Low hanging fruit

Kinki wandered through the sunshine of a clean and clear morning. She had left her sprig of pine in the house of whoever she had woken up next to: better to learn the local area on foot. It had been rather a pleasant night, all things considered… That woman was certainly eager to please. All her sisters’ warnings about how repressed and squeamish the normies were seemed to be hot air after all.

The witch smiled and waved to a little old woman who was sweeping the storm’s evidence away from the path up to her front door. The grey-haired creature blinked once… then twice, from behind thick round spectacles. As if trying to check if the younger lady walking completely naked down her lane might actually just be a smudge upon the lenses, or ghost from long lost memories. Once she’d deduced the sight was real however, she offered a slightly bemused and amused return of the greeting. Perhaps she’d met another such wandering mystic, long ago when years seemed shorter?

Kinki continued onwards, into a village still waking up. Those of her art required little in the way of sleep really, though a short doze after any round of vigorous love-making was its own pleasure. Back at the coven they’d rut through the moonlight with all the demons and denizens of darkness and still be up at dawn in time to tease the woodsmen from their bathing places. ‘Physical Extroversion’ Mother Ropeburn called it… the ability to draw energy from intimacy. She claimed there were even sisters of more voyeuristic persona who hadn’t slept in centuries, simply sitting on snowy mountaintops and constantly masturbating themselves into a state of enlightened hyperawareness. They could reach out with their mind’s eye and see all the dirty, little dalliances that went on behind closed doors; finding no end of inspiration to keep their clit-ticklers whirring.

In the centre of the small, cobbled community she found an open square, marked and decorated by tall, ribboned poles and overshadowed by a church’s steeple. Here there was already some hustle and bustle, as stallholders arranged their wares on mismatched wooden tables and the most dedicated of shoppers flitted around trying to find the first bargain. As Kinki wandered casually into view, sniffing at the wafts of freshly baked bread and grinning widely at anyone who caught her eye… the first bout of hurried whispers and impolite pointing began. The witch herself barely noticed. There were too many other delights ensnaring her heightened senses to pay attention to any shocked and indignant huffs and tuts that might be following her around. After all, a life spent being incredibly self-aware did not really necessitate much interest in others’ opinions. A witch knew precisely what she was thinking or feeling at any moment… it took a certain amount of effort to direct that degree of focus onto anyone else.

Reaching a portly greengrocer and his wide array of fresh and ripened produce, she marvelled at the plumpness and perfection of most of his wares. 'Agriculture' and 'selective-breeding' were alien concepts to the coven, who simply dug for roots with their bare hands or plucked whatever fruit the forest offered them.

“They’re all so big!” She exclaimed, reaching out to heft and fondle some sort of melon.

“Yours ain’t too bad yourself…” Coughed the grocer, before immediately turning bright red.

Kinki looked confused for a moment, before noting the man staring avidly at her breasts. She chuckled gayly at his misspent embarrassment.

“You can give them a squeeze if you like, while I look through yours.” She offered shruggingly, without a hint of insecurity on her own part.

This put the poor stallholder even further out of step… but he wasn’t the kind to let such an opportunity slip by. Sheepishly, he reached over and cupped one of Kinki's ample orbs, seeming sure at any moment he was going to find the catch. But the young witch simply carried on digging through the piles of his produce, completely ignoring him even as he began bouncing and fondling the flesh in his palm.

The greengrocer looked over at the fishmonger on the next stall and grinned smugly, now with both the naked stranger's breasts squarely in his grip.

“Can I have this one?” Asked Kinki, holding up what was certainly the largest and juiciest peach available.

“You just take whatever you want, ma'am!” Replied the fruit's former owner, tweaking a nipple in pure delight.