0 comments/ 18628 views/ 3 favorites A Magic Castle Ch. 01 By: Justmyimagination This story was written originally by my wife. We modified it for literotica. We had a lot of fun with this story and we hope you do to. Thanks to Jus8tine and Talynnda for their help, editing and suggestions. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It's morning rush hour at King's Cross train station. The heart of London swarms with commuters and folks like us who are just passing through. We duck under the awning and shake our umbrellas. We must hurry. We both know the drill. We turn left after the line of coffee-shop tables that cluster 100 feet from the ticket agents. Seven lines of travelers snake almost to the entrance. I took a big chance on this trip; it all seemed so improbable. But what if it were possible? I saw the card on the bulletin board of a small alternative food store. "Magic Destinations" was the name of her agency. "Go where you've never been before." The agent swore the castle was magic. We make our own magic, but that isn't what she meant. In any case, an old isolated castle hidden in the English countryside sounded like a lovely destination for our anniversary. That flakey agent was right. We need no tickets -- a good thing, because we are late. But after the run up the stairs from the metro station -- the escalator wasn't working -- and our race down the block, I'd welcome the chance to stand in line and catch my breath. My shoulders ache from the burden of a backpack. I feel like I'm running a boot camp obstacle course. "Wait," you pant, as I crane my neck, darting through the crowd as I find breaks. You don't look worn out under the load of your pack. We've waited more than a year for this trip and I won't let your slowness cause us to miss it. I stop running, and you catch up, out of breath. We push ahead toward the platforms. Wrought iron sign posts bear the number for each track. We pass the first one, the second one, and the third. The crowd is thinner now. Four, five, six ... almost there. I skip to reshoulder the straps of my backpack, but the excitement over the odyssey to come has taken all thoughts of weariness under its thirty pound weight. Then we see it: Platform 9, then 10. No train waits on either platform. The clock by the sign for platform 10 reads 8:03. We look at each other. One minute to spare. How long, though, will it take to penetrate the barrier? Neither of us has done this before, and if we miss, the next chance will be at least a year away. I step ahead to the Platform 10 marker and rest my hands on the concrete barrier. If we want to keep together, we must hold hands; make sure nobody is watching, and lean just right against the barrier. I'm nervous and gradually lean back, but you lunge. You take me with you, and I stifle a squeal as we land in a pile with a plop. We look up and behold the bright red locomotive, billowing steam, on Platform 9 ¾. There's no time to admire its beauty. A kind young lady with bright green hair helps us to our feet and we climb the stairs. We're on the Castle Express. Its interior is red velvet, like the plush cars of 1st class on British Airways. A young conductor, wearing a black robe with twinkling stars woven into the fabric, leads us to a compartment. He speaks to the compartment door, and it opens obediently. He motions us in with a broad wave of his hand. "I'll get some help for you on that," he says, eyeing our backpacks. No sooner has he spoken than a pair of elves apparate in our compartment, leap up together to grab your burden, then mine, and gently bounce them overhead to a luggage rack. Then the elves, with our conductor, disappear together. We take in the magical train and the rolling scenery flying past our window. You close the door curtain as soon as he leaves, then pull me to you and kiss me slowly as you caress my breast through the thick green sweater I'm wearing to ward off the London chill. Strangely, I'm not cold anymore. You release your arm from around my back. I pull you to me, but you just smile and don't reciprocate. Our love will wait a little longer. I cuddle up against your warmth, nestling my cheek into your chest. Slowly and absently, I stroke you through your jeans. If I were not afraid the conductor could return as quickly as he disappeared, I might do more. Then again, maybe that possibility would make it more exciting. I drift off to sleep in your arms to the gentle rocking of the train, smiling about the possibility. The train comes to a lurching stop. "We're here!" Someone announces several compartments back from ours. We hang behind to grab our stuff off the luggage rack and let the rest of the passengers file out. It's overcast and rain falls lightly as we step down from the train car onto a clear platform that hovers like a cloud over a lake churning beneath our feet. Dense fog limits our vision to a few feet around us. Then the fog lifts like a stage curtain to reveal a five-storied castle of grey