Postcards

Vicki saw the “email” icon on her phone.  She knew that the message was from her best friend Julia.  Both of them were traveling, for different reasons, but both women continued their tradition of sending the other “postcards” – self-made, often self-taken photos, of their travels.

She was waiting in a New York airport for her connecting flight.  Her traveling companion Dr. Colin Bishara was asleep, resting his head on her shoulder.   She opened the email.

starsAccording to her message Julia was in Norway, studying shamanic revival practices.  In the first image, Julia’s red hair peeked out of her fur-lined hood.  The scene behind Julia was an expanse of dark woods and white snow.  There seemed to be nothing around Julia, except the fairy tale dark woods.  A large coat covered her from the hood to the tops of her dark boots.  Vicki didn’t have to wonder about what the coat concealed for long.

In the next image, Julia had the coat open, and she was, as Vicki expected, nude.  Vicki shivered in the airport, wondering how Julia could stand being naked in the snow.  The cold, and probably the company, made Julia’s nipples small dark nubs in the image.  In the next shot, Julia wasn’t alone. Her coat was laid on the ground, and she was on all fours.  A large blond man, also nude, stood behind her.  His erection was impressive given the cold.  He looked so much like a television Viking, that Vicki smiled suspecting this had led Julia to pursue him.  Vicki wondered whether someone taking the pictures for the couple, or if the camera was set on a tripod.  The next shot showed the man with his cock buried in Julia.

Vicki crossed her legs, feeling herself become aroused.  She imaged what it would feel like to be nude in the snow.  Julia had kept her boots on, but Vicki knew how much something like wearing only shoes could make a person feel even more naked.  Would the Viking’s cock and her own heat chase the chill away, or was Julia’s pussy cold?  There was no way for Vicki to know, but she didn’t mind thinking about it.  Imagining her own breasts swinging in the cold, nipples hard with both excitement and the chill.  In the picture, the Viking had his hands on Julia’s hips, and her hair had swung forward in a red arch that hid her face. The vibrant sweep of hair gave Vicki some idea of how fast the man must be moving.

postcard1Was this part of a ritual of some sort, or was this just sport?  What did the dark woods behind them feel like? Was their primeval energy part of the scene? The fairy tale woods full of monsters that loomed over the image, gave Vicki a shiver.  Images of ogres, goblins, and more mundane monsters like wolves flashed through her mind.  With what she had learned over the last few months, she thought all supernatural creatures could be possible.

Vicki glanced around the airport.  The airport was still full of passengers, but no one was close enough to see her screen.  Still she tilted her screen toward the sleeping figure of Colin.  She was letting herself get too caught up in the pictures; she never should have opened them in the airport.  Nevertheless, she opened the next image.

Julia and her Viking were not alone.  They had moved to an outdoor hot tub.  It was a wooden tub, with the glowing embers of a fire underneath.  It sat on a wooden deck, in what looked like the same clearing near the woods.  The snow was still mounded on the ground, but no one seemed to notice.  In this shot, Julia was kissing a blond woman.  Both women were entwined with one another, their bodies hidden in the rippling water and rising steam.  In the next, shot Julia was sitting on the edge of the hot tub with the blond woman had her face between Julia’s legs.  Julia had her head thrown back with a small smile.  Her hand rested on the blond woman’s head.  Vicki imaged how that scene had played out as well.  Julia would ride that woman’s face until she came.  Then perhaps they would switch.  No, Vicki thought, that was too tame for Julia.  The Viking would join them, impaling the blond on his cock while Julia watched them.  She’d act the director, ordering him to fuck the blond faster and harder and deeper.  Or maybe the three of them would be together.  Julia’s mouth on the blond’s  pussy, while the Viking fucked her again.  Vicki stared at the picture, noting what could have been human forms in the background.  Maybe others had joined them? The figures seemed to be standing in the shadows of the dark woods, and Vicki wondered if the fairy tale monsters had joined them.  What would an ogre add to the hot tub threesome?

postcard 3The message ended with a report on Julia’s studies, which Vick skimmed.  She’d digest the details of Julia’s research later.  Right now she was tired, and horny as hell.  She skimmed Julia’s best wishes.

Vicki scrolled through her phone for the New York pictures she had chosen for Julia.

The pictures were all from Vicki and Colin’s hotel room in New York.  Vicki’s eyes traced the picture.  These were from another ritual to track Pharaoh Djet.  In the first picture, she was naked pressed against the room’s large window.  Her nipples tingled recalling how the cold glass had felt against her breasts.  She wondered if Julia had enjoyed the cold in her pictures.  Vicki’s pussy grew warm thinking about how exposed she’d been in the window. Even on such a high floor, there were plenty of buildings around with clear views of the window.  She’d seen movies and a television shows that all used the “Rear Window” trope of the bored voyeur neighbor, to wonder if someone had been watching her.  In the picture, her back was already painted with complicated hieroglyphics and arcane symbols.  She attached it to her message.

postcard 4Of course that wasn’t the only picture of that ritual, and it wasn’t the only one she would send.  She swiped to the next one, knowing it wasn’t the one she was looking for.  She was seated in front of the window, her legs swung over the arms of the room’s only chair.  It had been a wide-seated chair, she recalled, so it had left her thighs aching and her feeling even more exposed.  She doubted she could have been more splayed open to the skyline if she had tried.  The ritual words drifted through her memory. They had been calling to the sky and winds for aid, so of course performing the ritual in front of the window made sense.   She looked at the picture, showing her from behind.  Her naked back and bare feet were all that the image showed.   She skipped to the next picture; this one was taken from the front.  Colin had knelt before her, between her and the window.  She had a bronze dildo buried in her pussy.  The photo caught the gleam of metal slick with her own juices as she slid it inside.  Her hand was blurred, obviously in motion, but Colin had captured her splayed open legs and pussy stretched around the bronze dildo in crisp detail.  She was wet just looking at herself.  She regretted that they didn’t think about making a video.  Colin had backed away after that picture, not wanting to block her view of the window, or perhaps any else’s view of her.  She squeezed her legs together, remembering the hard metal of the dildo filling her.  She recalled Colin urging her on, suggesting that she rub her clit.  She’d frigged herself with that dildo for the gods and spirits of the air to see, all the while chanting the words he had taught her.

postcard 5The picture didn’t catch the moment she came, still crying out the lines of the chant.  Nor were their pictures of Colin taking the dildo, still slick with her lubrication and laying it on the map.  She had stayed, splayed open in the chair, watching the metal phallus begin to slowly turn on the map.  It pointed toward France.  Not what they had expected, but it was now where they would go.  Before she could move, Colin returned to kneel before her and his tongue inflamed her still quivering pussy.

This she did have a picture of.  It echoed Julia’s in many ways.  Vicki’s thighs framed Colin’s face, and her hand rested on his shaved head.  She wriggled at the memory of his mouth on her clit, sucking gently on her clit, before running his tongue down the length of her.  She shifted her legs, slinging them over his shoulders, tilting her pelvis to rock against his face.  She came again, watching the blank windows of the buildings next door.

She glanced at the picture, thinking about how much it hadn’t captured.  She attached it as the final in the series.

She’d already written the text of her message, both witches trading their magical education, just as they traded their naughty images.  She pulled her coat on to lap, laying it over her legs like a blanket.  It was cool enough in the airport that no one would look askance.  She slipped her hand under the coat and into her panties as she hit send.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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