,” she said, wiping her chin with her sleeve. She held the bottle up to her eyes and regarded it for a moment.

“Perfect,” she said and turned to him, “Get on your knees.”

Her tone of voice told Melvin that this was an order, not a request, and he pulled himself to his knees before her, head bowed, as if in prayer. The witch slid one strap of her dress over her shoulder and then the second strap over her other shoulder. Her long black dress fell with a quiet rustle, exposing her nakedness. 

Her body drew a gasp from Melvin. It was breathtaking. She was no witch; she was a goddess, and she would make him her slave. No mere mortal could hold a man so ultimately in her grasp with such a heavenly body. He was helpless before her. 

Snatching some of these thoughts out of Melvin’s head like snowflakes on her tongue, the witch smiled. He had quite the imagination. Very cute.


Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 01



“Now drink,” she told him and poured the contents of the bottle between her breasts, down her body. The potion was a deep, blood red, and its sweetness filled the air with the scent of rosebuds. She pulled Melvin’s head to her pussy, where the potion began to dribble and then drip off her and into Melvin’s open mouth.

Wasn’t his fresh cum in this potion that dripped from the witch onto his willing tongue? Melvin could only taste a richly sweet flavor similar to his favorite wine. Besides, the witch bid him to drink. He did as she ordered. She was his goddess, and he didn't even know her name.

Then darkness swooped over him, carrying him away into the deepening night. He closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

***

Melvin’s eyes fluttered open, the morning light pooling over his face and pillow. He was dressed in his clothes from the night before, and a dull throb rapped between his eyes: signs of a hangover. Had he been drinking last night? 

Probably. He couldn’t remember, but he’d had some crazy ass dreams. He searched for his glasses and couldn’t find them anywhere. A vague memory... his glasses falling and skidding across the floor after a gorgeous witch had stolen his seed... but he wrote this off as the imaginings of a particularly vivid dream. More likely, he’d lost them stumbling home from the bar down the block.

Melvin hopped into the shower, cleaned himself off, toweled himself dry, and dressed for work. He felt better today for some reason. A new day and new opportunities and all that jazz, he guessed.

In fact, if Mrs. Olivia Crabapple started up with him, he just might give her a few choice words in reply. And if his favorite waitress worked today at the cafe, he just might ask her out after lunch.

Then again, he might not.

Whistling, Melvin walked out of his apartment building and into the new day.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 02



Melvin's first clue that something was different happened as he rode the elevator to his office, his brain running numbers and fractions and percentages like a human calculator. About halfway to his floor, on the verge of adding profit margins mentally, he noticed the woman standing next to him sneaking sly glances in his direction. 

She was a middle-aged woman, blonde, slightly attractive but nothing that would send men drooling or whistling if she passed by on the street. Still, the fact that even a woman as attractive as this one was casting looks towards him made Melvin's neck feel warm and uncomfortable around the collar. He fidgeted with his briefcase and straightened his glasses. He'd lost his good pair sometime during the duration of the previous night, and the spare set he always kept in his briefcase sat on his nose funny.

She made eye contact with him, her face blushing a bright red, and she squeaked, "Hi!" 

Melvin's throat felt tight, and he had to force himself to keep from loosening his increasingly suffocating tie. He'd made a woman blush? Something funny was going on here, or this woman had serious problems. Melvin figured her as some kind of head case.  

"Hi," he replied and smiled. She smiled back and then glanced away with an expression of embarrassment. Definitely a head case.

The elevator beeped, and the doors slid open.

"My floor," Melvin said apologetically and stepped out. As the doors closed behind him, the woman gave him a shy wave, and Melvin returned it. His head swooned with thoughts, many concerning his strange dream of the witch and the love potion she'd concocted for him. 

Her voice: "Melvin, women are going to be eating out of your hands."

But that hadn't been real, had it? It couldn't have been. In his dream, he'd blacked out at her store. How'd he get home? His BMW had been parked in front of his apartment building this morning, so who'd driven it? The events of last night were a fuzzy blur, and he couldn't see through the fog of intoxication that seemed to cover it all. 

The only explanation that made sense was that after Crabapple, his cold-hearted bitch of a boss, had chewed him out yesterday, he'd gone to a bar to drink away his problems to nothingness. The whole thing about the witch and her love potion was merely a dream caused by an abundance of alcohol and his lack of luck with women. Right?

He thought about the woman in the elevator. Weird. If only he could remember what had really happened to him. He didn't like the idea of passing into an alcoholic fugue state and waking up in his bed the next day with no memory of the night before. He turned, trying to see if he could get a bearing on Crapabble, the last person he needed breathing down his neck at the moment. She was nowhere in sight, and Melvin made a break for it.

Olivia Crabapple was on him as soon as he stepped into the maze of cubicles that Melvin had to navigate to get to his office. She swooped out of the sky like a vulture setting its talons into fresh road kill, her eyes flaming, her lips curled back in a snarl. Olivia was insanely jealous of Melvin's talent although she'd never admit as much, at least not out loud, and she took pleasure in watching him squirm like a worm on a hook, dangling his work in front of the hungry fishes on the Board of Directors and claiming it as her own.

Did it really matter, anyway? Melvin had no sense for leadership, no business savvy, and that's really what being a partner in the firm was all about, wasn't it? Olivia figured she would be just that, a partner, before the year was up, thanks to stealing everything of Melvin's she could get her claws on. 

"Where have you been?" she spat at him. Melvin checked his watch.

"I'm early," he said.

"Who cares what time it is? I need you here when I need you, and I needed you twenty minutes ago!" she paused for a moment, her snarl disappearing, her face subtly changing expressions, and added, "What's different about you today?"

Melvin was caught off guard by the question and thought fleetingly of the woman in the elevator and his odd dream about the witch's love potion before he said, "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Olivia regarded him for a moment. She tapped a finger against her chin, her long nail painted dark red. Olivia wore a smart charcoal business suit, oozing professionalism but at the same time accentuating her curvy femininity, making her an intimidating sexual being. It was as if she was daring some poor schmo to make a pass at her, if only so she could tear out his throat and threaten him with a sexual harassment suit. Her green eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked over Melvin. 

"Something's definitely different about you," she said. 

Melvin shrugged and said, "I'm just gonna get to work." He slipped past her, ducked into his office and closed the door behind him. 

Olivia continued to tap her chin with a finger. She had approached him this morning with every intention of declaring that Melvin would be no longer in need of an office before stripping it away and demoting him to a tiny cubicle like everyone else on the floor (except her, of course, her office was large and luxurious as suited her engorged ego). She'd wanted to see his hopeless expression of resignation before he gave in, but now a new feeling stirred somewhere in the bottom of her stomach. She could still humiliate him, but there were better ways to do so. More fun to be had. Yes, much more fun. 

She swiveled on her high heels, growled at an underling to get busy, and thumped her way to her office. She had to prepare for her weekly meeting with the Board, and there was so much work to do, considering she'd have to familiarize herself with the numbers she'd taken from Melvin the day before. Her humiliation of Melvin MacMuffin would have to wait until after hours, anyway. 

In his office, Melvin collapsed into his chair. What was going on today? He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The woman in the elevator. Olivia. They both had seemed to think something was different about him. His dream of the witch, her naked body gleaming as he knelt in reverence before her, seemed more vivid than it had when he'd first woken up in his bed, his wrinkled clothes from the day before still on him. 

A knocking rapped from the other side of his office door.

"Come in," Melvin said, and Richie Golding poked in his head. Richie, the office clown, was one of the few faces that Melvin felt he could trust. They hung out from time to time, but Richie was a bit of a party animal and was more interested in attempting to get his "wicky sticky" (as he liked to say) than in sipping beers with a poor loser like Melvin. Still, Melvin considered him a friend.

"My main man, Mel! Saw that you got a visit from the Wicked Witch of the twenty third floor already this morning," he said with a grin. Richie stepped into the room, his arms stuffed with various files and documents. His light brown hair stuck up in the back as if it hadn't been combed after he'd slept on it. Most likely, Richie hadn't gone home last night and had crawled straight to the office from some poor girl's apartment that he'd tricked into sleeping with him.

"Brought these for you. More work for you to do, so Crabapple can steal it and make partner," Richie cracked with a raised eyebrow. Melvin tried to shake off the remark, but it clung like a wet towel. 

"Drop them anywhere. Hey, Rich, can I ask you something? Do I look any different to you today?" Melvin asked, replacing his glasses on his nose. Richie tossed the stuff he'd been carrying into a disorganized mess on Melvin's desk and took a step back to examine him. Richie eyed Melvin carefully and smoothed back the hair that had been standing on his scalp, the clump of hair leaping right back up as soon as his hands passed it.

"Nope, same ol' Mel. And that's my professional opinion," he said finally.

"Thanks," said Melvin, and Richie zipped out the door. Melvin stewed at his desk as he turned on his computer. Well, Richie seemed to think that nothing was weird about him, and that was something. However, he was still not satisfied, and questions plagued him like irritated wasps, stinging him behind the eyes. Maybe lunch at his favorite cafe would get his mind off the strange morning, and he could even gaze upon his lovely redheaded waitress as he ate. 

Melvin rummaged through the pile on his desk and got to work.

***

He slipped out for lunch before Olivia could see him and stop him; she'd rather keep Melvin in his office doing nothing than allowing him to escape an hour for some fresh air. She enjoyed her small tortures. Avoiding her was a kind of art he'd developed over the past few months, and Melvin considered himself something in the league of a Picasso in the department. 

He mentally thanked God that the woman from earlier was not in the elevator as he rode it down. All he wanted was a nice and quiet lunch where he could sort things out. The images from his dream were growing stronger and stronger in his head, and Melvin had trouble separating reality from fiction. 

Melvin drove to the cafe and found an empty table outside where he knew Courtney, his so-cute-it-hurt redheaded waitress, would be working. He'd learned her name from the tag hanging precariously just above her right breast, pinned to the front of her green apron, but he hadn't yet gathered the courage to call her by it.

He sat down, leaned back in the metal chair and let the sunlight fall on his face, its brightness warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes and let his mind empty, thoughts leaking out of his ears not unlike the blood that had leaked after he'd busted his ear drums at the only rock concert he'd ever attended. The thought was yet another reminder of his pathetic nature; he shuddered thinking about it.

"Hi, Mr. MacMuffin. Am I disturbing you?" he heard Courtney ask through his shut eye lids. His eyes fluttered open, and he took her in: smiling, dimples at the corners of her mouth, her teeth a spread of white pearls, her hazel eyes glittering in the sunlight, adorable freckles peppering her nose and cheeks.

The sound of her lovely voice saying his ridiculously absurd last name sent a sick chill slivering down his spine; it seemed Fate enjoyed its small tortures as well. 

"No, no. Not at all," he said and returned her smile. As he had basked in the warm sun, he now basked in Courtney's presence. 

"You want the usual?" she asked him. A pencil jutted up from behind her ear. She swiped her bangs off her forehead with the flick of her wrist, but they fell back over her eyes just as quickly. She was so cute, so sweet, that Melvin wanted to lather her in whipped cream and eat her all up. Screw the usual; give him a heaping plate of warm Courtney, and he'd sink his teeth right in.

"Yes, the usual," he told her, brushing away his thoughts of sexual cannibalism.

"Consider it done," she said, winked, and scurried away, her legs striding beneath her green apron. He watched her for a moment and then turned, in case anyone caught him staring. He sighed. If only a girl like that could ever be interested in a guy like him.

The musical ringing of his cell phone (Pachelbel's Canon in D, his favorite) interrupted his thoughts. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID, the phone still jingling through Pachelbel. The number on the screen was not one he recognized. He shrugged, pressed the talk button and placed the phone against his ear. 

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey there, babe. How's the day treatin' ya?" the voice on the other side of the phone was that of his dream, the voice of the goddess/witch. Melvin's heart caught in his throat, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Was this real? Or was he still in bed, still dreaming all of it? The yellow brightness of the day seemed suddenly surreal, filtering through his eyes in slow motion. 

"It's real, Mel. Believe it, buddy boy. You don't really think you've dreamt every mundane detail of your incredibly boring morning at work, do ya?" 

"How'd you get this number?" Melvin asked, peering around him as if he half thought the witch would be somewhere close by, stalking him.

"Duh! I'm a witch, remember? You can't have forgotten all about me already. Not after our little potion par-tay last night. You seemed to enjoy yourself. I mean, REALLY enjoyed yourself."

"What do you want?" Melvin said, eyes still darting around him. He noticed that Courtney was making her way back to his table, a tray carrying his chef salad and a glass of water balanced on her left hand. His heart began to drum against his sternum.

"Just wanted to make sure you're working your magic. Gettin' your groove on. I wouldn't want to squander my love juice on someone who's too afraid to use it. She's a lefty, by the way. Your waitress, I mean. Ever get a reach around from a lefty?" 

Courtney was almost at his table. Her mouth turned up into a smile as she made eye contact with him. Melvin considered hanging up the phone, but who knew how a witch would respond to being hung up on? She might turn him into a frog or something.

"Melvin MacMuffin, what would be the point of turning you into a frog? Now, a monkey maybe. I could teach you to do tricks."

"I gotta go. I don't think your love ju... er... your potion worked, anyway," Melvin whispered, and he reached to press the talk button and hang up the phone.

"It works, Mel. You're about to find out," her voice buzzed in his ear, and then it was gone, his finger mashing the button and shutting off the phone with a shrill beep.

Courtney stood next to the table and slipped Melvin's salad in front of him. He admired her milky white skin, slender fingers, and her nails painted a light pink. It was a sparkly nail polish, something a junior high school girl might use, and it only reinforced her innocent charm. 

"Anything else?" she asked after she'd finished putting down his water. A lemon bobbed up and down like a buoy between cubes of melting ice. Melvin licked his lips. Now was his chance. He'd ask her out. Now! Do it!

"No thanks," he said, giving her the biggest and dumbest smile he could muster. The imaginary voice of the witch called him a pussy in his head. Oh well, he'd been a pussy all his life, and he'd lived with it this long. What was another day? Courtney nodded and turned back towards the kitchen.

"Actually, uh, maybe you could help me instead," she said, twisting back around to face Melvin. She held the tray with both hands against her chest, her face glowing a light red around her nose and cheeks, along the area that her freckles populated. It took Melvin a moment to realize that she was blushing.

"Yes?" he asked. Was Courtney really blushing? He figured he must have embarrassed her somehow, by some rude statement or gesture or... what? Still, he'd made two different woman blush in the same day; it had to be some kind of record for him. Feeling self conscious, Melvin straightened his glasses. 

"Uh, well. I don't know how to say this, but..." she stammered. She took a few steps back towards his table. Melvin questioned her with a raise of his eyebrows. Her cheeks flushed brighter.

"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" she said, forcing the words out of her mouth as quickly as she could, her eyes unable to meet his. Melvin sat, flabbergasted. Courtney the waitress, the girl he had been moping after and admiring from afar for three months, had just asked him out. 

"I understand if you don't want to; it's ok," she added before he had a chance to respond.

"I... I'd love to," Melvin said. Courtney put a hand over her mouth and laughed in relief, the dimples returning. Her eyes finally gained the courage to rest on his. He liked the way her hazel eyes reflected the green of her apron. 

"Oh, thank God! I'd have felt like such a fucking loser if you'd said no," she replied and then gasped, her eyes opening wide in shock.

"Oh sorry, Mr. MacMuffin! You probably don't say the f-word, do you? You seem way too nice!" she squeaked like a frightened mouse. 

"Call me Mel, and it's fine. I say the f-word. Fuck! See?" he replied and laughed. His face burned a little as he said it, and he realized that he was blushing now, too. He didn't really say the f-word, but he didn't want her to think he was some kind of prude. She laughed with him. 

"How's tomorrow night?" she said, nervously twiddling her fingers as she still held the tray against her chest. Melvin nodded. He would have said yes to any time she suggested. 

"Sounds wonderful."

"Great! Why don't I give you my number when I bring you the check?" she suggested.

"Deal," Melvin said, and Courtney backed away before disappearing into the kitchen with a giggle and a cute wave. Melvin sighed. The potion... the love juice... it was all true. It was all real. What had he done to deserve such a thing? He had trouble thinking that the witch had given it to him out of the kindness of her heart. But what could she be getting out of the deal? Did she expect some kind of payment? 

Out of curiosity, Melvin checked the call log on his cell phone. The last received call was from his mother in Oregon; the witch's number was nowhere to be found. He tried to dig it up in his head, but he found that he couldn't. 

Strange, since he had such a strong memory when it came to numbers. In any case, if the witch wanted to contact him or speak to him, she apparently had his number. Plus, he could always go back to her shop. 

Frowning, Melvin pushed all these thoughts out of his mind and let Courtney drift into his brain and fill him up. He couldn't wait until tomorrow night. Then all of his attention would be hers and hers alone. She would be everything to him for as long as she was with him. He grinned at the thought of it.

He was so excited, he could barely eat his chef salad.

***

The rest of the afternoon was a blur as Melvin zoomed through his work, Courtney always at the forefront of his mind. Her face peered back at him as he reviewed numbers on the computer screen. Her smile perked up from the memos sitting on his desk. Her supple bottom, an image that brought a guilty but exciting thrill, roamed about the reflections in his office windows. She was everywhere, in every thought.

Hours ticked away quicker than usual, and just when Melvin thought he would make it through the day unscathed, the dreaded Mrs. Olivia Crabapple paged him. He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it was nearly nine o'clock; everyone in the office would have left hours ago. He couldn't believe he'd lost such track of the time, and what could Crabapple be wanting with him this late? 

"Melvin, my office," her voice squawked from his speaker phone. Groaning, Melvin stood up from his desk chair and stretched. His body was stiff from several hours of inactivity, and his eyes were bloodshot from staring at the glare of the computer monitor for so long. He didn't know how he could get so lost in his work, but numbers were just something that always clicked for him. 

He loosened his tie, straightened his glasses, and opened the door to his office. The floor was dark and quiet. Everyone had gone home. The only light came from behind the closed blinds of Crabapple's office windows and a soft yellow glow from under her door. Melvin scratched his head as he headed towards her office. It was unlike her to be here so late; he'd figured that he was the only one on the floor who didn't have any life and filled his spare time with work. Probably, she needed Melvin to explain some of the graphs she'd taken from him. 

Melvin closed his hand around the doorknob and pushed his way into her office. Then he stopped, dumbfounded. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped at the sight before him. Olivia Crabapple stood on her desk in a black lingerie, her heaving bosom trying desperately to spill out over the lacy top. Her frosty, short blonde hair shone in the gleam from the desk lamp, and tall black boots ran up to her knees, her long and luscious legs covered in fishnet stockings. She held a leather whip in her hand, and a devilish grin curled at her lips. Her expression was somehow both coy and predatory.




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 02



"Dear Melvin, always staying so late at the office. You know, all work and no play makes Melvin a dull little shit, now doesn't it? So... let's play," she said, sticking a finger across her red lips and then sliding it between them to suck on it.

"I... uh... I... don't..." Melvin's words caught in his throat, and he choked on them. Walking into Crabapple's office and being confronted by this spectacle was completely unexpected, and he had no capacity to react. 

"Is the whip a bit too much? A little too scary? I think so, too," she said and flipped it away behind her. It twisted through the air and landed on the floor with a thud. Her grin faded, and she gave him a solemn, demanding look.

"Now get on your knees," she ordered. Melvin did so, sliding to the floor, and he had to admit the entire situation was beginning to turn him on. He had Courtney to think about though; what about her? Then again, the consequences of turning down Olivia Crabapple when she was after something she wanted were enough to make a guy reach for his own genitals in fear. 

Olivia hopped off the desk and strutted towards him, her hips swaying. She came to a stop in front of Melvin, her womanhood face-to-face with Melvin's eyes. Olivia was wearing crotchless panties, the lips of her vagina glistening, and Melvin was reminded of the night before, kneeling before the witch as she made him drink her sweet and tangy potion... the love juice running down the witch's body, glistening on her skin before dripping into Melvin's open mouth. Did the love juice have something to do with what was happening to him now? Melvin didn't doubt it.

"Eat my pussy," Olivia growled. "Eat it." 

She grabbed Melvin's hair and forced his face into her crotch. Melvin's nose banged into the mound just above her slit, making Olivia moan above him, her nails digging harder into his scalp. His glasses tilted on his nose, and Melvin scrambled to pull them off and push them to safety before anything got out of hand. He made a mental note to remember where he left them.

Melvin had never given a woman oral sex before and wasn't sure where to start. Well, he might as well learn now. What if Courtney ever wanted him to perform oral on her? He began to lick around Olivia's pussy lips, tasting the salty and tangy fluids that had began to seep there. Surprisingly, he found it didn't taste half bad; in fact, he kinda liked it. 

He tried slipping his tongue past the lips and into Olivia's moist love canal. She was so hot there, he could feel the warmth on his face. This drew an intake of breath from Olivia above him. He began to orchestrate his head back and forth, forcing his tongue in and out of her in rhythm. 

Remembering that women were supposedly very sensitive on their clitoris, he lifted one hand to the mound above her slit and roamed with his fingers until he found a small, hard object that seemed to be jutting up from the area around it. 

"Oh yeah, Melvin. Lick my whore's cunt. Lap up that nasty slut syrup I'm brewing for you," Olivia mumbled, lost in a nonsensical ramble of dirty talk. Slut syrup? Melvin tried not to listen to her. He took her clit and rolled it between two fingers, applying pressure but not enough to cause pain... or so he hoped.

"Oh, there it is! You found it! Eureka! That's clit gold! Mine that shit for cum now, you fucking pleasure detective," Olivia continued her sexual discourse. 

Sweat began to form on Melvin's brow, and he had trouble concentrating with the insane banter coming above him. She was worse than listening to director's commentary during the hottest scene in one's favorite porno. He exchanged his mouth and hand, so he could gingerly suck on Olivia's clit and rub it with his tongue while he slipped two fingers into her dripping pussy.

"Goddammit fuck shitter titty ass suck!" Olivia moaned, her nails digging so hard into Melvin's scalp that he was afraid she might start drawing blood. Abruptly, her hands became claws, gripping clumps of his hair, and she yanked him up with a hard pull.

"Yeow!" Melvin cried as he was lifted from his knees. Hot tears sprang into his eyes. Olivia stuck out her bottom lip and wiped away one of his tears with a finger. She then sucked the tear off the tip of it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you, but it's time to fuck mama now," she said and pushed him into her leather desk chair. Melvin fell into it, all balance lost, flailing his arms. He hit it with a grunt, and before he could get himself situated, Olivia jumped on top of him, expelling any air left in Melvin's lungs. 

Her hands tore away buttons, peeled off his shirt, and scrambled to unbuckle Melvin's pants. The crotch jutted up in a ridiculous mockery of an equilateral triangle, his erection struggling to be set free; Olivia's aggression, her desperate want of him, made Melvin want her back. And the fact it was his evil, hated and very hot boss he was about to screw didn't hurt either. Olivia had him naked in moments.

She hovered over his hard cock for a moment, a trail of wetness actually dripping down the side of one leg and then plunged herself onto him by dropping all of her weight on his cock, a loud gasp issuing from both of them. Melvin's hands gripped her breasts, rubbing them, squeezing, and he pulled the top of the lingerie down to expose their nakedness to his mouth.

Melvin couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex. It had been with his wife, so at least two years ago, and it had not been much more than her limp on the bed, waiting for him to end his clumsy thrusting and eventually dribble his seed into her. The last time he'd experienced the sheer excitement and wild nature of intercourse... well, he didn't think he'd ever experienced it before now. 

"Gimme, gimme, gimme that Oscar Meyer Wiener, so I can coat it with fuck mustard!" Olivia cried out, her breasts bouncing in Melvin's face as he took turns sucking on each of them. Fuck mustard? 

Olivia was definitely coating him with something, fuck mustard or not. Melvin hadn't ever imagined that so much fluid could come out of a woman. His wife had barely ever gotten wet enough to be lubricated for him. Olivia Crabapple, his sworn enemy, was so hot and wet that he could barely feel the inside of her; it was like making love to a squishy sponge. This didn't matter as the situation and Olivia's enthusiasm kept Melvin more than turned on. Olivia leaned into him and began to nibble on his ear.

"I'm gonna to make you cum so much, we'll be able to feed small African villages," she whispered and licked the side of his face. His face glistened with her saliva, and Olivia loved the look of it. Her eyes locked onto his own, wanton passion mirrored in her gaze. 

Melvin clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep himself from cumming. He had to build up some stamina, some endurance. He'd read that it took the average woman typically twenty or so minutes before she warmed up to orgasm. His hands grabbed her tight ass, gripping its firmness, and he wondered how many men in the office had fantasized about doing what he was doing to Olivia at this very moment. 

"Stick a finger in my ass, plug that shit up, and I'll cum. Please! I promise I'll cum," Olivia begged, her lips still next to Melvin's ear. Ok, so maybe Crabapple didn't need all that time to cum. She humped him a little quicker, her breasts pressing against his face, her tongue flickering at his ear lobe, and Melvin slid a hand between the cheeks of her ass, searching for the hole she'd begged him to "plug."

Finding it, he slid his middle finger into her asshole. Her rectum was hot and tight. Her entire body tensed around him, her pussy milking his cock, gripping it suddenly and forcefully. She no longer felt like a squishy sponge; she now held him in a vise. 

"Good boy! Time for your treat!" she said, just loud enough for him to hear, and then bucked hard twice and screamed. Her yell was primal and thunderous and right in Melvin's ear. He found that he didn't care as her pussy began to squirt creamy wet goo over his throbbing cock. The force of her female ejaculation both amazed and shocked him and managed to force his own orgasm to impending doom, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Yesss, yesss, cum in meee. Feed my pussy your cum," she said breathlessly into Melvin's ear as her own orgasm completed its last weakening spasms. He felt his balls tighten, and the surge of his jism as it flew through his shaft and spurted into her pussy, decorating her insides with shots of man juice. He could feel either his pulse or her pulse in the walls of her pussy; it was impossible to tell which. 

After it was all over, she stayed on top of him for a moment, his cock still hard inside of her. Then she pulled herself off him, his cock sliding out, coated in a mixture of his own cum and her so-called "fuck mustard." The smell of sex permeated the air. It was a scent that Melvin hadn't smelled in a long time. Olivia stepped away from him and turned around, her back to Melvin.

"Now, get out of here!" Crabapple demanded, her face hidden, her arm extended, finger pointing at the door. Melvin blinked in confusion. Realization began to set in. She'd used him, and now was done with him. Silently, he gathered his clothes and glasses and walked out of her office, closing the door behind him.

Melvin dressed, buttoning his shirt as well as he could, considering the buttons Olivia had torn off, and stopped at his office for his briefcase. The events of the evening swirled about his mind, and as much as he tried to make sense of it, he couldn't. Should he pretend it had never happened? Maybe. He hoped that Olivia Crabapple didn't have anything devious up her sleeve, but she'd be in as much trouble as him, wouldn't she? Melvin shook his head. Too much to think about. 

He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby. 

***

Meanwhile, Olivia Crabapple wiped away the tears that wouldn't stop seeping from her eyes. How could she have treated a man like Melvin MacMuffin so cruelly for so long? He didn't even giggle or tease her for the crazy things she'd said as she'd ridden him. Hell, she couldn't believe half the things she had said. Her dialogue hadn't even been fit for a second rate erotic story. Melvin had made her feel something she had never felt before, taken her to places that she did not know existed. She checked the time. Not even thirty minutes had passed since Melvin had first stepped into her office, but to her, it felt like a lifetime. 

Was she in love with him? Olivia collapsed into her desk chair, still slick with sweat, and held her head in her hands. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but it sure seemed like love. 

She was a changed woman, and she wanted Melvin MacMuffin as her own.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 03



Melvin collapsed on his couch with a heavy sigh blowing through his lips, the days events running ragged circles in his head and throbbing behind his eyes like the bass from a particularly hectic rap song. He pulled his glasses off and placed them on the end table next to the couch. He needed some aspirin, but the walk from his couch to the kitchen cabinet seemed like a trek far worse than passing through the Sahara Desert with only one good leg and Gilbert Gottfried for company. In short, he was exhausted.

On the brighter side of things, he did have a date with Courtney the cute waitress tomorrow evening. Not only that, but Olivia Crabapple, his boss from hell, had fucked him senseless tonight. What an interesting and totally unexpected day he’d had, and it was all thanks to the mysterious witch he’d accidentally met and her so-called love juice.

Melvin reached for his remote and clicked on the television, flopping to one side on the couch. His stomach rumbled as he searched for something to watch, hopefully something that would tickle his funny bone. He needed a good laugh. Or maybe an interesting documentary on the History Channel to further enlighten his mind. Something about Nazis and how the Allies had outsmarted their Teutonic shit. His stomach groaned again, louder this time, refusing to be ignored.

“Pizza,” Melvin murmured. Yeah, pizza sounded great. Pizza sounded like the solution to all of the world’s problems at the moment. Hey, I’ve got the answer for world peace! Have a slice of pizza! Melvin smiled at the thought; boy, he was in a silly mood tonight. 

He reached for the phone and speed-dialed his favorite pizza joint, ordering a pepperoni with mushrooms. He gave them his address, thanked them, and hung up the phone. Whoever had invented pizza delivery was a true genius; Melvin wished he could shake the dude’s hand and thank him for the good work.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Holy crap, that’s fast,” Melvin said, but then he figured that there was no pizza place on Earth that could be so efficient as to deliver a pie within a thirty second interval. He rubbed his eyes and pulled himself up from the couch. Who would be at his door at this time of night? He was positive that he’d paid his rent already this month.

He opened the door, and the woman from the elevator stood in the hallway. She held her purse in her hands, toying with it nervously, and flashed a hopeful smile at Melvin as his mouth dropped open at the sight of her.

“Hi, Melvin. I... uh... well, ok, I admit it,” she said, her eyes darting back and forth. She acted like Melvin had accused her of some sort of crime, but Melvin had no idea what this woman, who he’d met for the first time today in the elevator at work, could be doing at his door. She was a short blonde woman, hair to her shoulders, middle aged, professional looking. She wore a crisp white shirt under a black jacket and a tight, hip hugging skirt that stopped just above her knees. 

