White Queen and Black Queen
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Willian remembered it like it was yesterday. At the first library he ever worked in, back when he was still an intern, a well-dressed woman arrived carrying an enormous box. It contained a mix of literature, mystical books, and many, many chess books. While examining the donation, he did a quick online search and found out who the original owner was.
“Hey…” said Willian. “All of this belonged to Victor Manfred?”
“Victor Manfred was my great-uncle,” the woman replied. “We’re turning his old house into a restaurant. This stuff can’t stay there. I figured the library might find better use for it.”
“Yes!” said Willian.
Until that moment, Willian had never even heard of Victor Manfred. A playwright and chess master, Manfred had once been prominent but eventually faded into obscurity—at least according to biographers. Few people remembered him after a certain point.
“Apparently, your great-uncle was quite important,” Willian went on. “And these books are full of his handwritten notes. This is high-quality material for researchers, but we can’t keep it here. You should send it to the central library.”
The woman looked thoroughly displeased.
“I’m about to travel,” she said. “Is there really no way you can take it? Besides, most of what’s written is just the ramblings of his crazy mind. He talks to chess pieces, then to angels, then to fairy-tale characters. One madness after another.”
Willian decided to keep the material, thinking he’d forward it to the central library in a few days. But at the time, he was looking for a topic for his thesis… so why not? He loved chess and thought it might be fun to write about a chess player who had once been successful.
As the months went by, poring over Victor Manfred’s writings, Willian began to uncover a treasure. At first, he accepted what the biographers had said: that Manfred was a mad old man who lost everything gambling, and in the end only wrote about magic in his notebooks. But Willian allowed himself to read the texts without prejudice. Gradually, he began researching magic himself and realized Victor Manfred wasn’t insane—he was a true enthusiast who had studied real magic and had developed spells and magical objects through his invocations. Anyone reading his journals with skepticism would think it was all nonsense, but Willian had felt in his bones that it wasn’t.
Willian began to see Manfred as a sort of mentor, guiding him through the world of magic. Now, with the Scepter of Manfred in hand, he could replicate those spells. Two nights ago, he had materialized the White Queen. Last night, the Black Queen. Tonight, he planned something bold: summoning them both.
From his readings, Willian knew Manfred had never dared to summon both at the same time. In the corner of a chess book, Manfred had scribbled, referring to the two queens: “I never dared to summon them together. They are not friends—surely, they would never share tea.” Manfred had his reasons—he was already in his sixties, and conjuring one queen at a time was more than enough fun. But Willian was younger and had watched far more XVideos. Curiosity and arousal pushed him to discover what these two magnificent queens would do in each other’s presence.
He imagined the encounter. He anticipated it.
After work, he got home, showered, had a glass of wine, and prepared to attempt—for the first time—a spell his master had never dared. He placed the two queens side by side in front of the board. He raised the Scepter and said the words:
“Venit Regina Alba. Venit Regina Nigra.”
The apartment lights flickered, and brilliant beams burst from the board. They materialized, one at each end of the room, as if repelled by some invisible force.
“Bold! Foolish, but bold!” said the White Queen, with a smile that veiled whether it was approval or disdain.
“Reckless! Madman! How dare you?!” barked the Black Queen, eyes stormy with rage.
The White Queen was stunning in her white gown. Her blonde hair flowed like a cascade of gold, and her blue eyes shimmered with a mix of fascination and command. She moved gracefully, almost floating, as if walking in another dimension.
The Black Queen, from a distance, wore her fury like a cloak. Her black dress seemed to absorb all the light in the room; her posture was regal, unwavering. Her dark eyes burned with indignation.
“Why did you bring me here? To face my rival?” she said with disdain. “What is your game, player?”
Willian watched the scene as one would an eclipse—awed and insignificant. But he tried to stand firm.
“I… I wanted to see you. Together.”
The White Queen approached, stopping between Willian and her rival.
“You’re playing with forces beyond your understanding, boy.”
“You desire us both?” mocked the Black Queen. “You have no idea what that means.”
The White Queen turned to her, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“How beautiful the Black Queen is… On the board, I barely see her—always hiding behind pawns… and her bishops.”
The Black Queen narrowed her eyes. A moment of tension. But instead of striking back, she smiled—a smile laced with venom and lust.
“And you—so exposed, so… radiant. You must be easy to capture.”
“Try me,” said the White Queen, stepping forward, nearly touching her rival.
Willian barely breathed. The tension between them was electric. A silent duel about to explode. And it did.
Not in screams—but in a kiss. A long, fierce kiss, full of restrained rivalry and smoldering desire. A kiss that made the world feel like it was in check.
The scepter trembled in Willian’s hand. The room lights flickered again. He was rock-hard, aroused… but also haunted.
The Black Queen broke the kiss, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, as if to erase the act—or enshrine it.
She began to circle Willian, fingertips trailing lightly over the scepter.
