Flying Ointment. by Aahlu.

“You are old Father William” the young man said “and your hair is perfectly white, yet you screwed three young ladies ‘till they couldn’t stand, do you think at your age it is right?”

“……oh come on, let us take a new silver knife and cut the moon free from the dark sky which hides behind the stars. Ring your mother and tell her you’ll be home late. Say not to worry but you’ve been seduced by a wicked Witch who is exchanging your virginity for eternal life. Hers not yours but she hasn’t told you that. Hurry! Run! The night is wasting and while the dew drips cold the blood runs, as always, hot. Yours in particular! Hot and young and this Witch is so wanting……”

“What will you do with it then? The poor moon when you have cut it”

“Keep it in a jar of formaldehyde like an aborted baby, its blank eyes staring grey and sightless beneath hairless lids”

“But the Sea of Crises is dark……”

“And Plato darker still! But Tycho now……”

“Tycho has rays!”

“Yea! You remembered! Tycho has rays indeed, and Tycho the man had a copper nose, or so they say!”

“Where is the telephone hidden?”

“Would you ring mummy?”

“I would phone my mother yes! And there is no need for sarcasm”

“None was intended. ‘Tis a loving term”

“And denigrating. Where?”

The Witch, sharpening her knife carefully on a slowly revolving stone, nodded at a cupboard on the wall.

“You have the number I suppose”

“Memorised. In my head”

“Where else!”

She spat upon the whetstone to smooth it then tested, with one finger end, so delicately that she cut herself.

“’Twill suffice!” she pronounced, not feeling the cut but seeing the blood.

It was the tiniest of nicks and nothing more but it bled copiously for several minutes.

“Oh one five four……” he chanted methodically while outside the room a bright full moon filled the valley with light.

………………

Supposing you did meet a Witch? One who took all her clothes off and hid them in a bin? John had and John did and he was terrified to begin with. Because the body he saw in the instant before she covered herself with a dark woollen cloak was grey and wrinkled like a corpse and the very thought of something so old made him shiver and quiver.

“I……I……” he began, the phone burbling merrily in his ear.

“What’s Mummy say?” the Witch enquired craftily.

“She says to be careful” John said, putting the phone back in the cupboard.

“Careful it is!” the Witch cried “An’ carefuller still you’ll be when you are ready!”

She put a tall pointed hat on her head and peered at him. “But you ain’t goin’ like that!”

“No……”

“Certainly not! You must get undressed”

“But I……I……” again he hesitated.

The Witch sighed.

“Times wastin’!” she murmured, more to herself than to him “Soon be midnight an’……hark!”

Distantly the sound of a tenor bell, hammer struck in some church tower, declared the witching hour as predicted.

He took off his shirt carefully, one button at a time, then folded it as he’d been shown and put it on a chair.

“Twelve! That’s it! Told yer!” the Witch cackled like a crow.

He felt much shorter after he’d taken his shoes off and slightly silly when he undid his belt.

Did she sigh when he took his trousers off finally, fiddlingly, fumblingly? Sigh when he folded and laid them over the back of the chair? If she did it was from impatience rather than any sort of arousal. Impatience and annoyance for five minutes later he still had his underpants on.

“The skys clear for now” she told him “They say some cloud later but I don’t know. Hurry up will you?”

He staggered stupidly, one sock half off, cold footed, bare arsed, shrinking, shrivelling as she regarded him.

Then they were outside in the garden, on the lawn where the grass was as wet as a river under his feet.

“Ahooooom!” the Witch said.

It wasn’t so much a broomstick that he saw her wield, more one of those old fashioned three tined hay forks that you sometimes see in antique shops. Grown from an Ash sapling in a country hedge.

“Take this” she instructed “hold it tight in your teeth while I……”

He drew in a breath sharply for it was a human shin bone that she handed him.

“Bite it against the stings if you need to!” she murmured, grey body bobbing, drooping scarecrow like beneath the cloak.

And sting it did when she began to apply the flying ointment to his skin.

Suddenly he didn’t care when she touched his private parts, both back and front or that he became erect and dizzy from the effects because as she moved her cloak gaped open like the broken door of a cathedral to reveal the mysterious body within.

He didn’t care that his jaws hurt from clenching the bone, like a dog between his teeth because when the burning, stinging sensations eased a wave of euphoria swept over him.

It was henbane he knew, remembering the recipe, some of it anyway. As for the rest, well pig fat and soot from the fireplace. Or was it thornapple, datura? Uncertainty seized him. His foreskin was on fire and his backside burned with a gut aching heat.

Gasping he took the bone out of his mouth and spat away the spittle noisily.

“……now we are ready” the Witch said, “The night awaits us and the moon……”

“The moons so bright!” he enthused.

“Isn’t it!”

He found the shaft of the hay fork sticky when he got astride it; the Witch holding it low enough to make it easy for him.

“Ahooooom!” she breathed again, breath steaming lazily.

He felt the shaft shiver between his legs while the ointment burned away at his penis and arse.

Will she be behind or in front of me, he wondered, now disconcertingly and awkwardly erect.

“Would you help an old woman for a moment?” the Witch wheedled and again the shaft shivered between his legs.

“Wha……?”

She took the shinbone from him and put it away somewhere then offered her left hand to him daintily.

