I was in heaven.

Hadn’t died, mind you. But this… this was something else.

I sat against the cold stone walls of the upstairs area of my high school’s auditorium. Beside me was the exhausted (and naked) form of Gracie Monten, an angelic, adorable little freshman with a devilishly powerful interest in sex.

That wasn’t what her got here, though. She probably never would have done this, ever, if it weren’t for my powers.

She lay snuggled against me as I stroked her hair lightly. She was almost definitely asleep, how she could manage that while it was so drafty up here was beyond me, but she was surprisingly warm. After she’d returned the favor I’d done her by giving me head, she’d finger fucked herself to another orgasm, widening the puddle on the floor by quite a bit. It was hot, but I’d decided not to masturbate myself, instead savoring the moment.

The bell rang, causing me to jolt forward a little in shock.

“I’m in high school,” was the first surprising realization. I’d pretty much lost track of time, space, everything.

“I just got a fantastic blowjob from a freshman. Not just any freshman, Gracie,” came the second. The surprise caused my heart to beat fast.

“Why did I do this? What is wrong with me? What if she didn’t want this?” came the voices of doubt in my mind. Although in the end she’d caved, I had given her more than a gentle push with my powers. Anyone would have done anything at that level of lust, I was almost sure of it. She’s going to wake and think she’s been raped, and although she won’t know it, she’s almost right.

As if on autopilot, I alerted Gracie, got her up, and stood up myself. The front of my jeans had dried now and everything else was in good shape, I’d even taken the time to get dressed again. Gracie, however, looked a mess. Her hair was crazy from rubbing up against the wall, and her nether region was pretty soaked.

I helped her get dressed without a word, and as we descended the staircase I decided I had to talk to her before she got home.

“Umm… Gracie?” I asked.

“Yeah?” she said, bewildered.

Think, damn you, think.

“Listen, what we did up there, that’s gotta stay secret, okay?” I said.

“Okay,” she said, as if she didn’t know what she was saying.

We hit the bottom of the staircase, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to face me, looking straight into her eyes.

“Gracie, I’m serious about that. Nobody is to know what we did up there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” she said, a little more aware of her surroundings.

We went back through the set dock and to the front. I walked her out of the side door of the auditorium before we said our goodbyes.

Shit. I thought. I realized I could have just used my powers to will her memories away.

“Do I want to?” I thought. She wasn’t going to remember any Arcanan words I used in the heat of the moment, and it was really great. If I removed her memory, that pretty much would have been rape. And if she enjoyed it, taking the memory from her would have been self-serving, I would have only done it to cover my own ass.

At the same time, this was risky. I didn’t know her all that well. She’s probably one hell of a gossiper.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I needed to clear my head.

I walked home with determination unlike ever before and went to splash my face with cold water. I realized that I still smelled, pretty strongly, of sweat and other things I couldn’t immediately identify. I showered for the second time that day. I went into my room and turned on the console, the disc already spinning with my favorite strategy game, set in a high-fantasy medieval land that was basically Europe but not Europe. It’s funny how much the nature of magic changed in my eyes, as my mages flung fireballs, I couldn’t help but chuckle thinking that such powers have much greater use. The nature of what I did hit me a second time. I shook off the thought and ordered my troops to hit the goblin a second time. I saw the skimpy outfit my female thief character was wearing. I remembered the nude form of Gracie, horny but happy. I winced again to dismiss the image.

When I looked back to the clock, begging to let it be late enough for me to sleep. If I stayed awake any longer to dwell on this, I might snap. Even the fantasy realm was not enough to get this off my mind. I sighed, saved, and powered down.

8:00 PM. Close enough.

Eyelids shut.

10:00 PM. I heard a loud smack against the window. I got up and opened the curtains. A surreal ball of water flew up and hit it once more. It kept its shape until it hit the glass, making the same strange sound then dispersed. I undid the latch and opened it to find Kammeryn looking up at me from our back yard with a very smug “hey stupid, how’s your day been?” kind of look.

“Hey stupid, how’s your day been?” he asked, in a tone of voice so far foreign to what I’d ever heard from him previously.

“Shut up Kammeryn. Do you know what time it is?”