“A pawn with a scepter…” she said, mocking. “How adorable your delusions.”
The White Queen gently touched his shoulder.
“You didn’t summon two queens, boy. We came. Out of curiosity. For fun.”
“And you,” the Black Queen whispered, leaning close to his face, “you are our toy tonight. Our little pawn.”
Willian opened his mouth to reply, but the White Queen silenced him with a touch on his lips.
“Feel honored,” she whispered. “Few pawns ever make it this far.”
Willian held his breath.
The kiss was an explosion of built-up tension and desire. Their hands found each other’s waists. Their bodies molded together. The wet sound of kissing echoed through the apartment. Willian, already aroused from the summoning, now felt tiny—literally a pawn before queens.
They looked at him in unison, like predators eyeing delicious prey. The White Queen knelt first. The Black Queen followed.
“Still think you control the game, boy?” whispered the Black Queen.
Willian tried to answer, but only managed a moan. Their mouths took turns pleasuring his hard cock, dueling not with swords, but tongues.
The White Queen sucked slowly, eyes locked on his. The Black Queen licked his balls from underneath, drawing muffled groans.
Willian closed his eyes and let the dual pleasure course through him. When he reopened them, he saw the two queens kissing and sharing his cock. Now it was the Black Queen devouring him, taking him deep, while the White Queen tended lovingly to his balls.
His cock throbbed in the Black Queen’s mouth. He gripped the chair to keep from cumming. He wanted to ask them to switch—before he could, they already had.
They stopped. The White Queen climbed on top of him, positioning herself to ride his cock, while the Black Queen helped her. He felt his cock slide into the blonde’s wet pussy. The Black Queen knelt behind her, holding her shoulders, offering Willian the contrast of their skin tones as a gift. Her pussy was warm and tight, delivering pure ecstasy.
“Damn, you two are even better as a team.”
They laughed. And kissed. And stared into Willian’s soul. They rode him in perfect, delicious rhythm. Their aim: to drive him mad with pleasure.
“We haven’t even begun,” said the Black Queen, challenging him.
She moved from her spot, and while the White Queen rode him, she bit Willian’s ear and whispered:
“Player… you’re meddling with powers unknown… better make it worth it.”
Willian was close—too close—but before he could warn them, the queens acted. The White Queen dismounted and moved to the bed, pulling both Willian and the Black Queen with her. She lay back, spreading her legs for the Black Queen, who got on all fours and began licking her pussy.
The White Queen closed her eyes in bliss, then opened them to lock eyes with Willian.
“The Black Queen is… exquisite. She knows exactly when to strike back.”
Slowly, Willian entered the Black Queen from behind. Now the thrill was in fucking a perfect pussy while watching the two women pleasure each other. His thrusts had purpose: when he moved slowly, the Black Queen licked the White one gently. When he went harder, she devoured her fiercely, making the White Queen moan uncontrollably.
The dynamic was too perfect, and within minutes, Willian came—filling the Black Queen with cum. He collapsed between them, exhausted, satisfied… or so he thought.
“Breathe, boy,” said the White Queen.
“If you think it’s over, you’re mistaken,” added the Black Queen. “We want more.”
Willian believed he was still in control, that maybe this was just their fantasy—but his body had given everything. He was done. Or so he believed.
The queens had other plans. They began licking his balls and kissing each other intensely, provocatively. Their skill was like ten doses of Viagra, resurrecting him.
“Mmmmm, boy!” said the White Queen. “Back in the game!”
“I… I… I want your asses,” said Willian, hesitantly at first, then boldly—an aggressive tactical move.
The Black Queen laughed out loud.
“I think we can do that.”
They both got on all fours, asses raised, offering Willian the choice of which to take first.
He chose the White Queen, purely out of chess logic—white moves first. The Black Queen sucked his cock and rimmed the White Queen, prepping her. Willian slowly entered her, taking a deep breath. “Holy shit, this feels amazing,” he thought.
The queens kissed passionately as he fucked the White Queen’s ass. He started slow but gained confidence as she moaned and came.
“My turn, player,” said the Black Queen.
She got into position. Willian entered her in one thrust, forgetting to be gentle—but she didn’t mind. She loved it. As he pounded her ass, the White Queen leaned in and whispered:
“Come for us, boy. We didn’t come all this way for nothing. Savor every second!”
Willian came hard in the Black Queen’s ass. So much that he collapsed into sleep, spent and happy.
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He woke up minutes later. The queens were gone. Or rather, they had returned—to their places on the board.
Willian wondered if he had sent them back unconsciously and then fallen asleep. But then he noticed the table.
Three teacups. Two empty. One still warm. His.
Next to it, a note—written in two distinct hands.
“You made us work together, boy, but don’t think you control the game, nor that you know all the secrets within this board. We know our place and have returned to it. For now. Enjoy your tea, player.”
Willian looked at the board, scratched his head… and wondered:
“Could there be more?”