“Yes?” Melvin said, his eyebrows raising.

“I followed you home. I waited for you, and I followed you. I don’t know why. Well, I do know why, but it’s crazy.”

“Why?” Melvin said; he tried to lower his eyebrows but found himself incapable. They were stuck in an expression of bewilderment.

“Because... oh, fuck it,” she said and flung herself at him. Melvin stumbled backwards, the woman’s hands on his chest, her lips on his own, her foot kicking behind her to slam the door shut as they tumbled into the room. Trying to keep his balance and stay on his feet, Melvin felt the back of his knees hit the end of his couch, and he flopped backwards, the woman plopping on top of him. They landed on the couch in a tangle of limbs, the cushions bouncing. The woman broke their kiss, giving Melvin a chance to breathe with a gulping breath.

“I saw you in the elevator this morning, and I knew right then and there, I had to have you. After I saw you, I got so randy that I had go into my office, lock the door and masturbate like a madwoman. Do you know how crazy that is? Do you know the last time I masturbated? I was in fucking eighth grade!” the woman said, her face inches away from Melvin’s, her breasts pressed against his chest, her crotch against Melvin’s awakening penis. A crazed, insatiable look flashed in her eyes. 

“I knew... I knew that you could satisfy me in ways that no other man would be capable. I knew it just by looking at you,” she said, and then swung her face onto his own, meeting Melvin’s mouth at a slanted angle to give him better access to her tongue. It slipped out of her lips and into Melvin’s mouth, squirming like a wild snake. They made out like two kids on his sofa while his parents were gone for the night, with a desperation that bespoke of adventurous adolescents rather than experienced adults. Melvin wondered if this woman was as inexperienced as he was. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who normally accosted strange men in their apartments after following them home. Melvin guessed that it wasn’t in her true nature; today was a day of firsts.


She moved a little, her mouth still over his, a tongue rammed down his throat; her nose touching his, inadvertently plugging his nostrils and suffocating him for a moment, just long enough for Melvin to think, “I can’t breathe!” It was the move of someone who was not used to what she was doing. Then she moved again, placing her forehead on his, her eyes looking deep into his own. Her eyes were such a light blue they almost looked clear.

Her hands slipped under Melvin’s shirt and rubbed his chest. Then they were at his belt, at the buttons of his pants, fluttering into his boxers and taking his cock in a gentle grip. As much as she seemed inexperienced at making out, her hands were a different story altogether. Melvin gasped as she began to work him, her hand sliding up and down, jerking him off, pausing to tickle or play with his balls. Her hands were magic; they knew where to be and what to touch without having to be told.

“Do you like that?” she said, her fingers flittering along the shaft of Melvin’s rock hard cock. He licked his lips, tried to answer but nothing came out, and then he took a breath and tried again.

“Yeah,” he moaned. It was only one word, but it seemed to take a lot of effort for him. How had he gotten in this position? Making out with a complete stranger, getting a hand job from someone he barely knew. He supposed this was something he’d have to get used to after taking the witch’s potion. The witch had told him that women were going to be eating out of his hands, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. The woman smiled at him.

“I can tell,” she said. “I can tell you love it in your eyes.” Melvin’s tongue worked in his mouth, preparing itself, so he could speak again. It was going to be more difficult this time because he wanted to say more than one word. An entire sentence actually. He tensed his muscles and forced it out.

“What’s your name?” he said with a tremendous effort. The woman stopped stroking his cock a moment and blinked, one hand around him, the other cupping his sack, as her senses came back to her. She realized that she hadn’t even told Melvin her name; she’d basically just ran in and started to rape him without the courtesy of introducing herself. 

“Bridget,” she said, her face flushed. “Bridget Briswell. I know it’s a stupid name but not as silly as Melvin MacMuffin, I’d say.” 

“Gee, thanks. And how’d you find out my name, if you don’t mind me asking?” Melvin said. Bridget sighed and slowly stroked him as she spoke. Melvin closed his eyes, listening and feeling the pleasure tingling through his stomach.

“Richie Golding from your office is up on my floor all the time, trying to pick up my twin sister, Brenda. Don’t laugh, but yes, our names are Bridget and Brenda Briswell. I’m the smart one, and Brenda’s the sexy one. Anyway, I asked him what your name was,” she said. Melvin smiled hearing that Bridget’s sister was actually the sexy one while it was Bridget who was jacking him off, basically a complete stranger, her body on top of his. 

Melvin’s eyes fluttered open in recognition, and he said, “You mean, YOU’RE one of the Briswells from Briswell and Briswell, the law firm? I’ve seen your commercials.” 

“You better believe it,” Brenda replied and licked his lips with her wet pink tongue, her breath warm on Melvin's face. 

Then someone knocked on the door, startling them, and Melvin slapped his palm against his head and said, “The pizza!”

Melvin was grateful that Bridget had not yet torn off his clothes, so he could get to the door fairly quickly without fear of scaring the pizza boy to death. Bridget allowed him to get up, and Melvin untucked his shirt and pulled the tails over his crotch, hiding the struggling erection that refused to go away. Glancing down, he figured that he was presentable enough and headed towards the door.

“Be right back,” he said over his shoulder to Bridget. Melvin cracked the door open about halfway, a polite smile creasing his face. The pizza boy turned out not to be a boy at all but a pizza girl. She was tall and thin with short spiky hair, dyed purple. She wore dark blue bicycle shorts and a bright green jacket, zipped just high enough to expose her supple bosom. As she turned to look at him, Melvin noticed that she had violet eye contacts to match her hair and a stud in her nose. From the hair, contacts and piercing, Melvin would have first guessed the delivery girl was a teenager in search of an identity, but her face had a look of maturity and experience that set her somewhere in her mid-twenties. 

“Pepperoni with mushroom?” the girl said in a scratchy voice. She held the pizza box indifferently in Melvin’s direction while she looked him up and down. He swallowed. Melvin would have to get used to women checking him out, he supposed.

“That’s me,” said Melvin, quickly handing her a twenty. “I like your hair.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m not really a pizza chick; I’m a punk chick. Got my own band. Check us out sometime,” she replied, exchanging the pizza for Melvin’s twenty. The pizza girl’s eyes rested on Melvin’s crotch.

“Nice boner,” she added.

Melvin glanced down and saw that the fabric of his pants parted his shirt tails at an extreme angle. Whoops. Before he could respond, her felt Bridget’s arms reach around from behind him and rub his chest through his shirt. Her head was suddenly resting on his shoulder, peering up at the pizza girl. 

Melvin turned his neck around to see that Bridget wore only a black bra and panties. Her breasts heaved beneath the bra, the milky round tops curving up and out, begging to be caressed and kissed. Her shirt and skirt were discarded in pools of clothing next to his couch. Melvin couldn’t believe she’d allow herself to be seen in this state of undress not only by a complete stranger but by another woman as well. 

“We’re having a pizza party,” Bridget said, her hands slipping into Melvin’s shirt and running along his bare skin. Two fingers playfully tweaked his left nipple. This did nothing to help the erection pointing through his pants.

“Looks like quite the pizza party,” the pizza girl/punk chick said with a sly smile. She pulled at her bottom lip with a finger, her nail painted purple to match her hair and contacts. 

“Wanna slice?” Bridget purred. The pizza girl checked her watch and bounced on the balls of her feet, evidently trying to decide what she should do. She could always tell her boss that her bike got a flat. Of course, she’d used that excuse a thousand times, and he probably would fire her just for having the gall to try it on him again. Then again, the pizza place would be closing up shop pretty soon, anyway. After a moment, she looked up, her mind made. 

“Fuckin’ right I wanna slice, slut,” she said and grabbed Bridget by the hair, pulling her face close, and shoved her tongue down Bridget’s throat. The pizza box fell to the floor and the door slammed shut, sealing the three of them inside of Melvin’s apartment.

Melvin and Bridget swept the clothes off of the pizza delivery girl which was pretty easy since she wasn’t wearing any underwear, her pierced nipples gleaming in the lamp light, and then Bridget and the pizza girl took turns sweeping Melvin’s clothes off. Shirts and shoes flew through the air in a hail. Bridget’s hands pushed Melvin onto the couch, his cock flapping, and then her lips hovered above his erection for a moment, kissing the pulsing head of his cock before devouring his shaft with a swift gliding movement of her mouth.

“Ohhhh,” Melvin sighed, watching Bridget take him with her sweet mouth, her red lips wrapped around him, one hand stroking the root of his cock, the other cupping his balls and tickling. Bridget bent over the arm of the couch as she blew him, and Melvin saw the pizza girl’s head work its way between Bridget’s thighs, her spiky purple hair poking up from behind Bridget’s ass cheeks, and then listened to the wet slurping sounds as the pizza girl began to eat her pussy. 

Bridget moaned lustily, the low humming vibration from her throat only making her blow job better as it rumbled against Melvin’s cock, Bridget’s tongue flickering in her mouth, sliding along his shaft. Melvin’s head felt swimmy, and he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought to go up and Briswell and Briswell and hire this woman as his lawyer. Her hands on approach was to be commended.

Melvin had never imagined that he’d ever be in an actual threesome, and he definitely didn’t think he’d ever get to be blown by a highly successful female attorney while a purple-haired pizza girl ate her out. It was like living in a porno! Melvin wasn’t sure how to proceed. How to have sex with these two women and satisfy them both without paying more attention to one or the other? Obviously, Bridget had one up on the pizza girl as Melvin actually knew her name, and Bridget had been here first. Then again, the pizza girl had a nice punk attitude that Melvin found quite becoming and also nipple piercings. He wondered what her tits would taste like in his mouth. This was not a thought that would have crossed his mind the day before. He was a changed man.

The pizza girl reached one hand up and grabbed Bridget’s neck. Her eyes glittered through her violet contacts, fire streaking through the purple like a Pacific sunset. Her face was harsh with a wild desire, her brow furrowed in mock anger.

“Fuck his cock with your face, whore. Fuckin’ choke on it,” she said in her husky voice, forcing Bridget’s head deeper into Melvin’s crotch. Bridget’s nose banged against Melvin’s stomach, and she took his cock to the back of her throat, her lips slipping down to his fleshy sack, his balls slapping her chin. She appeared nonplussed by the pizza girl’s order. Bridget apparently was no stranger to deep throating. Funny that she should be no good at making out but incredible at giving head. 

“You are one hot deep throat slut!” the pizza girl said in amazement. Bridget popped Melvin’s cock out of her mouth a moment, thick saliva dripping from her mouth and coating his slick rod. 

“I practice on my sister’s dildo,” Bridget said, winked at Melvin, and then gobbled his cock to the balls. He gasped in surprise, then gnashed his teeth. Well, that solved the mystery of inexperienced yet experienced deep throat attorney. A young woman so repressed that when her sister left her alone for nights out on the town, Bridget pulled out her twin sister’s dildo to expert her technique, just in case the skill was ever needed. And did she every now and again taste her sister’s juices on the object as she shoved it into the recesses of her throat? Maybe.

The pizza girl seemed pleased by this answer. She shrugged after a moment and playfully slapped Bridget on the ass, a sharp crack of palm meeting flesh. Then the pizza girl’s head disappeared again between Bridget’s thighs, and the wet slurping sounds returned. 

Bridget’s body began to shudder after a moment, and she coughed out Melvin’s cock before crying, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum on your face!” 

Bridget’s head dropped into Melvin’s thigh in a mound of messy blonde hair, her mouth wrapping around a hunk of meat on Melvin’s leg, and he felt her bite him. A gasping moan began to escalate from her chest and through her mouth, whirring as she began to shake in intense pleasure. Then she came, her back arching, her ass pushing into the pizza girl’s face, and Bridget’s teeth sunk into Melvin’s skin painfully, though not hard enough to draw blood.

“Yeah, good girl, good girl,” the pizza girl said, stroking Bridget’s back and pausing to slip a lick between her ass cheeks. “You love to have your pussy eaten, don’t you? By nasty whores like me.”

“Yeah,” Bridget sighed. “Oh, yeah.” As she lifted her head, Melvin noticed the red teeth marks that she had left on his skin. He wondered if he was in over his head with two such intense women. The pizza girl pushed Bridget to one side of the couch, rolling her on her back. Bridget’s face looked flushed and satisfied as she stared up at the ceiling, a toothy smile parting her lips. 

“Now watch while I fuck the shit your boyfriend, and I mean literally. I am gonna fuck him so hard, shit’s gonna come out,” the pizza girl said, standing up and then straddling Melvin, her pert tits in his face. Rings looped out of each nipple, and Melvin flicked at them with his tongue. She ground her pussy into him, her hips rotating Melvin’s cock into her dripping wet warmth. She put her hands to the side of his head, nails digging into his scalp and pulled his head back roughly.

“Suck on my tongue,” she said. Melvin opened his mouth, and the pizza girl’s mouth was over his, her tongue thrusting into it. He hadn’t noticed before, but a large metal stud was in the middle of her tongue. No wonder she had gotten off Bridget so easily and so well. 

Melvin gripped her hips as she rode him violently, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, taking comfort in the pulsing heat of her skin. Her breasts brushed against his chest, the cool metal of her nipple rings sliding up and down. Melvin clenched his eyes shut and tried to force his mind to anything but the feeling of the woman riding him. If he allowed himself back into the moment, the moment would be over too soon, and he’d be erupting into the pizza girl like a fiery volcano. 

Numbers ran through his brain. Multiplication tables. Graphs. Data from random clients. Statistics. Price quotes. Projected profit margins. 

He chanced opening his eyes and saw Bridget was up and trading sloppy kisses with the pizza girl. Sweat covered them both in a shiny coat. The air was thick with the scent of their sex. Bridget’s hand roamed up and squeezed the pizza girl’s breast, provoking a sexy sigh from the purple haired hottie’s mouth. Bridget’s other hand was between her legs, toying with her sopping sexuality.

“I want his cock now,” Bridget said, breathlessly.

“Wait your turn, bitch,” the pizza girl replied and gave her a hard push. Bridget fell against the couch’s cushions, her lips puckering and pouting. 

Melvin forced his eyes shut again; this was too much for one guy to handle. He tried to visualize pie. Wait, no. That was the food as in apple or pumpkin, but he couldn’t get the letters to look right in his head. Instead, he focused on the number, not the food, and mentally watched as big bold numbers began to stretch infinitely through space, one marching behind the other, each keeping in time with the beat of some old Christmas carol. Old King Wence-uh-WHO?

A grunt: “Unnnnnggggghh!” brought Melvin back to reality. He opened his eyes and registered the sight of the pizza girl bucking wildly on top of him, her teeth gnashed, her face red and dripping with sweat. Her pussy was throbbing, spasming around his hard cock. She collapsed off him to side of the couch on the opposite side of Bridget.




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 03



“Good Christ, that’s sweet,” she breathed.

Then Bridget’s hands were pulling him up, and the next thing Melvin knew was that he was pumping into Bridget doggie-style as she bent over the arm of the couch. He looked down at his veiny cock as it thrust in and out of her, his thighs clapping against Bridget Briswell’s taut ass. Was that really him? Was this his cock coated with this woman’s juices as he fucked her over the couch in his apartment? It seemed like a dream, but he knew it wasn’t.

“Goddammit, Melvin, fuck meeeeeee!” Bridget squealed, her blonde hair flinging; her arms behind her; her hands tugging on Melvin’s wrists as he gripped her ass, feeling her muscles clench beneath his fingers. Then the pizza girl maneuvered her pussy into Bridget’s face, and Bridget licked and sucked her as the pizza girl played with her clit while Melvin pounded Bridget from behind. 

Melvin’s cheeks burned; his face felt hot. He wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. How could he? How could any man? But he was determined to not blow his load until Bridget got what was coming to her.

As if on cue, Bridget cried, “That’s it! That’s it!”

They all came together, all three of them, the kind of perfect climax that can only be found in one’s wildest fantasies. The pizza girl moaned; Bridget groaned; and Melvin gasped as his cock spilled over to the boiling point, streams of cum flinging into Bridget’s tight slit, oozing out of her and down her leg. 

Melvin’s knees gave out, and he hit the floor hard. 

***

The girls left him there on the floor. They dressed and blew him kisses and asked him to call as they fluttered out the door like leaves on a summer breeze. The pizza girl told him to ask for her specifically if he ever wanted seconds on what he got tonight. Bridget said to come up to her floor if he wanted a good lawyer, and she’d see him in the elevator sometime. 

Melvin barely registered all of this, his body lost in a sea of exhaustion. Who knew how long the phone had been ringing before Melvin managed to pull himself up to answer it.

“Melvin, how’s my sexy human calculator this fine evening?” the witch said on the other end of the phone.

“Wha... what’s up?” Melvin replied. He tried to sound casual, but his mind raced over reasons why the witch would have called him. 

“The pizza girl, Mel? Really, that’s so cliché. Still, I am glad that you’re starting to get the hang of all this. Olivia already thinks she’s in love with you. I doubt you’ll have much trouble with her anymore... unless having your boss obsessed with the one-eyed monster in your pants is a problem.”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Melvin said, his exhaustion forgotten for the moment. He didn’t like the way the witch seemed to enjoy teasing him. 

“Oh, dear Melvin. There’s always a point. You and I, we have things to talk about, and we should talk about them soon. Why don’t you stop by my shop tomorrow evening so we can sort some things out?” 

“I have a date tomorrow night,” he said, his heart stopping. He couldn’t break his date with Courtney, not the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world.

“Yeah, right. Get rid of her sometime after midnight and get your hot ass over here. Or better yet, bring her along. That might make things interesting.”

The phone went dead in Melvin’s ear. He gulped. He didn’t like the sound of what the witch had to say. Didn’t like the sound of it one bit.

Placing the phone back into its cradle, Melvin wondered what tomorrow would bring.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 04



Author's Note: I'd just like to thank everyone who has sent me feedback, positive and negative. Your words have been both encouraging and helpful. Also a quick warning: this chapter will probably be the last one for a little while, and it's a mostly set up for following installments. I think it'll be worth it. The next one is gonna be a lot of fun...

***

In bed, his muscles a patchwork of one connecting soreness to another, Melvin couldn't get to sleep. His eyes stared up at the ceiling without seeing it, looking through it to the place where only one who is lonely and troubled peers during his deepest thoughts: into his own soul. If someone had questioned the integrity of Melvin's soul two days ago, Melvin would have no problem declaring it pure and untarnished. Tired and mistreated, maybe. But still pure. Melvin had never done a wrong thing in his life...

A muscle in his arm twitched fitfully.

But now? Melvin knew that enjoying himself with women was no crime, but he still felt sharp twinges of guilt course through him whenever he thought about the three women he had slept with today: his boss, a woman he had met on the elevator, and an unnamed pizza delivery girl. Last night a woman who had claimed to be a witch had given him a blow job and made him drink a potion that apparently was some kind of love juice. This was more physical satisfaction than he had gotten in a lifetime of unsatisfying female rejection and grief.

Melvin tried to flex his twitching muscle but couldn't.

The root of his guilt was that he didn't really care for any of the women; his boss was a monster bitch, and the other two women he barely knew. The witch still seemed like a figment of his imagination though she was a figment that kept calling his cell phone. He'd used them for his own personal fulfillment, like sex toys. Melvin MacMuffin did not feel comfortable using people, that's not who he was; he was just a mild-mannered accountant. He was Clark Kent without the Superman. 

The twitch faded and left his muscle feeling comfortably numb.

A voice in his head, one that sounded like the witch's voice said, "Melvin, you weren't using them. They were using YOU. They wanted YOU. You initiated nothing. The women only did to you what they wanted to do."

Still, Melvin had a date with Courtney tomorrow night, a girl that he might actually want to have a lasting relationship with, and here he was banging every female with two legs in sight. What would Courtney think about his newfound habit of using woman as sexual objects? He didn't want her to just like him because of the love juice, because she wanted to jump his bones; he wanted Courtney to like HIM, the real Melvin MacMuffin. 

The witch's voice replied, "The real Melvin MacMuffin is no longer that sorry sack of nerdlinger that you keep referring to. The real Melvin MacMuffin is now an official stud Mac-muffin, and you might as well accept it." 

Melvin closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd picked up sometime during his younger years and which returned whenever he felt helplessly frustrated. If only there was someone he could talk to about all of this. He considered Richie Golding, but Richie'd probably just laugh at him and tell him that he had lost his mind. Richie would never believe that Melvin had scored with a woman, let alone three different woman in one day. 

The thought of Bridget Briswell, the woman from the elevator, passed through his mind. What about the whole attorney-client privilege and all that? He could go up to her firm tomorrow, hire her as his lawyer, and have a nice long talk with her as they sorted through the paperwork. She'd been one of the women he'd slept with, so she would believe him for one thing, at least about the sex part. She was intelligent, being a partner in her own law firm, after all; so maybe she could give him some good advice and clear up a few things along the way. 

Yeah, he'd talk to the lovely Bridget Briswell. Anyway, it'd be a smart thing to get his own lawyer because who knew how Olivia Crabapple, his boss, would handle their whole fuck session together? She might have some kind of sexual harassment suit up her sleeve or something; you couldn't put anything past her. 

His muscles still aching, Melvin drifted off into a fitful sleep.

***

The following day, Melvin stepped through the elevator doors and onto the floor where the directory had informed him the law offices of Briswell and Briswell resided. Everything looked shiny, nice, and new. The twin attorneys were successful enough to have their own commercials on television and some of the biggest companies in the city as their clients, and it showed. Melvin was fairly well off, but he wondered if he could afford them. He hoped that having sex with Bridget might get him some sort of discount if their prices were too extraordinarily high. 

He walked up to a large reception desk where a cheery young woman with twinkling eyes and a beauty pageant smile greeted him.

"Hi, I'd like to speak to Ms. Briswell, please," Melvin said.

"Which one?" the receptionist chirped in her pixie voice.

"Oh, right. Bridget, please. Tell her it's Melvin MacMuffin."

"Certainly. Just have a seat right over there, and I'll see what I can do for you," the receptionist said and pointed him towards a semicircle of chairs in a small waiting lounge. She let her eyes drift a few extra seconds on Melvin's tush as he walked away before moving on to the next person at the desk. 

"Can I help you?" she asked, her mind still on Melvin and what it would be like to feel his hands roaming on her bare skin. 

Just as Melvin sat down and opened the new issue of Forbes magazine, a warm voice called, "Mel!" It was Bridget; she approached him with long, hip swaying strides, her hand extended towards him, her face beaming. She looked very happy to see him. Melvin took her hand with a hardy handshake, and Bridget questioned him with raised eyebrows, the same look that Melvin had given her the day before when she showed up outside the door to his apartment. 

"I'm looking to hire a lawyer," Melvin explained. Her eyes sparkled in reply. 

"Well, you came to the right place," she said, then leaned in close to his ear and dropped her voice. "And if you're looking for a little something extra, you came to the right place for that, too."

Pulling back, she swirled on her heels, waved him forward, and said, "Follow me."

Bridget led him into a spacious office, and Melvin gaped in awe. Towering mahogany shelves of books lined two walls; the back walls were floor to ceiling windows giving a vast and breathtaking view of the city. Bridget's desk was a dark wooden beast which rose from the floor like a dinosaur in the middle of her office; a mini-bar was one corner of the room, a long leather couch sitting close by it. Everything screamed success. This was the office of his dreams.

Bridget closed the door behind them, locked it, and then swung around and thrust her arms over Melvin's shoulders, pulling him close for a lusty kiss. Unable to help himself, Melvin kissed her back. He plunged his hands into her shoulder length blonde hair, caught in the heat of the moment. Bridget finally broke the kiss and wiped the saliva from her lips with a cute giggle. As she looked at him, Melvin found himself more than a little in awe of her sky blue eyes. 

"It's good to see you," Melvin said.

Bridget laughed. "That's the understatement of the year. Last night was amazing. Sorry I had to run off like I did. Wanna call for pizza tonight?" 

Melvin's face reddened, and he said, "I can't."

"Got a hot date or something?"

"Well..."

"Figures," Bridget said with a bright smile. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. I've got one too, actually. Go figure! One night with Melvin MacMuffin, and suddenly I'm the poster girl for self confidence. I hadn't had a date for two years, and the next thing you know, the security hunk downstairs wants my number this morning. Guess you must have put some strut in my step." 

Melvin tugged at his collar, feeling uncomfortable. Bridget Briswell certainly didn't appear the worse for wear after having sex with him. In fact, she seemed liberated from the repressed academic socialite that he'd taken her for when he'd first met her in the elevator. Could the same be said for Olivia though? Or the pizza girl? Well, the last thing the pizza girl probably needed was liberation but still.

"Bridget, I do really want to hire you as my lawyer..."

"Yes?" she said, urging him to continue. She worked her way around her desk and sat herself down behind it. She waved Melvin to a chair which he took, sinking deep into its softness. 

"There's something that's been on my mind, and I'm kind of looking for someone who'll listen to me all the way through before they decide if I'm completely crazy or not," Melvin said, wiping the sweat that peppered his brow. He wanted to tell Bridget his story, but he wasn't sure if he was prepared to do so.

"Of course, Melvin. You can trust me." She smiled. "I'm your lawyer."

***

Melvin spilled everything: the witch, the love juice, Olivia, the guilt he'd felt after sleeping with Bridget and the pizza girl, his intense mental and physical exhaustion, all of it. When he finished, he felt as though a heavy weight had lifted off his shoulders, and relief flooded over him in a cool refreshing wave. Bridget had listened like a true lawyer, nodding, asking for clarification at one point or another, letting the information sink in. She never questioned his honesty or his sanity; for this, Melvin couldn't have been more grateful. Melvin finished up with a sigh and collapsed back into the chair. Bridget considered him a moment, her chin resting on her hands.

"Well, that's quite the story," she finally said. Melvin nodded in agreement. He knew it was a fanciful tale, and as he'd said it out loud, it had only seemed more unbelievable. Still, Bridget was a part of the story, so if anyone was to believe him, it'd be her. 

"How'd Olivia treat you this morning?" she asked. 

"She met me in my office and apologized for coming down so hard on me lately. It was so... unlike her. It was almost as if she was a real person. Naturally, I didn't trust her one bit. I think she's got something up her sleeve," Melvin said.

He paused and added, "She even gave me a hug." He shuddered. "Disturbing!"

As he spoke, Bridget walked over to the mini-bar and poured herself a shot of whiskey which she downed with a quick thrust of her neck, throwing her hand up to her mouth. Her face clenched as the burning liquid sank through her throat and into the pit of her stomach. The shot glass clunked as she thumped it back onto the bar. 

"Or maybe your love potion is more potent than you realize. Drink?" she offered, holding a glass in Melvin's direction. Melvin shook his head.

"No thanks," he said. Bridget made her way backs towards the desk, but instead of slipping back behind it, she hopped onto Melvin's chair and his lap. Melvin felt her firm bottom settling snugly on his crotch, and he felt the first tingles of sexual desire running through him. Hadn't he gotten enough yesterday? Apparently not. She leaned back so that her head next to his, her blonde hair tickling his face. 

"Consider this, Melvin. Two days ago I was one of the most uptight, repressed workaholics this world has ever known. Yesterday, we met in the elevator, and you had such a profound effect on me that I locked myself in my office and masturbated for an hour, then followed you home for a threesome with you and a purple-haired pizza girl. I've never felt more free in my life. Today, I've got a date with a beefy hunk, and I'm considering fucking you in front of the windows of my office for the world to see. Now, you tell me that your cold-hearted boss is apologizing and kissing your butt after an office fling. Probably, the pizza girl has been inspired to quit her day job and become a full time punk rocker. Do you understand that you're not just making love to women but changing them with your sex? Changing them for the BETTER? Do you realize how amazing something like that is?"

"Really?" Melvin said. "Do you mean it?"

"Mean what? That I think it's awesome that you're finally getting laid, or that I want to fuck you in front of the window?" she said and kissed him on the cheek. She moved a hand to his thigh and squeezed. Melvin began to feel all tingly.

"What about Courtney?" he said. Bridget blinked.

"Oh... well, I think you shouldn't worry about that. It's not like you're dating her or anything yet. But don't tell her about all of this right away, ease her into it. Then if things work out, you'll figure everything out for yourself." Bridget's jacket slipped to the floor. 

"And the witch?" Melvin asked. This bothered him more than almost everything else. What did the witch want to meet with him tonight for? Bridget pulled her shirt over her head, her breasts straining against a tight white bra. 

"Obviously, she's going to work out some kind of payment. You don't just give things like love potions away. The whole world would be a madhouse," Bridget explained, her hands working to undo Melvin's tie and unbutton his shirt. 

"Now, let's you and me talk about payment for all this time I've spent with you this morning," Bridget said and smothered Melvin's face with her breasts. She reached around her back and unhooked her bra, tossing it to the floor. 

Bridget sighed as Melvin began to suck on her bare breasts. She wondered about Melvin's story. Two days ago she would have simply assumed that Melvin was delusional, but after her wild experience with him and the pizza girl, she found herself believing every word. Would she have given Melvin the time of day before he'd taken the witch's love juice? It was hard to say. It wasn't Melvin's physical attributes that made her want him, though he wasn't an ugly man; it was what she could see underneath, his inner self, that made him so attractive. Perhaps the potion merely allowed women to see the beauty, the warmth and kind heart beneath his skin? 

Bridget got up and led Melvin by the wrist to the windows. She kissed him and allowed her hands to roam to his belt buckle and unfasten it. Melvin's lips were soft, sweet, and inexperienced much like her own. For some reason, this only made her want him more. Pleasing a man who could have any woman at any time was not as satisfying as pleasing a man who would appreciate what she was going to do for him. She knew that Melvin would appreciate it; it was still too early for him to have become jaded by the legions of women that would soon fall at his feet and beg for his affections. Bridget broke their kiss and slipped a finger between Melvin's lips for him to suck on. 

