I was halfway through the water when I felt the thump of a heavy man dropping onto the barstool to my right
"Buy you a drink darling?" he asked, his voice spoke of London, deep London, the kind of London Holmes would have walked. It was the voice of a man whose idea of exotic was a trip to Scarborough. It was also quite a nice voice, a low bass rumble brimming wit the total confidence of a man who knows his place in life and knows that he is right where he should be.

Looking at my suitor (for want of a better word) I revised my opinion from fifties to mid forties. A few grey hairs flecked an otherwise full head of auburn hair and dusted the stubble on his jaw. He had a surprisingly handsome face, hard and weathered but not gone to leather just yet. An un-ironed shirt fell over a large body; broad shoulders, big hands, thick torso but not fat.
'what the hell' I thought 'I could use a drink'

"Sure," I smiled
"Micky, a pint of Best and a white wine for the lady," he ordered. His assertiveness in ordering for me, far from annoying, I found made him all the more attractive. I thought back to what I had said to Dean 'I like a firm hand', Henry had never gotten off on submission, more that Virgil had to answer for.

The wine was quickly in my hand, a house white just barely drinkable, and we set to talking. He was a plumber by trade, his name was Martin. Yes he had kids both grown up, no he wasn't married any more, on it went. I said as little was possible, made things up where it couldn’t be avoided.

As Martin ordered our second road I felt his hand on my knee, slowly riding up to my thigh. Crossing my legs I managed to fend him off but those strong, rough hands kept finding a way back. You can probably guess by now what this was doing to me. Those little black panties were starting to get moist. I had to get out if only for a minute and truth be told I really did need a slash so excusing myself with a girlish giggle I made my way to the door marked Does.

The hinge on the door of the single cubicle was broken so that no matter how I tried the damn thing wouldn't stay closed. Still as there was no one else about I wiped the seat and sat down. No sooner had I lowered my panties than the door flapped again. Hurriedly trying to cut myself off mid stream I was caught legs wide as Martin pulled the cubicle door fully open.
"There you are love," his deep voice filled with lust
"Like what you see?" I said, my instincts once again overwhelming higher function
"Oh yeah,"
"Any more and it will cost you," I smiled at him, crossing my legs to hide my lower lips.

His eyes widened a touch
"Oh is that how it is, should have guessed. How much?" Now there was a question. You heard stories and saw movies but what did a hooker really charge? Also how much would a man like Martin have on him?
"Depends what you want," I stalled for time
"I was to fuck that little pink pussy of yours," he replied, which was exactly what my little pink pussy wanted to hear
"£50," I proffered, I was probably worth more but for several reasons I didn’t want to draw this out and a trip to a cash point did not appeal.

I should probably have gotten the money first but as soon as the price was agreed he was unbuckling his belt. My hands leapt to help of their own accord to free a quickly hardening seven inch penis. Something that big even with my own juices flowing I wanted lubricating (at least that's what I told myself). In an instant my soft lips engulfed him, my tongue flickering along a thick, hard rod. My hand beat and my mouth sucked for a couple of minutes by which time he was hard as a man's ever been.
"Enough," he grunted, pushing my head away. Obediently I stopped sucking and gloried in his strength as he all but picked me up and carried my across the room by my shoulders. Setting me down facing the mirror on the wall he bent me over the sink. Parting my legs I moaned softly as one rough hand ground my tits into the hard plastic surface of the wash top. The other flipped my skirt up over my arse exposing my cunny.

Martin was not so gentle nor patient as Virgil, no sooner did he open my snatch than he planted his flag in it. The thick head squeezed into my tight little gap driven forwards by lust. Without conscious thought I ground back into him, urging him deeper. He didn't need much urging. Slowly, deeply, relentlessly his cock started to hammer into me. There was little finesse, even so my cunny sang as its harsh treatment and I felt a climax begin to rise.

Suddenly he pulled out making me mew with the loss. I quickly understood though as he flipped me round laying me back with my legs dangling off the end of the counter and my neck against the cold glass of the mirror. Pushing up my top Martin's hands found my tits as his cock renewed its assault on my willing cunt. This fresh stimulus forced out a low moan as I began rubbing at my own clit while holding on tightly to the counter top with the other hand.

