Magic Dress - Ayesha

CHAPTER 1

I will say straight away that I was unfaithful to my wife, Emma. I make no excuses. I had sex with a beautiful black woman while the person I married was away.

Things had got into a bit of a rut in our marriage. We had Sunday fuck, and that was it. It was all we had been able to squeeze in while the children were around, but now they were mostly away (mainly returning with dirty washing or a request to "borrow" money) we should have been able to do more, but it simply did not happen. I got the occasional Wednesday wank, but wanted more, in a vague dissatisfied way. There was something missing, and we did not know what.

Now she was away with her sister, who was ready to give birth, so I was at a loose end.

On my way home from work I passed a shop along the high street call "Heart's Desire". The premises had been many things, now it was a sort of spiritual ethnic whatnot place, run by a gorgeous black woman. Emma loved it and wasted money on things from it, as did quite a lot of people, mostly women. I had accompanied her a couple of times into the shop to feast my eyes on the proprietor.

She was one of those women who probably looks much the same between 30 and 50 or even 60. She was black: not the blackest, but not coffee, proper black. And she moved like a panther. She wore sort of thin gowns in hippy colours and symbols which showed her body as she moved around. Pretty good tits and an arse to dream of. There was no other word for it, she was beautiful. And with a voice like honey, but hard to place. Maybe West Indian, maybe African, but perhaps some sort of hint of French?

She was closing up the shop when she saw me and smiled. I grinned back like a star-struck kid.

"Mister Rider, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said. "How do you know?"

"I know many secrets," she said in the sultry voice that she tended to use with customers choosing magic crystals and nonsense like that.

"Has your wife's sister had the baby yet?" she added in her normal voice.

Of course! Emma had bought some good-luck rubbish as a present, and was known as a customer. I told her not yet. I told her we were still waiting.

"Do you think you could give me a hand with getting something down the stairs? If you've got a minute, that is?"

Of course I agreed, and went into the shop with her. She locked the door.

"It's all right, I'll let you out," she remarked with that lovely smile. "I just don't want a sneak thief in."

"It's just an old armchair. If I put it round the back, the council will take it away, and I don't think I can manage myself."

Behind the shop was another room and between them a narrow staircase leading up. I followed her, not too closely, so my eyes were looking up at those amazing buttocks moving alternately under the thin cloth.

Upstairs was a little flat. In the middle of the main room was a large leather armchair, obviously the worse for wear and taking up a lot of space, but something else drew my attention.

On the wall was a painting of her, nearly nude. She had a gold thing on her hair which looked rather Egyptian. Her breasts were bare, and fulfilled my wildest guess from observing her dressed. There was a sort of red and gold bikini bottom with a cloth hanging down in the middle, but showing her legs to advantage. I was stunned.

"Oh sorry," she said. "I don't get many visitors. I hope it doesn't offend you."

"Not at all," I answered quickly. "It's beautiful."

"Artistic licence," she laughed. "Very flattering. It was a grateful customer who was a professional artist. He made a number of nude studies as well, which went to his gallery. This is me as the Queen of Sheba."

"Anyway," she continued, "enough about me. Can we get the chair shifted?"

It was old and very heavy, and a struggle to get it down the narrow stairs (with me at the bottom, of course). Then through the back room and to the back of the shops with the bin.

"Well done," she said. "You can wash your hands in the sink there."

She had a table, two chairs and several books, plus a kettle and a cupboard. She obviously sat there, when the shop was quiet. There were also a lot of boxes of stock, so there was not a much room.

When we had washed and dried, she offered her hand to me.

"I'm Ustane, by the way."

I took it and had a feeling I cannot describe. Something of pleasure and hope and wonder.

"Henry," I said.

"Pleased to meet you, Henry," she said, saying it a little like Henri as the French would. I had to ask her to repeat her name.

"Have you got time for a cup of tea?" she said, putting on the kettle and getting out two mugs.

"Why not?" I said as she busied herself by the sink.

It took a little while, and she brought something that smelled strangely spicy. Some hippy herbs I supposed. Maybe even cannabis?

"What is it?" I asked.

