Quinlan

“Hey, wake up!” A determined voice rocked Quinlan, the magician slowly starting to rouse from his sleep.
“There’s someone who wants to see you.” The voice went on.
“Really?” Quinlan mumbled back, raising himself with his arm, “I can’t see why.”

Opening his eyes, Quinlan could see how Kerri, one of the three whores with whom he had spent much of the previous night, was standing by the bed, the harlot having donned a purple robe, which she had tied shut with a sash around her waist.
Kerri and her two colleagues, both of which were sleeping in the bed next to Quinlan, were semi-regular visitors to Quinlan’s home, and he trusted them enough to allow them to stay the night there.
Naturally, he had had an eye to their appearances when he picked them to be his favourite whores, and each of them embodied his preferences when it came to his bed-mates: large tits, pretty faces and hard, curvaceous bodies.

“All the same,” Kerri gave Quinlan a warm smile, “you can’t spend all day lazing around in bed.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Quinlan agreed, and rose from the messy bed, his hard cock jerking from side to side as he stepped onto the floor.
“I’ve always wondered,” Kerri grinned as she clasped her fingers around the thick trunk of Quinlan’s long member, “how does it feel to know that parts of your body rise up long before you do?”

Smiling at her question, Quinlan let out a groan when the whore moved her fist up to his cockhead, gently squeezing the fist-sized bulge while using her other hand to cup his sperm-filled balls.

“Fuck…” He whispered, and shook his head.
“Tell me,” Quinlan asked Kerri, while feeling his cock twitching against her grip, “is the reason why I’m out of bed much too early a man or a woman.”
“Oh,” Kerri replied, while eyeing his penis, “it’s some skinny young lad, a typical errand boy.”
“Ah,” Quinlan scratched his stubble, “I guess I’d better put something on then. Hand me my robe, would you?”

Letting go off Quinlan’s cock, Kerri removed the purple robe that she was wearing, and offered it to him.
While pulling the robe on, Quinlan noted the vast trails of his dried-up cum that was visible on Kerri’s voluptuous frame.
It was pretty amusing really, how things could develop: after learning the rather complex spells which allowed him to stay hard for virtually forever and pump out gallons of jizz, Quinlan had finally taken the time to learn the ridiculously simple spells that would clean his sheets and make his bed.

“So,” Quinlan asked Kerri after dressing in the robe, “how do I look?”
As he said that, the front of the garment parted and his cock slid into full view again, causing Kerri to giggle lightly.
“Well,” she said, once again grasping hold of the heavy prick, “I really think that you should do something about this before you go and see your visitor.”
“And you’d be kind enough to help me out in that would you?” Quinlan replied, “Nah, you can wake up Danele and Halla while I’m gone instead.”
At that, Quinlan nodded at the two naked women still sleeping in his bed.
“Any suggestions on how I’m to do that?” Kerri queried, her hand now stroking Quinlan’s dick.
“Well, licking their pussies is the one method that comes to mind.”
Once Kerri had let go off his cock, however unwillingly, and crawled back into the bed, Quinlan set out to meet his visitor.

The house which was Quinlan’s home was located in the Kettle, on one of those narrow streets placed beside the boulevards along which the brothels and taverns were lined up, and usually meant to be the homes of the higher-earning whores; a small but well-built home for the well-to-do harlot.
In Quinlan’s case, he had bought the house since it would be about the last place anyone would look for a high-powered magician, and his magic had allowed him to increase the styling of the inside of it to compete with that of a wealthy nobleman's, while retaining its inconspicuous atmosphere on the outside.

Standing in the hallway when Quinlan reached it was a young man, like Kerri had said, looking to be little more than sixteen or seventeen years of age.
“Hey, Dizzy…” Quinlan said to the youngling.

Dizalgo “Dizzy” Ral’Chievo grinned at Quinlan’s greeting, and then transformed into the shape of the sixty-year old man that he was, a grey beard taking the place of the previously hairless chin, while deep wrinkles appeared on his face.

“How on earth did you that it was me?” Dizzy asked.

“Simple, none of you boys over at the academy would be dumb enough to send a kid to give me a message, and the Assistant Dean, IE you, is the only one childish enough to try and trick me with a polymorph stunt like that."

“Blast and curses! Once again my inner child has betrayed me!” Dizzy proclaimed with a silly grin.
His harmless madness and his unwavering loyalty, both of which were uncommon traits among wizards (murderous madness and negotiable loyalty, on the other hand…), were the reasons why Dizzy remained one of the very few wizards towards which Quinlan maintained some level of friendliness.

“Gods,” Quinlan shook his head, “tell me that you’ve come and waken me up for some other reason than to play simple tricks and drink all my tea?”
“Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind a cup,” Dizzy said, licking his lips, “though I actually do have a slightly more reasonable reason for me being here, so to speak.”