The Magic Dick

Author note: This is my entry for the

Literotica April Fools Story Contest 2025

.

Coincidentally, the night of my date was also exactly one year since I'd last had sex. I knew the date because it was my ex's birthday. He was who I'd had the sex with, and I'd spent the subsequent year trying to forget him.

The guy I was meeting for the first time, Henry, had picked the Rod & Perch, which used to be a run down locals' pub but had been taken over by a national chain and tarted up. It did serve food, but we were only going for drinks, and I didn't want to dress up too smartly. I'd gone for a maroon jumper dress that complemented my chestnut hair; low-cut enough to show cleavage but not so much to make it look like I was desperate. With tights and ankle boots, I thought it looked cute but still attractive.

Brianna: Here's what I'm wearing. Not sure about the gold necklace...

Mel: Gorgeous, babe. Go silver necklace x

Mel had set me up on this blind date with Henry, since he was apparently a friend of a friend. I knew almost nothing about him except that he was supposed to be both handsome and polite, which really was like the bare minimum. Would you go on a blind date with someone described as 'ugly' or 'rude'?

And anyway, I thought as I got out of the taxi outside the pub, pulling my jacket around me more tightly against the surprisingly cold westerly; it wasn't as if I was going to have sex with Henry tonight. It was a first date. Even if we were compatible, a kiss might be too much. I didn't even want to have sex; that was the reason my ex left. He said it was a lack of all kinds of intimacy and connection, but it was about sex, I knew. Sex just wasn't for me. Especially with a stranger I was meeting for the first time.

"Hello, you must be Brianna," Henry said as soon as he saw me, standing up out of his chair. He'd got a cosy table in a corner of the pub, leaving me the comfortable bench seat and taking the hard wooden chair for himself.

"Hi, Henry, of course," I said, smiling as charmingly as I could muster and shaking his hand, feeling more nervous than I'd expected.

"Do sit down. I got you a glass of wine, but if you want something else-"

"Wine's absolutely fine, thank you. Better than fine. It's what I would have chosen anyway."

"Oh, okay, good. Great."

We were both plainly a bit nervous as I folded my jacket onto the seat beside me and flicked my hair off my shoulders. Perhaps unusually, he was drinking wine too; my glass of white, covered in condensation, was untouched, but his red was half gone. I was on time, but maybe he'd been quite early. Or maybe he was a heavy drinker.

"This place has changed," I said, glancing around. "I remember when this was all dark wood and racing on the TV."

"I haven't been here before," Henry said, and the conversation lapsed. I picked up my wine and took a few big mouthfuls, partly to catch up a bit, and partly to steady my nerves. He was looking at something just above my right shoulder and I wondered if the cleavage was too much.

"So, um, I suppose I should introduce myself," he said when I put my glass back down. "I'm Henry, I'm thirty, I work in car sales, and I'm single, although I suppose that's pretty obvious." He laughed slightly. "I've never been married or anything and I live by myself near the middle of town. I do have a cat, though. Well, sort of. The cat probably belonged to the previous owner of the flat and I feed it, but I don't know if it's really mine."

As he spoke, I took in his appearance. He was wearing a shirt with an open collar and chinos, so he'd clearly made a bit of an effort. His hair was cut quite short, and you could see that he was trying to minimise the impact of a receding hairline, but I supposed that happened to most men at some point. He wasn't bad-looking but he wasn't an oil painting either, with a nice smile and kind-looking eyes, but an asymmetric nose and large ears. But I was being overly judgemental. It wasn't like I was a catwalk model myself.

"I'm not really a cat person," I said, sipping my wine again.

"Oh, are you allergic?"

I shook my head. "No, just... they don't like me."

"Ah, okay."

There was another pause. So far, no good. I jumped in.

"I'm Brianna, I'm thirty-one, I work in a cafe, and, uh, I suppose that's it. I got out of a long-term relationship about a year ago."

"Well, sorry to hear that. I mean, I'm not sorry you're here, because otherwise you wouldn't be single, but it's hard when a relationship ends." He was blustering.

"It was a year ago; I'm over it now."

"Good!"

We both drank in silence. How early was too early to leave a date that wasn't going well? I needed to at least finish my drink, so I focused on that. Even though we were supposed to be conversing, Henry seemed more content to stare into space. He even struggled to manage a smile.

