Andrew Cleese and Ms Lyon Read online

  Andrew Cleese and Ms. Lyon

  An SK Private Label Story

  Sahara Kelly

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 SK Private Label Publications

  Cover Art copyright 2011 Sahara Kelly

  Discover other titles by Sahara Kelly at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Acknowledgements

  Books don't write themselves - well, none of mine have, anyway - so there's always someone who has contributed, or listened, or suggested, or whatever, and who needs thanking with words sincere and heartfelt. Most often it's the readers themselves. You delightfully wonderful people who take the time to read my offerings after shelling out some hard-earned money to pay for them.

  In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I'm profoundly grateful - and please don't ever stop. I write for you; I love what I do and when I sit in front of my monitor letting the words fill the page, I have you in mind. Yes, you dear reader, somewhere, anyplace, looking at what I just wrote and...I hope...responding to it with a laugh, a smile, a sigh or a wriggle. (That's if it's a hotly erotic scene, of course. Any other wriggles are your own problem and should be discussed with your physician.)

  So here's a tip of the hat along with my deepest thanks. I don't know you all, but if I did I'd buy you a drink next time I meet you. There are a couple of folks I do know, and have bought drinks for. I fully intend doing so again. Lovely ladies Amanda M., Lisa O., and Heather B., who have brought me nothing but smiles and laughter this year. Thanks girls...love ya lots!!! May we continue the tradition of hugs and long conversations, which invariably end in lots of ROFLMAO.

  For my best friend and writing partner...well, I've said most of it already. Even with all the words that have gone before, I've not begun to describe the importance of his friendship and the strangely wonderful and bizarre colors with which he illuminates my everyday world. Thanks partner.

  Chapter One

  A picturesque stone cottage, far away from modern civilization...

  Thursday afternoon

  Poof! Whizz...Zap!

  The crackle and pop of the magic spell made Andrew blink. He looked down at the stone floor beside him.

  "Ooops. Sorry, Mom."

  A rotund chicken glared back at him, clucking angrily and tapping one sharp toe on the floor - a staccato rhythm that boded no good.

  Quickly, he grabbed his magic wand and reversed the spell.

  "Andrew, I swear to the Goddess, if you do that again - "

  "Well you did ask what I wanted for dinner." He tried to keep the whine out of his voice. "It could have been worse."

  "How?" His mother's eyebrows cranked up another notch and her fingers twitched.

  "I could have thought of pork chops or something."

  She sighed and smacked him on the back of his head. Hard.

  "Ouch." He winced.

  "I'm so frickin' fed up of your damned spells. I'm fed up of waiting on you hand and foot and getting turned into an assortment of critters for my trouble. It's time you went out and got a life, for heaven's sake. Look at your brothers..."

  Andrew rolled his eyes. Here it comes.

  "They're all married and settled now."

  Andrew mouthed the words. He knew what was coming next. They've given me grandchildren.

  "They've given me grandchildren."

  She was on a roll. They've done their duty to this family and to your father, may his spirit still cast spells in the next world.

  "They've done their duty to us all. To me and to your father - may his spirit still be casting spells in the next world."

  Okay, so he was a bit off there, but the principle was the same. So was his answer. "Yes, mother."

  "Ugh!" She threw her hands in the air and stalked away. "I give up."

  Don't I wish.

  Andrew stared moodily out of the cottage window. He was the last son, the fifth child, the remaining thorn in his mother's side, apparently. She didn't mention the wood chopping, the well-fixing, or any of the various other chores he did on a regular basis around their home.

  Nope, she was fixated on moving her final offspring out of her nest and into one of his own. Unfortunately, he'd not - as of yet - found a female bird with whom to build said nest. Wizards might not have been thick on the ground, but most women would rather settle down with somebody who could provide a nice comfy home, a solid income and possibly a well-funded retirement plan along with a few healthy cattle.