stone and adorned for spring with flowering green garland and flags of all types. We follow the crowd inside to a stone hallway lit by torches on wall sconces. A shaggy, bearded giant, about eight feet tall jogs toward us. The stone castle floor shakes as he approaches. "I'm Hammond. I'll be seein' you to the guest quarters." He relieves us of our backpacks, carrying them both with two fingers as he bounds away. I race to catch you as you race to keep up with Hammond. One of his steps equals four of mine and three of yours. Wall torches flicker as we trot past. People, in the paintings on the wall, wave as we go by. Hammond stops at a big wooden door, but not so big that he won't have to bend to enter it. He knocks on an elliptical painting in an ornate gold frame. The sleeping fat lady in a big pink dress, her chest rising and falling as she gently snores, jerks awake. He gives her the password: "Pumpkin cakes." She nods and the door opens before us. Hammond lowers his head to enter as the fat lady returns to her snooze. We enter a long, dark hall, lit by an occasional wall torch. Hammond sticks a silver key into the keyhole. The room is filled with museum furniture that looks to have been designed for the original owner of this medieval castle. Tapestries of knights on armored horses cover one wall, floor to ceiling, which must be 20 feet, at least. Green velvet curtains cover the opposite wall of windows. In the center of the room is a four-poster bed with red velvet curtains draping its ruffled canopy. "This is where you'll be staying," Hammond says, handing you the key. You put it on top of a polished 17th-century mahogany bureau carved with lion heads and tipped on the bottom with carved animal feet. Hammond lifts a three foot being with huge pointy ears and bulging eyes that make it resemble a human -- almost. I had no idea where she came from, but then again, we're at Hogwarts where anything goes -- almost. "This is Mitzi, your house elf for your stay. Should you need an errand run or a guide to take you someplace, just let her know and she'll help," Hammond tells us as Mitzi wiggles to be set back on the floor. Hammond doesn't oblige. "She'll be nearby. Ring the bell if you need her." He sets the elf on the floor and hands you a gold bell tied with a red bow on the top which you put next to the key. "And one other thing -- here's a wand for your use. It's a model that won't cause any curses or trouble. Have fun with it." He puts it beside the key on the bureau. Hammond shuts the door behind him and we take in the vast, exquisite chamber. Above us, the ceiling is twilight blue and twinkling with stars and galaxies. A comet streaks across and disappears. A cloud drops a shower on the far end of the chamber, then stops, and immediately overhead arcs a perfect rainbow. The bed is enclosed in red drapes. You pull one aside to reveal a rich, green comforter over a half-dozen pillows. You pull down the comforter to reveal maroon linens. Then you pull my sweater over my head as you drag me into the lush bedclothes. You smile to see the surprise under the layers of my clothing: a tiny red lace bra. I fall back onto the pile of pillows and lift my arms above my head, smiling back. You shed your coat and chunk it in a pile on the floor where my sweater has fallen. You unbutton your shirt. It's not fast enough for me; I feel my vagina secrete moisture, ready to receive you, but I know you like to wait. We'll take it slow. You collapse on top of me and unclasp my bra, freeing my stiffening nipples as you cast my carefully planned surprise aside, having fulfilled its purpose. Bare-chested, we snuggle on the bed. But it's cold, and I draw the curtains on the poster bed. It's cozy and intimate, and then I tug on the button of your jeans until it opens. You pull on mine and unzip the fly to reveal red lace panties that match the discarded bra. I'll need a quick escape from the jeans soon, so I kick off my shoes. They tumble to the floor with a light thud. You crush your lips to mine and we kiss passionately, and though we want to drag out the moment, we'll be here a few days. You are as ready for release as I am, and our passion rises, unhindered. We'll do it again later. So for now, you break from our kiss long enough to wiggle free from your jeans. Then you yank mine at the ankles, and they come off in a single motion. Gone is your underwear, but my lace panties stay in place. But not for long. My head is at the foot of the bed as I lie awaiting your next advance. You tear my panties away from my sex, and dive straight in to my clitoris with your mouth, sucking it, rubbing it with your tongue as I moan at the luscious sensation. You plunge a finger into my vagina, then two, and three as you thrust your hand up and down inside me as though your penis were humping me. You continue sucking, tonguing, and hand-thrusting me, as I groan louder, and the sounds echo in the vast chamber. I long for release, but I want you inside me