There was very little time for us when Isolde broke the news of Hitler's death to us. My grandmother turned to my Tante Margarite and told her we needed to depart with the rest of the witches. This was of the utmost importance!
Oma and my tante rushed inside the hut and fetched their brooms. They were gone only a few seconds before appearing back outside; ready to travel. Both women mounted their brooms after reciting their arcane spells in the strange ancient tongue. The nodule-like female hands on the broom handles coned and squirmed their way up into the cunnies of both women and then Tante Margarite who was standing next to me,
"Alright Stephen, hop on!" I mounted behind her and pushed the head of my cock up inside my aunt's ass. I had a considerable erection still from the mushroom beer so penetration was not at all a problem. I slewed myself up inside her rectum with a huffing grunt and presently felt the strange female hand inside her cunny close itself around my cock and hold me fast. We were now magically "buckled-in" and ready to travel!
A few seconds later and the entire group of us left the ground and rose into the air. Isolde looked around the group as we ascended and circled the meadow higher and higher in ever widening arcs. She nodded her head approvingly and shouted to my grandmother,
"It is good that your young acolyte grandson is with us tonight Hilde. He brings our number to thirteen... we are now a PROPER COVEN!"
"He'll do more than add to our number count tonight Isolde, you should see him fuck! In fact, at the gathering of power you should make a point of fucking him! Trust me!"
"That I will!" she replied, her voice betraying thinly veiled excitement and interest.
#
We flew through the night sky; leaving our alpine meadow behind, over the snow-capped peaks and moving along the spine of the Alps. I hugged my tante close and thrust my cock back and forth up her ass chute in a lewd bit of buggery; the female hand inside her holding me fast through the walls of her cunt. I chewed at Tante Margarite's shoulders and neck; pawing my hands upon her breasts from behind and rubbing the hooded nub of her clitty with my fingertips. My aunt's response was to cackle loudly and urge me on with lewd encouragements over her shoulder as we dashed across the dark void of empty air; the wind whipping in our ears as we followed the black shapes of naked women on broomsticks ahead of us.
In the distance away from the mountains we flew over I saw more signs the end was near for the war. I saw great glows on the horizon, red and orange illuminations glowing against the clouds, (it could only mean one thing, burning towns and cities beneath them). Above the population centers, great columns of smoke and ash rose into the darkness.
Looking down on the roads and passes I saw something else; in the moonlight I could see the roads were choked with vehicles... too numerous for our Army which had long since run out of fuel and supplies. It could only mean the Americans were on the road and everywhere! I also saw no trace of the German army; no vehicles, no flashes of gunfire, and no tracer bullets. It was as if our Army had completely melted away like the snows of winter on warm ground.
It was all very odd and surreal to look down upon as we whipped through the night to our destination. It was unsettling too in a way. I occupied my mind with other things and pulled myself up into my Tante Margarite; giving her a nice cuddling fuck in her ass as we sailed along through the sky. The effects of the mushroom brew had given me a cock of iron and it needed satisfying again. My aunt was only too happy to oblige, cackling wildly as I plowed her rear in the chill night air.
Eventually we saw our destination, the Lattengebirge mountains, in the distance. We started to descend and then began circling to land, I had already spent a steaming hot load twice inside my Tante's entrails, (each time the magical hand in the broom handle holding me fast and safe). Now our attentions however were to the mountains ahead and slightly below. We continued to circle and descend. As we did, I could now make out why the mountain was called the Sleeping Witch;
for that is exactly what it looked like!
Actually it was not one mountain but several; a range of steep peaks above pine covered slopes. The stone peaks themselves rose up from the valley floor in odd twisted shapes like jagged teeth. At a very low angle you could clearly see the outline of an old woman lying on her back; her mouth agape with her two tits pointed skyward. The Sleeping Witch was aptly named.
We touched down on a gently sloping meadow lined with trees about halfway up the mountain. Both myself and my aunt pulled ourselves from the broom's grasp and we joined the others. Isolde told us to hurry and then motioned for us to move quickly to an opening in the trees where a dark path ran up through the forest. For the next hour we climbed the path through the woods, traveling up up up.
The path finally widened and then leveled out into a wide clearing. We were surrounded by fir trees on three sides but directly before us was a solid cliff face; a shear rock wall rising straight up for several hundred meters before it sloped again and tapered to towering peaks above us. Isolde cast a spell over a small stone in the clearing's center, bathing everything around us in pale green light. We could now see each other and everything around us. The clearing itself was rather odd in that there were several fallen logs of great size and unusual proportions strewn about as well as several oddly shaped boulders.
"Well," Isolde announced to us all, "we are at the gate to the mountain."
"I don't see a gate," I commented incredulously.
Isolde chuckled and looked at my Tante and grandmother, both of whom shrugged. Oma commented that I still had a lot to learn. Isolde then explained,
"We need to unlock the gates to these cliffs by lying with the guardians of the mountain."
I still did not fully comprehend. Isolde chuckled again at my expense. She motioned me to follow her, deciding it was better to show me.
She strode up to one of the elongated boulders that was not unlike an enormous cigar in appearance, tossing her broom down on the ground beside her. She commenced to rub the bare stone with her hands as she chanted with shut eyes in the old tongue. Slowly the stone began to move and morph as it became softer, until presently it appeared as a mass of grey flesh, still flecked with little bits of granite mica but very much moving breathing flesh. After a few moments the cigar formation became a body with arms, legs, and a face; the face of a slumbering man... quite strong and powerful in appearance. Isolde knelt forward and kissed his lips of stone.
