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It’s that time again — time for a new A. Vivian Vane title!

Actually, it’s well past time. March was a busy month for me, and April had those inconvenient taxes in the middle…but I’m still squeaking in just before May, and that’s good enough for me. “Once a month” doesn’t say when during the month!

And what does April bring us this year? April brings us The Pants Around Here, a charming tale of witchcraft and panty fetishes available on AmazonSmashwords, Kobo, and Nook:

the-pants-around-here-cover-thumb“The right lingerie can be positively bewitching…much to the dismay of Magnolia Pendergaste, the most popular girl at the Kyteler Academy for Young Witches, who finds herself under the spell of the class lesbian when a panty-theft goes awry!

Almost all the girls at the Kyteler Academy for Young Witches are ‘highblooded’ — descendants of the rich and powerful Fifty Families.

Plain-faced, humbly-born, and rumored to be a lesbian, Rebecca Lane is the exception that proves the rule. But when the most popular girl in the freshman class gets caught stealing from Becca’s panty drawer, the tables are turned, and high-blooded becomes extremely low-minded.

As the girls make their way from the dorm room to the school stables, witchcraft, panties, and more than a little schoolgirl lust abound in this first installment of the Kyteler Academy Girls series…”

The Pants Around Here is available on AmazonSmashwords, Kobo, and Nook for $2.99. It runs roughly 11,000 words in length, at least a quarter of which are some sort of synonym for “underwear” or “vagina,” and includes themes of schoolgirl sex, panty worship, and light fantasy.

I’ll put a short preview after the break. This is roughly the same preview that’s available on Smashwords, and takes you through the first solo scene. If you enjoy it, buy the book! It’s much more of the same, with more and more ladies added to the mix as things move on.

The Pants Around Here

A. Vivian Vane


Magnolia Pendergaste stared at her reflection across the top of Rebecca Lane’s panties.

Triumph sparked in Magnolia’s eyes as she held the forbidden undergarments up before a battered dorm room mirror. She took a slow, deep breath, and savored the smell of cotton and wickedness.

The freshman girl’s B Dormitory was empty, save for Magnolia and the panties. A beauty by any conventional standards, the high-cheeked nineteen-year-old took her looks for granted with the same self-assured grace as most of the Kyteler girls. Nearly everyone at the Kyteler Academy for Young Witches was high-blooded, drawn from one of the Fifty Families or their various bastard offshoots; their witchcraft passed down from forgotten generations’ dallying with fairies and other magical creatures back in the days when such things were common.

Rebecca Lane, whose panties Magnolia held before her fine-boned face, was the exception that proved the rule.

The “scholarship girl” — a polite euphemism for the small quota of low-blooded admittances required by law — was the social pariah of the freshman class. Tall, lanky, and square-boned, with big hands and ditchwater-blonde hair, she was a plow horse among thoroughbreds despite her glimmerings of magical aptitude, and widely agreed to be a lesbian on top of it all.

Magnolia had a massive crush on her.

It was pure fantasy, of course, she assured herself as she held the panties up before her face. Lusting after a commoner was so naughty. She felt a delicious erotic thrill every time she snuck a glance at Becca in the showers, or daydreamed about embracing that athletic body.

Bloodlines and breeding were everything to the properly high-blooded. Schools like Kyteler were structured to wring the maximum magical potential from promising young witches in four years, before they were thrust back out into high society and married to as powerful a warlock as possible. Sex with someone who was neither high blood nor compatibly fertile, well…that was just kinky, where Magnolia came from.

The sure knowledge that her little crush would be socially ruinous, were anyone to learn of it, only made the thrill that much stronger.

Slowly, reverently, Magnolia turned Rebecca’s undergarments over in her hands. She stroked the plain cotton front with languid fingertips. “So plain, Becky,” Magnolia murmured critically, “So common.” The panties were ordinary cotton, white beginning to go gray with age and washing; brief-cut with a wide elastic waistband.

Lifting the front of her skirt, Magnolia let the panties dangle from one hand and stroked the triangle of her own undergarments. She wore white lace: a sheer mesh dotted at regular intervals with tiny flowers; the waistband covered in embroidered blossoms and vines.

Kyteler girls wore a uniform, in theory — black shoes, white stockings and panties, black skirts and blazers, and white shirts, with the obligatory pointed hat at dress occasions — but there was, as always, a way to tell the daughters of privilege from the lower classes. Magnolia’s clothing was all tailored, made of finer material than the versions offered at the school store and garnished with little embellishments — like the embroidered lace — that fell just within the boundaries of the rules. Anyone with social aspirations did the same.

Stepping slowly back from the dresser, Magnolia kept one hand in front of her face. Becky’s panties swayed like a hypnotist’s watch. Her other hand cupped her lacey gusset as she sank onto the lower bed of a rickety double bunk. Soft pillows, brought from home to supplement the academy’s single stingy lump of polyester fill, embraced her on all sides.

Magnolia leaned slowly back. Like a woman in a pre-Raphaelite painting, she let her dark curls spill all about her neck and shoulders. The effect was not at all accidental. Even with no one around to see her, Magnolia liked to look properly posed.

