Chapter 1

It is coming to that time of year when Halloween stories are on the agenda for curious readers of stories short and long.

Pumpkins, Witches and scary Ghosts are in all the magazines like some signal that October is right around the bend or at least on the next page in graphic color.

A little known fact of the season of Halloween and goblins and Witches is that bad witches must be spanked as hard as possible with very little thought as to their personal comfort or liking of a treatment meant to be a punishment. It is, after all, a spell inducer causing continuous sensual heightening of their feminine senses and makes their badness rise like cream to the top of their sinful bodies in ways that witches know to be their weakness of character just like loss of sunshine on a rainy day.

In grey and misty Salem, the witches were all a-twitter knowing that the pompous and hypocritical church leaders were plotting their demise. They had seen it all in other places across the wide and almost bottomless green-blue sea like an affliction on the spirits of the land and the forest that were much older than their finite churches or their concept of creation that made the witches and the demons all laugh beneath their breath at their sheer lack of imagination in matters unseen to mortal man.

Dolly, Martha and Felicity were churning butter when the Reverend Goodnight’s slow minded son Adam came in sporting a what looked like a tomahawk handle inside his leather britches. Of course, Dolly and Martha giggled and pinched each other’s private parts just to be obnoxious when they should have been well-behaved like their sister Felicity that measured his length with a knowing eye and marked him down as a full twelve inches and a member of that special category of male that could be considered as “ritual qualified” for their pagan rites in the deep woods during certain celebrations remembered from ancient times.

The confused boy was not mean-spirited and seldom spoke at all.

He was watching the widow Hamilton getting baptized in an odd way by the visiting Rector from downstate with her dress pinned up in the back and her churning like a banshee devil and him hanging on tightly holding her upright at her waistline like they were courting. The very idea of the passive Rector climbing up the plump-assed widow with the intent to copulate like a courting quim hunter in need of instant relief was so ridiculous to the young mistress Felicity that she almost fell off her stool and on her bottom like some schoolgirl with no common sense at all.

The truth of the matter was that all three of the girls were widows many times over and they kept their exteriors youthful by using the graveyard dirt from young female virgins in a spell long forgotten by most of the remaining covens more interested in finding young flesh for their rituals rather than undergoing the stress of heavy humping from sex-crazed followers of the fallen angel flock of black witches all primed for using their human counterparts as fodder for their appetite for a diet of lust and debauchery centered on that midnight hour when the clock struck twelve.

Felicity stopped her churning motions and pulled young Adam to her bench in a full standing position. The boy was compliant because he was an obedient thing seldom with any agenda of his own unless it was related to filling his belly or getting his long dick taken care of by some generous-minded female with neither morals nor character associated to good breeding and church-going attitudes.

She wasted no time in whipping out master Adam’s thick cock and the other two girls now eager to participate were crowding around hoping to get young Adam in hand for a quick check of his firmness to make them feel like a true female woman in a way that even witches require to cause them to become submissive to masculine control.

All three of the farm girls were attentive to young Adam’s desire to copulate and all three of them including Felicity bent over the bench with their skirts up high. They waved their glorious buttocks left and right and crooned like sirens in the shallow water pulling sailors to their doom.

Young Adam was almost eighteen now and he had a cock-stand with a remarkable degree of firmness for a person with very little on his mind most of the time.

It was obvious to all of them that he favored Mistress Felicity most of all.

Holding his full twelve inches in his trembling hand, he addressed her nubile young female flanks and slowly introduced his thickness between her waiting globes of feminine temptation. The other two girls were watching intently hoping that the young man would have enough spunk to do them all before the midnight hour was upon them. It was important to all practicing witches, at least, the black magic witches, that they get their share of human male sperm inside their quims before the sun came up in the morning. It was the magical elixir that kept them looking young despite the fact they were all in the range of two to three centuries old, if they were a day.

Young Adam had the powerful black witch known as Felicity to one and all in a “leaning forward” position that had her hooked on his gaff of considerable girth. She found it so exciting that she started to speak in her hidden language of spells and curses usually reserved for incantations and special rituals known only to the witches hiding in the dark of the deepest reaches of the dense forest where only the wild animals watched with wild expectations and a sense of fear born of instinct and not of man.

The time of Halloween was fast approaching and the young boy’s seed was needed with desperate desire to stay forever young and beautiful to attract the human males to give them the manly juices that put the bloom on their cheeks and the eager palpitations of their female parts.

He anointed Felicity with a reasonable amount of man-juice and she quickly turned him over to her two sisters of the coven for their much needed infusions of human spunk.