for the orgasm, so I pull away. You look at me with tender longing. I smile as I remember a tool at our disposal. I reach outside the curtained bed and snap my fingers. As I expect, the wand flies from the bureau and into my grasp, and I bring it inside. I hold you around your bare waist and point the shimmering wood back towards us. "Levantum!" I command, and gently we rise from the bed and drift through a part in the curtain. We embrace as we float past the tapestries toward the candle chandelier, still uneasy that the spell could suddenly break and we find ourselves crashed into the floor. No, I decide. I think it's safe, and I lean against your body. We kiss. Now where were we? I release the wand from my grasp, and as I expected, it floats beside us, ready for its next command. We roll together and I feel your erection, hard against my abdomen. My vulva drips with anticipation. I want you to enter. I grasp your penis and guide it home. I feel a wave of relief to feel you within me. None of your weight bears on me as the air around us magically supports our embrace. You begin to rock against me gently in midair, pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing, as we drift down the tapestry-covered wall and then over a plush arrangement of furniture. As we pass above an arrangement of a hundred roses, the intoxicating sweetness of its oils wafts our way. I can't stand it any longer. I want you now but I want it to go on until our bodies are stretched to their limit to endure such ecstasy. But then I remember the wand and reach for it. "Tempus largus," I command as I grasp it, then let go. I wonder if I'm ready for what I've asked for. Your gentle thrusting becomes more forceful, and we flip upside down, then right again. You grab the wand. "Velocidad!" you say, and instantly we begin to move faster, until the tapestry knights are a blur and my long red hair billows in the breeze of our motion. You thrust me in keeping with the rate of our flying, faster and faster. I squeeze your butt and you push into me even harder and faster. "Altibajas," I command as I touch the wand, and suddenly we are upside down again, but in response to the command, we're moving vertically as well, crossing a tangled path through all empty space in the room, our naked bodies joined in a knot of pleasure. You hump and hump and hump and I'm on the edge of orgasm. Should you hold back, you wonder? Not this time -- we're both ready. We both begin our release. I scream in ecstasy at the initiation of my orgasm. But this time my vaginal nerves have come alive as never before, and for the first time I can feel the heat of your semen as it coats the inside of my cavity. The orgasm roars as we spin in midair. Our sweat drenches us, though the room is cold. I clutch you butt-cheeks as I thrust you into me as deeply as you will go. You keep coming and I keep going, and as the orgasm rages, well into its second minute, I wonder how long we will be able to stand the euphoria. Just as I feel myself about to collapse, by magic, we land gently on the plush, canopied bed, completely exhausted, but completely satisfied. You smile. "We should come here more often," you tell me as you wrap the sheet and comforter around us. "You're right," I whisper as I snuggle to your chest and close my eyes. "But this trip isn't over yet, either." A Magic Castle Ch. 02 Jus8tine helped with editing this, the second of two my wife wrote for me. It has been modified for posting on Literotica. If you haven't read Ch. 01, let me invite you to do so. We appreciate your comments and encouragement. I have been assigned to write Chap. 03 and should post it soon. Thanks for reading. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We awake naked in a tangle of downy comforters as the light of early afternoon sifts through the gaps in the velvet curtains of our bed. "Morning," you whisper. I toss my long red hair onto the pillow and turn to look at you, finally rested after two days of running all over London, seven-hour jetlag and magical floating spinning tumbling midair sex thanks to the wand on loan to us for our stay. I'm rested too, and shoot you a smile to let you know that I'm ready and willing to do it all again. But first we're hungry. I lean over the bed and reach a pile of clothing that we shed earlier. I brush aside my bra and wiggle into my pullover sweater and toss you your jeans and flannel shirt. I ring the bell. Instantly, the house elf appears catching you naked in the middle of the room, your clothes scattered at your feet. With only my sweater on, I pull down the front to hide my still warm orifice, but not without having flashed her a view she could not have missed. But at least I'm covered now. With nowhere to hide, you freeze with unabashed boldness. In our awkward silence, Mitzi, our house elf, surveys the firm ripples of your trim muscular body. I can't help being amused as the already enormous eyes of this pitiful, harmless creature grow