Fiona's lips look pretty in pink. I chose the perfect shade for this experiment. "Is it safe?" she asks, belatedly, and I shrug in response.
Pink lipstick. Magical pink lipstick - although it's not the magic that makes me want to kiss her, and in front of her fiancΓ© too. I wonder what my wife will say about me wanting to kiss another woman. I wonder if my wife also wants to kiss other women. I mean, we agreed to an open relationship, despite me having a bun in the oven, but practice and theory often differ, and this will be the first test.
"So," Fiona says, satisfied at last that the colour is applied evenly. "What does it do? And what shade is this exactly?"
"Originally?
Diabolo
, by Dior. But I call it 'Pussy Lips'."
She laughs, and licks her lips seductively. "Are you sure the spell worked?"
I lean into her and kiss her, and the sound she makes is part moan of pleasure, part cry of surprise. She pulls away, breathing heavily, her face flushed. What looks like saliva - but isn't - spills from her lips, running down her chin, and she brushes it away with the back of her hand. "Um," she says.
I kiss her again, biting her super-erogenised lips, teasing her hyper-sensitised tongue with my own, and swallowing the syrupy fluid that tastes exactly like my own vaginal lubricant. Because that's exactly what it is. I collected the key ingredient for the spell from my own aroused pussy.