I came quickly, more quickly than any girl I had ever shagged, and I didn't bother to stay quiet. Not just moans and sighs but...
"oh God yes fuck me, fuck my little girl cunt, fuck me like the whore I am!"

It worked, redoubling his speed and power Martin shook me like a rag doll battering me into the mirror and rocking the whole counter top. His cum when it came drove deep inside me as he buried himself to the hilt. All but for the last spurts which he fired, like a signature, onto my flat stomach.

Sighing with satisfaction he pulled up his trousers. Taking out his wallet he counted out a thin wad of notes and shoved it, rolled up, between my tits.
"Thanks love, bet some of the guys wouldn't mind a ride too," he said before leaving. As the door swung open and shut I would hear the cheers and laughter. I could hear the lust.

I lay there in silence for a few minutes, not thinking, feeling dirty. Loving feeling dirty. Hating loving feeling dirty. As hormones and euphoria faded I reflected on what I had just done. Part of me reasoned that I had had little choice, Virgil's magic had made it almost certain that I would end up saying yes and at least I had the money.

Picking up that wad of notes though I felt a pang of self disgust. It was done now, I would certainly keep the money, but as I listened to the hubbub next door I knew I couldn't do it again. Thing was only hours ago I knew I wouldn't willingly let anyone touch me like this let alone spread my legs for a plumber in a public toilet. I couldn't trust the body I had been cursed with, I needed to get out of here.

Cleaning myself up as best I could with paper towels and tap water I fixed my clothes. The money, for want of anywhere else to put it, I slid into the side of my knickers. Leaving the ladies room I kept my eyes low and walked as swiftly as my heels would allow towards the door. Ignoring a babble of catcalls and propositions crude enough to raise a blush I stepped back into the cold.

Almost immediately I thought of going back in, not for the men, just for the warmth. I couldn't though, I had to move on. With money at least I had options. Fifty quid would not go far in London, probably not to a bed for the night unless I found a shelter or something. Anyway I needed to spend it sorting out my problem not just surviving until the next day, if I wanted to get of of this situation the easy way wasn't an option.

Walking again to clear my head and get some distance away from the bar I decided that I needed more information. The red letter story that my predicament had largely pushed to the back of my mind was the magic was real. Magic could turn me back and Virgil couldn't be the only wizard in the world. I needed to know more about him and more about the occult. A library wouldn't do, not a normal one at least. Maybe the British Library or one of the big university ones might have books about this stuff but neither would just let me walk in and start looking around. The internet was the place, all manner of things online, maybe just maybe there was a wizard with an i-pad somewhere. It was something to try at least.

Feeling better for having made a decision I turned my mind to where and how, an internet café seemed like the best answer. Somewhere I didn't need to be a member or sign up, preferably somewhere serving coffee.

Walking on a way I found a corner shop and bought a sandwich. Not only did this fill my belly but it provided me with some small change. Next on the agenda was a bus stop into a more central (and less crappy) part of London. Some directions from the shop keeper saw me quickly on route, finally things seemed to be going according to plan.

The journey was fairly lengthy, about thirty five minutes at a guess, and mostly uneventful. My skimpy clothes attracted the usual assortment of glances and outright stares especially from a pair of teenagers at the back but I was becoming used to it. At least no one tried to grope me, better yet I managed to avoid getting my kit off or shagging anyone for the whole journey. That was progress. Feeling slightly better about myself I finally de-bussed in those parts of London you see in the movies, Shaftesbury Avenue to be precise.

If I was remembering right there was an internet Café right next to a pub I used to drink in down a side road not far from here, I had been there for a mates birthday and a couple of times after that (the pub, not the Café). I remembered having been surprised to find that such things still existed in a world of Smart Phones and tablets but right now I was glad of it. Thankfully amongst a crowd such as this with a dozen races, half a dozen languages and the occasional living statue I wasn't receiving too much attention (I had to tell myself quite firmly that this was NOT a disappointment nor something to be remedied).