"Do you want me to go with you to your meeting tonight? It might be helpful to have your lawyer with you if the witch gets all tricksy on your ass," Bridget said. She pulled her finger out of his mouth to allow him to speak and slipped his pants and boxers down his legs. She wrapped her hands around his hot throbbing cock. It flexed in her slender fingers. She was proud of how good she was with her hands, and she knew that Melvin had loved his hand job the night before. He could barely croak out his reply, lost in the passion of her graceful strokes and touches.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," he said. 

"Ok, then nothing to be frightened of," Bridget said before bowing to her knees and devouring his cock. Melvin let the pleasure overtake him, placing his hands against the windows for support. The glass felt cool under his palms, and he took in the view of the city around him. Skyscrapers cut through the sky, parting clouds and looming over the landscape like angry giants, monuments to man's modern hubris. Murky clouds gathered in the sky and darkened the day, a layer of gloomy gray sparkling with bolts of electricity. A storm was coming. A few fat droplets of rain pattered against the window in warning. 

Bridget glided her mouth over his pole for a few minutes, her hands subtly working him, fingers tickling the underside of his balls, her tongue flicking out and dripping spit on Melvin's cock. Melvin closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head onto the glass. Her mouth felt so damn good. He opened his eyes and looked down, the ground an eternity below him. Cars zoomed like Matchbox toys, and people were merely moving dots, scrambling from one area to another. This would be the closest sensation he'd ever get to flying and getting head at the same time; pretty cool, he thought. He blew air through his teeth.

After some time, they switched places, and Melvin worked two fingers into Bridget as she hiked up her skirt and spread her legs, allowing Melvin's access to her while she stood at the window. She felt his mouth on her clit, his tongue flicking her and then sucking, sending electric tingles over her body. His fingers slid in and out of her, filling her, and she fisted one hand into his hair and moaned loudly. She lowered herself farther, allowing him deeper into her. Her eyes fluttered. Thunder rumbled outside. Minutes passed like water through their fingers.

"Fuck me now," she breathed. Melvin stood up, and Bridget pulled him with her arms, maneuvering him behind her. Gently, Melvin entered her doggie style at the window. Bridget sucked air between her teeth and moaned quietly. Her breasts pressed against the glass of the window, her nipples hard. She arched her back and pushed herself into him, his hands sinking into the flesh of her hips. Melvin dipped into her, feeling her hot flesh encase his, and they became one. 

Rain drops thudded against in the window, and a flash of lightening illuminated them for a moment, blinding Melvin with a blaze of white, and a tremor of thunder ripped from the heavens, shaking the world around them. He increased his speed, her ass slapping against him, her moisture dripping down their legs. Another flash of lightening shot through the sky, electric fingers splitting the clouds and striking a metal rod at the top of a nearby skyscraper. Sparks flew. Bridget moaned, her pussy tightening around Melvin's cock. Outside the storm broke, and torrents of rain splashed against the glass and pummeled into the city. Sweat dripped from the tip of Melvin's nose and splattered onto Bridget's pale white skin.

"My god, Melvin! Yes! Yesss!" Bridget hissed, bucking into him, and then they came together, lost in their own storm of passion. Bridget's world was a red haze for a moment, pleasure sweeping through her, her muscles clenching and then releasing, and she felt Melvin erupt within her, his hardness suddenly a fluid warmth inside. 

But outside, the storm raged on. 

***

Melvin leaned back into his leather office chair, the swooning weight of exhaustion making his arms feel like dead weight. It took a major effort for him to lift them enough to type on his keyboard. Not that Melvin felt like typing much of anything; for once, his mind was not on his work. While his conversation with Bridget had made him feel somewhat better about this situation and he was happy that he'd have some back-up during his meeting tonight with the witch, he still felt physically drained. Could it be a side effect of the love juice? Melvin believed so. This meant that he'd have to refrain from any more sexual contact until his date tonight with Courtney the cute waitress. He needed to have some energy stored up. As long as he could avoid Olivia Crabapple for the rest of the day, he had a chance. 

Without knocking, Richie Golding popped into Melvin's office, a wide grin splashed on his face. He wore a crisp new suit and flipped his thumbs up at Melvin as he entered the room.

"Mel, it's a great day, buddy! I just got a hot date with Brenda Briswell, the hot lawyer from upstairs. Know her?"




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 04



"Not personally," Melvin replied. "Her sister on the other hand..."

Richie interrupted with an indifferent sweep of his hands. "Right, right. Well, Brenda is known as kinda a firecracker if you know what I mean, and what I mean is in bed. So I am thinking, let's go celebrate the inevitable sex I am going to be getting tonight from one of the richest babes in the city." 

Melvin sat and waited for Richie to finish. He knew Richie just wanted him to open his mouth so that he could interrupt. Interruptions were a kind of Richie Golding trademark.

"Lunch on me!" Richie finally said when he realized that Melvin had no plan to respond. "We can even go to that one damn cafe you love. Let's go. Grab your coat and let's go."

Richie grabbed Melvin's coat for him and started to help Melvin into it. Richie apparently wasn't going to take no for an answer. Melvin took the coat from Richie and put it on himself, waving Richie away with his hands. 

"Fine, fine. Maybe Courtney's working today," Melvin said. Richie's eyes widened in mock surprise.

"You on a first name basis now?" he said.

"Actually, I have a date with her tonight."

The mock surprise and grin dropped off Richie's face in an instant. He eyed Melvin with a look of distrust and said, "You have a date? With a girl?"

"Ask her when we get there," Melvin responded, smiled, and led the way out of his office, a shocked Richie two steps behind. 



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 05



Rain sheeted through the sky in heavy torrents, drenching the world, and the storm showed no sigs of letting up. Lightening zigzagged in crooked electric branches, zapping lightening rods, sparks showering, and frightening everyone who chanced glances upwards. Thunder, lightning's grumpy companion, rumbled like a hungry old man. Rather than becoming soaked to the bone, Melvin and Richie drove to the cafe though it was two blocks from their building, and they lucked out, finding an empty space in the parking garage next door. 

“The whole world’s getting pissed on today,” Richie said as they climbed out of the car. The parking garage echoed with the sound of pattering rain on cement. Melvin nodded. Saying anything seemed like too much of an effort; his entire body felt submerged under water, every movement slow and heavy. 

“You’re a man of many words,” Richie said with his sly grin, and Melvin only shrugged in reply. They made their way to the cafe. 

A cute young waitress shot them a sweet smile as they entered and led them to a table near the back corner. She had long brown hair, tied in pigtails, making her look even younger than her years. Her dark brown eyes glowed in the reflection of the hanging lights. 

“Excuse me, miss. Is Courtney working today?” Melvin asked her as he sat down. Richie’s ears pricked. He wanted to hear this. 

“Oh, you know Court? Actually, she called in sick today. Good day to call in, too. Not going to get too much business with all hell breaking loose outside,” the waitress said, glancing towards the windows. The glass seemed to be sweating water on the other side; layers of it slid down the windows and puddled on the sidewalk. Melvin’s face dropped. If Courtney was sick, he could forget about their date tonight. 

“Yep, the whole world’s getting pissed on,” Richie announced as if this explained everything. He didn’t seem surprised by the news of Courtney’s illness, and a smug look crossed his face as if to say “I knew it.” Richie refused to believe that any woman could be interested in the likes of Melvin. After all, Richie had seen Melvin’s feeble attempts to pick up women before, and it was sad enough to make a grown man cry.

“Thanks,” Melvin said. The waitress scooted away, her pigtails flapping. Melvin turned to Richie, and Richie shrugged, the smug looked still on his face. Melvin wanted to wipe that look off so badly, but what did it matter if Richie believed him or not? Still, wiping it off would make him feel much better.

“I should call her,” Melvin said. Richie nodded.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, at least she has a good excuse to stand you up,” Richie said. Melvin didn’t reach for his phone. The waitress came back with smiles and drinks for them both, beer for Richie and ice water for Melvin; Richie thanked her and took a sip of his frothy brew. Richie and Melvin sat in silence for a moment. Thunder grumbled outside, and the lights flickered off and on in the cafe. 

“At least the day can’t get much worse,” Melvin murmured. Richie seemed to peer over Melvin’s shoulder and raised his eyebrows. A strange expression passed his face. He put down his mug and pointed past Melvin. 

“Don’t underestimate your shitty luck. There’s your ex wife.”

Melvin twisted his neck to glance over his shoulder. At a nearby table, their waitress was sitting Melvin’s ex wife, Abigail, and a girl he recognized as Abby’s niece, Tina. Tina was the daughter that Abby had always wanted, and she’d often comment on how she planned on molding Tina into her own image. And what image would that be, Melvin wondered. The image of a gold digging whore? Not something most women wanted to be when they grew up. Melvin turned back to face Richie, his cheeks pale and ashy. 

“Maybe she won’t see us,” Melvin said with a twinge of hope.

“No such luck. She’s waving,” Richie replied and took a large gulp of his beer. Melvin turned in his seat and saw that Richie was right; Abby was waving them over with a friendly smile curling her lips. No doubt she wanted to rub how well she was doing without Melvin in his face. 

“Richie, Melvin! Join us!” she called, her deceitful eyes gleaming.

On any other day, Melvin would have declined. However, this time he had something on Abby: the love juice. He knew that she’d become irresistibly attracted to him, and he could do with her as he pleased. But it didn’t seem very ethical to use the love juice for revenge on his slutty ex wife. Still, the thought was tempting. He could fuck her in the ass and leave her begging for more much like she left him after banging the lawn boy. This was not a thought the old Melvin MacMuffin would have ever had. Melvin smiled and returned Abby’s wave. Oh waitress, I’ll have a dish of revenge this afternoon, and would you please make sure it’s served cold? 

“We’d love to,” he replied. Richie shot him an incredulous look, almost spitting up the swallow of beer he was drinking. Melvin shrugged, stood up, and made his way to Abby’s table, Richie a few steps behind. 

Melvin had to admit that Abby looked great. She had her dark brown hair cut stylishly short just past her ears, and the purple circles that used to always reside under her eyes were nowhere to be found. Her ample bosom heaved beneath a white sweater, and Melvin wondered if maybe she’d gotten a boob job. He didn’t remember her breasts looking so big and firm before. Her teeth were white and straight; she’d definitely had some work done there. Melvin figured she must have found a new sugar daddy sometime in the past year or so; it had been quite some time since he’d last spoken to her.

“It’s good to see you, Abigail,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. Instead, she stood from her chair and wrapped her arms around Melvin in a big hug, her boobs mashing against his chest. It must have been cold in the restaurant because Melvin could feel her hard nipples underneath her sweater. Was she not wearing a bra? He was now certain she had gotten a boob job.

“You too, Mel. It’s been a long time,” she said, her head snuggled into his shoulder. She unwrapped him and broke the hug. Melvin’s chest felt warm where her breasts had pressed against it.

Melvin pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. Richie exchanged hellos with Abigail sans hug and sat down, gulping a long drink from his beer mug. He wished he didn’t have to go back to work, so he could get drunk. The pigtailed waitress appeared, took orders, and scurried away still writing on her notepad. Melvin noticed Richie checking out the girl’s butt as she walked away.

“Hey, Uncle Melvin,” said Tina flashing him a set a pearly white teeth. How old would she be now? Nineteen? She had grown up quite a bit since the last time that Melvin had seen her. She wore short white shorts and a tight pink tank top, a silver star decorating the curve of her chest. She had dressed for a sunny summer day, but the storm outside had ruined any chance of that. Tina’s curly blonde hair was pulled back and was held together by a pencil on the top of her head, and her eyes were a shimmering dark blue. Melvin remembered that like Abigail, Tina had been a head cheerleader during high school; Abigail had often bragged about Tina following in her footsteps. Melvin felt sorry for her. 

“Tina, how are you?” Melvin said, returning her smile.

“Just great.”

“You look wonderful,” Abigail cut in, demanding Melvin’s attention. Her hand floated through the air and rested on his wrist. Her fingers gingerly wrapped around him, a gesture of an affectionate lover. Melvin chanced a glance at Richie and saw that Richie’s eyes were glued to Abigail’s hand on his wrist. Richie looked up and gave Melvin a disgusted look. Richie figured Abigail was already trying to play him like a fiddle, but what Richie didn’t know was that Melvin would be doing the only playing of anyone today. Abigail may have a fiddle, but Melvin was the composer. Melvin faced her.

“So do you. Better than I remember,” he said, turning up his charm level to eleven. He placed his free hand over her hand and patted it. In return, he felt her squeeze his wrist. It was as if they had never split up. But not really. Abigail had never been so friendly to him. In the old days, she had treated him with a mixture of disdain and embarrassment, and she had hated the fact that she had to marry such a dork to live the kind of life she deserved. What had changed since then? What made her treat Melvin like a human being for once in her life? The love juice. Melvin allowed a finger to tap Abigail’s wedding band. 

“Remarried, I see. Who’s the lucky guy?” he said. Abigail’s eyes moved down to her fingers, and her face dropped, a small blush reddening her cheeks. Did she think that Melvin wouldn’t notice? Melvin was more than happy to take the chance to embarrass her, and he was more than curious at what sort of man she had roped into marriage this time. 

“He’s great. A banker,” she said, covering her wedding band with other hand. Melvin pictured her husband in his head. He’d be a geeky looking nerd with a bow tie and thick glasses, a man from the same mold that Melvin had been shaped. The banker would be loaded, of course, to satiate Abby’s monetary needs, and Abby most likely was banging the pool boy or the milk man or the mail man or the UPS man or all of them meanwhile on the side. This was her modus operandi, and why mess with a good thing? It had worked before, and it would work again. If she ever got caught with one of her boy toys, she’d simply move on to the next hapless loser with a wad of cash. 

Melvin felt a flush of anger try to rise to his cheeks, and he took a quick swallow of water to cool himself down. At this moment, he hated Abby. Hated everything she stood for and everything that she had put him through. She was a despicable human being; a woman who used her sexuality as a weapon to intimidate men, strip them of their defenses, and slice off their masculinity. Then again, wasn’t Melvin planning to use his own sexuality as a weapon against her? He wondered if he was no better than she was. A sick feeling wormed its way through his stomach.

“You ok, Uncle Mel?” Tina asked, concerned. Melvin’s discomfort must have been apparent on his face. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but it was a lie. He wasn’t fine. The world seemed suddenly very heavy; exhaustion threatened to force his eyes closed. The weight of everything careened towards him, attempting to plunge him into the recesses of a deep personal hell. He made his eyes stay open. Abby smiled politely at him from what seemed like an eternity away. 

A hand slipped under the table and rested on his inner thigh. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t Abby’s hand. It was Tina’s. The hand began to caress his thigh. He looked over at her, and a sly grin curved her lips. Her hand began to slide down further towards his crotch.

His head swooned. The memories of Abigail’s infidelity making him burn with hatred coupled with the hand of her lovely niece on his leg under the table was too much to process at once. For a moment, Melvin thought he was going to be sick. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, pushing himself away from the table and standing up. What was wrong with him? Dizziness almost forced him back into his chair, but he fought it and headed towards the bathroom in lurching steps.

They watched him leave. Tina sipped at her drink for a moment, rolling her straw between two long fingers, the wheels of her mind turning thoughts through mental gears. She didn’t remember Uncle Melvin being so cute.

Abigail turned a questioning gaze towards Richie and asked, “What was that all about?” 

Richie shrugged, took another swallow of his beer and said, “Babe, the whole world is getting pissed on today.” As the first waves of his beer buzz slipped over him, Richie felt that this statement explained everything. 

***

Melvin closed the stall door behind him and collapsed on a toilet seat. He placed his hands on opposite sides of the stall for support as the entire world revolved around him. As the world began to slow its rotation, Melvin heard his cell phone ringing. His gut reaction told him that it was the witch.

“Mel, maybe we should move up our meeting,” the witch said as soon as Melvin pressed the phone’s talk button and held it against his ear. Her voice still had that silky hypnotic effect that he remembered, and it helped to steady Melvin’s sense of balance. 

“What’s happening to me?” he said. His glasses dipped, and he had to take his remaining hand off one side of the stall and push them back on his nose. He realized that he could now sit without fear of falling over. 

“A teeny tiny side effect of the love juice, my dear boy,” the witch replied and began to talk in a singsong voice. “Oh baby... I’ve... got what you need... but you say you’re just a friend. Oh, you say you’re just a friend.” Melvin recognized the tune, but the witch had changed the words. Then her tone of voice changed, and she purred, “So why don’t you pop over so we can get friendly?”

“I... I don’t... what are you talking about?”

The witch sighed into the phone, “Melvin. It’s understandable that you’re feeling drained. What you need is some sustenance, and this is exactly what I can provide. At the rate you’re going, you’re going to need it before your big date tonight. Now I’ve already called your hottie lawyer, and she’s gonna swing by and pick you up after lunch. I have a feeling you’re going to need a little pick me up.”

“Uncle Melvin?” a girl’s voice said on the other side of the stall door. Melvin jumped. What was Abigail’s niece doing in the men’s room? 

“Tina?” he said.

“Looks like you might be a little more drained than expected,” the witch said, and the phone went dead in Melvin’s ear. Melvin stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket. What the hell was going to happen to him now? 

Tina pushed the stall door open and stepped inside. Melvin shook his head, dumbfounded. This was a surprise he had not expected. Tina’s face wore an expression of slight embarrassment and also concern.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re ok,” Tina said. “Ya know, like if ya needed anythin’ or somethin’.” Her voice had a slight southern twang, and Melvin recalled that she was from Mississippi and quite the southern belle.

Melvin couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were hard and protruding from underneath her pink tank top. Tina’s breasts were something that any man would have trouble not noticing; they were large and firm and jiggled whenever she moved. Apparently, this was a trait of the females of Abigail’s family. 

“No, Tina. I’m ok, thanks,” Melvin said. Instead of leaving, Tina moved forward and placed a hand into his hair, running her fingers through it. Melvin flinched a little but didn’t stop her.

“Ya sure I can’t do anythin’ for ya? Tell me now because we don’t have much time,” she whispered in her girlish voice. Melvin should have told her to leave, to go away and go back to her aunt, but he didn’t. Maybe he knew that the best revenge he could get on Abby was to have sex with someone younger, hotter, and smarter than her. Not only that but Abby felt this girl was her protégé. Or maybe it was just Tina’s formfitting white shorts and the way they hugged the skin of her thighs and showed off her perfectly round butt. 

“You’re going to get caught in here,” the logical portion of Melvin’s mind said out loud. Tina’s pink lips split open in a wide smile, and she shook her head.

“No, I got our waitress to lock the door. I told her she could watch,” Tina replied and pushed the stall door open farther. Sitting on the bathroom counter with a look of anxious anticipation sat the waitress with the brown pigtails. The waitress shrugged, her hands outstretched as if to say, “I like to watch. What can I say?”

“Well, my head does kind of hurt. I’m not sure you can help that though,” Melvin said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was a true statement; a lingering headache throbbed behind his eyes. Tina continued to stroke his hair. She stepped forward, her legs now straddling him. Her thighs were deliciously tanned, and Melvin could see a bit of pale white skin from where her shorts had pulled up her legs. Melvin was now close enough to Tina’s white shorts to see her pink thong through them.

“Want me to kiss it, Uncle Melvin?” she offered. She licked her lips, her tongue poking through, spreading a trail of moist saliva along her mouth. She looked hungry and more than a little horny.

“You don’t have to call me uncle. Technically, I’m not you’re uncle anymore,” Melvin said. His eyes were parallel to Tina’s perky breasts, and he was having trouble keeping eye contact with her. His eyes kept wanting to dart down and examine the pink fabric of the tank top straining against Tina’s mouthwatering mounds. 

“Well, can I pretty please call ya uncle anyway?” Tina said, pulling the pencil out of her hair. Her blonde curls unspooled to her shoulders, bobbing cutely, and she shook her head, her hair twirling from side to side. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it. This kid had broken so many hearts in high school you couldn’t count them all, and she was represented everything Abigail thought she saw in herself. Melvin felt the crotch of his pants tightening around him.

“Sure,” Melvin said, the word coming out like a croak from his dry throat. Tina held him captivated with her dark blue eyes and bent over to kiss his forehead, strategically rubbing her tits in Melvin’s face. Hot desire breathed fire into Melvin’s stomach, but he still didn’t feel right taking advantage of this bright young woman in the men’s bathroom. He had baby-sat this girl for Christ’s sake. 

“Tina, you don’t have to do this,” Melvin said, pushing her just far enough away that his face wasn’t being crushed by her boobs. He wanted to give her one last chance to back out if she wanted if only to put his own conscience at ease. His hands were on her tummy, and he was surprised at how hard her abs felt. Tina looked down at him with her dark blue eyes and giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Uncle Melvin, I’m a freshman in college now. Suckin’ and fuckin’ is kinda what I do,” she said and sat her firm ass on Melvin’s thighs, looking him straight in the eyes. She squirmed a little, enjoying the hardness that crept down one side of Melvin’s leg. A quiet moan passed through his lips.

“Let me show you,” she said, wrapped her hands around his head and pulled Melvin’s mouth to hers. 

***

“You look like you’ve been working out,” Abigail said, stabbing at a tomato with her fork. The tomato rolled away, unscathed. Abby had left her salad untouched since Tina scurried off, saying that her roommate was paging her cell phone with their numeric code for an emergency. Abby hadn’t heard the phone go off, but it was probably on vibration anyway. Ah, the wonders of vibrating phones. Abby sometimes loved to put her cell phone on vibrate and slip it up her skirt, waiting for someone to call. Unfortunately, she wasn’t wearing a skirt today and would have to find other forms of entertainment.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I go to the gym... uh... occasionally?” Richie said, his mind floating on a cloud of near drunkenness. He’d downed three beers, and how he wished he could go all the way and drink three more. He wasn’t sure how much more of Abby he could take. Sure, she was one hot number, but he knew from Melvin’s stories what a man-eater she could be. And she was annoying as hell to boot. This didn’t keep Richie from catching himself staring at the hard nipples protruding from underneath her sweater.

Richie felt something worm its way between his legs and settle around his crotch. He wondered if the booze was hitting him harder than he realized, but when he glanced down he saw Abigail’s bare foot scooting up along his thighs. He shot a shocked expression across the table towards her.




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 05



“Does this bother you?” Abigail asked. Her elbows were on the table, her hands together, and her head rested on a temple of fingers. She raised a pointed eyebrow. Richie glanced around, willing his eyes to focus. 

“Where’s Melvin and Tina?” Richie replied, trying to shake off the feeling of his growing erection between Abigail’s toes. She began to rub him through his pants. Bolts of pleasure plowed through Richie’s groin.

“Do you really want them to come back right now?” Abigail said.

“No,” Richie said with a curt breath. 

“That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all day,” Abigail replied and tightened the hold her toes had on him. She’d always thought Richie was cute, and who knew when she’d get another chance to play with him? Abigail was never one to pass up an opportunity presented to her. 

Richie gripped his beer mug and took another swallow, allowing the senses of the Abby’s foot rubbing his boner under the table to soothe him. He knew this was Melvin’s ex wife and a woman that he shouldn’t come near with a ten foot pole. Only his ten INCH pole (he wished... actually more around six and a third, but who’s counting?) was begging her to make it squirt goo all down his leg. 

“I’ve always had a bit of a thing for you, Richie,” Abby whispered from across the table. “Sometimes, when Melvin fucked me, I wished it was you. I pretended it was your big dick inside me, and that was the only way I could cum. I’d think about you sticking your cock between my tits and you pumping until you came on my chest and my face. That’s what I want.”

Abigail smiled as she observed the expression on Richie Golding’s face and knew that she had him. Men were so easy to manipulate. One down and one to go. 

The image of Richie titty-fucking Abigail came to life vividly inside of his head, and boy oh boy, was it a doozy. He felt his cock blossom in his pants, her toes stroking him through the fabric, his penis struggling to break free of its restraints. His hands gripped the end of the table, and he blew a quick breath through his teeth. 

He hoped no one in the cafe chanced a glance at his direction at this particular moment because they’d figure he was either having a heart attack or busting a nut. Richie pictured Abby’s massive, round breasts pressed against his cock on either side and a look of sheer ecstasy on Abigail’s face as he thrust again and again, his balls sliding back and forth on the top of her stomach. He imagined his cum splattering along her chest and on to her face, her mouth open to catch what it could, her tongue licking her bottom lip. 

His cock spurted in his pants, and Richie felt a wet warmth spill down his leg. He knew that he’d probably have a wet spot on the outside of his pants now, but at the moment, he didn’t care one bit. The fucking woman had probably given him a foot fetish for the rest of his life.

“That was fun,” Abby said with a toothy smile. “Now it’s my turn.”

***

Tina bent over in Melvin’s face, the strap of her pink thong pulled to one side while Melvin ate out her ass with wild abandon. Meanwhile, the pigtailed waitress had pulled her apron and skirt up over her legs and was working at her pussy with both hands, one plunging fingers into her tight wet hole, the other rubbing and teasing her clit. 

Melvin spread Tina’s firm cheeks with his hands and tickled the area around her asshole with his tongue. Even Tina’s ass smelled like apples; she was undoubtedly thorough with the use of her body wash in the shower.

“Uncle Melvin, yeah, yeah, lick my asshole, yeah,” Tina crowed, and Melvin obliged her, his tongue cramming into her tight rectum. Tina moaned and grabbed her calfs with her hands. Her white shorts were wrapped around her ankles in a bundle of clothing, and she planned on having her thong in the same position in a few moments. First, she wanted to enjoy the sensation of Melvin licking her ass. She wasn’t sure why, but guys tossing her salad made her so damn wet. She’d discovered this after her senior year of high school when one of the guys in her cheerleading squad had surprised her as she was climbing out of the pool one afternoon by pulling down her suit bottom and shoving his tongue up her asshole. Funny enough, the guy ended up being a closet homosexual. Shame. 

Tina stood up, and her ass moved away from Melvin’s face, his mouth and chin coated in a sheath of saliva. Melvin gave her ass a quick squeeze as she turned around to face him; it was firm and supple under his palm. Tina pushed her thong down her legs, bent to her knees and moved her concentration to undoing Melvin’s pants. Her eyes moved up to look into his.

“The moment of truth,” she said as she reached into Melvin’s pants to unleash his engorged man meat. Melvin held his breath. Every time a woman was about to see his penis for the first time, he felt a pang of nervousness. The fear of rejection was not covered by the love juice, he guessed. Tina pulled out his hard cock and considered it, licking her lips. She’d seen bigger, but this would definitely do the job. She cupped his balls and brought the head of the cock to her face.

“Hey there, li’l guy,” Tina said to his cock. “Wanna be friends?” It strained in her fingers, flexing.

“I think that’s a yes,” she said with a sly smile. Melvin laughed.

She turned again, her ass facing Melvin, and gripped his cock with one hand as she slid slowly onto it. Melvin groaned. He couldn’t believe that Tina was actually fucking him. She was easily the most beautiful girl he’d ever met, and his face burned with boiling lust. He wondered if even Courtney would be able to get him this turned on. His cock strained to grow harder as it tunneled into Tina’s tight pussy. 

On the counter, the pigtailed waitress gasped. She hadn’t ever been this wet before, and the sight of the cute little curly haired blonde fucking the stud with the glasses in a reverse cowgirl position was almost too much to bear. Her fingers gained momentum, twirling and thrusting into her. She ground her teeth, the sensation from her fingers unbearably and unbelievably hot in her pussy.

Melvin’s eyes focused on Tina’s round ass clenching and unclenching and smacking against his thighs as she fucked him. At intervals, he could see his hard cock disappearing into her and then sliding out and then disappearing back into her as she slammed into him again. Her pussy was a perfect balance of tight and wet, and Melvin became overwhelmed by the feel of her. 

He scooted one hand up her spine, stroking her back, feeling the sweat the began to accumulate there under his fingers. All he could see of her head was a mop of curly blonde hair bobbing cutely as she bounced on top of him. He moved his other hand up the curve of her hip and stomach and cupped her smooth breast. It wiggled under his hand as she bucked on him, and her tit was large enough to be more than just a handful. Melvin squeezed it, and Tina squealed in pleasure. 

Soon Tina felt a flurry of tingles absorb her body. It began at the tips of her fingers and ends of her toes, and she had to place her hands against the sides of the stall for support. The tingles tickled up her arms and legs in waves, blanketing her in an ocean of trembling passion. She felt her orgasm build and build, her breaths becoming sharp and ragged, and then it swept over her, her eyes flying open, her mouth gasping for air as her body shook wildly in ecstasy.

The pigtailed waitress moaned from her perch on the bathroom counter, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

“Oh shit, Uncle Melvin, yeah!” Tina gasped in her trembling southern accent. She continued to shiver as she came on his throbbing cock. Her voice signaled the end for Melvin. The realization of who he was fucking, how and where and the fact that a stranger was watching them lit a fuse in his balls that ended with his erection spewing a fountain of cum into Tina’s spasming vaginal walls. He issued a long sigh through his teeth, blowing the hair up off Tina’s tanned shoulders. 

Tina leaned back into him as their orgasms weakened and their sense was restored. Melvin felt his cock begin to wilt inside of her. Tina touched the side of his face with her hands. Her palms were soft and cool.

“Those college boys ain’t got nothin’ on you, Uncle Melvin,” she said and giggled. Melvin would have replied that no woman in the history of the world would ever have a thing on Tina, but he couldn’t find the strength to say anything. His tongue was dead in his mouth.

***

Richie’s big toe rubbed the inside of Abby’s slick pussy when he saw Tina returning to their table. He pulled it back suddenly, and Abby threw him a glare of disdain. She squirmed in angst.

“Tina,” he croaked, sitting up straight in his chair. Abby turned, caught the sight of Tina walking back towards them, and flashed her niece a bright smile. She straightened her panties. Richie kept his face down as slipped on his sock under the table and pried his foot back into his shoe. 

“What happened?” Abby said to Tina as Tina sat down and scooted in her chair. Tina’s eyebrows raised, and she wore a look of confusion for a moment. Then realization hit her.

“Oh, with my roommate? Nothing. You know how Ashley can be. She’d lost her purse with all her credit cards, ya know? And I had to like verbally walk her through the apartment, helpin’ her find it.”

