I was born and raised in Kokomo, Indiana. It's a small place; not much to do but go out to eat, to movies, or to work. It's a pretty boring place to be for young college students, but I guess that's why you have friends in other towns. I have auburn hair with natural faint blond highlights. I am 5'9", and, not to toot my own horn, am quite the looker; or so I'm told. I come from a family that is extremely religious and oppressing. My name is Troy and I am a 20 year old man with a mother who is a semi-kleptomaniac and alcoholic while my father is a hypocrite and a liar.

I am a student at the Indiana University of Kokomo and am studying to become a history professor. I prefer to study the more ancient past than the recent, but I especially find the Salem Witch Trials fascinating. Although, this more of an excuse for me to find relatives that my family doesn't know about. My family, regardless of the fact that we converted a century or two ago, are blood descendants of witches. But like I said, my family has converted and has turned their back on our heritage. It's not that I actually want to practice witchcraft but that I could have researched subjects on which people are unclear and don't understand. When I started asking around the family, they were shocked that I was interested in the subject and preferred that I stay away from the subject. However, I persisted and managed to get a collection of books that contained remedies, curses, spells, and potions that our long-deceased family created and used. Some of my relatives believe that we have dormant, uncontrolled powers that could break loose at any moment and that we should just leave well-enough alone and live normal lives. I'm convinced they are scared of what can happen when we don't exercise caution.

One summer holiday during a family reunion, I am being grilled by everyone and their brother about not finding a suitable girlfriend. This goes on for about an hour or two when I get so pissed off that I scream at them that maybe I haven't had a girlfriend because I have no intention of having one, and would prefer to have a boyfriend because it's something that I want and not what they want. Man, the silence that occupied that room was extremely intense. The only person- before this- who knew I was gay was my best friend Belle (you'll meet her later). It took a moment to realize what just came out of my mouth. When it all soaked in, I kept my look of rage intact and left them all sitting there speechless. Before I left, I decided that to say, "Oh, and by the way, I'm trying my hand at witchcraft, too; just to let you know since I'm sharing my life with you." I was beyond pissed. No one even chased me to my car to try and calm me down. I didn't even bother unloading the trunk, which had a suitcase and bag packed for the weekend reunion, because I knew something like this would happen. I drove back to my little house I rented in Greentown and just went to my bed and laid there in absolute disgust.

I got up after an hour (by this time it's about 1:00 AM in the middle of June on a Saturday) and went to the collection of books I obtained and poured over them to distract me from my anger. Inside one of the volumes, I came across a binding spell on the left page. I noticed that the corner of the page was turned down to mark it for someone. I know it wasn't anybody in my family who used the books because they were about as magical as curdling milk. On the right page, there was a reversal spell that needed very little ingredients to get to work properly. I had almost everything in my kitchen except for the ginger root for which the spell called. Ironically, I knew a local witch who was having a gathering tonight and when I called and asked her to loan me ginger root; she graciously obliged and was at my door within an hour. With the moon at the highest point like the book instructed, I began the spell and chanted the incantation that triggered it. There was a puff of smoke, a stench of burnt hair, and I felt like I was going to puke everywhere. Leaving the kitchen a disaster area, I went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up and went to my shower. I peeled out of my clothes I never changed out of from yesterday, turned on the hot water, and checked myself out in the mirror while the water heated up. I wore glasses almost daily, but today I wore them and they are fogging my vision. I removed them and everything was clear as day. I decided that my vision was miraculously improved and that the fumes from the dud potion helped eyesight not unbind powers. I also noticed that my torso was more chiseled this morning than it had ever been before.

"What the hell...?" I murmured to myself. My face was flawless, my body would have put a god to shame, and my sight was near flawless. I looked down to see myself still having the same cock. It never needed any help to begin with, but I was concerned that something bad might have happened. Thankfully, it was still its same cut eight and a half to nine inches with my morning hard-on. Feeling like I was the luckiest person in the world, possibly the universe, I was horny with happiness. I stepped into the shower and began to hum to myself. I started to wash and soon began massaging my dick in slow strokes. I got a bit more of my Irish Spring body wash and began letting the soap turn bubbly around my chiseled abs and soft skin. I noticed that I didn't have a piece of hair on my chest or crotch. I gave up shaving them long ago because the hair grew back so quickly I was spending all my time doing that. The soap proceeded to slowly glide down my shaft and began forming droplets on the head. Other bubbles were floating down the sides of my thighs and onto my balls. Slowly, I massaged them; playing with scrotum and softly bouncing the balls in my hand. With my right hand, I began stroking myself and felt the wonderful pleasure of a gliding hand moving across the soft surface of soapy cock. My left hand left my balls and proceeded to feel out the rest of my body. My abs weren't rock-hard, but the soft and muscly kind that once you touched you were lost in space and could never stop touching them. My hands found their way to my nipples and they massaged, touched, twisted, and played with them, while my cock got continually harder in my hand.