Cursing the blisters on my feet I began to walk yet again (it felt like I had done twenty miles today in those fucking heels) but luckily the place was just where I remembered and thankfully it opened till late. I walked in to a renewed round of staring. It was a fairly small place; a counter in front of a semi open kitchen spread across the far wall while two rows of PCs were lined up in booths facing the walls. This left a wide aisle down the centre to get to the counter. As for the people they were a mixed bunch. An old businessman, a fairly young business woman (so I surmised from the suits) and a mound of flesh wrapped in a spider-man t-shirt sat surfing to my right. To the left sat a handsome guy in blue jeans and a crisp linen shirt. Two spaces clear and nearest to the door sat a smallish teenager, maybe sixteen and either Japanese or Korean by blood.

At the counter I ordered a cup of black coffee and a few hours of browsing. After forking over an alarming portion of my hard earned cash I looked for a seat. What I did not want to do was end up get fucked yet again or making a fool out of myself in some other embarrassingly whorish way. On those grounds I ruled out sitting next to the handsome man or the businessman (I had already shown a liking for older, dominant men after all). After a moment's thought I slid into the seat next to the teenager.

The seat was soft and supportive, I spent a few seconds rising it up to a comfortable height and logged in. This would be the tricky part. To be sure you could find just about anything on the internet if you knew what you were looking for. Thing was though I had only the vaguest idea what I was looking for. My first few searches (changed into a woman) and (real magic Virgil) brought up several hundred thousand hits most of which were either tranny porn, transsexual support groups or science fantasy sites. No good. I decided to focus on Virgil himself. I already knew a fair bit about the man, his legend anyway. He had been a hero of mine before all of this. There was clearly plenty I didn't know though. After blocking Aeneid and Aeneas from the search criteria I began to get somewhere.

He had no official site but plenty of people like me had taken an interest in the great man over the years. Most of the bio I already knew. Date of birth- unknown, Real Name – Unknown, Place of Birth – London (Parish of White Chapel), Profession – Magician. He also had a penchant for Victoriana which I was beginning to suspect was more than an affectation. Indeed there was speculation on several sites that he had been around for centuries. One guy (QuickCard666) claimed to have traced him through the ages at various shows and even had a photograph taken 1904 that was a good likeness. Guys with moustaches and top hats in 1904 weren't that uncommon though, not on stage at least.

The interesting part came with his disappearances. He frequently vanished from the public eye for years at a time, sometimes six months, sometimes a decade or more. No one knew where he went but plenty of people had theories. Everything from a remote Buddhist monastery to the brothels of New Orleans. Some said he was a spy for the Russians, or the Americans or the British, others a master criminal. It was all shit like that, no way to ferret the obsessive genius who just might be on to something from the gullible idiot who fit the evidence around a crackpot theory.

It was after about an hour of this frustrating business that I became aware of something to my right. Maybe it was some subliminal hint or maybe I was developing a sixth sense for the sexual but something drew my eyes away from my own screen and towards that of my neighbour. There had been some attempt to make the booths private, little partitions that mean a glance wouldn't do the job from a normal sitting position. Lean back in the chair and craning my neck just a fraction though and I could see just fine.

He was watching porn. Not regular porn either but some Hentai film; you know the sort of thing, Japanese animation, lots of pretty girls and horrible monsters. Henry never really got into them, preferred something a little more realistic, but my eyes were fixed on the screen just like the boy's. In this case someone I took to be a king or lord or something was looking on as a tentacled beast ravaged a trio of busty girls. Looking down I saw his arm rising and falling rhythmically though the partition cut the hand itself from view.

Absently my left hand found its way under my skirt to start rubbing the outside of my panties. I watched as the first girl had her top ripped away and two tentacles began sucking and pulling at her titties while another thrust down her protesting throat. Even as one lost her top another was deprived of her bottoms. Without thinking my fingers brushed aside the thin fabric and rubbed flesh on flesh against my clit. Two think tentacles burst without warning inside the dangling princess, both wriggling their way towards her womb. My right hand slid under the table not towards my lap but towards the Asian man.

