Conach of Fae: Rituals of Samhain I

By Quixerotic

The doors to Faerie are open again. Old gods awaken demanding tribute. As the only witch specializing in nymphomancy, Nea must oversee the Rituals of Samhain. To help, she must first activate the ancient Faebind and reform the Coven of Samhain. Luckily, she's spent her whole life studying the nymphomantic arts. With a dildo and a summoning circle, she can save the world.

Last Christmas, Elfie and Liam opened the doors between realms and restored the flow of magic between worlds. In Rituals of Samhain, join a whole new cast of characters and creatures for a Halloween romp of horror and horniness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quixerotic
• Release date: Sep 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005146016

Quixerotic

I have always enjoyed a particular type of erotica, stories where lust and carnal desire overwhelm reason, driving away the trappings of the real world as ecstatic fantasy takes over. My writing strives to tell such stories in rich worlds of dark fantasy, far flung science fiction, or apocalyptic inevitability, finding the kinky fun under every rock or at the end of every winding corridor.

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Conach of Fae: Rituals of Samhain I

Quixerotic

Copyright 2020 by Quixerotic Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Conach of Fae

Rituals of Samhain I

by Quixerotic

With her epiphany, she went to her small sleeping area and fished around until she pulled out a brightly purple dick and balls with a suction cup on the end. Smiling to herself, she brought it to the center of the summoning circle and stuck it to the floor with a loud THUCK. It wobbled slightly, making Tabby frown. So, the ritual is…

Nea pulled off the shirt in one smooth motion. She tossed it in the general direction of the bed, standing before Tabby fully naked and beaming. Her red curls bounced slightly as she tiptoed around the still wet ink, pleased to see Tabby’s cheeks blush to a color other pale white. With a wild grin, she answered, I fuck the dildo until the summoning completes.

The witches of the August Coven drank their tea while listening to a radio play. Between the four of them, they had three good eyes, four bad legs, six boils, and a single tremendous case of gout. Their sitting parlor had the smell of an embalmer’s theater mingled with a pet day care. Several cats meandered in and out of sunbeams, periodically visiting the laps of the nodding old women. At the center of the room, between their four old recliners, stood a perch upon which sat a raven the size of a seven year old child.

None of them, the witches or the cats, regarded the raven as anything spectacular. It preened its feathers and occasionally cocked its head to glare at one of the women with no real intent. When hungry, it would fly out the window at the far end of the room, nearly shattering the glass each time. When it returned, one of the witches would fuss