Charisma Part 1

Charisma grinned at Tiffany’s confusion. “I’m a sorceress,” she confided, “and my apparel is enchanted. Once its effects occur, they are permanent. Your breasts will remain forever their new, increased size, whether you wear the brassiere or not.”

“But how? I mean, really? I mean--”

Charisma laughed. “I told you,” she said. “I’m magic. My clothes are magic. Now, you--or, rather, your breasts--are magic, too.” Tiffany cupped her enlarged breasts in her hands and squeezed them. They were real, not an illusion. They were genuine, not a fantasy. “Wow!”

Charisma‘s hands swept over Tiffany’s breasts. The enchantress’ long, slender fingers curled as they compressed the silken mounds, making deep indentations in the ivory flesh. Tiffany moaned, letting her own hands fall from her bosom as she squirmed on the couch, angling her upper body toward her hostess. “I was impressed,” Charisma confided to her guest, “by your perseverance in locating me, just so you could thank me for having fashioned the brassiere that gave you these exquisite breasts.”

Tiffany groaned, feeling her nipples respond to Charisma’s fondling hands and stroking fingers. Her cock also bulged, forming a tent of the front of her black leather mini-skirt. “How did you know I’d--persevered?” Tiffany asked.

“Mr. Fenner and Ms. Deevers--Martin and Blanche--informed me, of course.”

The real estate agent and the beautician, Tiffany identified Charisma’s informants. “I see,” she said. She felt the stiffness of her cock, insistent beneath her mini-skirt, and she was aware of how it jutted from her groin, just as she was conscious of how her nipples protruded from the centers of her swollen areolas. She swallowed, embarrassed. But Charisma not only seemed not to mind these exhibitions of her guest’s ardor, but also to enjoy them.