• 6 •

The restaurant my mother chose for our meeting is secluded and expensive. It took me 50 minutes to go there by bicycle, but even finding it made up for the major part of this time. I’m not surprised to meet both of my parents there. After a cordial greeting we are led into a discreet booth. We have some trivial small talk. In between the waiter takes orders.

“Did you have a nice evening, Kim?” My dad honestly tries to ease the slightly tense situation.

“Not too bad. I had a night out with a friend, but was absent-minded, I fear.” No need to beat around the bush. In fact, it’s been my first date with Marc and I’ve been some terrible company, my mind whirring about very different thoughts. In fact, except for my bodily presence I’ve barely been out with him at all. I’ve been rather surprised he even asked for another date.

 “Why did you ask that strange question, yesterday? Did something weird happen to you, something inscrutable, perhaps even impossible?” My mother comes to the point. That’s welcome. The question itself makes me mentally stumble, though. What does she know?

“What if?” I don’t know myself being this defensive and I don’t like it at all.

“Have we ever told you about your paternal grandmother?”

“She died before I was born, shortly before you left Kenya, right?” This is an unexpected turn.

“She was killed before we left.” My mother’s words sound ominous and a hint of pain flashes over my father’s face.

“She was a Mchawi, a kind of sorceress. She practiced supernatural arts her whole life. Alas, she was accused of witchery. A mob gathered, stoned and burnt her. After her murder your father and I fled, first to Nairobi and later to here.” Mom sounds hollow. She’s deeply moved, yet she fights hard to keep her composure.

I’m tempted to gainsay what she tells, but whatever for? I’d prefer to laugh about what I just heard as superstitious nonsense, but my mother – in fact, both my parents – are too much rational, too sober scientists to believe in fairy tales to frighten children.

“So, my grandma was a witch who got burnt? What the hell did she do to deserve that?” I hear my own voice trembling.

“She did what the chosen few of her nature did for hundreds, if not thousands of years! She healed the sick and comforted those in need. But she also hunted the miscreants and punished those who deserved it. Oh yes, she was terrible in her wrath, but she was so kind and caring to the needy. Don’t adjudge her for the malevolence she received in return!”

My mother berates me. I can’t even recall that this calm, patient woman scolded me ever before. My dad presses her hand and the hardness leaves her face.

“As you will already guess, the reason to tell you all this is the fact, that the gift is passed on through the generations. As your grandmother died, the essence of her craft was set free. We believe that the seed lies within all members of your family, and when that seed is fertilized by said essence, the bearer is gifted with the power to change things infinitely more profound than a common person.”

What’s that lump in my throat? Why are tears welling in my eyes? My mother reaches for me and seizes my hand. I can’t hold back a sob. All this is too fantastic, too unreal, too much for me. All I know is, that my life changes fundamental and entirely.

“When you asked me yesterday about shrinking persons, I knew it had happened. I witnessed that when I visited your grandmother. She held her captives in a shrunken state. And she did with them whatever she saw fit. Will you tell me what you did?”

Mom’s infinite forbearance and gentle affection – she’ll never condemn me, no matter what I did! While I tell her about the events of that evening, I weep freely. I don’t weep for Justin, I don’t weep for myself. I weep, because the unease of the last days and the revelation of this day are so far too much for me to comprehend at once.

Mom just nods as I finish my story, Dad even manages to display a faint smile. Their sympathy means so much to me.

Meanwhile, the waiter appears and serves the meal. I’m becalmed again and feel hungry. While we eat, my parents overwhelm me with advice.

“So it wasn’t the fury I unleashed upon my antagonist that released the spell?”

“No, no! You said you suddenly felt calm and determined. That’s it! In wrath, hatred or panic you can’t channel your powers. You need to concentrate and sincerely imagine the desired effect in detail. That’s how immediate effects are formed.” Mom sounds almost as excited as I feel.

“Does that mean I can do everything I can imagine?”

“Dear me, no! There are limits aplenty! Alas, no one can tell you what’s within your power, you have to find out yourself. Even if there’s no immediate or visible effect, you will sense when something happens. If so, you should try again and again until you mastered it. If nothing happens at all, a thing is most likely beyond your gift. That’s the way to explore your potential.”