“Certainly no time for sleeping. What are you, eighty? Don’t worry about coming down, I’ll come up.” he said. With that, he walked away from the window to the far side of the yard, over to my Dad’s shed, disappearing from view. My closet door opened behind me and he came out. I turned and jumped to see him standing there.

Kammeryn’s casual, non-magic-ritual attire looked… pretty much like his ritual attire. Black fingerless gloves and a long black leather jacket, black denim jeans and a dark gray tee-shirt. He looked like something out of an anime, almost. One of the badass characters. Except with a more conservative haircut.

“You really should learn to get used to things like that.”

“Sorry if I’ve only seen you cast about four spells so far,” I said.

“Heh. Fair enough. Well, you’ve got quite the hang of casting them yourself I see.”

“Have you been in my head again?” I asked.

“Actually, this time, no. Luca’s eyes, lovely magical things, are kind of tuned in to events of significant magical importance. And they’re also tied to the will of some strange, higher intelligence that even I can’t comprehend. Basically, she sees random events and there is no way of knowing why she saw what she saw. But one of the more random visions she had today keyed me in onto your situation. Slightly. Mind clarifying on some of the minor points?”

“What do you know?” I asked.

“Let’s start from the beginning.” he said.

I figured there was no hiding from this guy. If he wanted to, he could make me spout out every embarassing secret I could think of, and a couple more buried deeper into my subconsious.

So I decided to spill. Scanning people in my classrooms, one or two of the more unusal discoveries about the kids I knew, then onward to my exploits with Gracie. He nodded approval as if these were the kind of things he heard every day. Gracie’s story brought some questions, specifically to the spells I cast but also some sexual ones. There was still an uneasy air about this, as if I was confessing to a crime.

“Kid, listen, everything you can do, I can do better. Everything you HAVE done, I’ve done worse. I think I have something for you,” he said. He spoke a few words of Arcanan and pulled out a book that was too large to fit into his jacket without it having been noticeable before. It looked like an old, weathered textbook of some kind, with a deep blue cover and golden embossed text. He walked over to the bed and sat down. I sat down next to him.

“Breaching The Iron Vault Of The Mind, by Archmage Emerryus, House Kothrin,” he read, as if he was about to start reading me a bedtime story. He pronounced it “Em-er-us”. “On loan from my personal collection to a Mister Arcos, likewise House Kothrin,” he said, opening it up and placing it between us. He rifled through the pages a bit. “Signis,” he uttered. I now noticed as he flipped through, passages highlighting themselves. He’d skip a few dozen pages, stop, scan, make marks appear, continue on like that. When he’d done that for about four-fifths the book, he stopped at the back section. “Okay, skipping this part, it bored me to death,” then flipping the remaining segment back to reveal a couple notes loosely stuffed into it, on yellowing notebook paper. The stark contrast it provided with the style of the rest of the book was a bit humorous.

“Okay, here’s… wow. I must’ve been like… heh. Your age back then,” he said, chuckling a bit. The scrawl was definitely a teenager’s.

He then sat through and organized them into two piles.

“Okay… okay… oh, hold this one,” he said, handing one over to me. “And, those two, okay. There we are. I’ll be keeping this stack,” he said. “Dispar dimtere.” he said, causing one stack to vanish. “And you can copy down the rest,” he said. “But first, give me that page again,” he said, taking back the one he handed me.

“Ah, here it is: The Alice Spell,” he said. The picture had a stylized image similar to Disney’s Alice In Wonderland, slightly more mature, with half of her face in the shadow of a mushroom, smiling rather mischieviously.

“The Alice spell causes the mark to completely block out anything of the sexual nature originating from sources outside those desired by the caster, including all previous memories of intercourse. However, any sexual advances made by the caster will cause a much more sexual nature to arise, immediately knowledgeable of all experiences previously surpressed by the spell. This also confers upon the mark a childlike naievete that carries through to both natures, in the innocent, more cute and sweet, and to the sexual, more teasing and mischievious,” he read.

I read along with him, looking at the sharp, distinct handwriting and now fairly certain it was Kammeryn’s own. This was confirmed by the next line, which read “Original Design: Kammeryn of House Kothrin.”