  They tended to steer clear of adventurous magicians who might accidentally turn them into frogs.

  Andrew's lips curled into a smile as he recalled that one "incident". Honestly, Miss Gwynne had made rather a nice frog. The pink dots on her suckered feet had been quite pretty against the green scales. He'd told her he liked that color nail polish.

  Miss Gwynne, however, was not amused. Especially when he reversed his slight error in magic judgment and she found herself spitting out the remains of a large and tasty fly. He sighed. No sense of humor, these women. All they wanted was a bit of a cuddle, a quick stroke of the hot spots and a ring on their finger. God forbid any of 'em should actually let a man into their bed before the nuptial promises were made.

  Not the nice ones, anyway. For "nice", Andrew mused, a man needed to substitute the words "eager to marry and possessed of an iron will along with a mother to match".

  When it came to satisfying a male wizard's baser needs, most of them found themselves in the beds of the "naughty" women - the ones who lived in the rather elegant mansion just outside the town limits. They lived well, too. Probably off the large number of gold coins paid them by horny wizards.

  Andrew shrugged as he stood and stretched his shoulders. They were fun - for all of twenty minutes or so. Goddess forbid it should take any longer, since clients were a' waitin' and time was a' wastin'.

  Pick one, pay, come - and go. Pretty calculated, scheduled and well-organized. No passion required, no lifetime of wedlock to worry about. Just a quick in-and-out and we're done, thank you. Coins go in the urn by the door. He swore one of 'em had been filing her nails at the same time he was boinking her. Not that he cared particularly, since he was at that point where find a hole was the only viable option.

  But it hadn't exactly warmed his heart, even though it had eased his balls.

  "I'm going to check the woodpile, Mom." He called through the open door to the kitchen.

  "Don't be long. Dinner is in ten minutes."

  "Okay." He answered her idly, knowing the ten minutes would probably be more like twenty by the time she'd fussed over her favorite vegetable - okra - which he detested - and put more on his plate than he'd ever eat.

  Then she'd nag him about not eating it -

  The sun was setting as Andrew wandered over to the woodpile to make sure there was enough wood chopped for the next week or so. If there wasn't, he'd simply slap a chopping spell on the axe and put it to work.

  A tiny whimper distracted him from his thoughts, sort of like a little sound of distress. With a slight frown, Andrew circled the woodpile, crossing into the late afternoon shadows that were already spreading their darkness over the neatly stacked cords of wood.

  It came again, a sniffling mutter and sob, followed by a couple of rather choice curses. "Motherfucking sonofabitch..."
>
  Andrew blinked. Something glittered down near the grass. He leaned forward.

  "Get your ass over here, you moron. Can't you see I'm in trouble?"

  "Uhh..." Andrew stared at the little fairy. She was trapped, caught in between two logs that must have shifted, slamming down on one of her delicate wings. He winced. "That must hurt."

  "No shit." The fairy struggled. "You try having your dick smashed between two logs and you'll get some idea." Long blonde hair flew around her head as she thrashed about, trying to extricate herself. "You gonna help me out or just stand there and watch like some great ox without two thoughts to rub together?"

  "Haven't decided." Andrew folded his arms and considered the matter.

  The fairy was naked - most of them were, since clothing impaired their lift-off velocities. And she was damned good looking, too. Nice little breasts bounced around most pleasantly as Andrew observed her - also getting himself a rather nice glimpse of sparkly pussy hair when she spread her legs in an effort to yank her wing free. "You're cute."

  "And you're an asshole." Her little face was getting quite pink, although whether with the physical struggle or from temper, Andrew wasn't quite sure.

  "Oh, now, now. Don't be like that." Andrew took pity on her and began to ease the logs away from her body. "Just because you're naked and snagged on a bit of wood"

  "Snagged?" The fairy yelped as Andrew cupped his hand around her body. "And watch that thumb - "

  "Sorry." He'd accidentally swiped the pad over her breasts. Well, sort of accidentally.