“You look a little flushed,” Abby said, swooping a bite of salad into her mouth with her fork. Tina narrowed her eyes, wondering how much her aunt might have figured out. Probably not much. Tina had ever considered her aunt to be the sharpest knife in the drawer... just the horniest.

“Well, it was an excitin’ conversation. You look flushed yourself,” Tina said. Abby shrugged, stabbing at a pile of lettuce.

“Storm must be making me nervous.”

“The whole world’s getting pissed on today,” Richie chimed in and finished off his beer. Tina and Abby both turned to look at him. He focused on the windows; he wasn’t sure if he could meet Tina’s eyes without blushing. The rain was still coming down hard. Tina and Abby exchanged glances, and Abby shrugged.

“Reasons not to drink,” she said, motioning towards Richie with her hand.

“What I miss?” asked Melvin as he made his way back to the table. He’d taken his time to make sure he’d put himself together before going back to lunch, and he felt that he and Tina had done a good job of it. If anything, his tie was on straighter now than when he had left to go to the bathroom. Everyone turned to look at him.

“Feeling better?” Richie said as Melvin took his seat. Melvin nodded, and it crossed his mind that Richie was wearing a strange expression on his face as if he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Melvin wondered what Abby had been up to while Tina and he were gone. 

“Much better,” Melvin said, and he reached for his ice water. He caught a glance of Tina smiling at the corner of his eye. The pigtailed waitress showed up a moment later to bring everyone their entrees, asked if they needed anything else, and then vanished behind the kitchen door. Melvin and Tina glanced at each other as the waitress left. There was a certain color to her cheeks that had not been there before. Melvin noticed that neither Abigail or Richie asked the waitress where she had been for the last twenty minutes.

They sat and ate their lunch over small talk and polite conversation. Though having trouble keeping his mind sharp, Melvin observed that Richie was having trouble meeting everyone’s eyes, and Abigail seemed very smug towards him. Tina seemed bored but kept sending sly glances in his direction whenever she thought that Abby wasn’t looking. Melvin saw all of this through faltering eyes. All he could really think about was getting into his office, putting his head on his desk, and falling asleep. What had the witch said about being drained? He sure as hell felt drained of every last drop of energy. They finished eating, and Melvin glanced pointedly at his watch.

“Looks like we got to get back. Eh, Richie?”

Richie nodded vigorously, “Yep. Time to work.”

“We’ll walk you out,” Abby suggested and grabbed her coat. Melvin knew that she was up to something and had a good idea of what it might be. He wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of the coin for once. To be the man cheated with instead of the man cheated on. Sounded kinda nice.

As they made their way towards the door, Abigail pulled Melvin’s arm, putting them a step back behind both Tina and Richie. She looked at him with sharp eyes. A wicked grin curved the corners of her mouth.

“So, Mel. Are you sure you got to get right back? I mean, well... we could catch up on old times. We could get a room nearby where we could, you know, make up for lost time,” she said, rubbing his arm. Her breast pressed against his forearm as she leaned into him. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

He considered it for a moment. This was his chance for revenge, wasn’t it? To use Abby the way she had used him and then treat her like garbage. But the thought of fucking her just didn’t appeal to him. She disgusted him, not turned him on. And did he really want to be on the same level as the lawn boy that had destroyed every last shred of his dignity, every last sliver of confidence he’d ever had? Melvin realized that the only way to get revenge on Abigail would be to reject her as she had rejected him. She’d fucked some kid, left him and moved on to the next cash cow she could dig her filthy claws into and suck out dollar bills while probably fucking other kids. Now, he would reject her and move on with his life, putting her behind him forever. He wanted nothing to do with her, ever again.

“I don’t think so. But tell your husband that I say hi and to get out while he has some pride left,” Melvin said, pulled free of Abigail’s arm, and walked away.

Her mouth dropped open, and she was so shocked, she didn’t even hear Tina stifling a bark of laughter. 

***

“Are you ok?” Richie asked from what seemed like the other side of the world. Melvin didn’t answer; instead, he grabbed at the concrete wall of the parking garage to break his fall as his knees buckled. Stars flittered in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t breath.

A car pulled up next to them. The door opened.

“Get him in,” a woman’s voice said. It sounded like Bridget Briswell, his lawyer. But how did she know where he was?

“Brenda?” Richie asked.

“No, stupid ass. I’m Bridget. Help me get him in the car.” Melvin felt hands grip him under his armpits, and the world went black.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 06



Author's Note: As we're more or less at the halfway point to my little series, I figured this chapter would be a good place for a re-cap if you're just joining us. 

In chapters 1-5, Melvin MacMuffin, a lovable loser, met a strange witch, drank some magical love juice and became irresistible to women. The next day, he got a date with his secret love, Courtney, a waitress at his favorite cafe. He also slept with his boss, a woman he met in the elevator at work and a pizza delivery girl. The next day, Melvin met his evil ex wife, Abigail, at the cafe and was seduced by her favorite niece in the men's room. Melvin has become more and more exhausted as his luck with women has increased. After lunch, Melvin fainted only to be whisked away by his lawyer, Bridget (the woman from the elevator). Here's where Chapter Six begins. Everything else, you'll just have to figure out for yourself!

***

Melvin swam up a sea of blackness towards his conscious self. The oily darkness peeled away as he reached the surface, his arms reaching for the light above him, but some of black clung to his brain like sludge and kept his thoughts slow and labored. Melvin tried to shake it off. 

The first thing he recognized was the vibrating hum of a car engine rattling his teeth. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw that he was strapped into the passenger seat, the seat belt fastened across his chest and digging into the flesh at the bottom of his neck. His head felt heavy, and it took an effort to lift it and turn. He saw that Bridget was driving. Was he in her car? He struggled to remember how he had gotten there. 

Bridget Briswell gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, her eyes squinting to peer past the heavy rain pattering the windshield.

"What's going on?" Melvin murmured through thick lips. 

"Your friend called me, the one you think's a witch, and she wanted... dammit!" Bridget swerved past a braking truck, the wheels of her car skidding across a patch of standing water and finding road. "She wanted me to take you to her. Said it was an emergency." 

"I don't understand," Melvin said in a small voice, more to himself than Bridget. Bits of his last conversation with the witch settled in his mind: "What you need is some sustenance, and this is exactly what I can provide."

"Me neither," Bridget said, breaking his train of thought. She turned her head just enough to see Melvin out of the corner of her eye. "How're you feeling?" 

"Much better," Melvin replied. 

Then he promptly passed out, his forehead collapsing into the dashboard with a meaty thump. 

***

Melvin dreamed of Abigail. He'd been in love with her once. She'd meant everything to him, and he dreamed of her as she was in the past. She wore a white summer dress, and both of them sat on a checkered table cloth, paper plates and half-eaten food scattered, a wicker picnic basket nearby emptied of its contents. Her hair had been long then and dark, more black than brown; it flowed around her shoulders in an afternoon breeze. 

In reality, they'd never had a picnic so perfect, and Abby had never smiled so brightly, her pearly white teeth gleaming as she uttered a loud laugh, but this was a dream. She'd lived in his mind like this for a long time, intelligent and beautiful and as in love with him as he was with her. 

Melvin had only realized too late all of that was a naive dream as well. 

In the dream, Abigail placed her hand on his wrist and looked deep into his eyes. Her own were an amber reflecting the golden rays of the sun. It was all too easy to fall in love with a woman with eyes like hers.

"Do you love me?" she said.

"Yes," Melvin said without hesitation. 

"Do you want me?"

"Yes."

"Then give me your testicles," she said. Melvin's eyes widened.

"What? Why?"

"If you want sexual pleasure, give me your testicles."

"What's the point of sexual pleasure if I have no testicles?" Melvin asked.

"Look, do you want sexual pleasure or not?"

Melvin considered this a moment, looking Abigail over. Was she worth emasculation? He could always get his testicles back, couldn't he? Her breasts were supple, her stomach flat and smooth, her legs long and luscious. But it was her eyes that made up his mind for him.

"Yes," he said. He reached into his trousers and unclipped his testicles from the rest of his body as if they were nothing more than a strangely shaped clip-on tie underneath his penis. He held them out to Abigail, and she took them and stuffed them down the front of her shirt, apparently somewhere in her bra.

"Now, can I have sexual pleasure?" Melvin asked. Abby nodded and pulled off his pants. Melvin's penis was limp and flaccid in the yellow glow of the sun, and as much as Abigail worked at it, Melvin could not get an erection.

"What is wrong with you?" Abigail asked with a look of disgust.

"I... well, maybe if I had my testicles..."

"No, they're mine now. You'll have to do without them."

"But I can't function sexually," Melvin tried to explain. 

Abigail shrugged, "Not my fault." She continued to flog away at Melvin's penis like a woman possessed but had no success. She stuck it in her mouth and gave it some desperate sucks. Melvin's penis still did not respond.

"I'm sorry. I can't. I can't get it up."

"Impotent loser," Abigail said, flinging Melvin's soft penis out of her hands, and she stood up. She smoothed the wrinkles out of dress with her hands and then looked at Melvin. 

"See ya, sucker!" she yelled and took off, Melvin's testicles still stuffed down the front of her shirt. 

***

Richie Golding sat at his desk, attempting to concentrate on his work. His fingers sat on the keyboard, immobile and useless, and he stared at the computer monitor with a blank look. Lunch had been an exercise into the surreal, and he still wasn't sure if he understood what was going on with Melvin. How'd he get mixed up with Brenda Briswell's twin sister, and why did she stick him in her car and take off? Where was she taking him? Perhaps these questions and more could be answered during Richie's date tonight with Brenda.

The whole situation gave him a bad feeling. 

Then Richie saw Abigail, Melvin's ex wife, and his bad feeling got worse. She slipped out of the elevator and worked her way towards Melvin's office, her hips swaying and her ass working in her tight blue jeans, garnering a few admiring looks from men on the floor. Richie knew that Melvin thankfully wasn't in his office and figured he'd better find out what Abigail was doing there. Richie had a good idea. Abigail wasn't the kind of woman who accepted rejection and went on her merry way; she was going to attempt for the second time that day to get Melvin to fuck her. Good thing Melvin had been spirited it off by Brenda's sister. 

Richie peered to his right and left and didn't see anyone looking. He stood up from his desk and walking as quickly as he could without risking unwanted attention, he followed Abigail into Melvin's office. He closed the door behind him with a click of the lock, and startled, Abigail swung around to face him.

"Where's Mel?" she asked, swishing her short brown hair to one side with a toss of her neck. Abigail seemed to have already forgotten she'd just gotten Richie off less than an hour ago; they were back in acquaintance mode. 

"In church, thanking God he's not married to you anymore," Richie replied with a large grin. Advantage Golding, he thought. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Abigail was on his turf now, and his beer buzz from lunch had mostly worn off. 

"And what are YOU doing here?" he said, raising his eyebrows. 

"I wanted to apologize to Melvin. I'm not a total bitch, you know."

"Sure, whatever. Well, as you have eyes and as I assume you can use them to see, you can see for yourself that Melvin isn't here at the moment. He wasn't feeling well actually, and a hot blonde took him away to kiss everything that hurt and make him feel better. You're a little too late," Richie said, flashing Abigail his most smug look. Her face soured. She was the kind of woman who could go from heavenly beautiful to hellishly ugly in a split second.

"Don't fuck with me, Richard. We can be friends or enemies, and you sure as shit don't want Abigail Sanderson as your enemy," she spat at him like a snake spewing venom. Richie pretended to wipe her saliva off his face.

"Sanderson, eh? I wonder how long that one'll last," he retorted and snorted a cynical laugh. Abigail frowned at him and placed her hands on her hips. The comment cut a bit because she often asked herself the same question.

"Listen, Golding. Just tell me where Melvin is, ok?" 

"Hmm. Maybe we can work something out," Richie said. Abigail looked at him suspiciously. She bit her lip.

"What do you mean?" she said after a moment.

"Maybe if you get on your knees, crawl over here and suck my cock, I'll THINK about telling you where Melvin is," Richie said and unzipped his pants. He then put his hands behind his head, leaned back against the door and shrugged.

"The ball's in your court," he said, his fly hanging open. Abigail's face narrowed, but she already had made up her mind what she would do. She always knew that Richie was a bit of a weasel, that he'd turn on anyone to get his "wicky sticky", and she was turned on by his scummy attempt to get her to suck his dick. Plus, she loved to be treated like a whore; it had something to do with the Puritanical way she'd been brought up, thoughts of sex forbidden until she'd escaped from home to a wild life at college. 

"How do I know you'll tell me where he is if I do?" she said.

"If you're good, you don't have anything to worry about," Richie said. His cock was as hard as a rock in his pants. Abigail was smokin' hot with a body that just didn't quit (thanks to the enhancing surgeries Richie assumed she'd had), and he liked the idea of using Abigail in this way. He found it fitting to take this kind of advantage of a woman like her, a woman who used her sex as a solution to any problem that crossed her path.

"Good? I'm the best you'll ever have," Abigail said and bent to her hands and knees. 

Licking her lips, she moved like cat, crawling stealthily towards Richie. Some of her hair hung over her eyes, obscuring part of her face, making her look like some veiled and mysterious Egyptian princess. Richie thought the sight of her coming towards him was incredibly sexy. Hot lust warmed his guts; he was about to take the fantasies he'd had while Abigail had teased him during lunch and make them reality. 

She moved her hands up Richie's legs and rubbed his erection through the fabric of his pants. Richie sighed in anxious pleasure. Abigail continued to tease him through his pants, moving up to level her breasts to his crotch and rubbing them against him through her sweater and his pants. Richie ran a hand into her short hair and fisted it. 

"C'mon bitch, and suck me," he breathed. Abigail pushed him hard against the door with her hands. Fire roared in her brown eyes.

"Beg me for it," she said harshly. 

"Please, goddammit, please, suck me," Richie whispered. He either didn't realize or didn't care that he had just allowed Abigail to dictate what was going on when Richie was supposedly in control. Abby smiled. 

She reached into Richie's pants and pulled out his stiff cock. It was surprisingly thick in her hands and uncircumcised. She stroked its pink flesh, pulling back the foreskin, and considered it a moment before taking it in her mouth. 

Richie peered down at Abby as she slipped him into her. Her lips wrapped his pole and slid down to the root of his cock, her nose mushing into his stomach. She bobbed her head, stroking him with her mouth, her tongue gliding up and down his shaft. All Richie could see was the top of her head, her hair swishing back and forth as she blew him.

She moaned softly, more for his benefit than hers. Richie loved to watch women suck his dick, and Abigail was a total babe. Not to mention, she knew exactly what she was doing. The fact that she was Melvin's ex wife, a woman Richie typically considered off limits, and that he was merely using her for his own physical satisfaction only made the situation hotter in his mind. 

Abigail wrapped his cock with one hand and stroked him into her mouth, sticking out her tongue and slapping the end of his cock with it. She twisted her knuckles as if she was turning a door knob, causing a sensation that Richie had never felt before. Just when he thought he was going to cum, Abigail stopped with the motion, lifted his penis, and licked the underside of it like a lollipop.

"Oh shit, that's good," Richie grunted. Abby moved her mouth to his balls and took one in her mouth, sucking gently. Richie bit his tongue to keep from moaning too loud. His knees began to tremble. Abby popped his testicle out of her mouth.

"Want to fuck me?" she asked.

"Yes, oh yes," Richie gasped. 

In the next instant, Richie and Abigail were fumbling with their clothes. Richie unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes glued to Abigail pulling her sweater over her head, revealing her enormous round tits. He tossed his shirt to the floor and went to work at his pants, watching as Abigail stripped off her tight jeans. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and Richie saw that her pussy was shaved. His cock sprung up as Richie pushed his jockeys off around his ankles.

Abigail cleared the papers and folders from Melvin's desk with a swipe of her hands and laid down on the desk, spreading her legs wide to give Richie access. Richie stumbled over and managed himself between Abigail's legs. He'd been attracted to Abigail for a long time, but he never thought he'd get the chance to fuck her. How to turn fantasy into reality and not ruin the glamor it had in his mind? Richie wiped some sweat from his brow and wrapped his arms around Abigail's legs, his hands gripping the underside of her thighs. 

Taking his time, he slowly slid his cock into Abby's slick pussy.

He gnashed his teeth, feeling his cock become sheathed in her juices. He pumped into her, gaining speed, reaching a comfortable rhythm that he felt was neither too fast nor too slow. He pivoted his hips and ground into her as he thrust, a little something that he liked to call the Golding Twist. Richie knew that it was magic.

Abigail looked up at the ceiling as Richie pumped her, wondering how long it would take him to cum. He'd already lasted longer than Melvin used to, but that was by no means an achievement on any level. When was the last time that she'd had an actual orgasm? She couldn't remember, but this didn't keep her from trying. She enjoyed sex but could never quite reach that peak; it was the tip of Mount Everest that always eluded her. When she'd seen Melvin that day at lunch, she had the strangest feeling that Melvin could take her there.

But what had changed about him? What made her think that the most incapable man on Earth at lovemaking would be the one to bring her to the one place of pleasure that always seemed to slip through her fingers? 

She closed her eyes, feeling Richie's thickness invade her, retreat and then plunge deeper. It was not an unpleasant situation; it was actually very nice. But as much as she tried to concentrate on the feeling of the sharp jolts of pleasure running up her body as he fucked her, the more she knew she would not be able to cum. 

"Yeah, that's it, baby," she breathed to encourage Richie that he wasn't failing at satisfying her. She wished that he was Melvin. Funny how so many things could change in such a short period of time. And what was with all that business at lunch between Melvin and Tina? Tina had been tossing looks at him like an adolescent with a crush. And what about when they were both gone for several minutes, what could...

"Ohhhh, fuck!" Richie moaned, and he pulled out his cock just in time to spray Abigail's legs and stomach with a spew of cum. He assumed that he had brought Abigail to levels of pleasure never reached before with the Golding Twist, and now it was her turn to return to the favor. He lathered her thighs in a white coat of stickiness. 

Finally, Richie collapsed on top of her, placing his head against one firm breast like a fleshy pillow. Abigail raised her hands and stroked his hair as Richie took in several deep breaths and blew them through his lips.

"Ready to tell me where Melvin is?" Abigail said.

"I'll tell you what I know," Richie replied and opened his mouth to begin.

***

A hand shook Melvin awake. He murmured something softly, nothing but a few words of gibberish and opened his eyes. He peeled his lids back slowly, afraid that glare of sunlight would blind him, but it was dark outside the car windows. The rain still came down hard. Bridget placed her palm against his forehead and then moved to his cheek, checking for a fever.

"You feel ok?" she asked. Melvin nodded in reply.

"Much better," he said, and Bridget waited for him to faint again. This time he didn't. Bridget smiled.

"Then let's go visit your witch," she said.

They jetted out the car's doors, whisked through the sheets of rain and pushed their way into the witch's shop. Melvin didn't bother to ask how Bridget had gotten directions there or how the witch had discovered her number. After the revelation of the love juice, everything else was a moot point to him. 

The shop was dim, the only light coming from a few tall metal lamps. The shades were pulled down, making the darkness outside darker. Melvin turned to check if the jar of eyeballs he'd seen on his first visit was still there. It sat where he remembered it; only it seemed to be less full. Melvin wondered if the witch had sold them or used them for some strange potion, maybe even another batch of her magical love juice. A chill shivered up his spine. The eyes left in the jar turned in unison to stare at him. 

"Classy digs," Bridget said. Melvin turned to see her at a shelf on the opposite side of the store, a large jar held in her hands. The head of a large snake floated inside of it, the snake's fangs bared as if it had murder on its mind during its decapitation. Bridget put the jar back on the shelf and picked up an ancient looking book. She blew some dust off, opened the flesh-colored leather cover and thumbed through the pages.

"What is this? Arabic?" she said, her brow knitting in concentration. 

"Yep, Arabic. It's the Necronomicon, the Book of the Dead. There's some fabulous recipes in the back," the witch's voice rose from nowhere at the back of the store. Melvin turned. She stood in a spot where Melvin was sure she hadn't been a second before, but she was a witch. Acting mysterious and popping out of thin air was probably her kind of thing. Her hair was in a long ponytail, flipped over one shoulder, and she wore a black t-shirt with the words "2 Hot 2 Handle" written in white letters across her chest and a pair of torn jean shorts. It was a far cry from the shimmering black dress she had on the last time Melvin had seen her. The witch must have either read his mind or guessed his thoughts from the expression on his face.

"It's casual Friday," she said, catching his eye with a shrug and motioning towards her attire.

"But it's only Wednesday," Bridget said. She put the ancient tome back on the shelf and wiped off her hands on her long brown jacket. The witch smiled, her sharp teeth gleaming.

"Maybe in YOUR reality," she said. She emphasized the word "reality" by placing her hands in the air and turning her fingers into sarcastic quotation marks. She turned towards Melvin.

"How're you feeling, Mel baby?" she asked. Melvin straightened his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The longer that Melvin looked at the witch, the more he felt himself falling under her spell. What was it about her? Was it just her breathtaking beauty or was it some magic she was working?




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 06



"I've been better," he said. 

"Well, let's see if I can't help the healing process along a little bit, shall we?" the witch said, her hands on her hips. Bridget cleared her throat, attracting their attention.

"Melvin may be fine with just thinking of you as 'the witch', but I am curious as to whether you have an actual name or not," Bridget said, stepping to Melvin's side. The witch held a finger against her chin and tapped it a moment as if in deep thought.

"You can call me Morgan... this week," she said finally.

"Short for Morgan le Fey, I presume?" Bridget replied in a tired voice, raising her eyebrows. The witch's playful attitude wasn't cutting the mustard as far as Bridget was concerned. She had some considerable doubts that the dark-haired woman was everything she claimed to be. 

"Sure, if that floats your boat or wets your panties or what the shit ever," the witch said, swiveled on her heels, and headed towards a back room. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she said with a wide grin, "Follow me." 

***

Richie hadn't known very much to tell, but it was enough as far as Abigail was concerned. She now knew about Courtney, the waitress that Melvin had the hots for and apparently had a date with, and the lawyer that had whisked Melvin off in her car to destinations unknown and unclear. It was a start, and at least it had given her an excuse to get laid.

Abigail didn't care so much about her own gratification during sex as the power it allowed her to hold over men. They would do anything if they thought that they had a chance to score some. They were addicted, crack heads in need of a fix, and Abigail could provide the best stuff on the market. 

Abby stepped out of Melvin's office and nearly collided with the striding form of Olivia Crabapple. Olivia sneered, regained her composure, and then a look of recognition passed across her face as she realized who had almost run into her. Olivia grimaced in distaste.

"MacMuffin's ex, what are you doing here?" Olivia said with narrowed eyes. Her lips pulled back over her teeth. 

"Just looking for Melvin. I saw that he's out and left a message on his desk," Abigail replied indifferently. Olivia Crabapple was a big fish in a little pond, and Abigail refused to be intimidated by her. She knew that her smug attitude would only drive Olivia angrier, but what did Abby care? Olivia took a step forward, leaned in, and drove a finger into Abigail's chest, her long nail poking Abby in the sternum. Abigail's mouth gaped open in surprise and pain.

"Listen here, little Miss Slut-terson. You stay away from Melvin if you know what's good for you. He's moving on to bigger and better things if you catch my drift, and you're ancient history. So make like the dinosaurs and become extinct," she snarled, turned on her feet and stormed off. 

Abigail's mouth stayed open for another moment before she remembered to close it. Just what the hell was that all about? Since when did Olivia Crabapple care a lick for the likes of Melvin MacMuffin? Things were stranger than Abigail had first assumed, and she made a mental declaration to get to the bottom of it.

One hand held against her chest, her cheeks still burning with embarrassment from Crabapple's chiding, Abigail headed towards the elevator with conflicting thoughts and questions crowding her mind. 

The bottom line: she had to figure out how to make Melvin hers again.

***

"Why have I been so tired?" Melvin asked. The three of them sat in rickety wooden chairs around a circular table covered in a blood red tablecloth. In the middle of the table sat what Melvin could only assume was a wax hand. The ends of each finger of the hand glowed with flame. The finger flames were the only light in the room, and the faces of the two women flickered as Melvin exchanged uneasy glances with both of them.

"It's hard to explain," Morgan said. "But I'll give it a go." She leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up on the table. She wore red flip flops which she slid off with her toes. 

"Ok, here goes. Now imagine you're a kick ass Jaguar. I mean like the car Ms. Briswell here drives and not like the animal. So you're the biggest and most bad-ass Jag ever created. The ladies get wet just hearing your engine rev, ya know? Well, what happens when you kick it out to 120 miles per hour every night? Sooner or later, you run out of gas. The tank gets empty. You've got to head to the gas station and refuel, and that's where I come in. Follow me?" she said.

"That explanation sounds pretty vague to me," Bridget said with a sigh. Her face wore a look as if to say she wasn't buying a word of this.

"Being vague and mysterious is part of the allure of being a witch," Morgan said, her lips peeling back from her teeth in a smile. "But that explanation will have to do. It's the closest to the truth."

"So how do I refuel?" Melvin asked. The witch pulled her feet of the table and leaned in.

"Two things. The first is pretty simple; I have a little number I cooked up that you will drink. The second thing is, sooner or later, you're going to have to make a choice."

"A choice?" Melvin said, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah, you don't really think you can go around the city with every woman you're attracted to wanting to fuck your dick off without consequences, do you? Sometime, there's gonna be some men who are gonna get pissed you're taking all the ladies and decide to take YOU out. Trust me, I know from past experience," Morgan said. Her dark eyes gleamed in the candlelight like a wolf's. 

"You mean someone's been killed because of this same potion you've given Melvin?" Bridget said in a sharp voice. 

"Live and learn," Morgan intoned with a shrug and turned to Melvin. "You've got to pick one and only one, but I promise you this. You two will be bound forever and ever by my potion."

"What are you getting out of this?" Bridget cut in. 

"Amusement. The satisfaction of helping out my fellow man. I mean, what made you such a cynical bitch? Want me to take some of that edge off, Bridget sweetie?" the witch said in soft, soothing whispers. 

Something about the way Morgan said her words sent pleasant shivers down Bridget's back. The woman was beautiful, exotic and somehow dangerous. Bridget found her to be a more and more attractive combination of traits, but she fought to retain her lawyerly mode of skepticism on Melvin's behalf. Morgan's hand slipped through the flickering gloom and rested on top of Bridget's fingers.

"Can I give you something?" Morgan purred. Melvin rapped his knuckles against the top of the table, temporarily breaking whatever spell Morgan seemed to be casting over Bridget.

"You can give me that fuel or potion or stuff now. When do I have to make my choice?" he said, pulling his glasses off and placing them neatly on the table before him.

"Come back whenever you're ready. Just don't take too long making your decision. Now be careful. This stuff has been known to make some people's heads a little funny after they take it," the witch said. She reached down the front of her shirt and took out a long vial of glowing orange fluid.

"Rejuvenator," Morgan said and passed the vial to Melvin. Melvin rolled the vial in his fingers, considering the odd fluid inside of it. He remembered having to put his own essence in the batch of original love juice, and he wondered what possible ingredients might be floating around in this one.

"Some of MY essence, babe. Less filling and tastes great," Morgan said, reading his mind. The corners of Melvin's mouth tightened, and he pulled off the small wooden cork at the end of the vial. The two women looked at him expectantly. 

"Bottoms up," he said and threw his head back as he brought the vial to his lips, feeling the warm liquid slid down his throat and settle in his guts.

***

Morgan turned to Bridget with a sly look on her face. Even though Bridget had fallen victim of the love juice and had experienced a kind of sexual awakening, Morgan thought that the lawyer still tried too hard to wear an outside skin of uptight, tight-laced attitude. Morgan wanted to toy with her some.

"He's gonna be out for awhile. It's just you and me now," the witch said, standing from her chair and taking a step towards Bridget. Bridget gulped, feeling a lump in her throat. Her stomach began to feel tingly, but she couldn't understand why.

"Isn't there something I can do to make you not dislike me so much?" Morgan asked, placing a hand against the table and leaning her hip into it. She twirled a finger of her other hand through a twist of hair on her forehead like a coy schoolgirl.

"I.. uh... don't know what you mean," Bridget croaked, her face feeling red. She could feel some anxious sweat forming on her brow and butterflies in her stomach. It hadn't been like this with Melvin and his love juice. She had seduced Mel and not the other way around, but this was different. Was the witch using something on her? Or was Bridget just squirming in her seat, her panties beginning to moisten, because she was attracted to Morgan and liked the idea of being seduced by her, no strings attached? 

The witch smiled and took another step towards Bridget and leaned in, placing her hands on either side of the armrests on Bridget's chair, trapping her.

"I think I have some ideas," Morgan whispered. 

***

Melvin's head swirled in a rainbow of colors. Leprechauns leapt off the rainbow, tossing gold in the air and proceeded to engage in violent anal sex. Then a three-headed dog ran by, snatched one anal humping Irish man and gobbled him up, chased a few more leprechauns around, found a suitable female one and proceeded to give it some hardcore anal. 

Melvin looked away and saw the witch and Bridget on a nearby cloud. They were naked and kissing, the witch running her hands through Bridget's shoulder length blonde hair. The witch's hair was no longer in a ponytail but flowed down her back like a black cape, streaks of white running through it like lightening bolts. Their bodies glistened with sweat as they caressed each other, Bridget's hands roaming the witch's stomach then moving up and rubbing and squeezing the witch's supple breasts.

"What are you doing Melvin?" Abigail's voice came from behind him. Her hand reached out and fell on his shoulder.

"Are you watching those women? What sluts. You should come back to me. Forget about them, and forget about that whore at the cafe. Courtney, was it? Come back to me. You know you want to," her voice breezed in his ear. 

Melvin pushed her away without looking back and walked towards the forms of Bridget and Morgan. Their sliding, nude bodies beckoned him, and he couldn't take his eyes off their two figures. He'd forgotten how amazing the witch was shaped; how she was a sculpted masterpiece of human flesh. Could something so perfect even be human?

Bridget saw him approach and breathed, "He's awake." Morgan was kissing her neck and look up from the valley of Bridget's shoulder.

