Maggie's Farm - Sex Stories

Maggie's Farm

... but was bewildered by her announcement. “ I’m a white witch,” she said, shuffling the cards before dividing them into three piles. “A white witch is one who knows things and is a healer, a teacher.” I looked down at her hands and again noticed the silver ring on her index finger as she touched the cards. “ It is important that you want me to read your cards. You have to be willing to hear what the cards tell you. Do you want me to read for you? I must have your permission.” “ Okay, you have my permission,” I said, nodding, becoming more bewildered and fascinated by Maggie. “ Now look at the three piles and with your left hand, the hand of the sub-conscious, select a card and that will be your card.” At first I reached for the card in the middle pile, and then suddenly changed my mind and picked one from the pile next to it. I saw a picture that looked like a beggar carrying a pole over his shoulder with a bag tied to the end. “ Ah yes, the Fool. I’m not surprised that you picked that card.” She smiled and nodded. “ You think I’m a fool?” I asked, stunned. “ Not at all, the Fool is a wonderful card. The Fool has all of his possessions in one pack and travels but does not know where he is. He is filled with visions, questions, wonder and excitement and often doesn’t see the cliff where he might fall off. The bag on the staff means that he has all that he needs to do anything he wants. He is on his way to a new beginning. He only has to stop and unpack.” “ But why is he called ...

... the Fool? “ Because if he is not careful, he could fall and look like he’s a fool.” She took the card from me and closed her eyes, then held it to her heart. “There’s more that I could say, but I think I have said enough for now.” “ Wait a minute, tell me more,” I asked, fascinated. “Do you think I’m a fool?” “ Do you really want to know your future?” she asked, placing the card back on the pile, her eyes looking into mine. “ Maybe,” I responded and remembered my backpack in the car. “ Did you think about your future when you took off in your car today?” she asked, putting the three piles together and resting her hand on top. “ No, I just wanted to get away and see where I ended up. I didn’t know where I was going.” “ Then that’s what you should do. The important thing is to go where your heart takes you. Don’t worry. Don’t be afraid of the future, Thom. It’s worrying that gets in the way of the good things that can come to you—the magic that can happen.” She took my hand and brought it to her lips and kissed it. I closed my eyes, feeling her soft lips on my hand, her words resonating, letting me relax and melt into the present, and then I remembered the words of another old song that said, whatever will be will be and how the future is not ours to see . At the moment I forgot about the possibility of the cliffs that might be ahead. She picked up the bottle of apple wine and poured the last of it into our juice glasses. We sipped, but neither of us spoke as we gazed into each ...