"Tea," she answered. "Earl Grey English tea. I get it from Sainsbury's. Best with just a little milk."

So I sat with this beautiful woman, having a mug of tea, and she we chatted. It was the perfect date.

When we had finished, I stood up and knocked a box off a pile.

"Sorry," I said, trying to pick up the objects which had fallen out.

And found myself holding a black cock and balls. I put it down quickly

"Oh dear!" she said. "I've gone and offended you again." She was smiling and did not sound at all concerned.

"No, just a surprise. I hope nothing's damaged. And these are...?"

"Yes," she said, "they're dildos. I don't have all of my stock on display but word gets around. These are actually authentic hand-carved ones in traditional styles, supplied under a Fair-Trade agreement, so the people who make them get a proper price. A lot of people have them as decoration or a talking piece."

She took a particularly large cock and balls and stood it on the table.

"Like this," she said in that beautiful honeyed voice.

She took another.

"Others have a comfortable handle, quite ergonomic and very functional, as I believe some of my customers know. In the past the best ones were ivory, but these are all sustainable hardwood."

"In some cultures it was expected that a husband would make one for his wife to use while he was away on trade or war. In others they were banned with severe punishments."

"Oh dear," she said. "Sorry for going on. I think we'd better let you get home before people get the wrong idea. Thanks for the help and the chat."

Which was a problem. Because I had a raging boner which would show if I stood up. I could feel myself blushing.

She obviously realised the problem and was tactful about it.

"I'll just go into the shop," she said. "The toilet's up the stairs on the left if you want it."

As soon as she had gone, I crept up the stairs and was confronted by the picture. Oh, she was so beautiful!

I went into the toilet and got my cock out, thinking that maybe a piss would let it down, but it was up so hard that I would make a mess. The only thing was to shoot my load. Then I thought of the painting.

Going back to the toilet door, I opened it and peered out. I could just see the painting.

"Oh Ustane!" I groaned quietly as I began to stroke away, gazing on that beautiful face and body.

I meant to stop myself before I came, and do it into the toilet, but it was so quick that I fountained across the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Fuck!" I said.

"Oh," said a voice. She was looking up the stairs.

"Well, you certainly needed that," she said.

"Shit!" I said.

"It's all right. I'll deal with it. Just deal with yourself."

I closed the door and wiped myself, coming out to discover she had already wiped the carpet, and was in the little kitchen area.

"Don't say a word," she said. "No need to explain. But as I'm perfectly safe, why don't you stay for dinner, if you don't mind curry. I'm just going to make it."

"It was all those dildos, wasn't it?" she remarked casually, while cooking. "And of course your wife being away. I'm glad you liked my painting, though."

I don't know how it happened. We had a meal and we talked. I learned that she had had a man named Leo, but it was not clear if he was dead or they had just parted. I never found out where she came from, not then or later. In fact, I learned very little about her.

But she learned so much from me. About my job, about my children and how our marriage was just coasting along, and there seemed to be something missing. I don't think she pumped me, it just came out. She listened and was sympathetic.

I went home feeling happy.

CHAPTER 2

Emma phoned to say that there had been an easy birth, mother and baby were doing well, and she would be staying for a few more days. She also asked me to pass on both their thanks to the woman in the Heart's Desire shop.

"Ustane," I said.

"You know her name?"

"She told me when she asked me if the baby had arrived," I said. "I'll pass on the message."

But why their thanks? I supposed there must have been some magic charm or other nonsense.

Next day on my way home from work, the shop was still open, so I went in. Two women were still discussing things very seriously, so I looked around. It seemed mostly concerned with some sort of magic, with some cheap objects and some obviously works of art, mainly African (I supposed) and quite expensive. There were also displays of cheaper New Age sort of stuff and some bright coloured clothing with interesting designs.

When the customers had finished, I told her the news, and also passed on the message.

"I am so pleased!" she said, and kissed me on the cheek. "Though I did not really do anything. I just sold a little good luck thing for women. If you believe that sort of thing it helps, so maybe the mother was happier, and the baby knew it."

"Now, shall we celebrate? Is it too early for you to have some Earl Grey?"

Instead of the back room, we went upstairs where my eyes went immediately to the painting. It really was a work of art.