"No, he's just dreaming. Come here, Mel baby. This one's gonna be a doozy, and you're not ever gonna wanna wake up," the witch said, reached out her hand and grabbed Melvin by his erection. Funny, he didn't remember undressing. 

A blinding flash, and Melvin blinked. Bridget was suddenly in his face, kissing him. Melvin felt her tongue invading his mouth, twirling with his own, and then she pulled away with a soft moan. He looked down and saw that he was pumping into Morgan's glorious pussy, his cock a slick pink pole sliding in and out, while Bridget rode her face. Bridget's hands were on the back of his neck, and she leaned in, their foreheads touching.

"Choose me, Melvin. Please, God. Choose me," she whispered and kissed him. Intense pleasure flooded over Melvin, and he closed his eyes.

Another white flash. This time Morgan was bending over, Melvin plowing into her doggie-style while her face was buried in Bridget's cunt. Her long hair billowed over her back and hung over the sides of her ribs, whipping back and forth. Morgan's ass slapped against him, her flesh rippling. Melvin bit his lip, feeling her tight wetness wrapped around his throbbing cock. He knew he had to be dreaming, the feeling of fucking Morgan was too good to be real. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, and it clung to their skin. 

Bridget's face clenched, and she suddenly began to fling her head from right to left.

"Yes, oh shit, yes!" she cried in a high pitched voice, and Melvin could hear Morgan, her deep laughter muffled by Bridget's pussy. 

Another white flash, and Melvin couldn't see a damn thing. Then he realized that he was on his back, and one of the women's pussy was in his face while the other one rode his cock. His tongue was deep inside of the woman on top of him, her juices dripping down his face. A gutteral moan above him told him that it was Bridget. Apparently, Morgan had called his dibs on his cock. 

He heard wet, smacking noises which he could only assume were the two woman kissing. Dammit! Even in his dreams he had to miss out on seeing some of the good stuff. Morgan's pussy had a vice grip on his cock, and Melvin's saw stars behind his eyes for a moment as he felt her speed up her pace on him.

"That's it, Mel baby. Oh, fuck!" she cried in her musical voice, and Melvin lost it. He felt the world spin, his cock squirting into her, and then a white flash stung his eyes.

When he could see again, he was faced with one of the leprechauns. It was smoking a doobie with the three-headed dog. The leprechaun frowned at Melvin.

"What the fuck you lookin' at?" it said with a Brooklyn accent and then punched Melvin in the face. Everything went black. 

***

"Looks who's back on Earth," Morgan said when Melvin opened his eyes. Morgan and Bridget were still in their seats. How long had he been out? Just a few seconds, he guessed. He shook his head and stretched.; he felt like a million bucks! All of his exhaustion had dissipated.

"How do you feel?" Bridget asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I feel... great," Melvin said. He smiled at both of them.

"Excellent, so now you're all prepped for your date tonight. Might make your decision a little easier once you ride the Courtney train," Morgan said and then pretended to pull an invisible chain and made a tooting sound with her mouth. Melvin frowned.

"Just one problem, she's sick. The waitress at the restaurant told me," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He picked his glasses off the table and slid them on.

"Is she sick? Or did she call in sick so she had all day to get ready for her big date? Did you try calling her, smart guy?" the witch said. Melvin thought that Morgan's looked a little more frayed than before he'd passed out. He shook his head.

"No, I... I'm an idiot," he said, slapping a palm against his head. He knew he should have called her instead of just assuming that he was a loser. Old habits died hard, he guessed.

"I'll second that," Morgan said with a wink. "Call her."

"Yeah, call her," Bridget added, but she looked a little sad as she said it.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 07



The phone rang in Courtney's hand, and for a split second, it frightened the living crap out of her. It was just so unexpected that when she'd pick up the phone to confirm her date tonight that it would come to life with a shrill cry in her fingers that she almost dropped the receiver with a shriek. Instead, she got a hold of herself and answered, her slim finger pressing the talk button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Courtney? It's Melvin," the voice on the other line said.

"What a coincidence! I was just about to call you," she said with a smile. She always found it funny how things like that worked. She twirled the phone cord between her fingers; Courtney hadn't switched to a cordless because she wasn't sure what she would do with her hands if she didn't have something to play with during conversations. It was one of her little tics. 

"I just wanted to make sure that we're still on for tonight," Melvin said, his voice obscured by the snap, crackle, popping of static; she assumed that he must be on his cell. Courtney's hazel eyes moved to a hanging mirror on one wall, and she gave herself a quick looking over. She still had some work to do, but she figured she would be ready. The only x-factor would be the nervousness that kept her stomach in knots.

"Yes, of course. Pick me up at eight?" she said. 

"Sounds wonderful. I'll see you then," Melvin replied.

"I can't wait," Courtney said, and she wished Melvin could see the size of her smile.

***

Melvin flipped his cell phone closed and tucked it down the pocket of his jacket. A sense of overwhelming relief flooded over him, and his face felt a little flushed with a warm glow. He sighed. He still had his date with Courtney tonight; she would not be standing him up. At least, not yet. 

"So how'd it go?" Morgan the witch asked, a thin grin creasing her lips. Melvin didn't understand why she asked him questions when she probably knew the answer anyway; she just liked to tease him. Were all supernatural beings so coy and trite? Not that Melvin minded; it was better than having her being some kind of cackling, evil monster like the Wicked Witch of the West or something.

"Good. We're still on," he said. Morgan nodded and pushed her long dark ponytail over her shoulder.

"I told you as much. When will you ever learn to listen?" she said.

"Maybe when you stop feeling the need to be so mysterious all the time and just talk straight to us. You know, for a change," Bridget Briswell said from her position next to Morgan. She sounded annoyed, but then her face brightened and broke out into a musical laugh. "Not that I mind. I think you just do it because you think it makes you sexier."

Melvin's eyebrows raised. The two women seemed on much friendlier terms after he'd taken Morgan's Rejuvenator and passed out for a few moments; before then, Bridget had treated Morgan with a mix of distrust and disdain, only because she felt so protective of Melvin. Bridget was his lawyer, after all.

"Well, it does make me sexier, don't you think?" Morgan said playfully.

Bridget hesitated, ran a hand through Morgan's black hair and said, "Maybe."

Melvin swallowed. Something was definitely going on between the two of them. How long had he really been out? It had felt like only a few seconds but...

His thought was broken by Pachelbel's Canon in D, the chosen ring of Melvin's cell phone. He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and raised the phone to his ear, mashing it on before the song could make it all the way through.

"Hello?" Melvin said.

"Melvin, it's Richie. Sorry to interrupt whatever's going on with that Briswell chick, but your ex is on the hunt. She was over here today and... well, we should talk. Meet me in your office. She even had a run in with Crabapple," Richie Golding's voice buzzed in Melvin's ear. Melvin's brow knotted, and he felt a disgusted twist in his stomach. Just when things were looking up, Abby had to show up with her surgically enhanced breasts and ruin everything.

"I'll be right there."

***

His mind racing as he walked through his building's lobby towards the elevators, Melvin didn't see the woman mopping, the wet floor, nor the bucket of soapy water until he'd lost his footing, slid a about a foot and knocked it over, its foamy gray contents squirting across the floor. The cleaning woman, a young woman with most of her hair tucked under a tan baseball cap with the word "Janitor" written across the top, flashed him a look of undisguised disdain.

Bridget had dropped him off in front of the building and drove off to park in her reserved space in the garage, and Melvin was glad that she wasn't here to see him sliding around the tile like one of the Three Stooges. He had fallen sharply to his knees, and he struggled to get up, murmuring quick apologies.

"Didn't you see the sign? Wet floor, buddy," she said, her mop held threateningly in her hands. 

"What is going on here?" bellowed a low, strained voice approaching through the lobby. Melvin regained his balance and saw a thin, white-haired man with a Hitler mustache coming towards them like a moth attracted to flame. The man had on the same kind of tan uniform that the cleaning woman wore, and he looked ready to crack some skulls. Melvin visualized the angry, mustached man tearing out the uniformed girl's heart and eating it raw in front of her eyes. Not a pleasant thought.

"Aw, shit. My supervisor," the cleaning woman said, a grim expression on her face. Melvin caught the look of dread on the woman's face and knew that he didn't want have her held responsible for his folly.

"You clumsy bitch! Are you injured, sir?" the supervisor said with a vehement snarl towards the woman and a mock concern aimed at Melvin. No doubt that the man wanted Melvin to accuse the cleaning woman of incompetence or negligence or something so he'd have an excuse to fire her. Melvin wondered what the man had against her. She was an attractive woman, her ebony skin like smooth chocolate, intelligent dark brown eyes, and a youthful face with stunningly sculpted features. Not your typical cleaning woman. 

"No, no. It's all my fault. I wasn't paying attention and just walked right through the area this young woman was mopping. I didn't see the sign," Melvin said, pointing a finger at the obvious yellow sign cautioning everyone with the bold letters : CAUTION WET FLOOR. To be honest, Melvin knew that the sign was hard to miss. "There was a lot going on in my mind, and I just missed it."

"Right," the man turned to the woman. "Tasha, you get off with a warning. But next time, put the sign where ANYONE can see it." His voice had a sarcastic edge, careful not too sound too condescending towards Melvin, but Melvin caught a whiff of the man's bitterness like dog shit on a flowery spring breeze. The man whirled on his heels and stormed off to crawl back into whatever dank pit of hell he'd come. Melvin knew the type well; he worked for one than one of them.

Tasha sighed, wiped her sleeve against her forehead and said, "Thanks, man. That asshole's been after me since I stopped him from copping a feel in the storage closet."

Melvin nodded and replied, "Yeah, I kinda got a boss like that." 

"You?" Tasha laughed and held a hand against her chest, the other still holding the wooden handle of her mop. "I GUESS I can see a guy like you being sexually harassed. Good to know it's not just poor, helpless girls like me." She winked and turned to the bucket to set it back up on its wheels. "Got to clean this mess up."

"Here, let me help you," Melvin offered, and Tasha allowed him to take a hold of the mop and bucket and push it backs towards the supply closet. Melvin still felt bad about the trouble he caused her and wanted to help her out in any way he could. Still, he knew that Richie was waiting on him; he checked his watch. He had some time to kill, he figured. He waited while Tasha pulled on the keys attached to her work belt and sorted for the right one. A dark lock of hair escaped from under her cap and slipped down her neck, curly and long. Melvin found it very becoming, and he wondered what he was doing here, standing outside the door of a supply closert with a beautiful woman. He guessed his motives weren't entirely innocent. Tasha caught his glance and tucked the hair back under the hat.

"Kinda new here, sorry. Not a full-time cleaning woman. Just got to pay the bills," she said, nodding towards the keys. She smiled when she found the right one and stuck it into the door.

"Well, if you're not a cleaning woman, what are you?" Melvin asked as she took the mop out of his hands, placed it in a corner and pushed the bucket under a leaky faucet. She twisted the faucet on and started to refill the yellow bucket with fresh water. She poured in a dab of cleaning solution.

"A student. It's my second year. Gonna be a photographer," Tasha said distractedly, her eyes fluttering from the filling bucket to Melvin. 

"Hey, my niece... well, actually, my ex wife's niece... she wants to do the same thing. Maybe you know her," Melvin said, his voice a little shaky.

There wasn't a lot of room in the supply closet to maneuver, and Tasha's ass kept brushing against Melvin. He assumed that it was inadvertant, that she wasn't trying to turn him on, but it was happening and now Melvin wanted to do something about it. She was a young, attractive woman, and he'd had a fantasy for a long time about fucking a cleaning woman in a supply closet. The only problem was that Melvin had yet to be the aggressor in any of his sexual activities. He swallowed. He needed to find out if Morgan's Rejuvenator really worked, right? And he had the magic love juice on his side.

"What's her name?" Tasha asked, and Melvin was now sure that she was pushing her ass into him on purpose. Melvin reached behind him, found the door to the supply closet and shut it. Hearing the click of the lock, Tasha twisted off the faucet and turned around.

"Tina Swift. I fucked her in a men's bathroom today just like I want to fuck you in this closet, right now," Melvin said, his heart thrumming in his chest. Tasha slowly backed against the opposite wall in the small closet, a doe-eyed look of innocence on her face. She was playing along, Melvin realized; she wanted him to be the assertive one. Chalk up another new experience for Melvin MacMuffin, folks. A woman who actually wanted HIM to take advantage of HER. 

"I know Tina. She's my roommate this semester..." She gulped. "I got drunk at this one party, and she ate my pussy out under the kitchen table. It was the hottest thing I'd ever done. Until now," Tasha whispered. A strange smile split her lips. "Hot fucking must run in the family."

Melvin stepped towards her, sweeping her cap off with one hand and pushing her harshly against the wall with the other. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and she gasped as Melvin's lips overtook hers. Her kisses were gentle but passionate, and she moaned as Melvin leaned into her body.

Melvin wasn't completely sure how to proceed since he wasn't used to being dominate in any aspect of life much less in the sex department. How forceful should he be? Forceful but not scary, he assumed, but that was a fine line to walk. He wondered how she would react to him tearing off her clothes like a barbarian.

He placed his hands just above the top button of her uniform, licked his lips in concentration and ripped her shirt open, two buttons tearing and flittering across the floor. Tasha gasped in mock surprise, and a hungry look flashed in her eyes. She liked it. Encouraged, Melvin pulled her lacy bra over her heaving mounds and took one plump brown tit in his mouth, sucked on it and then switched to the other tit. Tasha whimpered and fisted a hand in Melvin's hair. 

Time was of the essence, considering the large puddle in the middle of the lobby that Tasha was responsible for cleaning and that Melvin was expected in his office by Richie at any moment, so they wasted no time in tearing each other out of their clothes. Melvin pulled Tasha's shirt over her creamy shoulders while she fumbled with Melvin's fly. Unleashing Melvin's straining meat, she stroked him with one hand, gaining heat, tickling his balls with the other. Melvin then pulled Tasha's pants and underwear to her knees and maneuvered himself behind her. In moment, he was slipping into her hot pussy, her ass wriggling as she squirmed in pleasure. 

"Oh, fuck. That's it," Tasha murmured as Melvin began to pump his cock into her, thrusting deep and hard. She arched her back, pushing into him, and Melvin pounded at her pussy, sweat starting to drip down his face. He blinked as a salty bead threatened to drop off an eyelash and into his eye. His hands sunk into the soft flesh of her hips, and he clenched his eyes shut. Being in control was a different feeling for him, somehow powerful and authoritative; he could do with her as he liked. Still, he could tell she wanted it rough and dirty, so he'd allow her that satisfaction. But mostly only because he wanted it rough and dirty as well.

"You like it hard, baby?" Melvin said between breaths. Tasha put her hands on the walls and grinded back into Melvin's pelvis, taking him even deeper inside the moist walls of her vagina. Melvin gritted his teeth and waves of pleasure swooped over him and made his legs feel wobbly.

"Love... gettin... it... ROUGH!" Tasha grunted and crashed into him as another bolt of ecstasy rushed through them. She stood up just enough to allow Melvin to grasp her swinging pendulum breasts as he pumped his cock into her sopping wetness. Her titties were so huge, Melvin could hardly find a decent purchase on them with his hands. Her ass smacked against him with a sweaty clap.

The fact that Tasha was fucking a complete stranger in the cleaning supply closet hit her and took her to the edge of her lust. Tasha's passion was overcome by a surging wave from her lower body, and she became blanketed with tingly shivers. She stifled a cry as she came on Melvin's throbbing tool. Meanwhile, Melvin's head swirled, and he felt his muscles clench before spewing his thick load down the side of Tasha's cool leg. They pulled apart and took some time to catch their breath. After a moment, they slowly and quietly began to sort through their clothes without speaking. Finally, Tasha broke the silence.

"Well, THAT was interesting," she said with a breathless laugh, and Melvin laughed with her.

***

Straightening his tie, Melvin didn't see Bridget Briswell when he stepped into the elevator until she tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up, saw her and smiled brightly. She didn't look pleased.

"You're just getting into the elevator? Where have you been?" Bridget said, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. She frowned at him.

"Met a girl and got to know her in the supply closet," Melvin said with a wink. He knew that Bridget of all people would appreciate his sordid adventures as she had played a part in more than one of them. Bridget turned from side-to-side as if confirming that they were the only two in the elevator and grasped Melvin's arm with a tight grip, pulling him close to her.

"You're just having sex with random women now just because you CAN?" Bridget said with disgust. Melvin's eyes widened in surprise; he figured that Bridget would have commended him on the change that had taken place over his sexual nature the last two days. Hadn't Melvin been the one to liberate her from the tight-laced lawyer bitch she was less than a week ago?

"Melvin, remember what the witch said about stepping on the wrong people's toes. Don't you think you should exercise a little bit of caution about who you sleep with?" Bridget whispered harshly, and her eyebrows raised in concern. Melvin licked her lips and wondered why she was suddenly so worried about the kind of women he boned. Had it been something that the witch had said, or was Bridget just...

"Jealous?" Melvin said. Bridget's mouth gaped open in response. She stammered and realized that Melvin was partially right. She was jealous in a way, worried that she would not be the one picked by Melvin when he had to make his choice. The last thing she needed was more competition, but that wasn't the reason she had expressed her concern. She knew that Melvin was traveling a dangerous road, having handfuls of women desperate to feel his touch and battling each other to be the one chosen by him.

"No, not jealous. It's just that... you have to be careful playing with people's emotions. The women you make love to, it's not like you just fuck them, and they go on their merry way. You make a... connection, one that they're not easily going to want to give up," she said.

Melvin nodded. He knew this, and he didn't like the thought of just taking advantage of women because he could. This was the very kind of thing he hated about his ex wife, using her sexuality for her own personal satisfaction without a care for anyone else. Had this what he'd just done with the woman downstairs? All the other women had been the ones to at least initiate any sexual contact, and Melvin could live with that. But now? He had Courtney to think about, the one woman he still might actually want to start up a relationship. And he cared about Bridget, too, and he didn't want to hurt her either.

"There's no reason for you to feel jealous," Melvin said, leaned in and kissed her delicately on the lips. Already he could feel his cock hardening in his pants; apparently the witch's Rejuvenator was more potent than he expected. Bridget kissed him back with her soft and sweet lips, her hands slipping under Melvin's jacket and rubbing against his chest.

The elevator lurched, dinged, and the doors slid open. Melvin and Bridget quickly separated before they could be seen grabbing at each other like horny high schoolers.

"Your floor," Bridget said with a smile and pushed him through the doors.

***

Olivia Crabapple waited for Melvin in his office. She sat on the front of his desk, a long plaid skirt dangling below her knees, and had one of Melvin's portfolios opened in her hands. She looked up at him as he entered and smiled endearingly at him. Melvin gulped. She was not the same woman from two days ago when she was stealing his work and claiming for her own. Now she had become an almost tolerable boss, believe it or not. Olivia placed Melvin's portfolio on his desk back where she found it.

"Melvin, where have you been? Are you ok?" she asked, sliding off the desk and stepping towards him. She reached one an arm and gripped his upper arm with one hand, a look of concern plastered across her attractive face. Her cropped, bleached blonde hair shone in the overhead lights, and her green eyes glittered.

"Yes, I was feeling a little ill after lunch, but I'm all right now," Melvin said, unable to escape her roving hands. She roamed around him and blocked any quick exit through his office door. 

"Your ex wife was here looking for you. Left a message on your desk, but I threw it away. You know better than to get mixed up with the likes of her again, right? Not when you have something better and more willing right in front of you," she said in a soft voice, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close to her. 

"Abigail and I are through, Olivia. That's not something you have to worry about," Melvin replied, feeling Olivia's hands unbuckle his belt and slip into his pants. His cock hardened once touched by her cool fingers.

"That's what I like to hear," she cooed. She slid down to her knees and looked up at Melvin with wanting green eyes. Her hands began to pull down his pants, and Melvin didn't make a move to stop her. The Rejuvenator had made his sex drive insatiable and still hadn't shifted to top gear. He swallowed, and his throat felt dry.

"Know what else I like to hear, my little fuck bunny?" Olivia asked, pulling out Melvin's stiff member and licking its underside like a little girl with a popsicle. Melvin shivered in pleasure. She smacked her lips.




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 07



"What's that?" Melvin gasped, enjoying the sensations she created with her tongue and hands.

"I like to hear you call me a fucking dirty slut," she said and gobbled his cock to the root. Melvin sucked in a breath of air through his teeth and forced himself to stay upright. His boss was an amazing cocksucker; it was no wonder she had leapt up the ladder of success so quickly with a mouth like hers. Melvin ran his hands through his short hair and grasped two handfuls of it, helping guide her over his pulsing tool with sharp, plunging motions of her throat. 

Olivia continued to look up with him, refusing to break eye contact, pulled his cock out of her mouth and then shoved it back in to the balls, his swelling sack slapping against the end of her chin as she deep throated him. To see his boss on her knees, taking him the way she was doing, her green eyes locked onto his, was a sight to behold. Olivia slid him out enough to rub the mushroom head of Melvin's cock against the inside of her cheek. Melvin enjoyed the way her cheek ballooned as his thick, meaty pole pushed it from the inside.

"You ARE a fucking dirty slut," Melvin groaned. "Can't you see how hard you make me?"

Olivia spat Melvin's cock out of her mouth with a wet slurp, wet saliva covering the extent of Melvin's protruding penis and dripping past her fingers, and she said, "I make your sex sausage so hard, it just wants to explode all over my face, doesn't it?" 

"Yeah, oh yeah," Melvin breathed. Sex sausage? He'd forgotten Olivia's strange sexual phrases, and he wondered if he'd be getting a taste of her "slut syrup" or "fuck mustard" soon. In some corner of his mind, Melvin wondered where Richie Golding was. He'd told Melvin to meet him here, didn't he?

"Then do it. Shoot your love juice all on my face," she begged, her hands pumping Melvin with criminal speed. No man could withstand such an onslaught from a hot blonde on her knees, let alone one's ass-kicking boss. Melvin couldn't help but notice that she said "love juice"... the same name of the potion that the witch had given him, and he wondered if it was merely a coincidence. In lieu of all the things that had happened to him, it didn't seem likely. Then all sane thought left him as he felt his climax become imminent.

A jet of cum spurted from his cock and splattered on Olivia's chin. Another glob exploded out and splashed across her lips, and Olivia's tongue shot out to lick it up. A third caught her above the left eye, but the rest did not much more than drizzle onto Olivia's willing tongue. Melvin felt his knees go weak, but he managed to maintain his balance.

When it was all over, he gasped, "Here, let me get you a tissue." He stumbled over and found took one from a box on his desk and handed it to Olivia. She wiped herself off and stood from her knees and playfully slapped Melvin's ass.

"That's just a taste, big boy. The main course you get tonight," she purred, and once she was presentable, Olivia tossed the tissue into Melvin's trash bin from across the room: an admirable shot. 

"Actually, uh... tonight's no good," Melvin said, stepping back from Olivia's grasp. She frowned at him.

"Really? No plans with the ex, I hope."

"No, no. Nothing like that. Perhaps I can take a rain check?" Melvin said, hoping that Olivia would accept his proposal and not further investigate his plans for the evening. Who knew how she would react if she found out he had a date with another woman, one who he was more interested in?

"Sure, anything for my favorite fuck bunny. We'll work something out," she said, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and made her way out of the office, stopping only to blow him a kiss before disappearing behind the closing door.

Melvin sighed and leaned against his desk. What a day.

"What the fuck was that?" Richie Golding asked as he poked his head up from his hiding place under Melvin's desk. Melvin jumped, startled out of his wits. Richie had been under his desk the entire time! He'd heard it all! 

"Richie, let me try to explain," Melvin stammered, urging Richie to take a seat with his hands. Richie collapsed into Melvin's office chair, an expression on unbelief etched on his face. Everything that Richie had known and assumed about Melvin was all about to change, and Melvin knew that he'd have to be tactful about his explanation. How much would Richie be willing to swallow? 

"I was waiting for you, and when I saw Crabapple come in, I hid under your desk, thinking I could catch her at stealing some of your work but... but... oh shit, this is fucked. You're boning her?" he said, running his hands through his hair. Some of it stood up in spiky patches. Melvin licked his lips, trying to find the right beginning for everything that needed to be said.

"Well, kind of. This is all going to sound a little crazy, but here goes..."

***

They exchanged information, leaving out certain parts that each thought the other didn't necessarily need to know. Melvin expressed his luck with woman, his relationship with Olivia, his date with Courtney and his friendship with Bridget Briswell but left out the witch and her magic love juice. Richie told Melvin that Abigail had come looking for him and knew about Courtney and Bridget but neglected to mention that Abigail had discovered this knowledge by fucking it out of Richie. They both came out of the conversation satisfied that they had told the other only what he needed to hear and therefor had single-handedly salvaged their friendship.

"Well, Abigail's going to show up and try to ruin your date with this Courtney chick, no doubt about it," Richie opined and leaned back in the office chair. He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe Brenda and I could double with you guys and play some defense. You know, keep an eye out for the evil one and send her packing before she can get to you," he offered with a raised eyebrow. Melvin nodded.

"Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea. Bridget's got a date tonight too, with one of the security guys downstairs. Maybe we can work it out that she's at the same restaurant as well."

"We could make it a group thing even," Richie said. 

"Possibly. I'll get in touch with you and Bridget, and let you know. The last thing I need is Abigail destroying any chance I have with Courtney. I've been waiting for this for so long," Melvin said, taking off his glasses rubbing the bridge of his nose. Richie stood up and patted his shoulder.

"I know, buddy. I know. Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine. What's the worse that could happen?"

***

Hours later, Melvin stood outside the door to Courtney's apartment, the butterflies fervently mounting in his stomach. He told himself that nothing could go wrong; he had the love juice on his side. He raised his hand, hesitated and knocked. 

"Just a minute," a faint female voice called from the other side of the door.

Melvin heard the footsteps of someone approaching, and he kept the mental encouragement running through his head. This was what he had been waiting for, and he was going to be great. This was it.

The door opened, and Melvin felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. 

On the other side of the door stood his pigtailed waitress from lunch, the one who had watched Tina and Melvin fuck in the men's room of the cafe. Of all people on God's green Earth, she... out of everyone... was Courtney's roommate. Melvin's jaw dropped as the girl's face lit up in recognition.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," she said and pulled him into the apartment.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 08



Melvin stood inside of Courtney’s apartment and wondered how he’d gotten himself into such a mess. Here he was, finally getting lucky with women, and it had already come back to bite him firmly on the ass. Last week, he wouldn’t have been able to get half a dozen women to talk to him (let alone anything more), but in the small time frame of the last two days, he could barely walk down the street without being accosted and having his clothes torn off by amorous females. He had a self-proclaimed witch and her so-called magic love juice to both thank and blame for his current troubles. 

“I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing here?” the girl standing before him asked, her brown pigtails bobbing as she bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet. She gave him an expectant look, and Melvin realized that the girl thought that he was there for her. 

She apparently figured that Melvin had followed her home or asked for her address at the cafe and then came looking for her. After all, he had given her quite the show earlier in the day with his ex wife’s cute niece, Tina, while the girl watched, pleasuring herself on the men’s room counter. Needless to say, it had been a long and interesting day. The pigtailed woman had been Melvin’s waitress at lunch, and here she was again, this time as Courtney’s roommate.

“Actually, I’m Courtney’s date tonight,” Melvin said, his collar feeling tight. He pulled at it with one hand, but it didn’t help much. His face burned.

“You? YOU’RE the sweet guy that looks at her with big puppy dog eyes every day at lunch? This is so wild,” the girl said, placing the palm of one hand against her cheek in unbelief. After a moment, she stuck out her in hand in his direction.

“By the way, in case you didn’t notice the name tag while I was fingering myself, I’m Shelly. Shelly Stone. Pleased to meet you,” she said, and Melvin took her hand in a friendly shake. In a way, it seemed funny to be shaking her hand and introducing themselves like civilized adults after their earlier experience at lunch.

“Melvin MacMuffin,” he said and laughed loudly. He couldn’t help himself. Shelly joined him. She was right: the situation was definitely wild. Melvin knew that life was ripe with coincidence and circumstance, but this was ridiculous. Then again, why shouldn’t Courtney be friends and roommates with one of her coworkers? Melvin shouldn’t have been as surprised to see Shelly as he was, but still... he had to laugh at it all.

“Who is it?” Courtney’s voice called from a far room, cutting their laughter short. Her head popped out from behind a bedroom door, and Melvin felt tingles course pleasurably through his stomach as he caught sight of her.

“It’s Melvin!” Shelly called back and stifled a giggle with one hand.

“I’ll be out in a sec!” Courtney replied and ducked her head back into the room. Shelly turned back to Melvin.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t told her a thing. I don’t know how she’d react to the thought of me masturbating as I watched two strangers bang in the men’s room,” she said, her brown eyes sparkling. She hesitated for a moment.

“Hey, if you get lucky tonight...”

“Yes?” Melvin said, but he already knew what was coming,

“Think I can watch? I’m sure Courtney won’t mind,” Shelly said in an embarrassed way, twiddling her thumbs and looking down at the floor, her cheeks blushing red.

Melvin gulped. He wanted his time shared with Courtney to be special and romantic, not lustily perverse. The thought of using Courtney as a sexual object and having someone watch them make love just seemed wrong. This was somewhat odd, considering what he’d done and how much he’d changed in the last two days. 

“We’ll see,” he said, not wanting to upset her. Who knew what she’d say to Courtney if Melvin said the wrong thing and pissed her off? He certainly didn’t want Courtney to know what Shelly had seen him doing at lunch. 

“If it helps, I have a date tonight, too. With Tina,” Shelly said, her eyes roving up to meet his own. Shelly twisted the toes of one foot into the floor, her knee pointed inward, a stance most associated with naughty schoolgirls. She raised her hand and began chewing on a nail.

“Tina, my n... er... my ex wife’s niece? From today?” Melvin said, stunned. When had this all come about? As if things couldn’t get worse, Shelly and Tina were both going to be together and causing hell. Undoubtedly, they’d get it in their sexy little heads that Melvin and Courtney would be up for some dirty fun. 