“I’m telling you, it’s perfect for your freshman.” He scanned the page a bit more. “Okay, here’s how most real spells work. You get your target, or something with sympathy, and you utter these words here,” he said, going over two lines tabbed out of the rest of the description. They were entirely Arcanan symbols. “Don’t need to focus all that much. You see, longer spells like this are codified by the author. They tween and tweak and get the Arcanan words to mean exactly what they mean to produce the desired effect. You just need to know what it was meant to do, and it’ll do it.” he said, flipping the pages over and scanning it again. I noticed another tabbed-out section.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Ah. It’s something like an English translation of the spell.” he said. “And, like most of the spells I came up with then, it’s a rhyme. Once you learn the Arcanan words, all you gotta do is remember the rhyme to know the order. Plus, as culture would suggest, rhymes have power. Even though those aren’t the words you’re saying, it links the meanings together in a way that you find special. That’s what magic is all about, in a way.”

I took the paper from him and looked more closely.

“Then two natures, hid inside
One will live when one does die
Hold both to childish innocence
But to one, sexual deference
From one to break, the new arising
Never to find it unsurprising
Bending now to my desires
In childish passion, lusty fires”

“Not my best work, I’ll admit. But it gets the job done,” he said.

“Sympathy. You’ve talked about it before,” I asked.

“Yes. Well, it’s like this. Everything in the world has connections. The deeper they are, the better you can manipulate them. Like, your connection with your sign word, Desdiri, is about as deep as these things get, seeing as we magically bound it to you. Same with your Shadow name. However, we don’t just make ties to ideas and words, we make ties to things and people,” he said. “So, say I walk by a bus stop and lean against the post. I do it once, nothing much. I do it a hundred times, the pole itself gains some magical resonance with me. Partially because I hold it significant in my mind, partially because we are cosmically connected.” He paused to let me take it in. “Someone’s hairbrush, someone’s bed, each of these are connected to that person by magical sympathy. Blood and bodily fluids, hair, and skin are also really great examples, although blood magic has even deeper potential. We’ll get into that later.” He leaned forward on my bed.

“When you were dealing with Gracie, she was right in front of you. No amount of sympathy was required, you had the object of the spell itself. Ripe for the picking. Now, when you don’t have the advantage of having your subject with you, or when you want to cast spells on them without their knowledge, your spell has more power when you utilize the magical bonds of sympathy. You take the object,” he said, holding out his left hand and grabbing an imaginary handle. “That hairbrush or whatever. And you focus onto your target,” he said, clutching it closer. “Magic runs through symbolism. No distance. No time. No space. So you can impact things by manipulating those symbols. When I called up that book, I focused on my House name, written on the cover, and my notes in the back. Two strongest symbolic ties I could make,” he said. “Oh, and with that spell of yours, know that it’s only going to get stronger the closer you get to Gracie. The more you have sex,” he said, teasingly. I winced a bit.

“Hmm… you know, you talk different sometimes,” I said. Because I was so lost in thought, my words got kind of jumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you’re teaching or at our hangout…”

“Sanctum,” he quickly interrupted.

“Our ‘sanctum,'” I said, pausing as if to taste the word. “you talk formal, official, like a leader, right? But when you came in, you were all buddy-buddy with me.”

“Heh” he said. “Yeah, I suppose. Always trained to present a strong front. To be calm and collected. To train you up in the Arcanan way. But, let’s face it, we all got to let loose sometimes,” he sighed.

“Hm. I kind of like it when you let loose,” I said, smiling.

“Heh. Speaking of letting loose, I have another something for you,” he said, pulling a sheet of paper from another pocket. “Just some rudimentary spells for any further exploits you may be pursuing, y’know, some basic wrap-it-before-you-tap-it stuff. Except we’re mages, so no condoms. You have fun kiddo. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Luca’s been waiting for me,” he said suggestively. He stood up and crossed to the closet. He opened the door and shut it behind him sloppily. It creaked back open into nothingness. Thinking about this stunt later on, I couldn’t help but realize how funny it was that he chose that closet. It wasn’t the kind you hang clothes in, it was full of shelves, as if to store linen. There was no way he could humanly fit, if he’d actually had to go into the closet to use whatever trickery it was he was using.