"Look all, you want," she said happily. "Paintings are meant to be enjoyed, and women like to be appreciated."

There must have been something in the tea, though it tasted the same.

For when we had finished, she said calmly "So you want to have sex with me?" and I said yes. Which was, of course, true. It had been exactly what I thought about so many times.

"Well, I want to have sex with you. So we shall, if the magic dress agrees."

Maybe I was hypnotised. Why did I not just get up and leave?

She went to wardrobe where there was a row of green dresses. She looked through and took out one.

"I think this is right," she said. "She will tell us."

There was a label "Ayesha".

"It is a rule with my lovers. They must put on a dress. Here is Ayesha for you."

There must have been something in the tea. But I had poured it from the pot and handed the mug to her. We had both used the same milk and no sugar.

"You want me to put on a dress?"

"No, I want to have sex with you. It is a long time, and I really need it, and I want you. But if you do not put on the dress, I will not. It is your choice. If you are afraid, you need not."

It was nonsense. I could put on the dress and show that I was not afraid and did not believe in it. Then I could take it off and go home.

Or I could have sex with her.

I took off my shirt and trousers, keeping my underpants.

She helped me on with the dress, and I got that same thrill as her hands touched me.

Then it was on and I felt something else. Something right. As if you had some kind of ache which you have become used to and it suddenly disappears, or if you put down a big burden.

"Move around. Enjoy it," said Ustane, and I did, feeling light and free.

"Take off those silly pants." Of course! And I felt even better.

She had been sitting on a sort of padded bench. She got up and guided me to it. Somehow I had to do what she said, and found myself on my knees with my body resting on the bench. There were pads under my knees and it was very comfortable. I did not know what was happening but felt sure it would be right.

She told me to stay still and I obeyed.

There was some sort of grease applied to my bum-hole which stung for a moment, then felt warm and pleasant. And then a finger inside, slowly probing which felt nice. I don't know why I just accepted it.

Then it was out, and she walked around where I could see.

Looking sideways and up, I saw a perfect nude black woman. Wearing a device of red straps and gold links like in the picture from which protruded a stiff black cock.

"I want to fuck you," she said in the sultriest sexiest voice imaginable. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes," was all I could say.

I had read about it, and even seen some things online. People said it was very good. I had been curious, but it's not the sort of thing you could ask your wife, is it? She would think I was gay.

She went behind me, adjusted the dress and slowly entered. To this day, I don't know why I allowed it. Except that I had been trying not to think of what it must be like to be filled like a woman for a long while, and now I knew how much I really wanted it.

There was pain as well as pleasure, and my cock was stiff under the bench. Then the movement started, the pain went and the pleasure rose to a blissful pre-orgasmic state which went on and on. I felt her breasts moving on my back and her thighs pressing against my bum, and all the while that smooth black cock sliding in and out. The sensation moved to a higher level as if I was coming continuously, and she kissed me on the back of my neck.

"Enjoy," she said softly.

Somehow it was just long enough when she slowed down and eventually withdrew. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. We both rested, then she came around to me, and I looked up and sideways to see a beautiful black woman. The dildo was gone and her black cunt lips were slightly open to show the pink inside, which was itself a lovely sight.

"Don't move," she said tenderly. "We must be careful not to mark Ayesha."

The skirt had been tucked onto the bench at the front, and up my back behind. She held it, as I got up and quickly lifted the dress over my head. She told me to go and clean up, which I did.

When I came back she had one of her silken gowns on.

"You did well," she told me. "Ayesha always knows. Now you know too. What you do now is up to you, but Ayesha will be waiting if you want me to fuck you again. I also will be ready."

CHAPTER 3

I felt a bit guilty, but perhaps not as much as I should. Yes, I had been sexually frustrated, but who was to know that was what I wanted? In fact, how could she possibly know? It couldn't be magic of course. A magician on TV had said that some supposed mind-readers and other charlatans were actually very good at reading people. In fact, as she liked fucking men, it might be obvious to her which men wanted to be fucked. Perhaps there were other people who could see it on me as clearly as if I had been wearing a sign.