"Want another?" Henry asked, picking up his empty glass.

I decided I'd give him one more drink and then make my excuses. "Alright. I don't mind getting these ones."

"No, it's okay. I've got a tab open. We can settle up later," he said, getting up.

While he was at the bar, I texted Mel.

Brianna: Not going well. Zero spark. Is it possible to have negative spark? Because this is negative spark

She was clearly waiting for me to text because she came back instantly.

Mel: Oh no! He's been hurt in the past, apparently, I thought that might be perfect for you x You're in the same boat, help each other out!

I was about to make a joke about how I was thinking of rapidly jumping overboard but Henry got back first.

"Here you go," he said, passing me the wine.

"Thanks."

And the awkward silence was back. I knew I wasn't being the best conversationalist in the world but there was so little to work with. I didn't want to talk about work; neither of us had much going on in life that was interesting; and it wasn't like he was offering sparkling topics for me to run with. There was no chemistry.

Figuring what the hell, I would never see this bloke again, I went for honesty.

"I'm not sure this is working," I said, gesturing between us.

He laughed in a relieved way but there was some bitterness there. "Me neither. Glad I'm not the only one."

"It's so weirdly tense when you're supposed to be 'on a date', isn't it?"

"Exactly. You overthink everything."

I smiled, but in an unguarded moment he let his face drop and I saw some real sadness there. Deeper than just a date that didn't work out; a man who was finding that life kept dealing him bad hands. I didn't let myself feel any guilt or pity, though. It wasn't my fault if he was having a tough time of it.

"Go on, then," he said, picking up his glass, more enthusiastic than I'd seen all night. "Tell me about the breakup. I'd love to hear a good story."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "There's not all that much to it."

"There must be something. Was he cheating?"

I wasn't completely sold on the bluntness, but at least I didn't feel like Henry would judge me. "Well, no, not exactly."

"Not exactly cheating?"

Pausing for a minute to put the words together, I tried to sum it up concisely. "As far as I know he wasn't actually sleeping with anyone else, but he clearly wanted to." I didn't mention the fact that our sex life had been flatlining.

"Ah."

"There's always other problems beneath the surface," I conceded, "But I think you should communicate about it, instead of just leaving as soon as you find a problem," I finished, shrugging. "I'm better off without him."

"Sounds like it."

My drink was half done and I reckoned that in another ten minutes I could reasonably leave. Maybe less, since he was drinking faster than me. I'd need to insist on paying for my own drinks.

"And in the year since?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean, have you had much luck finding anyone new since the breakup? Obviously you're single now, but..."

The truth was that I didn't like dating because dating led to sex. And sex was the one thing I didn't want; I wanted a meaningful connection and the chance of future happiness, but needing to jump into bed with a bloke after three dates sounded awful. So I'd avoided meeting anyone until tonight. And look how this had gone.

"No luck," I confirmed.

"Right."

"What about you? Got a good story? Something unique about you?" I asked, determined to get something back in return for opening up about my past.

Henry looked at me for a moment, then tried to sound dismissive. "Not really. I don't think so."

"Make something up. I'll believe anything."

He laughed. "Well, there is something... unique. It's completely true, but it is hard to believe."

Caution had well and truly been thrown to the wind now. "Tell me. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

He still seemed unsure, but leant forward anyway, his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. "It's... well, it's weird. But true."

"Just spit it out."

"I've got a kind of magical power. A very specific one. And I really mean magical."

This was why he was single, I realised; he was a total fantasist. I'd dodged a bullet.

"Intriguing," I said, trying very hard to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my voice.

Any spark of hope in his tone was completely extinguished by my response. "Nobody ever believes me," he said, a negativity coming out of him that I hadn't expected.

"Try me."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Alright. I've got a magic dick."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Yes." He sounded completely serious.

"And this isn't a joke?"

"No joke."

"And this isn't made up?"

"So you don't believe me?"

I picked up my wine glass. "Would you believe a guy you just met in a pub who said he had a magic dick?"

"Of course not."

"So you see my problem."

"But it's true."

I took the bait. "Okay. Why is it magical?"

"When someone sees it, they have to suck it. And I mean

have to

. They're compelled to. Forced to." He was keeping a completely straight face, amazingly.