  Okay, it wasn't an accident, but they were such damn cute breasts...

  "There we go. Just ease back a little - careful now - " Andrew held her with one hand while he raised the offending log just enough to free her wing. It hung limply as she sighed with relief.

  "Goddess, that's good." She leaned back in his hand, her legs dangling on either side of his little finger.

  Andrew couldn't help but feel the heat of her little pussy. "Mmm. You really are a cutie pie." Experimentally, he flexed his digit.

  "Fuck, dude." She squirmed. "Keep that up and you're gonna see a fairy come." She lowered her eyelids and squirmed some more. "It's the relief. No pain. Happiness units measured in orgasms." Her usable wings fluttered. The injured one just flopped.

  Andrew grinned. He'd heard that fairies were horny as hell and would fuck at the drop of a hat. Or maybe a log. Apparently, those weren't...er...fairy tales. This little bit of fairy tail was getting herself all hot and bothered in a hurry.

  He settled onto a convenient stump, held her cupped in his hand and prepared to enjoy the show.

  She slithered a little, then rose to her feet, pulling one of Andrew's fingers upright as she stood. To his surprise, she clutched it, looked thoughtful for a moment or two, then began to move - sensuously rubbing herself over it, up and down, swinging her hips in time with some music only she could hear.

  No wait - he could hear it now, too. It was definitely bump-and-grind music, no doubt about it. This little sweetie was about to strut her stuff in an impromptu pole dance.

  As Andrew watched, the thought crossed his mind that he could offer her a much better - and longer - pole. She was hot and making him pretty damn hot too. He wondered if she'd mind moving into his lap and using the cock that was making a sizeable tent in his wizard's robes.

  The drumbeat picked up and the fairy launched herself into her full routine, waggling her dimpled ass in his face, stroking her groin against his knuckle - hell, she was about as turned on as he was. Even her injured wing was regaining its strength, adding a tiny flutter here and there when she dipped into a squat and showed him her pussy in a full frontal shot that seared its way into his brain cells.

  "Fuck meeee..."

  "Sorry. There's the size thing..." She panted out the words as she gave a particularly spectacular upside-down swoop around his finger. "But if I could..."

  With a flourish she ground her pussy hard against him and screamed - a tiny delicate little cry of climax.

  At least he assumed it was climax. Of course, one never quite knew with fairies. When it came to faking it, they were rumored to be pretty damn good at that, too. All he knew was that he had a handful of hot sexy sprite and a cock to match.

  Helpless now that his lusts were fully aroused, Andrew slipped his free hand inside his robes and found his erection, painfully hard and throbbing in time with his heartbeat - as all good wizardly erections are known to do.

  He knew he could hold his own when it came to size - the annual See who's got the Biggest Dick contest - held out behind the cow-byre - had proved that by several centimeters. But now he was holding his own out of sheer necessity and stroking it as well.

  Some things just couldn't be magicked away, and a hard-on was one of them. As the music faded in his ears, Andrew quickly took care of his needs, his eyes on the fairy trembling limply across his palm, legs splayed wide, dewy little droplets of fairy juice glittering brightly around her pussy lips.

  "Andrew? Are you jerking off behind the woodpile again?" The yell came from his kitchen window.

  "No, Mom," he lied, erupting into a satisfying gush of pleasure and incidentally spattering several of the logs and catching the fairy's foot in the resultant stream.

  "Eeeuww." She jerked her toes back. "Watch that, fella. Wizard-cum or not, fairies don't like to bathe in that stuff."

  "Woops." Andrew shook his sagging cock and stuffed it back into his robe. "Sorry about that." He tipped his head and stared at the now-recovered horny little fairy. "You okay?"

  She straightened her spine and fluttered her wings. "You set me free, I got a nice screaming O afterwards - sure. Couldn't be better."

  "Annndrreeeeewwww..."

