Melvin's Magic Love Juice

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.