I kept up the process for a minute or two. Once my penis was its full nine inches, I knelt down in the shower and began to masturbate a little more vigorously. My right hand still twisting and pulling, I moved my left hand to my ass. The cheeks were firm and tough, the crack was hairless, and my hole was screaming to be played with. I reached under and began to tease and tickle my pucker. I was coming close to my climax; my breathing was deeper and my cock was becoming more sensitive by the second. I penetrated my hole at first with one finger, trying to make it open a touch more. Soon, I was moaning in ecstasy, adding second and third fingers, begging to the heavens to send me a man that could fuck me raw. I quickly finger-fucked myself and soon my dick was releasing cum all over my chest, face, and crotch. I smeared the white cream all over my body and proceeded to stand, wash myself off, and get ready for work.

Feeling a million times better (if that was even possible), I clocked in at the library for my Sunday shift. There was a small pile of books that needed to be shelved in the stacks, so I took the cart holding the books to the elevator and found a man about my age, 20 or 22, standing there waiting for the elevator as well.

"Going up?" He asked. I was distracted, taking in his scent of burning candles and new books. He had a wicked smile as he waited for a reply I didn't know how to give. His lips were beautifully colored. They had this red tint to them like he was wearing lipstick, but it was natural. His body was tanned like a farmer and he had, from what I could tell, no tan lines. He had the build along the lines of a professional athlete. His eyes were dark and warm like melting chocolate, and I gazed up to his height of 6'2".

"Uh... yes..." I continued to ogle his body. I let him step into the elevator first so I could check out his ass. Oh my GOD!!! It was better than I could have hoped. It had the firm and wide look that gave me an instant erection; regardless of the massive orgasm I had only moments ago. I was filled with the desire to grab him and leave no surface undiscovered. I think he could tell that I was checking him out. I entered the elevator and began to check the other side. I could make out a faint bulge! I haven't had this happen to me ever. The extent of my sexual experience was tremendously limited because of my location. Indiana is not home to gay men in my area. In fact, they take pride in driving us away to live their 'perfect' Christian lives. I could tell just from the bulge he had a huge cock.

"So you work here?" He asked.

"Yep," I replied, "Are you a student?"

"Yeah, I just transferred from IU Bloomington; just not my scene."

"Cool," my voice and body were calming down, "what are you studying?"

"History," he replied with a small smile that turned my legs to jelly and got my heart pounding louder than a drum at a rock concert.

"No way, me, too," I exclaimed, "I want to research the Salem Witch Trials a bit further but people are always saying that it's too difficult a thing to accomplish and to lower my standards. I guess I'm just stubborn."

"I know what you mean," he said sympathetically. The elevator dinged and I noticed his hand grab his bulge, and watched him readjust himself. "Fuck..." I heard him murmur. I don't know how, but I could tell that from the small conversation we had, he was as hot for me as I was for him.

"You okay?" I asked, heart skipping several beats.

"Yeah," he sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't want to come across like a creeper." He chuckled. "I'm Phoenix. My friends call me Nix."

"Troy. I don't have a nickname." Good job; he's likely wanting to fuck you now. You probably just turned the switch off. But, instead, he smiled amusingly and shook my hand. We were blocking the elevator and were lost in the moment. When our hands touched, it was like putting a plug into a socket. Sparks were just coursing through our bodies, giving my dick a throbbing erection that was just starting to dissipate.

"So," he started to ask, "Don't take this the wrong way, but... are you, by any chance, gay?" I detected a hint of hopefulness in his voice. I didn't know what to say. My heart stopped dead, my breathing ceased, and I think I could have collapsed right then and there. If I told him the truth, would he attack me? Walk away? Or kiss me? I thought that last one optimistically.

"Are you?" I countered.

"I asked first."

I hesitated, and then whispered to him, "Yes."

He smiled and leaned in close to my ear and breathed, "Me, too." The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my pants were close to bursting open and exposing the raging hard-on I was determined to hide, and all I wanted to do was grab his neck and pull him down to me and let him taste my virgin lips.

He smiled, seeming to know what I was thinking and asked me a single question.

"What time are you off?" His eyes filled with lust, his body rigid with excitement, and his hardening cock only inches from my own...

To Be Continued



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