wider. "Mitzi?" I say to her. "Yes, Miss Monica?" she replies in a soft squeaky high-pitched voice without shifting her gaze. "That was a pretty fast response..." I trail off as my offering of an excuse fails to turn into the apology I intended. "Mitzi is ready... to serve her masters, Miss." "Give us about a minute to dress, and then would you take us to the dining hall?" I hoped she wouldn't notice your semen now trickling slowly down my bare thigh. "Yes, Miss," she answers as she slowly withdraws from the room. As the doors close, we look at each other in wide-eyed disbelief. Slowly we begin to grin and simultaneously we break into laughter. We finish pulling on our clothes, just as Mitzi bursts into the room, leaping with excitement at her assignment as our guide to the dining hall. She seemingly has forgotten what transpired moments before. Elves are exuberant creatures. I guess that we must be the first muggles she's ever met, and for her it's all quite a novelty, especially seeing more than any of us expected. She leaps for the doorknob, but can't quite reach it. You help her by opening the 10-foot high ancient portal. I reach out to the bureau behind you and grab the wand and a small pouch, slipping them into my jacket pocket unawares to you. I hide a sly smile as we leave our room. We move down the hall as Mitzi bounces back and forth, from one side of the corridor to the other, jumping up and down. "Pumpernickel," the elf tells a portrait of two peasant children jumping in a hayloft. The children stop chasing each other long enough to open the door. We follow the elf into a vast room with stars on the ceiling. Hundreds of candles, suspended in mid-air, supply the room's only light. Seated at about twenty small round tables, are other couples, fellow guests in the Magic Castle. We are lead to a table tucked in the corner near the front of the room. I pull out the pouch from my jacket pocket and giggle at it. "What's that?" you want to know. I giggle some more and push it into my lap. I'm not about to spill my plans, in part because my idea may be beyond what is possible, even with magic. A frail, bearded wizard in a tall, pointy hat presides over the dining hall from a head table on a platform. I point at him discreetly as I lean over to tell you. He's Aryn Jubilence, the proprietor of the Magic Castle and a very famous wizard, according to the flakey travel agent who got us here. Other 'wizards' and 'witches' chat amicably one with another as they lunch. We help ourselves to a big table for two, set especially for us. The long white cloth covering it sparkles as a candle arrangement overhead suddenly pops to life to welcome us, and a spray of springtime flowers tied with a bow to match the tablecloth appears as a centerpiece. Silver-covered dishes adorn the table and a basket on a stand holds a wine bottle set in ice. You reach for the bottle and uncork it with a silver corkscrew resting on a pile of ice. Before you pour, you pause to read the tattered label that has aged brown. "What does it say?" I wonder. "I don't know. It's in Hebrew and hand written, and very, very old," you say as you study the curious paper. You tip the bottle, and a deep red liquid fills my goblet, then yours. We lift our goblets. "To surprises," I say, sipping with a mischievous grin that leaves you to wonder. The wine is very rich and fragrant. Its taste is full and a little sweet. You lift a dish cover, then another. Each releases a waft of steam as you set each cover aside. Under them is a personal banquet in a marvelous array. We savor each delicious morsel, slowly absorbing the wonderful flavor of each bite. We're half-way done with our meal when the old wizard appears at our table. "Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Andrews," he says, his arms spread before him in greeting. "We are honored with your presence." You rise from your chair to shake hands with the wizard. "The honor, Mr. Jubilence, is ours." He nods toward the wine on our table. "I see you've tasted the vintage AD 30 of Cana, Palestine. Our welcoming committee chose it for you. Is it not better still than the reputation that precedes it?" My eyes get big. You just smile. We both want to ask how he obtained the wine, but he's Aryn Jubilence. If he told us how, we probably wouldn't understand anyway. "Yes, Sir, it's wonderful," you manage to say. I'm glad, because I'm still speechless. Jubilence seems pleased that his surprise has been well-received. "I'll leave you, then, to your anniversary celebration," he tells us, a smile creasing the wrinkles of his usually serious face. "Wedding wine from Palestine then is indeed appropriate for the occasion." He winks and leaves. I'm still speechless. You raise your goblet, and I raise mine. "To our love: rich and timeless," you say, and we touch our goblets. The meal is splendid, but I'm eager for dessert, maybe a little over-eager. A pair of elves clears our dishes. Then a third brings a single dome of