  He sighed. "I gotta go eat dinner." Andrew put the fairy down carefully on the topmost log of the woodpile where the last rays of the sun caught the delicate tracery of her wings and turned her little naked body a soft golden hue. "You take care, now, okay? Keep away from woodpiles..."

  "Hey."

  Andrew turned as she shouted at him. "What?"

  "Don't you want something in return? A wish granted or something?"

  "Andrew - your vegetables are getting cold."

  His mother's voice had a decided edge to it and Andrew winced. "Nah. Can't think of anything. Thanks, though. I appreciate it."

  "I could turn your mother into the shrew she is." The fairy looked hopeful.

  "I did that last month. By mistake." He sighed. "It wasn't a very good idea. She's still a bit pissed." He lifted his hands, palms up. "She's a pain in the ass, but she's my Mom. What can I say? I love her in spite of it all."

  The fairy smiled. "You're a good man, Mr. Wizard. What do you desire?"

  "Nuthin'. I've got what I need."

  "Bullshit. Everybody desires something." The fairy tapped her little foot and waited.

  "A woman of my own? That would at least get Mom off my case..." Andrew found the words coming out of his mouth before he'd really given them much thought.

  "You got it, babe." The fairy laughed, a delicate tinkling of little bells. "Be ready come the full moon. Wonderful things await you." She flittered high up into the air and hovered in front of Andrew's nose.

  He crossed his eyes to keep her in focus.

  "And try not to fuck it up, okay? You're gonna get your wish. Literally. " She giggled. "Although not exactly how you might expect."

  In the blink of an eye she was gone, leaving nothing but the slight fragrance of fairy pussy behind on Andrew's fingers. He narrowed his eyes as he remembered another thing people said about fairies.

  You couldn't trust the little buggers. They were horny and cute - but frickin' mischievous.

  Still, thought Andrew as he headed for the kitchen table, how bad could it be? There, in front of him, was a tastefully-sized portion of fried chicken. And a goddamn mountain of okra.

  He sighed.

  Whatever the fairy did, it could not be as bad as okra.
<
br />   *~*~*~*

  A sleek modern office, slap in the middle of our mortal civilization, another Thursday afternoon...a bit later...

  "No, no. A thousand times no. What part of no do you fail to understand, you imbecile?"

  The shriek of fury echoed around the offices of Lyon Publishing, sending a shudder of fright through the assorted staff members who were privileged to hear it. Which was, by last count, about twenty or so editors and administrative personnel, all of whom were gathered outside the corner office of Ms. Demetria Lyon. She was their boss, their editor-in-chief and owner of the whole shebang. When it came to Powers-That-Be, she was It. With well-earned capital letters.

  "Oh fuck. The bitch is on the warpath again." Her long-suffering secretary, Sandy, winced.

  "This'll mean hours of overtime, for sure." Harold, the copy boy, looked morose.

  "Couldn't somebody take her out, get her roaring drunk and screw the crap out of her?" Sandy looked around hopefully.

  Snorts of sheer disbelief answered her question. "Oh come on, guys. She's as stiff as a poker. She needs to get laid - bad."

  Three of the current cover models shifted uncomfortably on their seats, as they waited for various appointments. One finally spoke up. "She'd shrivel my dick, darlin'. Just thinking about screwing her shrivels my dick."

  "My balls too." Another cupped himself protectively. "If her sharp tongue didn't castrate me first."

  Nods of agreement came from the others in the vicinity.

  "I'll give it a shot if you think it will help..." Morgan Atwood smiled enthusiastically.

  "Honey, I'm sorry. Nice thought, but our Lyon is a bitch, not a lesbian." Sandy smiled back at the woman.

  "Hey. I tried to be helpful, ya know?" Morgan shrugged.

  "I know." Sandy sighed, then straightened as the door to the inner sanctum opened and expelled a trembling man. "Mr. Wilmer. No luck?"