A third appendage, thicker than the other two, began probing at the Animae eyed girl's ass hole and started to push inside. A single finger slipped into my own pussy. The girls cries of pain and excitement were smothered as her last hole was filled. My right hand closed around his cock. The boy jumped, too startled to cry out he looked over to me with eyes wide open. Finding a beautiful young woman jerking him off while masturbating herself he did not object. Removing his own hand he leaned back in his chair and turned his attention back to the porn.

Another finger joined the first as the king claimed the third girl for his own. Stripped naked by the monster she kissed his ring in gratitude and fell to sucking his cock. The boys cock was surprisingly long and thick given his size, I imagined it inside me even as I watched the king brutally throat fuck his adoring princess. Three fingers now shot in and out of my cunt, it was difficult to build rhythm though, the panties kept getting in the way. Keeping on masturbating my man I forced myself to stop working on myself long enough to slide my knickers down around my ankles and started over again.

Tentacles lashed over two writhing bodies, two or more in every hole fucking with relentless fury. Sitting on his throne the king picked his princess whore up and placed her budding ass hole atop his royal sceptre (that was actually in the film, there were subtitles). I was getting close now I could feel it and so was he. I was snapped out of my haze like state by his hand on my thigh and looked at him
"It'll go everywhere," he mouthed in as English an accent as mine. I nodded and grinned mischievously. Tearing my eyes from the porn I slid under the table. Here the partition did not run and tight as it was I was able to crawl between his knees.

The cock was waiting for me, young and hard. I wrapped my lips around it and slammed two fingers back inside myself, fingering franticly. I wanted to cum together and he was so nearly there. I wasn't wrong, less than twenty seconds of cock sucking brought a torrent of salty white cum. He didn't want it going anywhere, I swallowed it all. Even as the first spurts vanished down my gullet I came, stifling my moans on his cock. He managed to keep pretty quiet too. Pleased with myself I licked the last drips from his shaft and crawled back out from under the table.

Accusatory eyes greeted me as I emerged. The guy from the counter loomed over the Korean boy while the businessman looked outraged from across the room. The others more curious than angry but still very much looking. Employee of the month looked very cross indeed, a white guy in his late twenties he wore a geeky t-shirt and a name badge but that didn't seem to stop him looking menacing right about now.

"Where the hell do you think you are!" he hissed, it would have been better if he had yelled it might have been comical, this wasn't
"I don't know how you even got onto that site here," he glared at my partner in crime,
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Now that was a tricky question and this time he seemed to want an answer. I didn't know what to say, unfortunately as in some many things my new persona knew exactly
"Jealous baby?" I licked my lips theatrically and look a step towards him tits first "You want a blow job too?"

Now this might sound like a dream come true for any man but truth be told when the moment comes a lot of them don't know how to process it. Or maybe he was gay, either way the slutty seductress act did not work.
"You are barred, both of you," he pulled the Asian lad to his feet and shoved him towards the door
"Count yourself lucky I'm not calling the police!" he hurried us towards the door. It was only as the door crashed to behind us that I realised I had left my knickers on the floor back there.

We both stood there for a long moment; it was a lot to take in. Eventually he broke the silence saying
"You want to get a drink or something?" I didn't reply at once. You know the score by now. Outside of the moment my real personality had come flooding back and couldn't believe that I had just done what I had done. I felt dirty and ashamed and yet and at the same time extraordinarily satisfied and pleased with myself. Like the lustful looks I was starting to get used to that feeling. Even so my
"No," was probably too sharp with might be why I added
"It was just a bit of fun, no need to make it more than that," he mumbled something and tried to strike up a conversation but I was curt and non committal and he soon wondered off.

All in all this plan of mine hadn't worked out the way I had planned at all. I knew a little more about my maker but nothing helpful really. I had also proven yet again that this body of mine just could not handle any sort of proximity to men without turning me into a bow legged bimbo.
'Jesus Christ,' I thought 'I need a drink,"

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