The idea for this story came from two different places. First, I read a woman's complaint that a certain shirt she likes gets her "eye-fucked" so much that she needs birth control when she wears it. It left me thinking it would be interesting if a man actually COULD eye-fuck women. It could be line of sight, TV, photos, whatever. The other half was when I was making fun of a certain fictional franchise based at a wizard school and realized that eye-fucking could be "a thing" using Merlin's magic wang. And of course, what fun would fucking be without pregnancy?
Part 1: An Unassuming Wooden Ring
If you took a survey of everyone who's ever studied abroad in college, just about all of them would tell you that it changed their lives forever. Compared to what happened during my semester in England though, they may as well have stayed home.
Towards the end of the semester, I was part of a crowd of people waiting at a bus stop in the rain in front of the Natural History Museum in London. Just like in any big city, the more people there were, the less likely it was that anyone would bother talking to me. But a few minutes before the bus was supposed to arrive, I felt someone tug at my elbow. I turned and looked down, suddenly noticing an ancient, wizened man looking up at me. His face was wrinkled into a perpetual grin. He cleared his throat and addressed me in a high-pitched voice.
"American, yes? You're studying mythology?"
I glanced down at my notebook, conveniently labeled 'mythology'. The old timer wasn't psychic, but he was at least literate. I nodded.
"You know," he cackled, "Merlin was a right horny bastard. For all the time he spent fuckin', he never woulda got anything done if he weren't a wizard."
I raised my eyebrow and inwardly wondered why I'd drawn the crazy old man's attention. I resolved to humor him until the bus arrived, rather than risking his anger. "Wizard work didn't take much of his time?" I asked.
The man shook his head. "No, boy, it took nearly all of his time! But as a wizard, he could invent ways to fuck while he worked. Some lesser wizards would summon a succubus and fuck her, but not Merlin. No, he made himself a portal just big enough to slip his dick through. And he designed it so the other side of that portal would be the cunt of whatever woman he was thinking of at the time. It meant he could have all the jollies he wanted without actually leaving his laboratory. He could mix an elixir with his hands while fucking the living hell out of a woman on the other side of the country."
"Remote-control sex, then?" I inquired.
The old gypsy man cackled at the notion, then reached into his pocket and produced a smooth wooden ring, inscribed with tiny runes around the outside. "This, boy! When he thought of a girl and put this ring on his cock, it came out inside the girl's pussy instead of the other side of the ring. He'd fuck her as hard as he pleased, then cum inside her. He didn't like cleaning up afterwards though, so the spell didn't let anything from her body stay on his cock. Clean as a whistle for him, but he'd fill her with his cum whenever he wanted." He paused for a moment. "But no one ever accused wizards of playing fair, now did they boy?"
I wasn't quite sure what to think, other than that I wished that I had chosen to wait inside the museum. I was left speechless when, with surprising speed, the ancient man pressed the ring into my hand and said, "And now, it's yours. Don't let it go to waste." He stepped back and melted into the crowd as if he were never there, leaving only his high-pitched cackle behind, fading slowly away down the street.
At first I wrinkled my nose and thought about dropping the ring on the ground, but then I was distracted as I realized that my pocket felt lighter. Patting at my pocket, I discovered my my wallet was missing. I nearly had a heart attack before remembering that what was stolen was was just my decoy wallet; my ID and actual spending money was still safely tucked in my waistband. I chuckled and examined the souvenir the old man had inadvertently traded for a cheap wallet full of paper print-outs with the words "fuck you" on them. The ring itself looked like ancient rowan wood, worn smooth over time, with a pattern of intricate runes carved into its outer edge. It felt a little bit warm to the touch, and it was probably worth more than my decoy wallet. Once I got back to my dorm, I packaged it securely in my luggage, then forgot about it for a month until the semester finished up and I returned to America.
Part 2: Drunk Consciences Actually Want You to Get Laid
The next month, I was back in America and had managed to get the drunkest I could remember having been. I'd just come home to discover that not only was my now-ex girlfriend Carly fucking one of my friends, but the friend was female and both parties had refused to entertain the mere notion of a three-way. Carly had already decided that I was going to have to move out of our apartment the following Monday, and had packed all of my stuff in boxes for me before I even arrived. What pissed me off the most was that she'd started cheating on me almost as soon as my semester abroad started, but hadn't told me anything until today. So, throughout my entire semester abroad, I'd still paid my half of the rent on our apartment and had turned down the attentions of ome very attractive European girls. In the meantime, Carly spent the whole time fucking her new girlfriend's brains out and using the money I sent back to pay her half of the rent. Being used like that made me madder the more I thought about it, so I chose to get good and smashed before moving to the dorm room I'd managed to secure on short notice. I tend to turn into an asshole when I'm drunk, and this made me feel like being an assholeeven before I started drinking. This was going to be one for the history books.
It was 2am and I'd gone most of the way through a bottle of sake when a tiny, drunk version of me stood up on my shoulder and started shouting into my ear. "You know, you're being rude to that old guy by not trying out Merlin's ring."
I shook my head and begged off, noting that not only was I far too drunk to try it, but the ring was nothing more than a tourist trinket.
"In that case, you might as well use it, eh? You've got Carly on your mind pretty well now, so you'd know if it worked right away, right?"
I blinked. Drunk-me had a point, but logical-me just wanted to pee, puke, or pass out. Or all three at once might be even more entertaining.
"C'mon, just do it! You might as well find out if it works, right?"
This went on for a few minutes until I resolved that I was going to throw up. After which, I felt a bit better, which made the voice much more persuasive. Finally, I acceded to the request and staggered into my bedroom, where I'd set the souvenir onto the antenna of my clock radio. I picked it up and scrutinized it, but it it didn't look particularly magical. But, the sooner I tried it out, the sooner I could get to sleep. I pulled down my underwear and slipped it over my wang, and somehow my cock really did feel like it was inside Carly's pussy. I thrust a couple of times, and the detached, sober part of my brain noted that this is probably the dumbest way I've ever jerked off. Still, I was hard, and it felt good, and it didn't take me long to cum. I fell asleep with the ring on my wang, and slept the sleep of the dead.
The next morning, I awoke lying on my side. The ring had fallen off during the night, and I had a massive headache. I staggered through my morning routine, then sat down at the kitchen table to drink some water. It barely registered with me that the other two seats at the table were full already.
Carly was already there with her girlfriend Irene, arguing loudly. "I swear Irene, I didn't cheat on you! I don't fuck guys anymore!" exclaimed Carly.
Irene was pissed. "I wasn't always a lesbian, Carly. I know what cock tastes like, and it was coming out of your pussy this morning," she said.
"Well, that's impossible! The last man I was with is sitting at that table, and it's been over for months. I had a really hot dream last night where a man was fucking me bareback, but that's all."
I rested my head in my hand. "Do you think you could keep it down, ladies? I'm way hung over here."
Irene turned on me. "You fucked her last night, didn't you? Breakup sex for old time's sake?"
I shook my head. "No, the only thing that got fucked up last night was my kidney and a bottle of sake. Unless she came in and raped me in my sleep, I didn't touch her."
I paused and thought for a moment, then staggered to my feet, head still hurting. "But let me point out one little thing, Irene: she told me she loved me, she told me she wanted to spend her life with me, and then she fucked you as soon as my back was turned. What makes you think she's telling YOU the truth?" I didn't even wait for the retort before walking off to my room to pack up what little I'd unpacked after my trip, and then bail for campus.
.... There is more of this story ...