I thought I would leave it. Just a sort of fling. I hadn't actually fucked Ustante, after all. Maybe I could somehow get Emma round to the idea in a year or two. Or perhaps not. Just a secret memory.

I held out for three days before I went into the shop after work.

"Ayesha," I said, and she smiled.

When she had closed up the shop, we went upstairs and she offered me a new armchair, while she sat on the bench.

"So, Henry Rider, what is it you want from me?"

"Ayesha," I said.

"No. You must tell me exactly what you want. You must not be afraid to say the words."

I swallowed nervously.

"I want to put on the dress and be fucked."

"But I do not want to fuck you in a dress," she said sternly. "So which is it to be, Sir? The dress or a fucking?"

"The fucking," I whispered.

She smiled.

"Well done. You and I will only do what we both want. You have come here as a man and asked to be fucked, and I am pleased to do it. It did not make you less of a man. It was not the dress or the drugs you suspected I had given you. It is just something you want. That is what the magic dress does, it merely reveals your desire. What you do with that knowledge is your decision alone."

I was just simply naked this time, and she got me to kneel on the bed with a towel under me. As I now knew what to expect, I was even thrusting back and adjusting my position. It was no longer something being done to me, but with me. The pleasure was as great and prolonged as ever, and the towel collected more than I would have expected.

When we had both cleaned up, she said "See, you did not need Ayesha. But would you like her for a while?"

That seemed a wonderful idea.

She brought the dress, and also a bra and panties.

"Ayesha thinks you might like these as well. Would you?"

Yes I would.

She fitted the bra, which had some sort of padding in it, and I put on the panties and felt quite pleased. When I put on the dress, it was perfect. Not a woman, of course, but I liked it.

She made a salad tea, and of course Earl Grey, and we chatted. She knew an amazing amount about the world, especially different cultures and history. But I still learned very little about her.

Finally I asked her "Do you really do magic?" She thought for a moment.

"What I do in the shop is to relay traditional beliefs. If people believe in them and they work, then perhaps it is magic, but a natural magic of the priestesses, not the spells and curses of the wizards or the rules and punishment of the priests."

"What I do with people is to try to help them understand what they really want, and sometimes it brings pleasure to me, as with you. Shall I see you in three days?"

That was the signal to go. I changed and went home.

In three days' time I hurried there.

We went upstairs and she told me to undress as she did the same.

Then she kissed me and held me close, her beautiful breasts against me, her cunt against my balls as my cock was pressed against her belly.

Then she drew back.

"Do you wish to fuck me?" she said in the most inviting tones.

"Oh yes! Yes!" I said.

"You are still a man. That is good. But you will not fuck me."

"You don't want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, I do, very much. But that is my desire. My choice is different. You should know your desires, but make your decisions about them."

She went and got the dress.

"So do you still want to wear a dress and be fucked yourself?"

I did not hesitate.

"Yes, I do, I do!"

"So tell these desires to your wife. Now we shall both get dressed, and have some tea."

As we sipped our Earl Grey, I protested that I couldn't tell Emma what I wanted.

"You are a man," she said. "You have great power, and you love a woman. You should each know the other's feelings and desires. What she chooses to do about them is her decision. But she deserves to know, and you deserve to be rid of the burden of secrecy."

I was almost tearful, as I said "But what about you and me. What shall I tell her?"

"What else but the truth?"

But what was the truth? What had actually happened? I wasn't really sure. And how could I possibly tell Emma that I had had sex with another woman? And had this strange desire?

"I think you need Ayesha again," she said kindly, and went and got the dress. She helped me with the bra and panties, and I put on the dress.

And I was happy and calm. I did not know exactly what I would say or when, but I knew that I could and would do it. And I knew that Emma loved me, and would understand, though it would be her decision what we did next. But she deserved to know, and I had to tell her the truth and stand by her decision.

Ustane promised that she would never tell Emma. It was my responsibility.

CHAPTER 4

It was about a week later that Emma came home. We hugged and kissed, then had a meal and talked about the baby. I did not understand the details but the doctors had been quite worried about the late pregnancy and birth. Ustane had sold her some kind of mojo or juju or charm or whatever, and had told her things to say to her sister.