“Maybe she isn’t quite as haggard as I thought” he told himself as he gazed at her. “certainly she has……”

The invitation was accepted when he, all unknowing, took her offered hand and helped her get astride the shaft in front of him.

But the cloak concealed her entirely when she lowered herself and the shaft, for the third time, shivered violently between his legs.

Maybe it was just shadow he thought idly. Maybe she’s no hair at all, like Sue, the girl he’d so recently been to bed with. Maybe she even……

But for all her guile the Witch didn’t want to know about Sue. Not at that moment anyway. She was too busy concentrating her energies somewhere else……until……

……until his feet, their feet, were no longer on the ground……

Captured by the moment he found himself gasping for breath while in front of him, seemingly an indeterminate distance away the Witch crouched and muttered gutturally. He felt the swishing brush of something against his face and knew instinctively it was the flapping edges of the cloak she wore. Then something dark grey and angular slipped past him, with a pale circle, like a wheel with spokes missing, the church tower with its round clock face.

“Am I supposed to……to……” muddle headed he muttered.

The idea of discomfort hadn’t occurred to him until he attempted to move his legs and discovered how much they seemed to weigh.

“No! Sit still!” she said “Stop wriggling”

“But it hurts!”

“As it must” the Witch replied “And you must be grateful”

“Hurts” he repeated, moving in a vain attempt to ease the fire in his crotch.

They were much higher up than he expected when he looked for the earth again. So high that the village they had come from had all but disappeared. Here and there a light twinkled, tinier than he could have imagined and here and there a patch of something lighter or darker than all the rest around it glowed and gleamed dully, a crumpled patchwork of gloom hiding a nest of glow worms.

“Press down against the shaft” the wicked witch said “and then, if you would hold onto me, perhaps your pain might ease a trifle”

Suddenly she was much closer to him, in his lap almost, the flapping material of the cloak slipping out along one side.

“Hmmm?” she asked.

He felt his erection poking against her awkwardly when, without thinking he reached forwards and put his arms around her.

“A trifle……nearer?”

“Y……yes!”

Somehow they slipped closer, his stiffness fitting exactly along the crease of her buttocks, his hands finding the soft sag of breasts and belly.

“Better?” she asked.

“Y……yes……!”

The feel of her body surprised him, disgusted him and it……terrifyingly it aroused some strange sensations.

He found himself comparing the Witch’s breasts with those of Sue and, as the old woman wriggled herself against him firmly he wondered how many times so far in his adult life he’d been misled by other peoples’ preferences and preconceived ideas. Sue’s breasts were firm and round and as perfectly shaped as he’d been led to expect a breast must be. Secretly he thought they were a little too firm and a touch too perfectly shaped but he hadn’t dare say anything. The old woman’s conversely had an altogether different allure to them. They were heavier for a start, looser and much softer than Sue’s and as he clutched them he felt his hands not only sinking into them but also into the receptive soft bulge of the belly upon which they rested.

“Hmmmm?” the old woman asked.

“Fantastic!” he shouted excitedly.

“What did you expect?” she said.

“No I meant……”

“I know what you meant!” the Wicked Witch said.

By then they were so high in the sky that all sense of scale and proportion was lost. His world, their world, was little more than the gleam of moonlight on each others bodies and on the dirty Ash shaft on which they rode.

“The Sea of Crises really is a dusty plain” she told him breathily while, upside down and as huge as a haystack the disc of the moon drifted by them lazily.

We won’t crash will we?” he asked suddenly.

“No chance!” the Witch said.

“But I’m……afraid……”

“Afraid? What of?” she asked.

“The night” he said simply.

“Fear not!” she reassured him “The night has nothing ……”

“But……”

No monsters. No ogres! Nothing!”

“But the darkness?”

“Conceals nothing which cannot be seen in a different light”

“Blackness……?”

“Nothing but the sky hiding behind the stars!”

“And you……are you taking me there!”

“We are going together!” the Witch said.

He felt her reaching for him although, surely, the way she sat her arm wasn’t long enough.

“If I offered you the choice of earth or water which would you take?” she asked, grasping him so firmly it added an ache to the pain but in an altogether different way.

“Wha……what, oh I……water I reckon” he said, realising what she meant.

“Then I offer……”

He was aware of the woman lifting herself somehow though quite how she managed it he could not imagine for she moved as if there was a solid floor under her feet instead of an empty nothingness.

“……Water!” she said, shifting so that his cock sprang and bounded and without any guidance whatsoever smoothly and perfectly unerringly entered her.

He knew both pain and pleasure then, the agony of fire and ice in amounts so huge as to be overwhelming and his manhood grew in size and stature enough to thrill him beyond all measure. His body ached more than it would have done had be been run over by a steam roller, ached as much as it did when……no, pretty as she was Sue had never managed to make him feel anything like as aroused as this!

“Fantastic!” he yelled into thin air, then, amazed by his energy he thrust into her again and again, yelling wildly, like a true lunatic.

………………

“You’re different” Sue said when next he met her. “What’s happened?”

“I……I went to see Miss Wiseheart……and before you say anything, yes, I know she is a witch!”

“So people say” Sue said.

“Some do” he agreed.

“And others may simply be envious” Sue told him “Jealous even, but……but I’m not……”

“You’re not?

“No! And I won’t be so long as you promise to show me what you learnt from her……

“Oh I will! I will!” John said.

© Aahlu 190811.