Like this, we spend the whole afternoon. It’s about 4 p.m. when we finally say goodbye and part. I’m meeting up with Marc again this evening and want to pretty myself up as an excuse for the messed up last evening.  

I ride home on my bicycle. The day is sunny and warm, perfect for a tour. Cycling relaxes me and wonderfully clears my mind. I detour and take a longer, yet more beautiful route.

On my way, I reflect about the events in the light of the information I got from my parents. It’s still pretty much unclear and daunting, but the things already start to sort out and get straight. The longer I think about it, the more I realize the enormous potential I could contain within me. And the more I imagine my future possibilities, the more I enjoy the idea.

I get more confident. In fact, I can hardly wait to try something. I’m tempted to stop and do some magic, but I contain myself. Self-control is a crucial factor, Mom said, I better start to cultivate it outright. I can’t keep my mind from envisioning several things I want to try and enjoy. If this thing works nearly as well as I hope for, I’ll become a truly mighty woman.

The mental picture I draw of myself gives me a thrill of anticipation and makes me shiver in barely suppressed pleasure.

At home, I first hop into the shower. Though the hot water is highly pleasant, it scarcely soothes my inner turmoil. I’m about to burst from suspense, elation and drive. I dry and straighten my hair for some refined braided hairdo, but I almost immediately lose patience and bind a simple ponytail. I put on just some minimalist makeup. Just one minute before my open wardrobe and I could yank out its contents – a wardrobe filled to the bursting with nothing to wear! I try and discard one outfit after another. When I’m about to scream with a temper, I choose a simple dress and plain ballet flats.

Just dressed, it knocks on the door. He’s here on time. I rush to the door and tear it open. Marc seems startled by my vigorous approach. He stares at me with eyes like a terrified deer, and that look excites the predator in me. I grab his arm and yank him into my room. A kick slams the door shut.

I can batter him or screw him, either way I yearn to conquer him, bring him down, break him up and tear his heart out to keep it as my booty. I claim him and I will have my way with him.

I seize him by the neck and press my lips onto his. My kiss is like an assault and that’s what I intend it to be. Bewildered, he is like paralyzed and doesn’t return my tempestuous affection. I force my tongue aggressively between his lips and on into his mouth where his receives mine, hesitatingly first, then more lively. I cling my body firmly to his, my thigh pressed hard into his crotch. Marc’s initial torpor vanishes and his hands begin to feel out my back, timid and gentle.

But I’m not in a mood for gentleness. Abrasive and forceful I push him backwards, trip him up and rudely fling him down onto the sofa. I straddle him and plaster his neck with vigorous kisses. I grab his shirt and wrench it over his head. The sound of seams ripping apart prove that this garment isn’t rugged enough for my passion, but I couldn’t care less as I throw it aside. My lips work their way along his body, making sure my body is firmly pressed to his as I glide down. I attach my mouth to his nipple, suck hard and swirl around it with my tongue. Marc groans loudly and tries to sit up. With my left hand on the side of his face I harshly push his head back to the padding, while my right works frenetic to open his trousers. It slides into his undershorts, feels for his member already bulging and closes around his balls, kneading them.

Being in control, I nibble on Marc’s mamilla, first playful, then somewhat testier and finally I apply a lusty bite. He gives a yelp and again struggles, but I effortlessly hold him down with my superior strength, even easier when I squeeze his testicles menacing. The fact that I dominate him this clearly boosts my lust into frenzy.

I’m about to scream in fury as removing his pants proves to be awkward, but finally I deal with them. Marc’s dick stands upright like a brave little soldier. His member is beautiful in size and shape, his groin region is clean-shaved. Perfect!

Again I sit down on his chest, this time backwards. Gently probing his manhood with my fingers, I feel it twitch while Marc groans heatedly below me. I bow down and let my tongue circle around the rim of his glans, only very light, just shaving it. I wait for the change in the quality of his moans before I pull my lips over his member. I suck rather vibrantly and let my tongue stroke firmly, while my hands again gently massage his scrotum.

Before long, I feel Marc is about to get off, but I’m not willing to release him yet. I curb the pace and let him relax until his panting slows down and his writhing weakens, only to tucker him out again the next moment. I just love the kinky torture of tease and denial, and after the third round Marc’s moaning has become a frantic wailing between arousal and weeping.

Time for the finishing stroke!