I thought about all he had said. About how he didn’t mind what I did. Almost suggesting I should go ahead and do so. Whenever.

“What did I do?” I then asked myself.

1. I had gave oral sex to a beautiful young girl, which she enjoyed until orgasm.

2. I recieved same favor in return, although she did not know said favor was magically coerced out of her.

“Did I do something she didn’t want?” I thought. I didn’t know any mind control spells. I just mentally manipulated her to a level of lust she wasn’t quite used to. I couldn’t really “force” her to have sex with me magically; I just wasn’t at that level of power yet. I made her have desire. She chose to act on it.

Likewise, she chose to reciprocate. Had I gave her a desire, or merely a suggestion in the guise of a desire? I didn’t know. I wasn’t her. I couldn’t say.

I then came to these two conclusions:

1. She consented to the act performed on her and the subsequent act performed on me.

2. Two people who have willing sexual activity with each other are not doing anything wrong.

The second was morally iffy, but I found myself believing the underlying principle to be true. So what if we’re “underage”? Nobody got pregnant or sick; we were both virgins.

So it was okay.

Right?

I snapped out of my philosophical ramblings and looked down to my research material. I flipped through the first page and started reading.

“Breaching The Vault Of Memory,” read a large heading. I flipped ahead to another marked section. “Mind Reading With Clarity.”

Hmm… I closed the book, got up, and grabbed some notebook paper from my binder. I placed it next to the book and stopped again. I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.

I went back to the book, coffee in hand, and opened it up.

“Basic Tenets: Sensory Spells.”

I started reading, taking a couple notes. Lots of new words. Lots of powerful, powerful new words.

I set it beside Kammeryn’s private notes, hoping I could try to multitask.

“Sympathy Exploitation” was something that caught my eye.

I saw the staple. It was three pages.

I looked at the bulk of the notes. There were easily about twenty pages. Almost none of them had anything to do with the subject of the book. “They weren’t notes on the book,” I then realized. They were just notes. “Clouding The Senses” “Into Insignificance”. A couple of them were like the Alice page. Fully written, complex spells.

I looked back to the book. Although I had the most relevant sections highlighted for me, it was probably an entire book in itself.

I looked back to the notes.

Kammeryn had arranged quite the lineup for me. It was going to be a loooooong night.

***

I greeted the schoolyard that day with a glimmer in my eyes like no other.

Classes were normal as always. Lauren and I had a nice talk during lunch. Well, it would have been really nice, had SHE not arrived. Not Lauren, of course.

Tori Baxter was a old friend turned old enemy. We met in elementary school, she used to be the shy, quiet type. But in junior high, she got snobby.

Now, don’t get me wrong, she was definitely attractive. Caramel skin. Hour glass figure, emphasis on the tits, D cups at least. Wavy brown hair kept just long enough to leave maximum room for styling, today, a ponytail. Her appearance always gave the air of the artificial, though, as clearly so much work was put into it. Today she had on a black polka-dotted tee shirt, black skirt, black jacket, and a bow. I think it was the bow that would irk me the most, that she would play so innocent yet act so snobbish, so preppy. Makeup that was likely done and redone to get precisely the right effect, not trampy, but clearly there. And sunglasses. Always the sunglasses. “Sensitive eyes” or something was the excuse.

“Hey John,” uttered the harpy queen, her gaggle of lesser harpies faithfully at her side.

“Oh, what would her Highness request of such a humble peasant today?” found it’s way to come out as “Hey Tori.” Lauren stepped in towards me, as if for protection. I almost swore I heard her growling.

“Listen, the Drama club is doing an improv night for a fundraiser, you should come. It’s this Friday in the auditorium.” One of her assistant harpies rushed forward with a flyer, which I grabbed out of her hands. There was a second one for Lauren, who snatched it with equally muted impatience to get this over with.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Okay,” was the last I heard of her before they swarmed off.

“What was that?” asked Lauren.

“I don’t know. She’s in my other drama course, you know.” Because drama and advanced drama were seperate courses, I could be put in both with no issues. So I took one advanced drama course to excercise my true talent and one regular drama course to hang out with my friends and get the easy A. I was not, however, in Drama club, partially because the leadership (Tori) pissed me off, and partially because they met so infrequently they hardly seemed to be a club at all. I was amazed they managed to put this together.

