Amy's Magic Touch

Reading from the book, Amy Madison called to The Great Mother, compelling the forces of light to do her bidding.

"Valde matris audite meus cries," she intoned. "Repleo meus muliebris substantia per vestri lux lucis quod permissum mihi sentio vestri vox in meus plurimus occultus locus."

And, all at once, she could feel it. There was a warmth between her thighs, tingling there and growing by the second. It pulsed within her, the magic she had only begun to understand after her own mother had disappeared - her essence encased in a trophy locked in a Sunnydale High School display case.

Only then had she begun looking into her mother's books, unlocking powers within herself as she became a woman and a witch in her own right.

Amy was understanding now, that the crazy old woman couldn't have been all wrong, as the humming, strumming warmth continued to grow in her loins, causing her to shift from her kneeling position on the floor.

As she shifted her feet from below her, she felt her meaty lips rub together, as if she were feeling for the first time any sensation in her nethers. And that, of course, was a laugh. She'd learned early as a chubby child how to please herself while thinking of Xander Harris or other cute boys at school.

But this sensation was all new. This was more than that, and her more grown-up form was giving the spell a grand playground to work its magic. It was like she could feel every nerve ending 10 times greater than before, each pulsing with a life of its own.

She wished now that she'd thought ahead and disrobed before chanting the words. It would feel so good to have a hand on her pussy just then, stroking, caressing the length of her lips and thumbing her clit.

But no matter. The magic was doing all of the work now and she could feel it continue to grow, as if something grand yet invisible was pushing her toward orgasm. She could feel the walls of her pussy expanding and contracting as her clit pounded from within, edging her ever closer to climax.

Her left hand went to her right breast beneath her t-shirt and her right hand went between her legs. No time to unbutton her fly or undo her bra, she just massaged above the clothing squeezing her flesh to try and increase the sensation.

It worked and the first wave wash over her, throwing her onto her back with ecstasy. She was enthralled by the power of the orgasm as wave after wave coursed through her body. Writhing with pleasure, her legs convulsed and kicked away the book below her.

A white light of pleasure filled her closed eyes and then began to fade as she regained her composure. She'd almost passed out from the sensation and when she opened her eyes she saw that she'd wrecked her night table, tumping her burning incense and magical charms with flailing arms and legs.

"Wow," was all she could muster, then noticing the wet spot on her jeans and making a mental note to prepare better the next time she tried that spell.

"I've got to tell Willow about that one," she thought to herself, then thought, "I'll call her right after I try it again."

* * *

"You ... no ... you mean ... I mean ... no," Willow stammered as Amy explained the spell to her. "I couldn't ... could I? ... no."

Amy could tell she was flustered. Good old dependable Willow. Amy had known she'd react like this. Willow was not one to talk openly about "S-E-X," and certainly not about masturbation.

Amy didn't think she and Oz had even gone all the way although she could tell Willow was working up to it.

Instead of calling, Amy had decided to go over to Willow's house - book, incense and all - and tell Willow in person. She thought it might be a little weird trying to describe the sensation over the phone. I mean, how do you tell someone you've just magically fucked yourself? That was a face-to-face conversation if Amy had ever heard of one.

And so, after changing clothes, she hopped in the car and made a bee-line for her coven-buddy. Willow's mother had let Amy in without showing much interest beyond the usual pleasantries. If she'd only known what the brunette had in mind for her daughter.

Willow had been excited, if a little surprised to see Amy. In her rush to share her little find, Amy had forgotten to call ahead.

"Amy? Hey, what's up?" Willow had said, then spurted, "Oooh! I found something in Narsimmon's Codex. I can float a pencil. Wanna see?"

Willow was always so excited and excitable when it came to magic. And that was what Amy had been counting on.

"Pencil? No. I've got something better," Amy said, and began relaying her afternoon's experience as she set up the incense and charms on the floor.

Willow sat, mouth agape, as Amy related how she'd psychically frigged herself three times before coming over, each time enjoying it more than the last.

And soon came the stammering, stutter-stop talk.

Amy could tell Willow was nervous, but she knew she was intrigued as well. How could she not be?

"Come on," Amy goaded. "It's not like you don't do it manually? I mean, we had sleepovers and I know that rustling under the covers wasn't always just shifting positions. Right?"

"But ... I ... I thought you were asleep," Willow said, mouth wide in shock. "It was just ... I'd had a Xander dream. God, I'm so embarrassed."

"It's OK," Amy said. "We've all done it. Hell, I do it twice a day at least, without any intervention from the Goddess. This is just a new way, or, an old way that witches have known about for millennia. Come on, give it a try."

And with the last word, Amy winked at Willow in a knowing way. She could see the redheaded witch mulling it over. And then she reached out and took the book.

"OK," Willow said, giving a fake exasperated sigh Amy spotted immediately. "What's the spell."

"Yeeaahh!!" Amy said smiling, and hugged the smaller girl. "It's the one marked with the purple ribbon."