With an exaggerated grace, she raised the stolen panties above her upturned face; breathed in deeply as the gusset lowered toward her lips. She smelled cotton, lint, and dryer sheets, and beneath it all the faint musk of a woman’s body. A little groan escaped Magnolia. She massaged her panty-clad crotch, squeezing and relaxing her palm in a lazy rhythm that made the sheer lace slide back and forth across her hidden folds. Sticky warmth gathered inside her, a heavy feeling of readiness that Magnolia savored shamelessly.

“What a plain little girl you are, Becky,” the dark-haired teen whispered to the swaying panties. She closed her eyes, and a vision of Rebecca, naked and gleaming in the communal showers, appeared before her eyes. “Your panties,” she sighed, “so simple, so common. Do you sweat in them as you work? Of course you do. Hmmm…”

Daringly, she darted out her tongue; touched the dangling gusset. Fuzzy lint clung, drying her mouth. She giggled and flicked her tongue flirtatiously, as if teasing an invisible lover’s earlobe. A tiny damp spot lingered on the cotton from her touch.

“God you taste good,” Magnolia rasped. In truth, the panties tasted of little more than cloth, but imagination and the faint cling of Rebecca’s smell was enough for the teen’s fevered fantasies. She pictured Rebecca astride her, panties pressed to her face in some harmless bit of girlish roughhouse gone strangely and sexily awry. A pillow fight? Yes, a pillow fight gone too far…

“Oh, no,” Magnolia groaned. “Becky, please, don’t make me. I give up, Becky, nooo…” Giggling at her improvised dialogue, she pressed the panties to her face; breathed deeply through the stolen cotton. Below, her fingers pulled aside her own lacey undergarments and traced the curves of her labia in a slow circle.  “Mmm. Yes.”

Sighing contentedly, the teen teased herself apart with a delicate fingertip. Two curled fingers held her panties aside as she thrust a third smoothly into the heat of her body. Magnolia’s touch was steady, and careful to keep her manicured fingernail from raking the wet walls that enfolded it; her whole wrist bent to work the single slim digit in and out like a sex toy. She pushed with her palm against her dark-haired mound and arched her back, feeling pleasure radiating outward from her clit as she humped her own hand.

“Oh god, Becky. I want more.” Magnolia was panting into the stolen panties, her breath turning the cotton damp as she inhaled her classmate’s smell. She could feel her feet sliding on the dormitory floor as her bottom lifted off the edge of the mattress. Her finger pistoned in and out of her needy hole with soft, wet sucking sounds.

There was no subtlety to the teenager’s masturbation as she drove herself toward her peak. Magnolia wanted to cum, and she came hard and fast, her mouth wide in a gasp of panty-scented pleasure. Black wool bounced on the teenager’s belly as her hips jerked in a spasm of needed release, tossing the front of her skirt to and fro.

“Becky! Yes!” With a last shudder, Magnolia flopped back down, gulping for air in the damp embrace of her classmate’s panties. Her finger slid from her folds and trailed wetly along her slit, up past her clitoris as she withdrew it. She gave a little gasp as her panties snapped back into place. The sheer mesh was transparent with wetness, hugging the twin rises of her labia. She shivered appreciatively in the tingling afterglow.

“Oh, so wet,” she murmured, lifting her hips and beginning to slide her panties downward. Her voice became a coy flutter, exaggerated to the point of silliness: “Becky, please…don’t make me ruin my lovely lace!” She closed her eyes and let Rebecca’s face float in her imagination, tanned and grinning, a wicked glint in those brown eyes as they watched her squirm excitedly…

Giggling, Magnolia lifted her legs above the bed and slipped out of her panties. She tossed the sodden garments carelessly onto the floor beside the bunk. Swinging herself upright, the dark-haired girl perched her bottom on the edge of the mattress and held Becca’s panties out in front of her face once again. The little white triangle did not seem much the worse for wear from its time pressed against her nose; leaning forward and sniffing longingly, Magnolia could still smell the faint musk of Becca’s body mingled with the scent of her own breath.

“What’s that?” the teenager murmured, still playing out her own silly fantasy. “You think I should wear your panties? But they’re so plain…”

Making exaggerated faces of dismay — and giggling — the teenager slipped the panties over her feet; rolled onto her back on the bed with her feet extended and began tugging Becky’s underwear up.

“Oh, no, no,” she moaned, letting her feet fall back to the floor and lifting her rump a little as the panties passed her knees. “Oh, don’t make me do it!”

With a gasp, she yanked up on the waistband, snugging the soft cotton of Becca’s panties to her glistening snatch. Her bottom filled the back panel — Rebecca’s waist was a touch wider, but her hips smaller and flatter, and the curve of Magnolia’s soft rear filled the swatch of fabric to overflowing. She snuggled down shamelessly into the cotton softness, stroking the front of the gusset where it covered her dripping twat.

A contented sigh escaped Magnolia as she stretched out on the lower bunk. Her palm cupped her pussy, feeling melting heat through the simple garment. She savored the strange sensation of being cradled by something so plain, boring, and unfashionable. The first climax had calmed her somewhat, and she rubbed gently with a palm, drawing her pleasure out…


To find out what happens next, buy The Pants Around Here from AmazonSmashwordsKobo, or Nook! All proceeds go directly toward feeding your author, so that you can have more porn next month.