"Nice problem to have," I quipped.

"Is it?" he replied, anger rising. "Because it's ruined my life."

I kept him hanging while I finished my drink, carefully putting the glass down in front of me. If he was going to make something up like I'd said, I would have expected it to be something fun. "Well, you can't tell me there isn't a story there," I said.

"You're right. There is," he said, relaxing again, deflating. He was back to being a man defeated by life, and, if he was telling the truth, I was beginning to understand why.

"Another drink while you tell me every gory detail?" I suggested. Why leave when I had a chance to speak to a man who either had a bona-fide magical penis, or was so completely delusional I'd be dining out on this anecdote for years?

He returned quickly from the bar since the Rod & Perch wasn't especially busy tonight. The first touch of the cold wine to my lips helped ground me again. This fairy story of his was completely insane. "Okay. When did the problem start?" I asked with a smirk. I was going to enjoy this.

"When I was twenty. No, I don't know what caused it," he said preemptively. "I wasn't bitten by a magical spider or cursed by a witch."

"Oh, good. The witch was going to be my first question."

He knew I wasn't taking it completely seriously, but he seemed happy enough just to have an audience willing to listen and not flee from him, screaming that he was a pervert. "Do you want to know or not?"

I swirled the wine in my glass and drank half of it to steel myself. "Hit me with it."

"You dance really well," Tanya said, somehow managing to whisper into my ear despite the thudding music. Draped all over me like this, other guys in the club were throwing envious glances in my direction and I felt like a king. I had absolutely no idea how I'd got her on a date, but somehow I had. It had cost me, though: I'd been on the hook for dinner, drinks at an expensive bar she'd chosen and all the overpriced drinks in the club. And, being honest, Tanya seemed more interested in her phone than me. But it would be worth it to get my hands on those tits later.

Tanya was so fucking hot. She was like a sexy babe out of a magazine or video game; wavy platinum blonde hair falling all over the place, blue eyes beneath heavy eyeliner, big tits falling out of her tight silver sparkly dress. The reflective parts of her dress were flashing as the strobe lighting in the nightclub changed from pink to blue to green, her body weight leaning heavily into me as she stood unsteadily in her stilettos.

"You too," I said, running my hands all over her. She was nearly perfect: in my jeans, my cock was harder than it had ever been.

"Want to get a taxi back to my place? I've got more booze there," she breathed, but the intention behind it felt forced. I suspected I would be paying for the taxi.

However, I wanted to fuck her more than I'd wanted anything ever before, so I nodded, exaggerating the movement so it was obvious. "Let's go."

Her place was the uni flat she shared with two other girls, who were mercifully both out. Having got as far as the kitchen, ostensibly to get more drinks, instead I tried to turn things physical and I had her pressed up against the fridge. Magnets rained down onto the floor as I pushed her skirt up around her waist, rubbing my hand over her warm pussy through her knickers, but she didn't react much and after an ineffective minute, I relented.

"I'm getting tired," she said, smiling slightly.

I was stunned. All the money, and the entire evening spent with her, and now she was going to send me home with blue balls? She was using me. I'd probably known that hours ago but having it confirmed was painful. I'd only had a couple of drunk, fumbling sexual encounters before this and this was my chance to finally get a really sexy girl into bed.

"You're so hot, though..." I said, kissing her neck, trying not to sound desperate.

She let out a little sigh that made me feel about two inches tall. Like she was dealing with some annoying kid.

"Alright, I'll stroke it," she said, ignoring me as she pushed her hand forcefully into my jeans.

I let her do it, looking around the kitchen as she undid my belt, using both hands to shove my jeans down. I groaned happily when her hand wrapped around my cock, looking at her tits one more time as she looked down at her handiwork.

"Woah, okay," I said, surprised as she roughly pushed my hands away from her and forced me to back away from the fridge. A second later she was on her knees, her hair in her face as she leant forwards and desperately began sucking my dick. There was no teasing build-up or slow licking; Tanya shoved it into her mouth hard, and there was some definite friction until she'd got my shaft wet enough. But it turned into an amazing blowjob and I enjoyed it, leaning back and taking in the sight of such a hot girl worshipping my dick like this.

"Let's go to your room," I said when I started to feel the urge to cum approaching. I wanted to fuck her while she was showing this unexpected enthusiasm, and if I came in her mouth, the night would already be over.