Willow sat cross-legged with the incense and charms between her and Amy. Amy noticed that Willow was wearing jogging pants and a white t-shirt with no bra and thought that was probably good for her first time. There was no way Willow was getting naked with Amy around, so she'd just have to do a little clean-up afterward.

"OK," Willow said when she was settled. "I want to try it by myself, then maybe we can try it together."

"Oh," Amy said, a little surprised. "Sure. No problem."

Amy was a little disappointed. After all, she'd wanted to share this with her coven sister. But she didn't want to push her luck, and decided to let her have the first go at it alone.

Willow began the incantation, and almost immediately Amy saw the witch's demeanor change. The red hair was swimming about her face as she rocked back and forth, saying the words. She could see Willow's nipples harden beneath the white shirt as she arched her back. Her breasts heaved as she reclined into the bed that sat behind her.

Willow's chest was not ample, but it seemed as if its entirety strained against the white cotton. And then, without warning, the witch's legs shot out from underneath her, knocking the incense and charms to the side.

Before Amy knew it, the gray socks Willow was wearing were flying at her and she had to jump from her crouched position to avoid the blow. But she wasn't quick enough and got tagged by Willow's leg.

And it was in that instant, as her momentum continued to take her up, that she could feel what Willow was feeling.

It was intoxicating, even more than her own experiences earlier. A white-hot pleasure racked her as she fell to earth, landing awkwardly between Willow's splayed legs, her hip touching Willow's inner thigh and her face only inches from the flame-headed witch.

Another wave hit as she tried to recover her balance. It was the contact, Amy realized somewhere deep in her endorphin-drenched mind. Willow's still in the spell and I'm feeling her...

The thought was cut short as she felt Willow's hands grab the back of her head and pull her mouth into her own.

She'd not been expecting it, but it wasn't unwelcome. Amy wasn't gay, but she could feel Willow's pleasure in the kiss. It was indescribable. It radiated through her soft red lips and searching tongue into Amy and then back again. It was like they were caught in a monumental feedback, the pleasure growing and growing as they kissed.

Willow's diamond-hard nipples played against Amy's own now-engorged mams, rubbing back and forth in a teasing fashion. Willow's left hand still rested on back of Amy's head, but her right hand had moved beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. Amy didn't have to see it. She could feel it, as if she was stroking her own clit.

Amy reached up to grab her left breast, barely balancing on her left hand as her right moved between their bodies. But as she reached up she grazed Willow's stomach and inner breast. She could feel that too, even more than if she'd touched herself.

And so she turned her hand to cup the smaller witch's left mound instead, and was rewarded with a burst of aching bliss that went rippling across her body. And, just as she'd felt in the kiss, their mutual pleasure batted back and forth between their bodies.

Willow's hand was working her pussy overtime, sliding fingers in, rubbing the clit with her palm, pressing hard into her slit as and pistoning like mad, making slopping sounds because she was soaked with delight. Amy could hear it and feel it, because it was happening to her as well, almost as if a mirror were being held to their pleasure points.

Amy was overheated with delight as she massaged the b-cup in front of her, thumbing the nipple, then squeezing the breast with firm, loving strokes.

Willow's back arched again and Amy could feel the final wave coming as the girl beneath her gave one final pull at her little man in the boat. He was going to drowned, and both she and Willow would go with him.

It was a big one in deed. Amy closed her eyes tight, feeling she might go blind from the pleasure of the orgasm. Explosion after explosion went off in her brain, synapses firing left then right, then up, then down, then all at once. She bit her lower lip as she came, tasting the metallic essence of the blood she was drawing. Was it from her lip or Willow's? She didn't know. She didn't care.

Heaving with the exhaustion of a marathon runner, Amy collapsed onto her spell-buddy's neck, breathing in the aroma of musky sweat the two of them had built in the room. She felt like she wouldn't be able to move for a week. Instinctively, she gave Willow a little peck on her lower neck, the way she would anyone - any guy - she had just gone ten rounds with.

"Oh Oz, that was so ..." Willow said, snapping Amy out of her revelry, and causing her to pull back a little.

Willow opened her eyes, dreamily at first, then wide with surprise.

"Oh my God," she said, bolting upright and almost knocking Amy down in the process. "I thought you were Oz. Oh my God. Oh my God."

She just kept repeating the words over and over as she stood up and walked around the room, a dark wet spot on the bottom and back of the sweatpants.

"I thought you were ... I mean ... We ... why did we? ... Oh my God," she said. "OK, I gotta go. Um, see ya."

And with a quick, half-armed wave, Willow fled her own room, off to who-knew-where to fret some more about one of the best experiences she'd ever had.

Amy was a little surprised at what had happened, but she figured Willow would need a solid month before she would talk to her again. Eventually she'd come around, even if she never wanted to do that spell again.

It was OK though. In the meantime, Amy had plenty of spells to keep herself occupied.