silver and places it in the center of our table. He lifts the cover and then disappears with it. It's pumpkin pie. You reach for the silver pie server but I stop you. From my lap I pull the small pouch. Within it is a shimmering piece of fabric. I raise it and shake to unfold it over the floor beside me, spreading in my hands. I drop the invisibility cloak over my head. I can tell by your expression, that it worked. "Monica? Where'd you go?" I giggle. "Nowhere you won't be going with me." I pull the wand out of my pocket. "Levantum," I say, and I rise about two feet off the ground. The cloak securely in place, I remove my cloths, discreetly lift the tablecloth and shove them under the table. Then I flip upside-down in the cloak. To my relief, the wand allows me to float gravity-free, so my blood doesn't rush to my head. "Atrasum," I whisper, and I feel myself move just over the table. I slice a small piece of pie and rest it between my legs. Then I add a large pile of whipping cream. It covers my entire pubic region like a cool hand. "Time for dessert," I say. I hover over you as you are still seated in the chair. With a shake of the wand, you begin to rise. The cloak hides you completely, and as you rise within it, you suddenly see me, nude and inverted. We kiss deeply. I smile as I push you away from my mouth and guide you to the pie. We rise above the room, invisible. I feel your mouth nibble at the pie, as I unfasten your pants. I'm not surprised to find you erect. I lick the little trickle of semen that has begun to escape. I won't be missing out on my dessert as you enjoy yours. It's dark and warm high above this windowless hall, except for the stars twinkling around us. People in the crowded room are far below us. I grip your penis with the hardest suction my mouth can produce. You crush your mouth on top of the pie in response, gulping the sweet cream and pumpkin to get at the treasure buried beneath. I thrust my mouth back and forth on your penis. Soon the food part of your dessert is finished, and you begin to consume me. You caress my naked upside-down torso, gliding your fingers lightly over my back as we continue to grip one another around the waist, oblivious, this time, to the vast height below us. One hand lightly strokes my bare bottom. A finger trails through my crack and I spread my legs for you. I want you to have total access to whatever part of my body pleases you. "Girium!" I command of the wand, and we begin to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I flick my tongue over the sensitive tip of your hard-on as I fondle your testicles, and you nibble my lips. We rotate to a horizontal position, still spinning, still eating, a whirl of entangled bodies at least 50 feet above the floor. I gasp as you suddenly begin sucking my clitoris. I thrust myself to your mouth. You lick and suck my hard button as a stray finger begins caressing my tender anus. A spark fires straight through to my burning nub. Spontaneously, we begin thrusting each other with our mouths, hard. I can't last as I begin exploding in orgasm. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" I gasp, repeating my urgent plea over and over. I feel your hardness twitching in my mouth and prepare for the coming flood. You explode in my mouth as I try to swallow all of the fluid pouring into my already full mouth. I gasp and swallow as your eruption continues for at least a minute. As we end our passion, we float gently back to our table on the floor of the vast hall, our cloak still in place over us. You reach to me and kiss me. My mouth still seasoned with your seed. You lick away a stream of your own cum from my cheek and look at me adoringly. It takes three gulps to swallow your semen, filling myself with you. I giggle, then reach around your neck and kiss you, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. You grab the goblets and wine as I reach for the bundle of clothes under the table. It's clear we're invisible; a naked woman, hair and face streaked with semen, would otherwise attract some attention. We rise again from our table and float just a few feet above the heads of the lunching wizards, oblivious to what we had done four stories above their heads. You grab me around the waist, invisibility cloak still in place, and we float by the head table where teachers are seated, talking amongst themselves as they sip their coffee after finishing their meals. We ponder what we had just gotten away with in public as we float toward the archway that leads to our room. I could get used to this. Just think of what we could do, sight unseen, with no clothes on. I glance at Aryn Jubilence before we leave. We've just sucked each other off 50 feet over his head, and he was none the wiser. Suddenly, as you guide us out the archway, I see Jubilence turn his head our way. His gaze meets mine. He lifts his coffee up in toast: "To the invisibility cloak," he says, winking. "And to the discovery of its many wonderful uses."