Again I tease him halfway up, then I close my teeth around the tender flesh on the underside of his glans. Playfully pinching at first, I nibble harder each bite. I know what’s to come, so I tense up my whole body to hold Marc safely down, my hands pressing down his legs. I bite that hard into this delicate part of his glans, until I’m just on the brink of piercing through his skin.

Marc wails in pain and lechery, squirming. He fights me, but not forceful enough to risk ripping apart his penis. I have to struggle to keep him down, but that only spurs me on. I keep the pressure up for a long moment in which he sobs and whimpers.

Finally, I let go of him. Now I suck hard on his member, slowly moving my head up and down, while my tongue intensely rubs the sore spot I just bit into. Marc wheezes and pants so heavily now, I fear he might get a heart attack. For one short, nasty moment I relish the idea to stop now and just throw him out, but not even I could be so cruel.

Seconds later, he climaxes in several vigorous spasms. His hot load erupts into my mouth, so tremendous I have to focus on not choking. It tastes rather sweet and musky, so I have no restraint gulping it down, though the slimy texture is rather unpleasant. I don’t release him yet, but suck even harder as I continue stimulating him. Marc writhes as spasmodically and the sounds he gives off evidence his total ecstasy.

I sit up straight and turn my head. Marc half lies on the sofa like collapsed, eyes closed and gasping for breath. His climax has only increased my own arousal further. I’m greedy for pleasure now, and I want Marc to satisfy me! I raise and pull off my slip with trembling fingers. Then I grab Marc’s arm and pull him from the sofa that energetic he has no chance to get to his feet.

I slump on the sofa while Marc struggles to get up. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but I have other plans. I grab his hair and forcibly push him between my legs. Cautious and gentle, his tongue explores my nether regions, too feeble for my liking. I squeeze his face firmer into my groin and wrap my legs around his head. He gets the message and starts licking zealous.

Wise choice, Sunshine, don’t make me introduce you to my infamous leg scissor!

Marc either is a complete newbie or an artist with a wicked streak. His tongue reaches all of my genitals, but he usually manages to touch all around the most sensitive parts. When I get frustrated, though, he exactly hits the spot and makes me figuratively leap for joy, only to go elsewhere soon. I get the impression he pays me back for my former game of denial. But then he fails to find my clit and I’m again convinced he does this for the first time ever.

Nonetheless, he acts with that much endeavour, I can sincerely enjoy it. I feel light-headed, my womb tingles most delightful and my pelvic floor muscles clench and unclench in erratic order. I’ve lost track of time and now I lose my patience as well. I stand up and force Marc down to the ground on his back. I step over him and straddle down on his face. His keen little tongue immediately starts licking again, but now I have some control as well!

Ah, this wonderful control already is half the fun! While he tries to do his best with his tongue, I use the protrusion that is his nose to rub my clit on. Yes, this is better! Following an inpulse, I press my crotch harder on Marc’s face and rub it with relish on it until he starts struggling for the lack of air. Yes, boy, even my womanhood is able and willing to dominate you!

I let go of him, but now I reach orgasm, too! Powerful convulsion of sheer passion surge in waves through my tummy and up my back. I see the stars and feel like I’m about to step out of my body. Suddenly I notice that I ram my pelvis on Marc’s face again and again, and I fear I might knock him unconscious. Panting hard, I get up on shaky legs.

Marc blinks up to me, pleased but also taken aback. Obviously he just got to know the fact of the female ejaculation. I turn, grab a bottle of water and gulp down plenty of it. Then I toss the bottle to him.

He also drinks greedily, then he slumps back again. I watch him while I recover.

“Sorry, but I fear any reservation you might have made is expired.”

Marc chuckles wearily at this groaner.

“Never mind!” He stands up cumbersome like an old man. He dresses, then regards me.

“I don’t know what to say, Kim, but this was…” Is he going to reproach or harass me? No, he won’t thank me, would he? How embarrassing!

“Say naught! Go now. If this hasn’t frightened you off, we’ll talk later.” With gentle emphasis I turn him around and lead him to the door. He turns to speak again, but I push him out of my room and close the door behind him.

Have I lost him with my dismissive attitude? I hope not, but that’s some subsidiary issue to me at the moment. I can’t focus on Marc’s emotional ambivalence since I really have my own matters to deal with.

After all, my pent-up tension is gone!