This was the exact kind of situation that Melvin wanted to steer clear from tonight. He didn’t want Courtney merely for her body, and he wanted her to know that. He felt there was no sense in rushing things or ruining them with a hasty fling. He didn’t want things to become overly complicated too fast, and who knew what would happen if Abby, his ex wife, showed up out of nowhere?

At least, he had a plan. If you could call it that...

***

“Red team, this is gold team. Over,” Richie spoke into the walkie talkie, mashing the send button and speaking in a low, serious voice typically only heard in war movies. Brenda Briswell sat next to him in the passenger seat of Richie’s Lexus, and she rolled her eyes, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. She should have known better than to finally give in to Richie’s pestering. All Brenda wanted was to get him to shut up and leave her alone, and now she was stuck playing cops-and-robbers with Richie and Brenda’s twin sister, Bridget, off in some other car at an undisclosed location.

“Is this really necessary? I mean, is our whole date going to be like this?” Brenda said after a wary sigh. 

“This red team. We copy you. What’s up, Gold leader? Over,” the walkie talkie buzzed in Richie’s hand. The voice on the line was that of Bridget Briswell, Brenda’s sister. She was also on a date, but with a beefy security guard who got a huge kick out of all the snooping around and thought the stealthy surveillance they were doing was the coolest thing ever. Richie turned to Brenda.

“You mean you’re not having fun? I mean, this is mostly your sister’s idea,” Richie said and then spoke into the walkie talkie. “Red team, this is gold team. All quiet on the western front. Anything your way? Over.” 

“Gold team, this is red team. It’s beer o’clock, and all is well. Over,” a male’s voice said, apparently Bridget’s date wanted his turn to speak on the walkie talkie. Richie held back his laughter; he could tell that Brenda was not enjoying herself. He should have asked out her sister.

“Don’t worry, Melvin’s going to contact us and let us know where we’re going to not-so accidentally run into him for dinner. Then we’ll all sit down, have a little get together, and keep our eyes open for the likes of Melvin’s ex. You’re in for an entertaining night. If I know Abby, she’s got to be around her somewhere,” Richie said to Brenda, patting her reassuringly on the arm. Brenda leaned the seat back and put her hands over her eyes. She tried not to think about all the other things she could have been doing tonight. 

“This is ridiculous,” she groaned.

“But fun as hell,” Richie said and held the walkie talkie to his lips.

***

Bridget’s elbows were on the dashboard, and her eyes were focused through the windshield on the apartment building where Courtney lived. The last remnants of the day’s thunderstorm pit-pattered against the windows. She couldn’t remember the last time that she’d been on a date, and this was certainly the strangest date that she had ever experienced. She hoped that Joey was having as good of a time as she was. She knew how she could make sure he did.

She smiled, thinking that what she was about to do would have never crossed her mind before Melvin. She had him and the witch and the love juice to thank for that, and if things didn’t turn out the way she wanted them do, she knew that she still wouldn’t ever go back to the way she was before: a major tight-ass. 

After all, she barely knew the guy sitting next to her for more than a quick hello and goodbye as she walked by his desk every day, and playing with boys you don’t know wouldn’t be considered very kosher by the likes of her parents, may their souls rest in peace. But it was going to be oh so much fun.

“You know, Joey,” she said, turning her head to face him. “All this secret agent stuff kinda... well, it turns me on. What about you?” She slipped a thumb through her lips and sucked on it coyly. She turned her head to the side, allowing some of her blonde hair to fall in her face. The right strap of her dress strategically fell from her shoulder, and Bridget didn’t bother pushing it back to its upright position.

Joey gulped and said, “Uh... actually... YOU kinda turn me on, Bridget.”

Bridget smiled in reply. “Really?” she said. “Prove it.”

Her delicate hands floated through the air and flittered to Joey’s belt. She saw the crotch of his pants bulging more and more with the evidence of his hard-on; it appeared to be a sizable one which was a good sign for later tonight if Bridget’s plans all fell into place. She unbuckled his belt and took the zipper between her thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it down. Joey moaned anxiously as Bridget’s hands slipped through his open fly and fished out his raging erection.

“Now, keep your eyes open. We’ve got a job to do, don’t we? And it wouldn’t be very polite of us to let out friends down.” She wrapped her fingers around the thickness of Joey’s flesh; it was hot in her hands. “You’re going to have to stay alert for the both of us,” Bridget instructed as her head began to dip down towards Joey’s stiff, pink pole.

Joey gritted his teeth and forced his eyes open as Bridget’s mouth encased his shaft, and sharp, sweet pleasure coursed over him. So far, this was the best date he’d ever had.

***

“You look amazing,” Melvin said, unable to take his eyes off of Courtney’s gorgeous figure. She wore a black-and-white checkered miniskirt, revealing her mouthwateringly long legs, and a low cut white blouse, unbuttoned to the busty V-curve of her chest. A necklace dangled down her slim neck, glittering in the light. A pair of black boots ended half way up her calves. Her red hair was pulled back into a stylish bun on the back of her head, held by long black pins that Melvin for some reason associated with Japanese women, and Melvin wondered what her hair would look like unfurling and falling to her shoulders: undoubtedly the whole point of having a bun like hers was to get a man desperate to undo it. It was certainly working.

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks somewhat pink from the flattery.

“Oh yeah, Court. You’re a perfect ten tonight, babe,” Shelly added, her eyes almost as glued to Courtney’s body as Melvin’s were. Both Melvin and Shelly were suddenly knocked out of their daze by a rapping against the apartment door. Melvin blinked, and Shelly almost leapt out of her clothes and to the ceiling in excitement and scurried to the door.

“Tina!” she cried, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open. Melvin felt his own excitement drop and be replaced with another serving of gurgling liquid dread. He stepped closer to Courtney, and she looked at him with her glowing hazel eyes.

“Well, shall we be off?” he asked her, wanting to be out of the apartment before Tina and Shelly could gang up on them and ask to tag along. Courtney’s eyes locked onto his own, and Melvin’s head felt dizzy. It wasn’t unlike the sensation he’d had the first time he’d met the witch and taken her love juice. What was this feeling? Love? Lust? Something else?

“Uncle Melvin?” Tina’s perky voice called over his shoulder. “What are ya doin’ here?” Tina Swift was a cute, curly-haired blonde with curves strategically created to bring men to their knees.

“He’s got a date with my roommate!” Shelly cried, her voice giddy with shrill giggles. Melvin prepared himself and turned around to say hello to his ex wife’s niece and was doubly struck dumb by the fact that Tasha, the female janitor he’d fucked in a supply closet earlier in the day, stood next to her at the door. He vaguely recalled Tasha telling him that she was Tina’s roommate this semester. 

“This is Natasha Turner, one of my roommates. Ashley was goin’ out with some obnoxious boy, and I didn’t want to leave Tasha all alone on a Friday night with nothing to do but herself,” Tina said with a bark of laughter. “I hope you don’t mind, Shelly.”

Shelly shook her head, “No, I don’t mind at all! The more the merrier, right?” She slipped a wink in Melvin’s direction. He already did not like the direction the night was turning, and it had barely started. Tasha caught Melvin’s gaze and held it, a funny look on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr...?” Tasha stuck her hand towards Melvin, and he took it in a firm and steady handshake. Funny that they were pretending to not know each other, and also that he and Tasha had already experienced one another sexually but truly didn’t know each other’s last names. Melvin could hear the witch’s musical laughter ringing in his ears. No doubt that she would be getting a helluva kick out of all of this.

“MacMuffin. Melvin. Nice to meet you, Ms. Turner,” Melvin said, and their pseudo-introductory handshake ended. Melvin shied his eyes away from Tasha’s knowing expression. He couldn’t go through the whole evening like this, trying to cover up his sordid past at every corner, at every turn. The worst thing about it was that the events of his sordid past existed only from the past two days. They were like fresh cuts that still bled if you poked them.

“Well, we don’t want to keep you from your fun,” Melvin said. “So I think we’ll go ahead and get going.”

“Don’t be silly,” Shelly interjected, standing between Melvin and Courtney and slipping her hands around both of their waists, pulling them close. “We can all stick together if you two want. Might be exciting!”

Courtney grinned, dimples forming at the corners of her mouth, and she said sweetly, “It’s all up to Melvin.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Mel. If you’re worried ‘bout privacy, you’ll barely know we’re there,” Tina said, flashing him her widest smile. 

***

Bridget slowly stroked Joey into her lovely mouth, her other hand not forgetting to massage his balls with gentle caresses. Bridget enjoyed the way Joey ran his fingers through her hair; for such a muscular man, his touch was surprisingly soft and sweet. Her tongue slid on the underside of his shaft, and Bridget worked her mouth so that it twisted and turned over Joey’s erection, her tongue twirling, careful not to miss any potentially sensitive nerve-endings. All the hours spent practicing on Brenda’s dildo were finally paying off. She slurped up her excess saliva, the noise wet and loud in her own ears. She slipped his cock out of her mouth for a moment.

“I hope you like your blow jobs sloppy,” she told him, carefully wiping her mouth. She’d have to reapply her lipstick after this particular session.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Joey breathed. Some of his dark, black hair was matted to his forehead with sweat.

Then the walkie talkie buzzed to life, “Red team this is gold team. Do you copy? Come in. Over.” Joey held the walkie talkie in his hand and raised his eyebrows. Bridget smiled slyly.

“This’ll be interesting,” she said, her head dipping back down to Joey’s crotch. She devoured his cock to the root. She knew she would have this guy eating out the crack of her ass for the rest of her life if she wanted him to; it was strange discovering that she could hold such power over a man. Maintaining his composure, Joey mashed the talk button.

“Gold team, this is red team. We copy you. What’s shaking? Over,” Joey said in as natural a voice as he could muster. Bridget was careful not to scrape Joey’s skin with her teeth as her mouth upturned in a smile. Joey wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this, she could tell. First Melvin, then Joey the security hunk. Bridget wondered who would be next; she felt as if the world was her oyster and she desperately wanted to find a pearl.

“The M-Man just phoned in from his cell. We have a complication. Over,” Richie’s voice said, garbled with static. Bridget felt Joey’s body go tense under her, and she prepared herself for an onslaught of his cum. Her hand on the underside of his balls felt the jizz rush out of his sack and pump through some inner tube; it was a feeling both weird and cool to her.

“Compli...” Joey began and then stammered as his cock burst in Bridget’s mouth, and his breathing became jagged heaves. Bridget felt his semen forcefully spurt into the back of her throat, and she was careful to let herself relax rather than choke and swallowed it down to the last dribbling drop. She sucked the last of it out as if she was guzzling a milk shake through a straw.

“Complication? What do you mean? Over,” Joey said as his breathing became normal, and Bridget slurped up the last drizzles of his orgasm.

***

Melvin threw some water in his face in the bathroom. Having called Richie with the latest developments, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. How had he gotten roped into spending his evening with not only Courtney (which he would have preferred) but all of her friends (all of which who had slept with him or watched him sleep with them)? The water felt cool and crisp on his warm skin, but it didn’t do the trick. Maybe once they got out of the apartment, he could slip away with Courtney.

Even then, he’d still have Abigail to worry about. Considering that, perhaps it was good that he’d be leaving with a large group of girls. Abby wouldn’t know which one was Courtney (with the exception of Tina, of course, seeing as she was Abby’s niece), and Melvin could use them as a buffer to make his unseen escape. He sighed. At least, he could find a bright side to all of this. He’d have to find a way to get alone with Courtney.

Plus, he knew his friends had his back. Richie and Bridget and their respective dates were running surveillance for him, and he knew that he could count on... well, he could count on Bridget at least. He wasn’t so sure about Richie; he’d be trying too hard to get his “wicky sticky” with Brenda, Bridget’s twin sister.

Melvin dabbed himself dry with a towel, replaced his glasses and stepped out of the bathroom. All of the girls turned to look expectantly at him, momentarily silent from whatever that were discussing. They were a good looking group; he couldn’t deny that. He swallowed.

“Let’s roll,” he said, trying to push the feelings of dread to the back of his mind.

***

Abigail Sanderson watched Melvin walk out of the apartment complex through a pair of binoculars she’d bought at a nearby gun and ammunition store earlier that night. 

She had almost given up on him and had bided her time watching some blonde chick give head to a dude parked in front of the building she was scoping out, but then suddenly there he was, her ex husband in the flesh. She straightened up in her seat and peered through the binoculars. A young group of hotties surrounded Melvin, one of which Abigail recognized as her niece, Tina, the little traitorous slut. 

Abigail took her hand out of her unbuttoned jeans where she had recently been playing with herself while watching the horny couple, wiped off her sticky fingers and focused her complete attention on Melvin’s group. She wondered which one was Courtney, and she put her money on the redhead. The other girls were hot, but the redhead was hot in a different kind of way, more of a cute sweetness really, a way that a sensitive guy like Melvin would appreciate. The redhead also seemed to be walking closest to Melvin, so it would make sense that she would be the one that had caught Melvin’s oh so sexy eyes.

Abigail’s free hand went unconsciously to the gun at her side. This was the other purchase that she had made at the gun shop; all it took was a few dollars under the table and a few seductive bats of her large amber eyes, and the owner overlooked any law that might have kept her hands off the weapon for at least a few days. The manipulation of men was one of Abigail’s better talents.




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 08



She didn’t know why she had bought the gun and wasn’t sure what she planned to do with it. The thought of yelling “If I can’t have him, no one can!” and going on a shooting spree seemed way too cliché in her mind; she had to believe she was above something so lame. Then again, why did she buy a gun in the first place? She didn’t really plan to use it on that Courtney girl, did she?

All she knew was that she wanted Melvin for herself and no one else.

***

Richie Golding tucked the walkie talkie between the seats and started the car’s ignition. He peered through the driver’s side window and watched as Melvin and the girls separated to their own vehicles: Melvin and Courtney into his BMW, the other girls into a small red sports car. How had Melvin lucked out enough to spend the evening with such four beautiful women? Richie turned to Brenda; she looked about ready to die of boredom, her head resting on her hands, her face slack.

“I hope you like Chinese,” he said and put the car into drive. Melvin had told him where he and the girls were headed, and Richie had passed the information one to Red team, Bridget and Joey. They would all meet up at the restaurant, and who knew what would happen next? Richie hoped that it would be as entertaining as he suspected.

“Anything’s better than sitting in this car for another hour,” Brenda said and peered through the window with her light blue eyes.

***

The Red Dragon was considered the best place for Chinese in the state, and Melvin had some difficulty finding a parking spot. Finally, he found one and felt relieved that he had made reservations earlier in the day. He hoped that either Richie or Brenda had done the same. As for Shelly, Tina, and Tasha, they might have some trouble getting a table which was no skin off Melvin’s back as far as he was concerned. The quicker he could be rid of them, the better.

Melvin led Courtney into the restaurant and was met by a tall, sour-faced Chinese man in a tight suit, standing behind a low podium. He was younger than most maitre d’s Melvin had encountered and more handsome. His black hair was slicked back over his head, and he straightened a red bow tie as they approached him. He gave Melvin a thin smile.

“May I help you?” the man said in perfect English with no discernible accent. Melvin felt a small pang of disappoint; he thought that polite waiters unable to speak good English were almost an obligatory stereotype which only added to the atmosphere of Chinese eating establishments.

“Yes,” Melvin replied. “I have a reservation for MacMuffin.” The man did not giggle at Melvin’s last name, but looked down at the open book before him with a searching gaze. The man must have heard his share of ridiculous last names in his business. His finger tapped against one page.

“Ah, yes. Here we are. Table for two?” the man said.

“Make that five,” Shelly’s voice said cheerily from over Melvin’s shoulder. He hadn’t heard her or the others come in. He thought that they would still be circling the parking lot, looking for a space. Melvin cursed their good luck. The Chinese gentleman looked up from his book, and a frown parted his face, his brow furrowing.

“There’s no reservation for five. I’m not sure we will be able to do that. You may have to wait for some time,” he said, his face turning to Melvin for a reaction.

“That ain’t necessary,” Tina said, walking towards the man and whispering something in his ear. Melvin couldn’t make out what it was, and he was sure that he didn’t want to know. Tina wore a slinky, short green dress, and the Chinese gentlemen had to forcibly remove his wide eyes from the swell of her bosom. Tina finished whatever she said to him, and the man nodded.

“Follow me,” he said. Melvin exchanged looks with Tina, but she merely shrugged at him and followed the Chinese man. They were led to a far back table. The man snapped his fingers, and two young men popped out of nowhere with extra chairs. The Chinese gentleman and his minions disappeared a moment later. Once seated, Melvin could contain his curiosity no longer. 

“What did you say to him?” he asked Tina. Tina’s eyebrows raised, and she leaned back into her chair. A sly smile curved his lips.

“Nothin’ much. Just a few sweet nothin’s,” she said.

“Yeah, right. I’ll bet it was nothing,” Tasha replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “That guy’s a friend of ours from the university, Bruce Chen or something. He’s had his eyes on Tina here all semester.”

Tasha looked much different than she had earlier in the day, when she was restrained within a sweltering tan uniform. She had on a glittery blue shirt and a pair of tight jeans and looked absolutely beautiful. Her long brown curls flowed around her neck and shoulders, framing her exquisite face. She kept flashing smug looks in Melvin’s direction, and he did his best to not notice them and focused on Courtney.

Suddenly, Tina pushed her chair back, stood from the table, and said, “Excuse me for a moment, ladies and Uncle Melvin. I need to use the facilities.” 

She walked off towards the restrooms, and Melvin caught sight of the Chinese man who had seated them watching her and then following her towards the women’s room. Melvin felt a churning in his guts, thinking about the way that Tina had whispered to the man. He hoped none of the other women noticed. His ex wife’s niece sure got around.

Tina’s words from earlier in the day came back to him: “Uncle Melvin, I’m a freshman in college now. Suckin’ and fuckin’ is kinda what I do.”

After a few moments, Bridget Briswell’s voice said, “Melvin, is that you?” 

Everyone turned to face her. It was the first “accidental” run-in of the night on the agenda, and Melvin knew that Richie would be close behind her. Bridget wore a tight red dress, one that accentuated the curves of her slim figure. Next to her was a large, muscular man with jet black hair and a face that would have allowed him to star in at least B-quality action movies. Melvin stood to greet them.

“Bridget? Hi!”

“Hello, this is my friend, Joey Dangerfield. Joey this is Melvin MacMuffin, a client of mine.” 

Melvin grinned as he took Joey’s hand. Dangerfield? With a name like that, the guy was begging to be put into action films, battling the likes of Van Damme, Stallone, or even The Rock.

“Bridget? Melvin?” Richie Golding appeared out of nowhere, Brenda Briswell clinging to his arm. Brenda did not look pleased to be there, and her eyes popped wide when she saw that Bridget, her twin sister, had on the EXACT SAME red dress that she was wearing.

“Bridget!” 

Bridget turned and squealed, “Brenda!”

To everyone else, it looked more like one person gawking into a mirror’s reflection than two separate twins, shocked and more than a little pissed that the other had chosen the same dress for the evening. Richie and Joey exchanged terrified glances; there was no way to tell the two women apart.

***

A back room in the restaurant served as a kind of makeshift office with a variety of filing cabinets, safes, and adding machines. A desk sat in the far side of the room, but it was on a soft velvet couch pushed back against the left wall that Tina Swift spread her legs wide as the Chinese gentleman ate her sopping pussy. She’d always had a thing for Asians.

Bruce’s tongue swirled over her hard, protruding clitoris, his fingers dipping in and out of her, her wetness gathering as he gained speed. She fisted a hand in his dark hair and pulled him up to her face to exchange sloppy, moist kisses. She could taste herself on him, a sweet and tangy flavor, something that only turned her on more.

“I didn’t know you worked here, Bruce,” she said, breaking their kiss. The man smiled back at her, wiping off some of the juices that glistened around his lips with his sleeve.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Tina. For instance, I bet you didn’t know my parents owned this place,” he replied.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, stroking his face with one hand.

“You never asked. All you ever ask me for are answers for our exams. Speaking of which, did I miss much in class today?” he said. 

Bruce sat next to Tina in more than one of her classes, and they had achieved a kind of scholarly friendship over the last semester, one that consisted mostly of study groups and Bruce tutoring her on just about every subject the university had to offer. Tina had been desiring to take their casual friendship to the next level for a few weeks. What a coincidence that she had run into him! However, it seemed like a good day for coincidences.

“Maybe. I’ll make you a deal, Brucie. You make me cum, and I’ll let ya see my notes,” she said, her lips curling impishly. Bruce laughed.

“You’ve got a deal,” he said and began to kiss down her neck and chest.

***

“So Bridget, what is it you do?” Tasha Turner asked, bringing a glass of wine to her lips and taking a cool sip. Her brown eyes glowed in the soft light of the restaurant. Tasha hoped that their food would be out soon and vaguely wondered what was keeping Tina. Shelly, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind that Tina was gone; she bided her time by teasing Courtney and Melvin with giggly questions.

“I’m Brenda. That’s Bridget,” the blonde replied in a low voice, cutting her eyes and pointing at her twin. 

Tasha shrugged; it wasn’t like it was HER fault that the two twins were identical in both looks and dress tonight. Tasha thought there was no reason to get offended, but Brenda seemed hopelessly irritable for some odd reason. Perhaps because Brenda’s date seemed more interested in her twin sister. Tasha, personally, would take either one of them or better: both at the same time. She enjoyed the mental visualization she had of creating a reversed, naked female Oreo. 

Hearing her name, Bridget turned and said, “Yes?”

“Nothing,” said Brenda curtly and turned her attention to her wine glass. Bridget shrugged. 

Oblivious to this conversation, Richie Golding felt his hand swatted away from what he thought was Brenda’s upper thigh. He started.

“Richie, what are you doing?” the twin said under her breath, turning towards him.

“Sorry, Brenda. I thought...”

“Brenda? I’m Bridget. She’s Brenda,” Bridget whispered harshly.

“Yes?” Brenda replied, turning towards them.

“Nothing,” said Bridget. Brenda’s eyes narrowed.

Richie groaned. He wasn’t even drunk yet, and he couldn’t keep track of who was who. It was going to be a long night.

***

Tina pleasurably squirmed under Bruce as he pushed into her with swift, fluid glides, her tight nude body rubbing against his own. He plunged his hands into her cute blonde curls and felt her own fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, desperately pulling him deeper inside of her moist pussy. She uttered her approval of Bruce’s thrusts with soft, throaty moans, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Oh, baby. I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered and sighed as a bolt of pleasure plowed through her stomach. It was true; she had fantasized about Bruce’s athletic body on top of her own for some time. Bruce’s eyes were clenched tight as he concentrated hard, keeping himself from cumming; Tina was so tight and felt so good, it was an effort to hold himself together. He knew better than to look into her sparkling blue eyes or at her pert bouncing breasts or he would just loose it.

It didn’t take long before Tina felt her fingers and toes start to become tingly, and she knew the first climax was near for her. She’d been lucky today in the orgasm department; perhaps she was finally at her sexual peak. Or perhaps she just had hit the male jackpot. Either way, she wasn’t going to complain. 

Bruce felt Tina clench under him, her face contorting as she bit her bottom lip to stifle a scream of passion, and then she squirmed violently, her hair flipping back and forth as she twisted her head from side to side as she came on Bruce’s impressive cock. Bruce quickened his own thrusts, hoping to meet her climax with one of his own.

“No, no. Not yet,” she begged as her breathing slowed to normal. Bruce allowed himself to slow down and looked questioningly at her. Tina covered her face with her hands for a moment and blew a long sigh through her lips. When she took her hands away, Bruce saw that her cheeks were a little red with a blush.

“I don’t know how to say this BUT...” she began and giggled, pleased with her pun. Bruce said nothing but waited for her to continue. Tina licked her pink lips. 

“Wanna stick it in my butt?” she said in her twangy southern accent. Bruce’s eyes widened. Was she kidding?

In reply, Bruce flipped her over on her stomach, Tina landing with a soft “off!” escaping her lips. Tina laughed and stuck out her ass provocatively, holding her ass cheeks open with her hands. Lathering his cock with a thick mixture of spit and Tina’s juices, Bruce slowly pressed the meaty helmet of his cock against her asshole and sighed as it popped through into her ass. Tina groaned. She couldn’t explain why she liked getting her ass fucked and licked; it was just one of those things. She mentally thanked the male cheerleader that had first tossed her salad and opened her eyes to the universe of anal pleasure.

Bruce had never experienced anal sex in his entire life and especially hadn’t ever felt something as tight as being inside of Tina Swift’s ass. The thought that he was pumping his stiff cock into the bottom of the cute blonde that sat next to him in Advanced Calculus only made the situation hotter as far as he was concerned. He knew he would not be able to last very long, but he tried his hardest to maintain control. He ran the day’s specials inside of his head, trying to give some distraction to the unbelievable pleasure he was feeling. Moo Goo Gai Pan. $ 9.95. General Tsao’s... oh, she felt so damn good!

Tina’s perfect globes of ass cheeks clapped loudly against his skin as he thrust in and out of her. Bruce could feel sweat beginning to drip down his forehead and the side of his cheeks and could see it glistening on Tina’s arching back. A bead slipped between his lips, and he licked it up, a salty flavor invading his mouth.

“Oh, fuck! Aren’t I a slut?” Tina cried as Bruce let her have it with a deep thrust. She moaned. The heat of Bruce’s cock in her ass was an amazing sensation. She absolutely loved this. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re a fucking anal whore,” Bruce breathed as he continued to fuck her. Bruce grabbed a handful of blonde curls and pulled it a little as he continued to pump, his thrusts becoming more and more rapid. Tears began to form in Tina’s eyes as he fucked her, her hands working at her own pussy, her swollen clit caught between two rubbing fingers. 

Just before Tina had managed to get herself worked up to orgasm, she felt Bruce suddenly pull out of her and spray her backside with a copious amount of warm semen. Dammit! She supposed her luck with orgasms had to end sometime.

Bruce collapsed onto the couch next to her, his cock still slick with various juices. It flapped as he sat down, reminding Tina of those old door stoppers, the ones that she would push down as a kid to hear their metallic “twaaaang” as they bounced up and down or left to right until back to normal.

“From now on, that’s how our study sessions should be,” he sighed. Tina snuggled up next to him, her asshole still burning slightly from the fucking it had gotten, a feeling that Tina found strangely pleasurable.

“You better believe it,” she said with a girlish giggle.

***

Abigail sat in her car, looking at the gun in her lap. What the hell was she doing? What the hell was she thinking? She looked up and out the windshield at the Chinese restaurant, The Red Dragon. Melvin used to take her there all the time when they were married, and she had hated it. Now? She only wished she was inside with him. She wanted to confront Melvin and his trampy slut of a date, but she certainly didn’t need a gun for that. Did she?

She ran a hand through her short dark hair. She had to get Melvin back, but why? She was the one who had divorced him. What had changed her mind? The time she’s spent with him at lunch? It didn’t make any sense, but then again, very few things in life do. Did it matter?

“I have to get him back,” she whispered to herself, wondering why she was following her ex husband with a gun in her hands.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 09



Author's Note:

Ok, so it's been awhile since the last chapter of Melvin, but this one's substantially longer than previous chapters, so hopefully, that makes up for it a little bit. In case you don't remember what happened last, here's a (not so) short re-cap.

Last time on a very special Melvin: Not only was Courtney's roommate, Shelly, Melvin's waitress from earlier in the day, the one that had watched Melvin couple with his ex wife's niece in the men's room, but she was going out on a date that very night with Tina. Yes! His ex wife's niece, the one he had banged! Tina shows up with Tasha, another woman that Melvin had coupled with, only this time in the supply closet at his building earlier in the day. Worse, they all decide they will have a group date together, much to Melvin's disdain.

Well, Richie and Bridget (Melvin's friend and lawyer, respectively) are watching Melvin's back for the likes of Melvin's ex wife, Abigail. They all meet up at a Chinese restaurant (where Tina secures them a table by hooking up with the maitre d), only for Bridget and her twin sister to find out they are wearing the same dress, and no one can tell them apart... whoops!

Meanwhile, Abigail is stalking Melvin, and for some reason, she's bought a gun. What the hell is she thinking? Such is the way a deranged ex wife's mind works, one supposes...

***

“It’s funny,” Courtney said after swallowing a mouthful of rice and shrimp. Dimples formed at the corners of her cute smile. “You’ve been looking at me with big, puppy dog eyes for months, and now I’m here with you, you don’t even know my last name.

Melvin smiled back at her. “Well, let me guess. I’m pretty good at these kind of things.” He paused, observing the unconscious tilt of her head as she waited from him to continue. A red bang of hair floated into her eyes, and she deftly blew it away by blowing a burst of air from her mouth. Melvin could look at her for days, doing nothing else, and be content.

“Let’s consider everyone here at the table. Ok, there’s me, Melvin MacMuffin. The twins, Bridget and Brenda Briswell. Then there’s Tasha Turner and Shelly Stone. Hmm, if we were to keep with this theme of alliteration, I’d say you’re last name is something like... Cross or Covington or Corningstone or Cotten,” he said. 

“No, no, no, and double no,” Courtney replied with a laugh. “It’s Brown.”

Melvin leaned back in his chair, considered it and said, “What a perfectly normal yet beautiful name. I’m impressed.”

Courtney simply blushed and stabbed at her shrimp and rice with her fork. She’d tried the chopsticks and found she was hopeless with them. She hated being so clumsy, especially in front of Melvin, but he didn’t seem to fare much better with the chopsticks either. Of course, he could have just been being nice and failing on purpose so she wouldn’t feel bad. What a great guy.

Out of nowhere, Tina Swift returned from wherever she had disappeared and plopped back down into her chair with a sigh. She flashed a bright smile at Melvin and Courtney.

“You two are too cute for words,” she said, searching the plate of food before her with hungry eyes and grabbing at her chopsticks.

“So cute, it makes me want to puke,” Tasha Turner replied with a laugh. She held a long green vegetable between two chopsticks before popping it into her grinning mouth.