She ignored me completely, continuing to suck my cock enthusiastically, barely pausing for breath.

"Tanya, if you keep going like this, I'm gonna cum," I said, more firmly, putting my hand on her shoulder.

There was no reaction whatsoever. I read this as her knowing what she wanted and taking it: well, if she wanted me to cum in her mouth, I would.

"Fuck... oh fuck yes," I moaned, gripping her more tightly, focusing on the sensation of her wet lips sliding up and down my shaft, the tip bumping into her tight throat. "That's it... oh fuck, I'm going to cum."

She barely slowed down as I did, sucking hard, and instead of swallowing my cum she just used it as lube to suck me even more, thick drops sliding down my shaft from her lips. The sensation against my sensitive dick was incredibly intense and I tried to push her off, but she wouldn't stop and I had to ride through it, my eyes tight closed.

"Oh fuck, okay, that's enough," I finally said, spent and sticky. I needed to clean up at least.

Still no reaction. Even as my cock started to get soft, she kept going just the same, sucking and bobbing her head up and down, not even looking at me. Completely focused.

Seeing no other option if she wasn't going to listen, I pulled back, pushing her away from me. There was a moment's separation before she flung herself at me again, making me stagger backwards into a kitchen cupboard. Her mouth instantly took me back inside.

"Tanya," I said in a serious tone. She just ignored me. "Tanya. Stop it." Nothing. I waited a minute, but she never even slowed down. It did feel quite good, though... and my cock was starting to react again. Getting a little bit hard. Sensations of arousal returning. Maybe this was just her kink; sucking a guy off twice in a row. Well, I should make the most of it. It was Tanya after all: she was incredibly hot.

I was fully hard again and back to enjoying it, but understandably lasting quite a bit longer the second time, when one of the housemates got home. I reacted by pulling back, trying to grab my jeans, but Tanya was rigid, pushing my hands away and continuing the blowjob. Totally confused, I just had to helplessly watch the girl walk into the kitchen and give her an apologetic look. At least my cock was hidden by Tanya's hair.

"Tanya, for fuck's sake," she said, unimpressed. "Get a fucking room."

Even this wasn't enough to change anything. The housemate looked at me, eyes narrowing.

"Don't just stand there, pervert."

That was the final straw. I bent down and grabbed my jeans and yanked them up so hard that it pushed Tanya away completely, and also painfully scraped the zip against the underside of my dick. Embarrassed, I shoved my cock back into my underwear and zipped up as the housemate stormed off. It was all wet and sticky with cum, but I'd just have to shower later.

"Another drink?" Tanya asked, wiping her mouth on her hand, not acknowledging what had happened.

"I told you to stop," I said, still confused.

"What?"

"Your housemate got home and I wanted to stop."

Even Tanya seemed unsure what had happened. "Did you?"

"Obviously, yeah."

"Oh. Okay. I'm getting vodka, you want any?"

I felt disrespected by her. Yeah, she was hot and yeah, I liked blowjobs, but subjecting her housemate to the view had left a bad taste in my mouth. It had escalated a few notches too far.

"I'm gonna go," I told her, patting my pockets for my wallet and phone. "I'll text you later."

"Oh, okay. You sure you don't want one last kiss?"

Well, maybe I could do that. I was still a red-blooded guy. I made sure we were in her bedroom, at least, and undoing my jeans again meant my cock wasn't trapped in my damp boxers any more.

"Mm, yes," Tanya said happily, dropping to her knees again and reaching out for it.

"No," I said, twisting away from her. "I thought we were going to fuck?"

"I just really want to suck your cock," she said in a cutesy voice, approaching again. "Please?"

I pulled up my boxers. "I think I should go."

"No, it's okay. We can fuck."

Boxers down again. Tanya lurched towards me, grabbing my cock hard and plunging her mouth down.

That was it. I dressed, ignored her protests, and left. I wasn't going to let her treat me like an idiot.

"Well, she sounded like a handful," I said to Henry. I'd heard enough stories of crazy nightclub hookups not to be especially impressed by this one.

"Afterwards, I remember being so confused," he said, leaning forwards in his chair. "Tanya had seemed completely disinterested in me and then, when she saw it, suddenly she was impossible to satisfy."