The lunch bell rang and I went to my psychology course to clear my head. Which is a good place to do that, if you think about it. Just one more period until drama, and I could execute my marvelous plan.

I pulled out the notes I took on Kammeryn’s book and went over them, making sure I had everything down pat. So many new words to learn. To use. And so little time.

Drama. Roll call. “Go practice your scenes,” said teacher.

Now, here’s how this goes with high schoolers. You give them groups to work with. You give them freedom to talk. You give them an auditorium to run around in. So they go everywhere. How’s the teacher supposed to round them up? They aren’t. It’s like another lunch break, save some people who are usually practicing.

This was so when I saw Gracie, deep in conversation with two or three of her girl friends.

Not good.

“Scienti suono,” I uttered. Know. Sound.

“So, yeah, who’s your partner?” said Random Girl.

“Jonathan,” said my little sex-kitten. She stuttered it out a bit. She’s nervous.

Did she tell anyone?

“Mente doman,” I uttered. Mind. Question.

“Did you tell anyone about what you did with Jonathan?” I asked of her subconsious.

It was at the forefront of her mind, so she wasn’t guarding the thought in the slightest.

“No.”

“Why?” I wanted to know. The thought got caught up into my spell.

“Because I want it to happen again,” came the subconsious response.

My eyes widened, then came a sigh of relief. I think it’s then I came to terms with what I did. Let’s face it, I did what I did. She liked it. I liked it. She may not have fully wanted it then, but she did fully want it now.

I tuned out the otherwise mundane conversation of the girls. Hearing in two places at once was a taxing magical trick, especially when both places heard the same cacophony of teenagers chatting about their day.

“Oscura,” I said. I wrapped the cloak of Haze around me. I couldn’t actually turn invisible, mind you, but I could use this to fade into insignificance just long enough to go near where Gracie set her backpack without getting questioned.

“Videri sympa,” I said. See. Sympathy.

As I opened her backpack, objects took on a light, surreal glow. Some were stronger than others. Textbooks, next to nothing. Binder, pretty bright. I picked it up and looked at it. There was a picture in the front that caught my eye. Not because the drawing was anything interesting, just a tree with a swingset in front of a house, in pencil, but it emitted quite the aura of sympathy.

I slipped it out and returned her things to a state that would have made it difficult to think anything had happened, and I headed out of the area in the audience where she kept her backpack. I headed backstage into the dressing room.

I closed the door and started breathing heavy. This was going to be great. I took some water from the water fountain and splashed my face with it. I dried my hands carefully before pulling out the image.

“Covo sympa. Covo sympa nora.” Kammeryn’s notes. Sympathy summoning.

Footsteps.

The door opened, and Gracie stepped in.

“Morcere.” Knockout spell. It’s admittably much more fun when you aren’t the target. I caught her in my arms and carefully laid her body out in front of the mirror. She wasn’t that heavy.

“Claudus clauditus.” I gestured over to the front and side doors. As a white beam zipped to each as I heard a firm, hard locking noise in my mind. Close and lock.

“Oscura.” The warm mist of the Haze spell relieved me of the tension that was now thick in my muscles.

I panted, out of breath. I felt like I’d just ran a few laps at full sprint. This spellcasting thing was tough. I steeled my focus and pulled out the paper on which I had written the lengthy “Alice” spell. I smiled and recited the rhyme once, for good measure.

I closed my eyes and focused hard. Time to get serious.

Out came the Arcanan words. However, unlike the last few spells, every word I spoke seemed to give me back my energy. The final words came out strong and proud. Childish passion and lustly fire, if I do recall.

Gracie started awake, and I jumped back a little.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked.

“Nothing. Hey, Gracie, about what we did yesterday, I’ve been thinking…” I paused for lack of words.

“You mean with the play?” she said.

Oh. Memory surpressing. I forgot.

“Yeah. I was thinking we should go over it again a few times. Usually I leave my partners to their own devices, but I really want to get this right.”

“Okay!” she said, with vigor in her eyes.