“Where have you been, Ms. Swift?” asked Shelly Stone, somewhat suspicious about her date vanishing for so long. Tina leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek. Richie Golding caught a sight of this from across the table and felt a strange stirring in his pants. He couldn’t help it. He had just observed a girl kiss another girl, after all, even if it was just on the cheek.

“Nothin’ for you to worry your sexy li’l head about,” Tina said with her southern slur, her hand reaching under the table to caress Shelly’s warm thigh. Richie had to force his eyes away and concentrate on his own date, Brenda the Ice Queen. The sacrifices one had to make to be a so-called gentleman.

***

The scene at Melvin’s table was admittedly a chaotic one. Three tables had been pushed together, and it was hard to keep track of all the conversations going on at once. Tasha chatted with Shelly and Tina; Bridget chatted with Joey and Brenda and Richie; and Courtney and Melvin chatted with each other and every one else. 

Shelly kept laughing at everything, bits of rice flying out of her mouth like tiny white missiles. One flew across the table and clung to Tasha’s face which she wiped away gracefully with a disgusted look. 

But the food was delicious and everyone seemed to be having a good time, even Brenda who was coming around and enjoying herself. She laughed loudly at a joke Joey told about a Rabbi, a Catholic priest and a Southern Baptist at a Mexican brothel. Melvin, personally, didn’t get it.

The hardest part about dinner was deciding what they would do next. Melvin hadn’t planned on so many people, and his original thought was to separate from Bridget and Richie and their respective dates after dinner, ending up alone with Courtney. Unfortunately, the trio of young hotties: Tina, Shelly, and Tasha wanted to keep the group together and go somewhere to continue the party; they were just having too much fun to want to separate yet.

“The more the merrier,” Shelly kept repeating, her brown pigtails bobbing. Melvin couldn’t have disagreed more, but he didn’t want to cause a scene and be the one labeled as a “party pooper.” 

“There’s an awesome club just down the street from here, like in walking distance. We could go there for awhile and get some drinks, maybe dance,” Courtney suggested, and the matter was settled. 

Even though the last time he’d attended a concert his ear drums had burst, Melvin would have agreed with anything Courtney might say, and if she had told him that she thought that they should all drink poisoned kool-aide and set themselves on fire, Melvin would have been the first to do so. It was her dimples, he decided; they were hypnotically cute. 

The others seemed to agree the night club was a good idea, and Melvin flagged down their waiter for the check. In moments, they walked out of the Chinese restaurant and savored the cool night air.

***

Abigail Sanderson, Melvin’s ex wife, watched them leave. Her car was parked far enough away under a large, shady oak to not be seen, and she sat low in the driver’s seat, her eyes peering through the open middle of the steering wheel. She took the binoculars away from her shimmering, deep brown eyes and tried to keep her boiling anger submerged. Those tramps should have stayed away from Melvin; he was much too good for any of them, especially the redhead that Abigail took to be Courtney, Melvin’s apparent date. Abigail blew air through her gnashed teeth.

She took the gun from its spot in the passenger seat and slipped it into her purse, the grip of it hard and cold in her hand. She still wasn’t sure what she planned to do with it, but who knew if it might come in handy? Might come in handy? What a ridiculous thought! She slapped an open palm against her forehead. Was she going nuts?

She leaned her head against the rim of the steering wheel and closed her eyes. What was she doing here? Why was she stalking her ex husband? What did she care if he wanted to waltz around the city tonight with a parade of nubile, young babes? But for some reason... she DID care.

Melvin was hers; she had worn his wedding ring. Yes, she had given it back and upgraded her spouse, but now she wanted Melvin back. She had dibs on him because he had been hers before, right? 

She pushed back from the steering wheel and leaned back in the car seat. She brought up one hand and slapped herself gently in the face. Her cheek stung from the blow.

“Get a hold of yourself, Abigail. You gotta start thinking straight,” she whispered. But even though she knew it was crazy, knew it didn’t make any sense, knew no one would understand, she wanted Melvin to be hers and hers alone, again and forever.

***

The Deep End was the name of the club, blazing in blue neon letters under three blue neon curvy, triangular waves and above a double oak door painted red. As Melvin approached he could feel the bass, drumming and thumping through the club’s walls and inside of his bones. He wasn’t much of a dancer, didn’t like large crowds and hated extremely loud noises; he wondered how he was going to survive the club. He would just have to tough it out, and it helped that Courtney was there with him. He would have been happy to go anywhere with the likes of her. Every time he looked at her and caught her sparkling hazel eyes, his stomach fluttered.

“Didn’t this place used to be a strip club?” Richie asked as they pushed through the doors. Shelley turned to answer him.

“Recently changed owners. Just renovated...” she began to explain, but then the music overtook them in a sweeping, crashing wave of sound. They would have to yell to be heard, so further conversation was out of the question. Shelley just shrugged and started to dance, her hips gyrating and her arms waving. Richie smiled, and his head began to nod with the beat. He turned to Brenda. Or was it Bridget? Impossible to tell which.

“I need a drink!” the blonde yelled and headed over to the bar. Richie watched her go, appraising the round curve of her bottom under her tight dress.

“Checkin’ out my sister?” the other twin said in his ear.

“Well, she’s my date, so it’s ok,” he yelled back.

“Stupid asshole, I’M your date!” Brenda Briswell cried and pulled him towards the dance floor. Richie felt his arms yanked nearly out of their sockets and stumbled after her. Tasha, Shelley, and Tina followed suit, forming a hip swaying trio as they grooved their way close to the stage. 

Melvin looked up and saw some curvy, bikini clad women dancing seductively in some glass cages suspended from the ceiling. A live rock band boomed out a crescendo of guitar through the speakers. The scratchy yelling of the lead female singer seemed vaguely familiar, and Melvin turned to check out the band. He should have known better than to be surprised when he saw the singer was none other than the purple-haired pizza girl that he and Bridget had enjoyed sexually only a night before. 

Melvin cursed his ridiculous bad luck. 

“Let’s get something to drink,” he said to Courtney, leaning towards her ear, and she nodded back at him. Melvin wanted to stay away from the dance floor and the band for as long as he could. He certainly didn’t need the purple-haired singer recognizing him from onstage, and he wanted to warn Bridget before she discovered who the lead singer was for herself. 

Sauntering up to the bar next to Joey and Bridget, Melvin cupped a hand over Bridget’s ear and whispered into it, “Check out the singer. Look familiar?”

Bridget glanced towards the stage, and her head snapped straight up like a turtle startled out of its shell. A bright, broad smile flashed across her face.

“Holy shit!” she cried cheerily. “Let’s go dance!” She pulled at Joey’s wrist, but he held her off with a shake of his handsome head. A mug of foamy beer was held precariously in his other hand, and an uncertain look narrowed his features.

“Not much of a dancer,” he replied over the beat of the music. Melvin didn’t know much about punk rock, but he could tell that the purple haired chick’s band was pretty good. Everyone in the club seemed to be digging the hell out of them. Courtney stepped towards Bridget and Joey, letting go of Melvin’s arm. Melvin felt a pang of disappointment as he lost contact with her.

“I’ll go with you,” she offered, looking questioningly at Melvin.

“Yeah, sure. Go with Courtney,” Melvin said to Bridget, and the two women scurried to the dance floor, Bridget’s arm wrapped around Courtney’s trim waist. Melvin and Joey watched as they began to dance with one another, Bridget gliding behind Courtney and placing her hands on the young redhead’s hips as she pressed into the back Courtney’s body with her own.

“They’re something else,” Joey said and brought the mug of beer to his mouth for a long swig. He smacked his lips approvingly, trying not to be too obvious about the mental visualization he was having of the two women together... naked... touching each other... a tingly shiver tickled up his spine.

“You better believe it,” Melvin said in reply and turned to order a beer. He wasn’t normally a drinker but tonight was a special occasion. Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly, and they hadn’t seen any sign of Abigail all evening. Maybe Richie had been exaggerating about her desire to hunt Melvin down. 

The bartender was an attractive, bleached blonde who looked more like a surfer chick than a bartender. Melvin ordered his beer, thinking that on any other night he might try the love potion on such a smiling cutie. He was happy to know that he didn’t feel the need to tempt her now that he was with Courtney. He passed over some cash and thanked her as she handed Melvin his beer. She slipped Melvin a sly wink before turning to the next customer.

“Hey, what’s your ex wife look like?” Joey said, leaning over. 

“Short black hair. Attractive. Surgically enhanced hooters,” Melvin ticked off Abigail’s features on his fingers with a laugh. Joey Dangerfield didn’t smile back, but his face darkened. His jaw clenched. Melvin was again reminded that Joey had the physical attributes of an action star.

“I think she’s coming this way,” Joey said in a low voice, and Melvin barely heard him. However, it was enough to chill his heart, and Melvin pivoted around on his heels and searched the growing crowd with his eyes.

It only took a moment to spot her. Abigail. His ex wife.

She had already found and zeroed in on him through the crowd and snaked towards his position at the bar with long, purposeful strides, her dark hair swishing to keep up. A certain resoluteness held her face, and Melvin didn’t like the looks of the expression. Abigail was the kind of woman who always got what she wanted and couldn’t handle it when something was out of her reach. Melvin knew that this time, above all others, he was finally beyond her reach. 

How Abigail would react to this discovery was anyone’s guess.

“Should I head her off?” Joey offered, his jaw stony and set. Melvin shook his head in the negative. Having another man save him from a woman was almost too pathetic for words, and Melvin was pretty positive he could handle the likes of Abigail on his own. He had already done so once today, after all.

“No, let her come. We need to finish this nonsense for good,” Melvin said, and Joey nodded in understanding. 

The tall, muscular man took in Abigail with an appraising glare. She was a looker, no doubt about it: pretty face, dark flowing hair, athletic yet curvy build, and a set of fiery amber eyes. Joey could understand how Melvin had been sucked into a doomed relationship; any other man would probably make the same mistake faced with the likes of this woman. That was exactly what made her so dangerous.

“Melvin, we need to talk,” she yelled over the banging of a drum solo as she came to a stop in front of Melvin. Her chest heaved under her white, buttoned shirt. Melvin couldn’t help but think about what he was giving up if he turned her down. But then again, he was only giving up two delicious breasts, a hot body and not much else. Abigail had nothing to offer that wasn’t physical.

“So talk,” he replied curtly, his face not betraying any sense of emotion. He took a long sip from his beer mug and waited for Abigail to reply.

“Can’t we go somewhere more private?” she said in exasperation, her brow furrowing. She wanted Melvin to give some indication that her presence had an effect on him whether good or bad, just a sign that he cared.

“Nah. Here’s fine,” Melvin replied. His face was unmoved, set in stone and expressionless. He knew that his indifference would frustrate Abby more than anything, and hopefully, she might give up after awhile. Unfortunately, “give up” was not in Abigail’s vocabulary.

“Melvin, I know this isn’t the time or the place, but... when I saw you today, I don’t know how to explain it, but... you had this EFFECT on me, ya know? And I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About US,” Abigail said loudly, struggling to be heard over the roar of the band and the dancing crowd. 

“There’s no us,” Melvin said, cupping his hand next to his mouth, forming a human bullhorn with his fingers. Joey watched on silently next to Melvin, noticing that Abigail’s left hand stayed hidden in her purse. Strange...

“How can you say that? Melvin, I fucked up, I know! But... but... give me another chance, and you’ll see, that I’ll fix everything. It’ll be the opposite of what it was before. We can work things out, I’m sure of it!” Abigail cried. 

Melvin wiped his mouth and gave her a wry smile.

“Abby, you’re married. What about your family?” he responded with a disappoving shake of his head. 

“Fuck them! I want YOU!” she said. Her eyes went all fiery in the red blinking lights from the stage. Abigail pressed closer and snuggled against Melvin’s chest, but he pushed her forcefully back with his free hand, hard enough that Abigail wobbled on her feet, almost losing her balance. One hand stayed in her purse as she steadied herself with the other, grabbing the bar.

“See? That’s why it’ll never work out. You never think of anyone but yourself,” Melvin replied, finished off his beer and thumped the empty mug against the counter. He surveyed his ex wife with cold eyes.

“Get lost. For good,” he said over his shoulder as he turned his back on her.

Abigail’s mouth gaped open, and her lips began to tremble in angry rejection. Red heat flushed through her cheeks. She attempted to set herself in the right frame of mind, to have some comeback or put down to shock Melvin back in his submissive place, but nothing came. Instead, she felt her fingers close around the handle of her gun, and her rising internal temperature come to a boil. 

Joey watched her expression and the hand in her purse with a cool steady gaze. He’d seen his share of hysterical women over the years.

Abigail despised the cliché coming out of her mouth even as she began to say it, her mouth opening and spitting out the words, “Melvin MacMuffin, if I can’t have you...”

She started to lift her hand out of her purse. The grip of the gun was cold and hard in her sweaty palm. Melvin’s head turned, and his eyes widened in fear. He’d seen this scene enough in movies to know what was going to come out of her purse. The blonde bartender had just walked up to refill Melvin’s glass, and her face went slack as she saw what was happening.

“The fuck...” the blonde began to say. Melvin caught a glimpse of gray as the gun rose from Abby’s purse.

“No one w...” Abigail continued but was cut off as Joey Dangerfield caught her wrist while it was still in her purse, twisted the gun and purse out of her grip, and swiftly caught her in the gut with a punch before she could scream in pain. 

Abigail’s breath rushed out of her with a whimper, and she crumpled into Joey’s arms, her heaving sobs muffled by his biceps. 

“Let’s get her out of here,” Joey said, basically carrying Abigail in his arms and away from the crowd. 

“Through the back,” the blonde bartender said, pointing them in the direction with her hands. Melvin followed Joey, his heart thudding against his chest. Everything seemed surreal. Like a waking dream. Was all of this an effect of the witch’s potion or was it all really happening? 

Had Abigail just tried to kill him?

***

Not much was in the alley behind the club, just a couple of dumpsters and random trash, mostly fliers and stacks of old cardboard. The ground was still wet from the day’s downpour, and the air was chilly and damp, clinging to Melvin’s skin like cold sweat. 




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 09



Joey threw Abigail against the opposite brick wall with more force than Melvin thought necessary. Abigail groaned and slumped to her knees, her dark hair hanging in clumps over her face. She held one hand over her stomach and the other over the back of her head. Melvin couldn’t help but feel sorry about her.

“Listen, boys. I don’t care what you do to this bitch, just don’t do anything that’s gonna come back and bite me in the ass. My boyfriend owns this place, and he doesn’t like heat, if you catch my drift,” the blonde waitress said, exchanging knowing glances with Joey. Joey nodded.

“Ok, I gotta get back to work. I am gonna send some guys out here to make sure nothing too illegal goes down. Deal?” the blonde said.

“Deal,” Joey replied. Melvin said nothing but merely kept his eyes on Abigail. She clutched her stomach and struggled to catch her breath in jagged heaves. Curled up on the cement, Abby apparently didn’t care that she was wallowing in wet filth next to the dumpsters. One side of her face was smeared with something black... oil or something. Melvin couldn’t tell what.

The blonde bartender disappeared back into the club and was replaced by two large men who would have fit nicely as the villains in the same action movie that Joey Dangerfield could star. They were both big and black, and it took Melvin a moment to realize that they looked similar enough to be brothers and probably were.

“What’s the fuckin’ story here?” the taller one asked. His lips spread in a disgusted snarl over a set of perfect, straight and white teeth as he took in the form of Abigail on her knees, sobbing. 

“This lady here cheated on her husband, divorced him and then thought she could get him back, and when things didn’t go her way, she thought she’d take him off the market for everybody,” Joey said. He rummaged in her purse and pulled out Abigail’s gun.

“That’s some ice cold shit,” the shorter (yet still very tall) man said.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t,” Abigail gasped. “Melvin, I’m so... sorry. I... don’t know... what I was... thinking.”

Joey examined the gun and turned it over in his hands for a moment, and a look of realization blossomed across his face. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. He closed his eyes, and hot tears streamed down his face as his guffaws grew louder and uncontrollable. Melvin thought of the Joker from his old Batman comics, the issue where the Joker used this laughing gas that would make people laugh themselves to death. The expression Joey wore was eerily similar to the victims of Joker’s laughing gas, and Melvin felt a weird chill scurry up his spine.

Melvin and the two musclebound bouncers exchanged strange glances. Joey clutched his stomach, his chest heaving in laughter. He attempted to slow it down and explain himself. 

“Oh, shit!” he finally said as he managed to gain some control. “Someone ripped you off good, baby. This is a fucking TOY!” 

Abigail groaned, and her head sunk to the wet ground. Some of her hair dipped into a greasy puddle, but she didn’t seem to notice. She should have known better than to trust that stupid gun and ammo dealer; she was supposed to be able to read men like open books. Yet another failure. And what could she do about it? Tell the police that she’d tried to buy a gun illegally and had gotten duped? Not likely.

“So what you gonna do with this bitch?” the taller man said, rubbing his hands together like a starving child preparing to dig into a surf and turf dinner. The only thing he was missing was a bib with a big red lobster print. 

Joey shrugged and tossed the toy gun into the dumpster. It fell into the bin with a dull clang along with the rest of the garbage. His face grew contemplative. 

Melvin only watched. The situation was in Joey’s hands; Melvin wanted no part of it. He had no desire for revenge on the hapless, sobbing woman in front of him. He just wanted to be done with her. The only thing he felt now was pity.

“What we need to do is humiliate her. Make her remember that my buddy, Melvin here, was, is and always will be too good for the likes of her. We need to make her feel the same way Melvin felt when she ditched him for some kid,” Joey said, a twisted smile forming on his lips. Melvin’s raised his eyebrows.

“Bridget told me the whole story. Told me what a fucking bitch your ex wife was, and here she came tonight with a fake gun to prove it.” Dangerfield turned to Abigail who looked at him like a scolded child through the stringy clumps of hair matted to her face. “Only you didn’t know it was fake, did you? Stupid cunt,” Joey said. 

Melvin didn’t like the steely, cold tone of voice Joey used with her. It sounded somehow... dangerous. 

“I know what’ll we should do. To put this cunt in her place,” the shorter large man said from his position in the shadows. All Melvin could make out of his face was two glowing eyes and a set of pearly white teeth spread in a wide grin.

“What’s that?” the taller man asked. 

The shorter large man explained what he had in mind, and when he finished, their silence hung thick in the air. 

***

Abigail felt strong hands grab her armpits and lift her up to her knees. She felt drugged, the world a cloudy dream, and made no effort to struggle against the man. She glanced up and saw one of the large black men unbuckling his pants, unzipping his fly and fishing out an enormous erection. It was only inches from her face. 

The world and its reality started to come back to her, all too quickly. What were they going to do to her? She moved her tear-streaked eyes and saw that the other black man, the one who had pulled her up, and Melvin’s friend were doing the same, reaching into their pants and slipping out hard cocks. They stood stiff in the cool night air. She turned to look at her ex husband. Melvin only watched on with a dull expression. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” she heard Melvin say. His friend, Joey, snorted in reply.

“After everything she’s done to you, man? You’ve gotta at least watch,” he said, pulling on his hard, meaty pole. It strained anxiously in his hand like an animal happy to be out of its cage. Abigail felt a shiver of repulsion, one mixed with an odd feeling of fascinated anticipation, rush through her stomach. Unexpected yet delicious tingles tickled her nerves. 

The three men began to stroke themselves over her, their hands wrapping and working frantically at their fleshy tools, and sick realization flushed Abigail’s cheeks. She’d seen tapes of this; her present husband kept some hidden in a shoe box in the closet. It was called what? Bukkake? She’d destroyed them all, naturally, but only after viewing the videos with only the company of her vibrator.

“No,” Abigail breathed and tried to scramble to her feet. One of the large men pushed her back down, and Abigail gritted her teeth as her knees banged against the unforgiving ground. She made no further attempt to struggle.

“Stay down,” the man hissed at her. Abigail shuddered. She knew that she should be appalled at what was happening to her, but she found that she wasn’t. Never had a man held any sort of authority over her, never had she been ordered down or dominated, and she discovered that some recess of her mind liked it. Now not one but three men had her on her knees, seemingly against her will, and they were going to relieve their cum-filled sacks on her untarnished, beautiful face. 

Melvin watched on with sad eyes, but there was no mistaking the growing bulge in his pants. She could tell that he was turned on besides himself at what he saw. She shot him a pitiful look and turned to the men standing next to her. Abigail looked on at the three cocks being jerked off in her face and had to repress an urge to take one in her mouth. Is that what they wanted? To treat her like a slut and know she liked it? 

She didn’t even realize that she had slipped a hand down her jeans until one of the two unnamed men grunted, “Fuck, look at this slut!” Abigail followed his gaze to the hand that was toying with herself. She couldn’t help herself. Flutters of lust trembled her lower extremities.

Then a huge black cock pressed against her lips, and Abigail allowed it to slip into her mouth. A man above her groaned in pleasure, and she wrapped her other hand around one of the other cocks and stroked it delicately. She closed her eyes and let the feeling of her hand in her jeans, fingering her clit and pressing a prying finger into the lips of her vagina, wash over her.

After a moment, curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked one eye open to see what effect all of this was having on Melvin. He leaned against the wall of the club, watching and doing nothing. Didn’t seeing Abby on her knees, taking a cock in her mouth, jerking off another while a third man stroked his meat in her face turn Melvin on? 

She knew it did; the tent of his pants was proof enough. But Melvin wasn’t doing anything about it. She knew the reason why. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she could still make him want her. Bastard.

Fuck him, Abigail thought. Why settle for one cock when you can have three? But the thought didn’t ease the pain of knowing she couldn’t have Melvin. She still loved him. But why? Why love a man who would let this happen to her and feel nothing but indifference? 

Then the cock in her mouth was gone and was replaced by another a moment later. Joey Dangerfield moaned as he pushed his erection down her throat, and Abigail had to keep herself from choking. He pushed further, his cock touching the back of her throat, and she couldn’t help it. She coughed him out with a slobbery gag. 

“Fuck!” one of the large men cried, the one she was jerking off with her hand, and his cock began to spasm in her grip. Abigail’s other hand began to work more furiously in her jeans, tickling her clit with her thumb, pumping three fingers into her pussy, and Abigail had never felt more closer to orgasm than she did as the first splatter of jism splashed against her cheek. Her own moisture was seeping through her fingers and drenching her expensive underwear with her juices. 

The amount of cum the man spent was impressive. A white jet spurted into her black hair and clung like a wad of rubbery snot, and another drizzled across her nose and ran to her upper lip. She pressed her lips together, not wanting to lick any of it up... yet. Her forehead felt sticky and plastered with the stuff.

Abigail didn’t care, lost in her own world of pleasure. Is this what she had always wanted? After all the years of owning men and breaking them down, using her feminine wiles to bring them to her knees and crush their manhood... would this act of humiliation bring her to the climax she didn’t believe was possible?

Just when she thought the onslaught from the first man was over, his balls emptied onto her exquisite features, the other large man’s cock shot an unexpected load nearly into her left eye. Abigail blinked and forced her eye shut, feeling the slimy goo spill over her eyelid and stick to her lashes. The force of the second man’s climax was even more powerful than the first. She felt showered in cum; it ran over her chin and slid down her neck in creamy, white rivers. 

Her fingers worked maniacally in her jeans, and she felt her body tense, a firecracker whose fuse had been suddenly lit. Shivers raced up and down her spine. Her entire body began to tremble. Behind her closed eyelids, her eyes crusted shut, Abigail began to see multicolored explosions. 

“Shit, the cunt’s gonna cum,” the first large man said in clear surprise.

Abigail cried out in her glorious orgasm, her voice loud and passionate, and Joey Dangerfield filled her open mouth with a load of hot cum as his cock spurted over her. She didn’t seem to mind, focused on the incredible feeling that soared through her, making every individual part of her body scream in unified pleasure. Her face was a mask of streaky, white ooze. Her hair stuck to her face in stringy patches. 

Joey jacked himself to a few last dribbles and sighed in relieved satisfaction. Abigail Sanderson sunk to the ground, her lungs heaving, gasping for air. Her white shirt clung wetly to her skin, her breasts visible under the material.

“Bitch so hot, gotta cool her off,” the second large man said. He picked up a bucket sitting by the back door, one full of dirty rain water. The bucket sloshed as he carried it towards her. 

Abigail looked up just in time to see the man dump the bucket over her, the freezing water splashing over her face and hair. She didn’t have the energy to get up or move out of the way. She merely lay on the cement and let it happen. She felt drained, emotionally and physically empty, nothing left but the oncoming realization of what she’d done. She sobbed once, pathetically, holding herself with her arms and shivering.

Melvin shook his head, opened the back door to the club and left her there.

***

“Hey!” Bridget Briswell said when she saw Melvin reclaim his position at the bar, Joey only a step behind. Her face brightened with a wide smile. “Guess who wants us to come backstage!”

The blonde bartender appeared and handed Melvin a shot of something hard without asking, and Melvin nodded at her and downed it with a thrust of his head. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it burned nicely going down. 

“Who?” Melvin said to Bridget, trying to not make too much of a face from the liquor. He already knew the answer, but why ruin the surprise? He placed the empty shot glass on the counter.

“Hey, old buddy,” said a familiar scratchy voice, and the purple haired pizza girl a.k.a. punk chick stepped from behind Bridget. She wore a torn purple dress with long purple boots and purple stockings, and Melvin thought she looked like a totally hot female Grimace, the big purple guy from MacDonald’s kid meals.

“Stage name’s Violet. Kinda sticking with the theme,” she said, explaining the amount of purple she wore, matching her hair. 

“You guys rock!” Courtney said enthusiastically, standing next to Bridget. Melvin couldn’t help but notice the way Bridget had her arm wrapped around Courtney’s waist. He hadn’t been gone too long, had he? 

“Thanks,” Violet replied with a wink. “You guys want to meet the band?”

“Can we?” Courtney said, looking like a little girl who just unwrapped a brand new Barbie dollhouse under her Christmas tree. Violet gave Melvin a sly look and smiled impishly. Then she turned back to Courtney.

“Come on, bring all your friends,” she said and pulled Courtney forward by the wrist. Courtney flashed Melvin a large smile as she passed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him with them.

“Rock n’ roll,” Melvin said with a low groan. 

“You mean PUNK rock n’ roll,” Bridget said brightly, closing in behind him. 

“Whatever,” Melvin said, wondering what would happen to him next.

***

Somehow the entire group managed to find their way backstage: Melvin, Courtney, Bridget, Joey, Brenda, Richie, Tasha, Tina, and Shelly. As they maneuvered through the crowd to the back, they kept picking each one up like a line of marching ants. Tina and Shelly were the two last, and they were found making out in a dark corner next to the stage, breathlessly groping each other through their clothes, much to Melvin’s disdain. But it wasn’t like Tina was his actual flesh and blood relative, and he figured he’d get over it.

The dressing room for the band was fairly large and comfortable with a few couches for sitting and tables covered in finger foods and drinks. Violet hopped on a counter in front of some mirrors, crossed her long legs and began introductions.

“This is Crow, our drummer,” she said and pointed to a thin man with long black hair and skin covered in tattoos. “And Red, lead guitar, and Hammer on bass.” 

Red was another female whose clothes matched her name, only she seemed to be covered in some form of low hanging drapes. She was stick thin, her hair shoulder length and dyed dark red. Hammer, on the other hand, was man of muscles on top of muscles, and Melvin couldn’t find any semblance of a neck between his head and shoulders. The girls didn’t seem to mind.

“Ooo, I like Hammer the best,” Shelly whispered, and Tasha and Tina giggled. Even Brenda snickered at the joke, and Melvin could tell from her admiring expression that she liked Hammer the best as well. Richie, her official date for the evening, frowned as he also noticed her expression. 

“Something to drink? Something to smoke? Something to inhale or inject?” Crow asked as he walked over, a joint held between his long fingers. 

“THAT’S my boy!” Brenda exclaimed and met him halfway, taking the joint and inhaling deeply. Richie stumbled after her, but Crow already had an spindly arm around Brenda’s shoulders and pulled the joint of out her grasp.

“Shit, girl. Save some for the rest of us,” he said in a whispery voice.

Their hands over their mouths, whispering and giggling, Tasha, Tina, and Shelly walked over towards Hammer, the bassist looking like he had died and gone to heaven. Melvin couldn’t read minds, but he knew exactly what was going on in Hammer’s at that instant, the way his eyes lit up seeing three nubile young hotties headed in his direction. The only thing Melvin couldn’t know for sure was the specific positions Hammer had in mind.

“So have any pizza parties lately?” Violet asked, tapping Melvin on the shoulder with a slender finger, the nail painted (naturally) purple. She had a crooked smile on her face, the stud in her nose gleaming in the lights surrounding the mirror. 

“Pizza party?” Courtney asked, confused. Melvin gulped. This was exactly where he didn’t want the conversation headed. He knew it had been a mistake to be swooped backstage with Violet and the rest of the girls he’d fucked in the last week: Tasha, Tina, and Bridget... and one voyeur, Shelly, who had watched him fuck Tina. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

“It’s nothing,” Melvin said, a little too quickly. Violet smoothed her frayed skirt, slid off the counter and took Courtney by the wrists, a wry smile on the purple haired woman’s lips. A sick feeling invaded the pit of Melvin’s stomach, but what could he do? Violet flashed Melvin a wicked look and winked before turning back to Courtney. 

“Here, let me show you,” she said and led Courtney to one of the couches. Violet sat Courtney down and pulled at the bun holding up Courtney’s hair. Auburn hair unspooled around Courtney’s shoulders, and Melvin felt a pang of lust heat his face. She was so gorgeous. Violet ran a hand through Courtney’s silky hair and licked her lips with a long tongue. Courtney’s eyes were wide, her expression like a deer’s caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. 

Melvin started towards the two of them, opening his mouth to order Violet to stop, to take her hands off Courtney, but Joey Dangerfield’s hand pressed against his chest, stopping him. 

“See what happens,” Joey said in a distracted way, unable to take his eyes off Violet and Courtney. Melvin gulped, his throat feeling dry, but he allowed Joey to hold him back. Bridget Briswell was at Joey’s side, her gleaming blue eyes also glued to the two women, her hands unconsciously rubbing Joey’s muscular chest. 

