A Witch Wanders In

Kinki soared through the inky blackness of a cloud-cast night. It still felt good to fly, even after three days of travel. A true expression of freedom, streaking through the open air towards an ever-changing horizon. After three years of looking down on the same sea of trees… anything else seemed exciting.

Still, she'd need to find somewhere to set down soon. The young witch could feel a storm on the way, through the changing cut of icy winds against her naked skin and an electric tingle spreading from her crown down to her cooch. Like most prophesying, weather prediction wasn't exactly a precise magic… relying more on gut feeling and one's instinctual connection to the natural world. But a witch who couldn't tell lightning was on the way probably shouldn't be allowed access to the skies.

However, there was a certain allure to pushing on regardless. Letting the swelling wind begin to push and pull her as it would and the splattering rain begin to drench her unwashed hair and body. It wasn't that you didn't feel the cold and the damp, or the dust and the sun for that matter; zipping around at unsheltered altitudes in nothing but your birthday suit. You just trained and glamoured yourself into not being bothered by such… and trusted in a fortified constitution that would weather such rigours. Being a witch was mainly just experiencing life at a level most people weren't willing to.

The gusts were definitely picking up now, as Kinki's course was tossed to and fro at turbulent random. Her lumpy, twisted sprig of pine (or ‘broomstick’ according to popular belief) wrenched obstinately beneath her bare arse. There were all manner of salacious rumours about the unholy strength of a witch's thighs… many of them true… but it certainly didn't hurt that locking them in tensely was all that kept you from falling to certain **** on occasion. Several well-worn nodules were also rubbing themselves quite vigorously against her sensitivities, sending shivers up Kinki's spine. Perhaps earning pleasure from a shaft of knobbly wood might seem unfeasible for a lesser woman… but when one regularly cavorts with demons, splinters seem like a small fear.

Her long, black hair whipped about with the weight of the water it had absorbed. Her grip upon the pine slipped in increasingly heartstopping regularity. She missed the first flash of lightning, but felt its thunder in the pit of her stomach. The next flashed past only half a mile to her left. Yep… while this was certainly exhilarating and like most scenarios in life was mainly just making her horny… either the stray fates or common sense were definitely indicating now would be a good time to find shelter.

Ahead and below, a small, flickering light could be seen. A dwelling of some kind with lamps lit, even at this hour. That would have to do!