Olga Fantasy Trip Ch. 01

** Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. **

The Dimwit Sorcerer

This was a warm day of spring. Olga was laying on the grass, bare foot, reading an art magazine, right next to Richard. They had parked the camper a few hundred meters away. The sun was shining, the sky was a pristine blue. Olga's mind was free from any parasitic thoughts.

Only, this calm state was about to be shattered in pieces, as the young woman started feeling a tingling sensation in the tip of her toes. Right before she could realize what was happening to her, Olga's legs were already worryingly wiggling. Soon, her whole body was swirling around itself and her sight blurred for an instant. In the blink of an eye, she found herself inexplicably laying in a dark and unfamiliar room.

Where was she? And how the hell did this magic trick happen? Olga was struck by the coldness of the stone on which she was sitting. Letting her eyes adapt to the darkness, she searched for some clues to find out where the hell she could have landed. She started discerning the circle-shaped stone walls of the room alongside the many shelves crowded with heavy books and strange objects. There were some empty and full vials with colorful liquids inside, rolls spread all over the wooden desk and on the ground. Some dry herbs were hanging from the ceiling and skulls of all sizes were filling entire cabinets. The place was dimly lit with a few candles here and there. Almost no light was passing through the window. The sky was glowing uncannily, yellowish and purple colored.

Olga glanced at herself. She opened eyes wide as she noticed she was suddenly wearing a French maid outfit, designed with a pinkish white fabric and rose-colored frills. The garment was way too tight for her, oh not because it was undersized but because her breasts had grown at least thrice in size and were now swelling out of the clothing. The skirt, if you could even call it that way, fell not lower than her belly button and the only thing that was covering her lower body were a pair of tights and white striped panties. Around her neck was tied a frilled collar in the same tone and to top it all off, she was now magically wearing a pair of high-heels.

On the ground, she spotted some freshly painted red lines she hadn't noticed before. They formed a star-shaped drawing contained in a circle. A massive candle was lit at each point. And Olga was standing at the exact center of it. Looking right behind her for the first time, focused on the marking on the stones, Olga's glance stumbled upon two worn-out shoes on which was falling a grey gown. Slowly raising her eyes, she beheld an elderly man, white beard falling to his chest, hooded and swathed in a long cape, looking back at her with cloudy eyes.

He was holding a crimson red book with the title "HOW TO SUMMON A HUMAN WHORE" inscribed in wide silver letters on its cover. On the back of it she could also read "No magic skills needed" and "For the dimwits too!".

Although she was now officially a dumb "human whore", it didn't take long for Olga to realize what had happened to her. As scary as it sounded, the old man seemed very well to be a sorcerer, by the look of him. And she had without a doubt been "summoned" here, intentionally or by mistake. More likely willingly, she thought, glimpsing at the bulge forming under the elder man's clothing.

Olga's worries were confirmed when he dropped his book on a shelf and gazed at her with a smug look on his face. He reached for the back of her skull, grabbing a handful of her wavy brown locks, cut in a French bob hairstyle with a bang, and pinned the woman's head to his crotch. With his other fingers, he pulled his already twitching dick from under his dirty cloak.

The unbearable stench of his unwashed manhood immediately filled Olga's nostrils. She almost fainted from the putrid smell of macerated moldy old semen, a rancid and spicy stink, overwhelming her mind.

Olga was completely paralyzed, rooted to the spot. She was stunned by the turn of events and afraid of the man's powers and what he could do to her. He may have been an elder who she could have pushed away easily, nonetheless he was a wizard!

So she let him rub his cock against her smooth skin. The old geezer mumbled muffled sounds of satisfaction as he playfully poked her features with his glans. The swollen tip of his shaft hit Olga on the cheeks, on the nose and on her eyes.

In a gesture of good will, Olga started pleasuring the man with her tongue. While licking his dick, she could feel the wrinkles of his loose skin at the base of it and the gross and protruding veins covering the flesh towards its top. With the tip of her tongue, Olga reluctantly gleaned every drop of smegma that had piled up in the fold of his foreskin, swallowing it down with a wince. Then she wrapped her plump lips around the head of his penis and laid a bunch of kisses on it.

Seizing this opportunity, the sorcerer pressed on the back of Olga's head, pushing himself inside her. His girth slid against his "human slut's" lips, forcing her jaw to open wider. Olga wrapped her mouth against his shaft like if she was a living suction device and let him dive down her gullet.

The old fart clutched Olga's skull with two hands. Leaning over her, he rammed his dick deeper down her throat, fucking her mouth back and forth. It was fortunate that, even after losing her clothes, her boyfriend and apparently even her world, one thing Olga had not been deprived of was her "super throat", as Richard called it, a skillful ability she was apparently born with to deepthroat any cock that would go down her oral cavity, no matter the length or the girth of it.

The wizard clearly took full advantage of it, as he nonchalantly guided Olga's head, her lips sliding up and down his rod up to the pelvis. The act of deepthroating Olga's little mouth produced a growing amount of spit and mixed pre-cum, smearing her chin and neck, leaving slimy drool along the shaft as the woman's mouth withdrew to the reddish glans, before going back down to the base. Upon reaching the hairy and itchy skin of his abdomen, bubbles and foam were stacking again around Olga's pretty lips.

With her delicate fingers, Olga gently caressed the old man's balls. This would accelerate the process, she thought, even if the greasy creases and furrows of his skin disgusted her, already staining her palms with an oily and moist filth.

Olga's lips sucking on the magician's rod filled the circular room with sloppy suction sounds, alongside guttural noises coming from her throat and the more seldom gag-reflex hiccups. This dissonant melody was echoing against the stark walls, stuffing Olga's ears with the same unpleasant feeling she was experiencing through her other hole.

Why did she end up here? She thought. Why her? She had not accepted her fate yet. Although, she knew already that it would take a whole journey to go back where she belonged.

But there was no time for daydreaming. As the wizard was closing in to his orgasm, Olga could see his eyes shrinking even tighter. At first, she had already thought of him as a poor doddering old man. Only now, on the verge of cumming, he looked all the more stupid with a wide moronic grin on his face and silly grunts coming out of his mouth.

Nevertheless, his ejaculation was not one of an impotent elderly bloke. Clinging to Olga's skull one last time, he hammered his shaft all the way in and spurted his gooey juice down her gullet. A shed-ton of it actually. So much that Olga almost choked on it, trying to gulp it down as it was blown against the back of her throat.

When his legs stopped twitching, the wizard withdrew his rod from the young woman's lips and slouched in the chair right behind him. Spitting his cum on the floor and wiping her mouth clean, Olga looked at him, astounded, as he casually fell asleep. For that he was an old geezer alright!

Olga did not let this chance slip away. She rose up, stepping in a puddle of sticky whitish liquid, and walked on tiptoes to the shelf where he had thrown the red book. She opened it and searched for the reverse spell, the one that would bring her back home. It must have existed! But she couldn't decipher the incantations, written in what seemed like a runic language.

The sorcerer startled Olga, snorting in his sleep. He was looking loathsome, his now limp dick, covered in her saliva, laying in the open air against his cloak. She decided to shove the grimoire in a jute bag laying there and to flee from this place the fastest she could.

She ran nimbly to the staircase and barreled down the steps. How many floors did this tower had? She hurried past every room, focusing solely on finding an exit. When she finally pushed the heavy wooden door of the wizard's lair, Olga took a breather from the fresh air of the meadows surrounding the tower.

To be continued...