“First, you want to see how the pizza tastes, right? So you gots to give it a nice big lick,” Violet said, spreading Courtney’s legs. Violet knelt between her milky thighs, separating Courtney’s knees by pushing them open with her hands. Violet slid Courtney’s checkered shirt up her creamy legs. Violet’s tongue flickered out of her mouth. For a moment, Courtney looked like a frightened puppy, her cheeks reddening, her eyes bulging in their sockets.

“I don’t... ooh,” she said in a trembling voice, shivering as Violet’s tongue tickled up her inner thigh. Melvin gasped. This was happening too fast. Why wasn’t Courtney stopping her? His mind raced, his heart thumping in his chest, his cock hardening in his pants as he watched his secret crush’s thighs licked by the pizza girl he’d fucked only days ago. He didn’t want to see Courtney deflowered this way, and yet, he did at the same time. 




Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 09



“Please, don’t... don’t...” Courtney breathed.

“Don’t stop? Don’t worry, dear. I won’t,” Violet said, and one hand moved up to slowly caress and knead Courtney’s breasts. Courtney tensed but did not try to stop her. Courtney didn’t know why she was feeling this way, so tingly and needy, but she wanted the feelings coursing through her to continue. She bit her bottom lip: the expression of a girl who knew what she was doing was naughty but didn’t dare stop.

Melvin’s own inner conflict had no apparent effect on his sexual organs; they were already beginning to stir in the crotch of his pants. He couldn’t take his eyes off Violet’s long pink tongue lashing out and wetting Courtney’s soft skin, couldn’t open his mouth to tell them to please stop, this isn’t what he had in mind when he’d asked Courtney out on a quiet date, just the two of them. 

Violet pulled Courtney’s top down over her breasts, Courtney’s heaving mounds of flesh straining against the fabric of her lacy black bra. Courtney’s breaths became quicker, and as her lust overtook her, she began to rub her tits, taking time to pinch the hard nipples between her fingers. She licked her lips.

Melvin thought of Morgan the witch; she would enjoy the irony of Melvin’s situation, probably sitting in her shop and laughing her ass off at this very moment. Last week he wouldn’t have imagined any woman acting like this in front of him, and now he only wanted it to stop, if only to protect his mental image of the cute young waitress he’d been crushing on for almost a year. 

Bridget’s hand wormed down the front of Joey’s pants, and Joey’s muscles tensed as he felt her take a hold of him. She began to kiss the side of his neck, her eyes still on Violet and Courtney.

Hammer had just gotten sight of Violet between Courtney’s legs, and he cried, “Holy shit! You go, Vi!” He had his arms around Tasha and Tina, and Shelly sat on his lap. The three girls clapped enthusiastically when they saw what was going on the couch and shouted encouragement, and Tina got a good look of Melvin’s face. What did ol’ Uncle Mel think about his sweet date getting wet from a girl licking up her legs? He was mortified, but Tina could tell that he also couldn’t help but be turned on at the same time. Tina giggled. Men!

“Now that you know the pizza’s fresh, you want to get a big bite of the pie, ya know? Start at the end and just nibble...” Violet’s mouth gently kissed its way up to the black thong Courtney wore under her skirt, the smell of the girl’s need strong and musky in Violet’s nostrils. She finished, “... your way to the top.”

Violet slid her fingers under the band of Courtney’s thong and pulled it slowly down her thighs. Courtney sighed in anxious anticipation, her eyes thin slits, only the whites showing, rolled up into the back of her head. The lips of her pussy glistened with needy moisture.

Melvin sucked air through his teeth at the exposure of Courtney’s pussy. How would he be able to look at her the same? The sweet innocence replaced by a mental vision of Violet between her legs, dipping her spiky, purple-topped head to get a taste of that delicious feminine honey? Melvin felt helpless but to watch.

Courtney gasped and fisted her hands in Violet’s spiky hair. Her eyes popped open, and she looked at Melvin with a lusty, hungry glare, her face flushed a dark red. This was not the sweet girl from the cafe; she’d been replaced by a horny redhead who just wanted to get fucked and get fucked HARD. He still wanted her, but how would he feel about her tomorrow? This was not a question that Melvin had concerned himself with any of the other women.

Melvin took in his surroundings. Everyone else had been effected by the show on the couch and wanted to get in on the act. Shelly and Tina were kissing and groping each other, swiping a plate of crackers and meat off a table and falling on top of it, their hands desperately working to get the other out of her clothes. Hammer (on bass) was getting a good look at Tasha as she pulled her shirt up over her juicy brown breasts, his hands squeezing and groping at them, and Brenda was on her knees, going down on Crow (on drums) while Red (lead guitar) had slipped out of the crimson drapes she’d been wearing and was licking the side of Richie Golding’s face while he tickled her now exposed clit with his hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Joey breathed next to him, and Melvin turned to see Bridget giving her date a reach around, his cock thick and swollen in her stroking, expert hand.

“It’s a fucking orgy,” Melvin said under his breath, wondering how the hell all this had happened. 

***

An old saying states, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” 

Melvin felt he didn’t have much of a choice. It was either leave all of his friends and Violet’s band to their kinky devices and go home or take part in the sexual festivities at hand. Melvin chose to get a taste of the young flesh he’d been desiring since he’d first laid eyes on her. What else could he do?

Probably what made up his mind was Courtney beckoning him with a long finger as Violet smacked and licked at her pussy, Courtney’s hands fumbling frantically with Melvin’s zipper as he approached in a zombie-like trance and pulling out his straining cock. She opened her red lipsticked lips and slipped him inside with a delicious stroke of her hand. Melvin shivered. His hands slipped into Courtney’s soft hair.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Oh, darling, yes.”

Meanwhile, Shelly Stone was on the snack table, her legs spread wide, and Tina worked half of a long, thick log of sausage between her legs, giggling the entire time. Shelly’s pigtails tossed from side to side as she flung her head in passion as Tina rubbed Shelly’s clit with her free hand. Tina pulled out the sausage, much to Shelly’s dismay, and licked it clean with her tongue. If Melvin would have been watching, he would have recalled Olivia’s favorite phrase: “sex sausage” at its truest meaning. 

“Now that is some tasty shit,” Tina said before plunging the sausage back into Shelly’s pussy, Shelly screaming in surprised pleasure. 

Tasha Turner rode Hammer’s enormous cock, reverse cowgirl, her ass slapping against the bassist’s thighs, his hands roving over her hips and moving up to grip her bouncing breasts. Her moans were low and deep as she drove herself onto Hammer’s thickness again and again, the bassist gasping for breath. Sweat shimmered on their flexing, naked bodies. 

Brenda and Red exchanged sloppy kisses as they were both bent over by Crow and Richie, respectively. Crow’s tattoos seemed to form intricate patterns as his muscles clenched and flexed, squeezing and then spreading as Crow relaxed and grew tight again as he pumped into Brenda’s dripping vagina. Richie, meanwhile, was exercising the patented Golding Twist on Red, much to her personal satisfaction.

Brenda was just happy that the night hadn’t turned out to be a total failure; at the very least, she was due for a good fucking and was getting one. It made her feel like a groupie as she twisted tongues with Red while being fucked by the band’s drummer as Richie fucked the band’s lead guitarist in front of Brenda’s eyes. Crow caressed her back with strong, surprisingly smooth hands. Brenda chanced a glance at her twin sister. 

Joey had Bridget in the missionary position on the opposite couch, her legs wrapped around the round curves of Dangerfield’s tight ass, digging her heels into his flesh and pushing him harder into her. Bridget figured that she and the other girls were thinking the same thing: this wasn’t as good as it had been with Melvin, but she would take what she could get. Melvin had opened her eyes to the world of sexual liberation, and there was no going back, with or without a MacMuffin to guide her. 

Melvin knew he had only himself to blame for this as Courtney managed him to the back of her throat, taking him fully and gliding her sexy mouth over his protruding, stiffened pole. He had turned these women into sexual animals, unleashing them from their cages of restraint with the magical love juice that flowed through his veins (thanks to Morgan, the conniving witch). And the love juice had come back only to backfire and corrupt the youthful sweetness of Courtney Brown, turning her into the depraved, ravenous slut that sucked his cock with uncanny prowess while being eaten out by Violet, another woman Melvin had unleashed with the love juice.

He figured his chances at an actual relationship with Courtney were ruined; he couldn’t ever look at her the same, and he didn’t know who she really was. Was it the love juice that made her act in this fashion or was it her true nature? He hadn’t wanted to change her, and yet, she had changed. At the very least, she had changed in his mind, where he had loved her for so long. Melvin sighed. In any case, he might as well enjoy himself while he could. 

Violet stood up abruptly, Courtney’s juices dripping from her lips and chin, and kissed Melvin roughly on the lips, her tongue swishing out of her mouth and twirling with Melvin’s own. She pulled off his glasses, tossed them out of sight, wrapped her hands around the back of Melvin’s head, and after another few seconds of a long kiss, peeled her lips away from his.

“Time to get what’s coming to you, babe,” Violet whispered. “And I do mean cumming.”

She pushed Melvin to a sitting position on the couch, Courtney scurrying out of the way to make room for him, touching herself delicately as she watched Violet hike up her tight purple dress and maneuver herself over Melvin’s engorged boner. Melvin looked on helplessly as Violet began to grind his cock into her wet pussy with her hips, Melvin gnashing his teeth at the delicious feel of her warmth enveloping him. Violet was going to fuck him in front of Courtney, and Melvin found that he was caring less and less as he became overwhelmed by sheer, unbridled lust. 

Melvin peeled back the top of Violet’s dress and flicked her nipple rings with his tongue as he started to ride him, her tits rubbing against his face. Her hands grabbed fists of hair and pulled him to her face roughly, pain scorching through Melvin’s scalp and a cry of surprise bursting through his lips. 

“She’s no good for you,” Violet whispered harshly into Melvin’s ear, still bouncing on his cock, showering him with intense pleasure. “Don’t be fooled. She’s a slut. Look at how she likes to watch. You’re just as well off with me.” She licked the side of his face, the stud in her tongue cool against his skin.

Then she leaned back and bucked on him hard, driving his cock as deep inside of her as it would go, Violet screaming in ecstasy and yanking at clumps of Melvin’s hair. Melvin clenched his eyes shut, lost in an insane mixture of pain and pleasure, and just when it felt like it would go on forever, Violet gasped for breath, uncontrollably bucked twice, and collapsed off him, sweat pouring down her face. Her body trembled like a blade of grass caught in a cold wind. Melvin opened his eyes.

But Melvin didn’t get much of a breather as Tina Swift replaced Violet on his cock almost as soon as Violet was gone. Melvin didn’t know where his ex wife’s niece had come from or how she’d decided so quickly to replace Violet, but did it really matter? Shelly, now that Tina was out of her clutches, turned her attentions to Violet’s prone body while Tina jumped on top of Melvin and began humping away. 

“Tina, I...” Melvin stammered, feeling her tight body rubbing against his. The feeling of Tina’s pussy was different and pleasurable, tighter and wetter than Violet’s but also cooler inside. It was something he wouldn’t have ever thought about had the women not exchanged themselves on top of him so rapidly. 

Tina’s blonde curls bounced around her head, and her young face lit up with a wide, toothy smile. She leaned in much like Violet had and whispered in Melvin’s ear while she rode him, her southern accent casting a seductive spell.

“Uncle Mel, them other girls got nothin’ on me. We’re practically family,” she said, and then her tongue lashed out, flicking the Melvin’s ear lobe. He shivered, running his hands along her spine. His hair began to feel sticky and wet with sweat, clinging to his forehead in matted clumps.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he closed his eyelids, lost in a whirlwind of moans and panting and sensation. When he opened his eyes again, Tasha Turner had somehow replaced Tina. When had that happened? Melvin felt drugged by the lust that the women held over him. The world had become a dream, a waking exercise into the surreal, Melvin’s lovers coming and going like ghosts.

Tasha’s brown skin glimmered with beads of sweat, and Melvin lapped at them with his tongue. His hands roamed up and squeezed Tasha’s heaving breasts, her lips moving in and closing over his own, her sculpted face radiating her pleasure. 

Then she moved her mouth to his ear and said, “You know what you really want is a lifetime supply of brown sugar. Don’t try to deny it.”

Melvin opened his eyes and his mouth to reply and saw that Tasha was already gone, and Bridget Briswell was riding him now, her sky blue eyes locked on his, her desperate hunger for him apparent in her look. 

“Oh, Bridget,” he moaned.

“I’m Brenda, not Bridget. Why settle for one of these girls when you can have two Briswells? Double the pleasure, double the fun. Double the orgasms when you fuck a Briswell in the bum!” she replied. Her short blonde hair fell over her face as she flung her head forward and back, gnashing her teeth and squealing as she tensed before cumming on him. 

Melvin shut his eyes and said, “Oh, yes, Brenda.”

“I’m Bridget, not Brenda,” the reply came, and Melvin opened his eyes to see Bridget pushing away her twin while she plunged herself on Melvin’s cock. “My turn to get off on you. Now, did she already give you the rhyme about double the fun and the bum stuff? I mean, duh! Choose us!”

She held Melvin tighter than the others while she made love to him, her breaths shivery gasps of joy as she slowly slid up and down on his cock, her pussy tight and moist over his rock hard manhood. Melvin appreciated the change of pace and thought he might even be close to cumming when Bridget came with a muffled gasp, her head buried in his shoulder. Melvin blinked, and Bridget was suddenly replaced by Shelly Stone.

“Sorry, just had to give you a try. Watching isn’t all I’m good at,” Shelly explained as she started to fuck him, much faster than Bridget. The new pace completely threw off Melvin’s impending orgasm, and he had to begin from scratch. Shelly’s brown pigtails bounced up and down, and she buried Melvin’s face in her small but perky breasts. Melvin latched onto Shelly’s pigtails as if they were handlebars on a bike and steered her at a suitable speed by pulling them up and down.

It didn’t seem Shelly had been on for very long when Red took her place. Red was skinner, as thin as a rain, and her pussy was the tightest of the bunch, almost painful for Melvin to enter. Once he was in, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to last very long, her pussy milking him and his face covered in a bundle of Red’s dyed hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Red simply repeated in sharp, jagged breaths. 

The next moment, Red was gone, and then came Courtney. 

Perfect Courtney, dimples forming at the corners of her smile, her face flushed, her freckles peppering her nose and cheeks, her naturally red hair shimmering in the light.

This wasn’t how Melvin had imagined their first time would be, in front of a group of people, in the midst of an orgy backstage at a dance club. He wanted to fuck her, but it seemed somehow sacrilegious to take her in such a way. Despite his reservations, he couldn’t help but have her, no matter the circumstance. 

Courtney, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. She began to buck on top of Melvin with reckless abandon, her tits flying, smacking Melvin in the face, and she allowed a long line of spit to spill from her mouth into Melvin’s. Unsure of what to do, Melvin kept his mouth open and received it, Courtney growling and grunting on top of him.

He had imagined their first time slow and sweet, but Courtney was fucking him like an enraged animal in heat, wild and dangerous. She clawed at his neck and his hair with sharp nails, leaving marks that would probably hurt like hell the next day. She sunk her teeth into Melvin’s shoulder and bit him, Melvin sucking in a painful gasp of air, wondering how he could have mistaken Courtney for the innocent angel he had once believed her to be.

No, this can’t be right, he thought. It must be the love juice; that’s why she was acting in such a weird way. Right? The witch’s ultimate joke: turning the one girl he actually wanted into a ravenous, sex starved fiend. Or worse, maybe he had just pegged Courtney wrong. Maybe she had been like this all along, and he just didn’t see it. The love juice was a failure. More so, MELVIN was a failure.

“No,” Melvin groaned, and he pushed Courtney off him. It couldn’t happen this way; this wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t how the magic love juice was supposed to work. He clutched his head, a thrumming ache forming between his temples. He pulled up his pants, holding them up, and pushed away from the concerned hands that grabbed at his shoulders and arms.

“Melvin, what’s wrong?” Bridget’s voice said.

“Uncle Mel, you ok?” Tina’s voice.

“Where are you going?” Violet.

There were others, but Melvin paid no mind. He turned back and glanced at the room behind him. 

Courtney on the couch. On top of Joey’s Dangerfield, his cock deep inside of her pussy, while Hammer penetrated her ass with his massive tool. Her ass cheeks rippled as he thrust into her. She had Richie in her mouth, sucking him desperately, and Crow in her free hand, jerking him off with steadfast determination. This was the girl that Melvin had wanted so long, taking on four men and loving it. 

Melvin’s heart broke. He turned to the door and pushed his way through, confusion and questions plaguing him from all sides. Seeing Courtney, he made up his mind. He knew what he was going to do. He knew now what he really wanted.

As he walked out of The Deep End, the brisk night air ruffling his hair and cool on his face, he made his choice.



Melvin's Magic Love Juice Ch. 10



Author's Note: 

Well, this is it: the last chapter of Melvin's saga (at least, for now). I'd like to thank everybody who has stuck with me as these things have more or less been fairly rough drafts from start to finish, and the grammar, structure, and language in some chapters send shivers of disgust through my gut. Thanks for being patient with me and thanks for your feedback, and I hope you've enjoyed at least some aspect of this little mini-series of mine...

***

Small droplets of rain pattered against the windshield of Melvin's BMW: signs of the returning storm. Apparently, it still had some chaos to spread, unsatisfied by the drenching downpour it had unleashed earlier in the day. Rumbles of thunder gurgled overhead like an upset stomach preparing to unleash its bowels.

Melvin sighed and flipped on the windshield wipers. As if he didn't have enough things to contend with. 

He squinted through the darkness of the night, his glasses left behind at the club. Red brake lights and blinding white headlights were nothing but shaky blurs as he passed them, a horn blaring as Melvin sped by, Melvin feeling as blind to the world as he felt blind about the truth concerning Courtney.

Courtney. The mere thought of her sent a depressing weight sliding to the pit of his stomach. The sweet girl who had turned out to be an insatiable sexual vampire, thirsting for satisfaction rather than blood, taking on four men (one of which was Melvin's best friend) at this very moment as Melvin sped through the rain. How could he have been so wrong about her? 

Or was the love juice to blame?

Did it matter? The situation had only opened Melvin's eyes to the fact that he had not so much fallen in love with Courtney, the person, as with the mental image, the innocent virgin with the girlish smile, of her he'd created in his head. Her dimples were the cause of this mistake; Melvin was now certain that they were hypnotically cute. 

How had things turned so dark for him? Things had gone from the whimsy of a silly fantasy, complete with a sarcastic witch and dreams about humping leprechauns, to the darkness of a Grimm's fairy tale, factoring his ex wife's sudden obsession with him and the lesson of losing Courtney. 

A bolt of lightening spliced the night sky with electric fury. 

Melvin thought about Morgan the witch's words and the choice he had to make concerning the love juice, and he wondered if he'd ever had a choice to begin with. The witch seemed to have control over the proceedings from the very start, the thought of her always in the back of Melvin's mind. 

He slowed the car to a stop and pulled up outside of the witch's shop. He inhaled a slow, deep breath. This was it. Gathering his mental resources (or rather what was left of them), Melvin pushed open the car door and sloshed through the rain, making his way towards Morgan's building in labored, lurching strides.

***

Dim, yellow light filtered through a lampshade of what may have been human skin from the looks of it, but a sense of warmth settled over Melvin as he entered through the door to the witch's shop. Of course, anything would have felt warm compared to the cutting cold of the chilling rain.

Morgan the witch, whose love juice had set Melvin's chain of events barreling into motion, seemed to be waiting for him and smiled at him from her position in a gothic-looking, cushioned chair, the kind of chair you imagined Poe sitting in as he conceived his darkest works. Its frame was polished wood, and the horned skull of some unnamable, huge animal sat on the top of it, its teeth set in an eternal grin above Morgan's head. 

The white end of a lollipop stick jutted from one corner of the witch's mouth, and she pulled it out with a wet smack of her lips.

"Cherry. My favorite. Tastes like virginity," she said and paused for Melvin's response.

Melvin heaved a weary sigh as he steeled himself to face her. 

"I've made my decision," he said.

"Did you now? Is it sweet Courtney, after all?" Morgan replied, sticking the lollipop back into her mouth and rolling it across her tongue. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, and her dark eyes twinkled in the murky light. Melvin's gut began to feel tingly. He knew better than to think it was the effect of some spell that the witch was casting; his feelings were all his own. 

"Before I tell you, I need to know. Did I ever really have a choice?" Melvin said, peeling his wet coat off. A skeletal hand protruded from the wall from a shiny wooden frame, and Melvin hung the coat on one of its bony fingers. 

"Of course, you did. I just happened to know the outcome of your decision before you made it. One of the small perks of being a witch, you know," Morgan replied, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth again and licking it gently and gliding across her full, red lips. 

She flicked it with her tongue, sending an unexpected shiver down Melvin's back; then she winked at him and (CRUNCH!) chomped the remainder of the lollipop into bits between her shiny, sharp teeth. Melvin started at the sound of the destroyed candy breaking in her mouth.

"You knew all of this was going to happen?" Melvin said, stepping towards her. Already he could feel himself becoming entranced by the witch, by her beauty and her power, and he shook his head to knock away the clouds and cobwebs that had begun to form there, striving to maintain his clarity of thought. He wanted answers while he still cared to ask questions.

Morgan paused as she chewed the lollipop, crunching it, and then replied, "Not all of it. Your ex wife, for instance. I had no idea she'd have any part to play in this strange, sexual odyssey of yours. The love juice is an unpredictable thing sometimes. But always entertaining."

"What those girls did tonight, that wasn't any effect of love," Melvin said, his brow knitting. No, it had been lust, plain and simple. An animal lust that had nothing to do with a committed relationship between two individuals. Visions of  Courtney with Richie's cock in her mouth as she moaned into it, Joey Dangerfield's cock buried deep inside of her, her free hand stroking... all this burned through Melvin's head.

"Well," Morgan said, her eyebrows raising, "You're right. Love and sex aren't necessarily always on the same page. The base of the potion works on love, but that's not what men really want, is it? Just mature and boring love? Nah! This is why I had to add your special individual essence to the potion. To drive the ladies wild. But who could have known that your essence would be so... potent. I've been waiting for someone like you for quite a long time, Mr. MacMuffin." 		

Morgan flicked away the lollipop stick without looking, and it (unsurprisingly) landed directly into a trash can on the far side of the room.

"Swish," Morgan announced with a laugh. A moment of silence hung in the air between them before Melvin spoke again.

"So it comes as no surprise that I've chosen you," Melvin said, his heart thumping in his chest.

"To be honest, none whatsoever. But that doesn't mean I'm not totally excited about it. Because I am. You're mine, and I'm yours. And it will be forever," Morgan said. She rose from her chair and walked towards him, her arms opening to claim him for her own; the shimmering, black dress that Melvin had first seen her wear the night they had met rippled behind her.

"Welcome to immortality, Melvin. My love," she said, and her lips brushed lightly against his, sending shivery chills scurrying up Melvin's spine.

Melvin leaned into her, and they kissed. 

An electric surge of power seemed to flow through him, filling him with something that seemed beyond words, beyond the scope of anything he had ever known, doors of his mind opening to new and incredible depths of passion and need and want and feeling, and he fully realized in that instant, their lips touching, that he had made the right decision. 

He remembered his first impression of the witch, that she was his goddess and he, her lowly servant. Had he known the truth even then? 

Then she took her lips from his, and the moment was lost. Melvin felt as if something wonderful had just been stripped away, and now he was somehow incomplete. He do anything to get that feeling back and didn't know how he had existed for so long without it. 

"You know, I can be anyone you want," Morgan said, looking deep into Melvin's eyes. Even without his glasses, this close up her face was distinct to Melvin, every inch, every pore the epitome of human perfection. Then she changed. Melvin gasped in surprise. 

"Courtney?" she offered. And that was who stood before him. In the blink of an eye, she changed again.

"Tina?" And again.

"Brenda? Or Bridget? Or both?"

"You," Melvin finally whispered. "I just want you, Morgan."

He felt as though he had never said anything more true.

***

She led him by the arm upstairs to the bed, the mattress long and luxurious, draped in velvet and covered with rose petals. Melvin wondered how long the witch had been planning all of this. Perhaps, before she'd even met him? Who could say?

Morgan wheeled towards him and brought her mouth to his, and Melvin was lost again in the feeling of becoming something more than he was, a bolt of ecstasy and fulfillment loosening his knees under him and almost stealing his balance.

Melvin broke their kiss and said, "This is like a dream."

Morgan shook her head in the negative, "No, nothing has ever been more real." 

She helped him onto the bed, gently putting him down as she crawled on top of him. The mattress was soft, and Melvin felt himself sink deep into the bed. Even if he wanted, he didn't think he'd be able to get out of it, but the thought didn't make much difference either way. He had no desire to escape his lovely witch's clutches.

Morgan worked her way up Melvin's neck, her kisses soft, and she nibbled delicately at Melvin's ear, tingles shooting down his spine.

"No jokes tonight?" Melvin said with a wry smile. Morgan brought her face close to his, shrugged and smiled.

"The way I'm going to fuck you silly? Yeah. That's nothing to laugh at," she said and pulled him into a deep kiss, her pink tongue darting out and wetting Melvin's lips with tickly strokes.

***

The first time they were as animals. 

Morgan's hair flung from side to side, their grunts and moans loud and insistent, the sound of their flesh meeting with fleshy claps of skin. The salt of her sweat was strong on Melvin's tongue as he tasted her breasts, her neck, her shoulders. His hands became animals themselves, wanting to be everywhere at once, grasping and stroking anything and everything they came into contact. 

Morgan climbed on top of him and rode him with the skill of a professional cowboy on a particularly troublesome bucking bronco. At times, her breasts rising and falling in furious tandem, Melvin squeezing them with his hands before running them down and gripping her hips, he wondered how she managed to maintain her balance. Once or twice, he was sure she would fall, but Morgan just kept at it on top of him, working her magic in ways Melvin could never comprehend. 

He inhaled her, absorbed her, striving to make her a part of himself. They were one entity, two separate beings combining to form something new as they became entangled in each other's limbs, touching and kissing. This was what he had desired for so long. This was the way he was supposed to feel. If this was the witch's doing, if she had tricked him in some way or cast some kind of spell over him, he didn't want her to stop. Ever.

They came with loud cries and gasps, their trembling bodies climaxing and shuddering and finally, slowing. They held each other in their arms for a few moments and then started all over again.

The second time was better.

The nerves at every point of his body felt alive and aware, and Melvin didn't believe he had ever experienced with the world with such clarity. His lips brushed against Morgan's, and sweet tingles of pleasure coursed through every  part of him, running through his mouth, down his neck and back to the end of his toes. Melvin wanted to take his time with her, and so he did, enjoying every feeling, every electric bolt that they shared during their temporary connection. 

What would happen to him now, he wondered. What would become of him and his lover, the self-proclaimed witch? The mind boggled at the possibilities. She was a creature of magic, after all. And he truly believed that she was. 

But what about the others? Bridget, Tina, Abby, and the rest? Would their lives return to normality? 

"None of that matters, Mel baby," Morgan whispered into his ear, reading his thoughts. "The only thing that matters is you and me. And in a century or two, we'll more or less rule the world."

Melvin couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Half the things Morgan said, he wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of them. He would have to get used to his life being a mystery from now on, he supposed. 

His thoughts returned to her glorious body as he opened his eyes and took her in his admiring gaze. She was perfect in every detail. He made love to her slowly and gently, sliding deep into her and then pulling himself almost all of the way out before thrusting again. 

Her hands caressed the back of his neck, the hairs their standing up in sensitive attention. Goosebumps pimpled across his skin.

He sighed feeling the warmth inside of her. No other woman had felt this good when he had made love to them. The sensation inside of Morgan was something else entirely, but he had no way of explaining it. It was a feeling more than anything else, a feeling that could not be described nor ascribed with words. 

He thought about the dream he'd had after taking Morgan's Rejuvenator, the one where he had made love to her and Bridget Briswell in a wisp of cloud. How much of that had only been a dream, a delusion? Had Morgan known even then what his choice would be? He figured she must have.

Melvin felt neither taken advantage of or used, just grateful that the witch seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. In the end, that was all that mattered, and the bond they shared was more powerful than anything he had ever thought possible. He had known her for only a short time, but already, he could feel the power between them.

What had she said? 

"I've been waiting for someone like you for quite a long time."

What did that mean? Perhaps, something to do with the potency of his essence that the witch had mentioned. Only time would tell. 

Morgan's nails dug into his back, and he sped up the pace ever so slightly. Morgan responded with a breathy gasp, and she pulled him tighter against her, their bodies rubbing each each other with every movement.

Melvin forced his eyes to stay open, watching Morgan with an intensity that was unlike him. A week ago, there wouldn't have been anything in his life that Melvin would have met with an expression of intensity. But he wanted to see the expression on her face when he made her climax, wanted to see the ecstasy that he had given her sketched across her face. If only Abby could see him now.

Abby. And what would become of her? The last time he might ever see her would be in that alley behind the club, her face milky with cum, her hair and clothes soaked through by that bucket of dirty rainwater that had been thrown on her as she waited limp on the ground. A pang of regret stole over him but then vanished as did any other thought of Abigail. Morgan was the only one who counted now.

"Oh, Mel baby. Oh yeah," she uttered and tensed under him. This was it, and Melvin knew it. 

She gasped, and her face furrowed in concentration, and then it was over. Her dark blue eyes flew open and locked onto his, and Melvin met her in orgasm. 

And this is where we'll leave Melvin for now, his mind and body finally satisfied, his world spinning on an axis that finally seems at balance: a privileged life befitting such a decent and unassuming man. In his future lies a landscape of mystery and adventure, the kind of life that only a man who loves a witch might know... and we're not talking about that silly Bewitched crap either.

In any case, let us allow Melvin this brief moment of privacy, that he might experience this next step in life in relative peace and quiet, and who knows, perhaps we may pick up his story another day.

But until then, let us believe that he lived happily ever after.