We went over it a couple times, much faster as we knew what to expect with the read. More emotion came out of it. She also seemed more focused, more… alive? I suppose that’s how you’d say it.

“So, you think we’re good?” I asked.

“Yeah. You want to go now?” she said, walking toward the door.

“Yeah, go talk to your friends or whatever,” I said. I advanced on her and grabbed her ass, squeezing lightly and smiling, knowing leaving would now be the very last thing she’d want to do.

“Hmmm… maybe I don’t want to play with my friends. Maybe I want to play with you,” she said seductively.

“Oh really now?” I said, smiling.

“Uh huh.” She came up to me and reached her arms up to wrap them around my neck. I bent forward to kiss her. She moaned into my mouth and pushed in her toungue agressively.

I surprised her a bit by grabbing her ass and lifting her up onto the table built into the wall of the dressing room mirror. It was at the perfect height, placing my crotch right above the level where she was sitting.

The kiss was longer and more passionate, all the while her moans mixing with the heat off of her body driving me crazy.

I backed off. She just sat there, looking at me seductively with her legs dangling off the edge.

“Feeling a little warm? Me too,” she said, toying with the edges of her blouse.

“Hmm…” I said, horny as hell but still up for the game. “Yeah. Maybe we should slip into something more comfortable.”

She was only wearing a tee shirt and short shorts today. I myself was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans, my jacket lying in a crumpled heap before I started any of this.

“But if I take off my shirt, my titties will be showing,” she said. “And what if someone walked in?” she giggled.

I absorbed the impact of what she was saying. Little slut didn’t have a bra on.

“Let ’em see. Let ’em see us fuck.”

“Ooooh. You said a naughty word,” she said teasingly.

I walked forward. “I’m so sowwy Gracie. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you?” I said, mock-childishly.

“Hmmm… I don’t know,” she said. “But you are right, it is getting hot in here,” she said. She took off her shirt and threw it in front of the door, her tits now bare and exposed.

“I think I know what I could do,” I said. Without further hesitation, I pressed in for a deep kiss, before slowly tracing my mouth down to her chest. She leaned back against the mirror as I moved my arms behind her. I took her left breast into my mouth and sucked delicately, licking my tongue in circles around her nipples.

“Ooooh… ooh yeah…” she said, almost purring.

I swirled faster as she squirmed a bit. I moved my other hand to her right breast and started fondling it gently. After awhile I switched sides, returning slowly. Once I figured each side to have fair treatment, I stopped.

“Do you forgive me now?” I asked.

“Hmmm… I’m not sure,” she said.

“Maybe I should do a bit more to apologize, then,” I said. I undid the front button of her pants and then lifted her off of the table and set her back on the ground as my hands moved down to her ass. After a quick grope or two through the fabric, I slid them down to the floor, followed quickly by her panties.

“Oh my, looks like I’m naked,” she said.

“Maybe I should get naked too,” I replied.

This time she went forward to help me with my clothing. I undid my pants, she unzipped them and knelt down. I slid them off, my hard-on shot forward.

“Oh my, what have we here?” she asked. She pulled down my boxers slightly. “Hi Little Jonathan. I haven’t seen you in a long long time. Do you miss me?”

I laughed at her childish little game. She kissed the tip of my cock. I laughed again and took off my shirt, motioning briefly for her to stand.

“So, how exactly do you plan to make it up to me?” she then said.

Without warning, I walked forward, picked her up, set her back onto the table, and went straight in for another deep, passionate kiss. Her legs wrapped around my back and her moans filled the room.

I backed up. “Now, this is going to hurt a bit, but I promise that once it’s started you’ll feel good, okay?” I said. She nodded in approval.

I took a deep breath to calm myself as she gently disentangled her legs from me. I rubbed my cock against the folds of her pussy, quickly coating it with her slick fluids. I gently slid it into her, eliciting a small gasp. I pushed forward just long enough to feel the barrier.

“You ready?” I said. Another nod.

I pushed until she broke. She let out a wince of pain, but besides that she took it like a champ. Once that was over, I started in with slow, deep thrusts. She soon got over the pain and continued moaning, which served as music to stir me to greater depths.

“Oh… oh.. yes…” she said.

I went faster. She got louder.

“Yes… faster… faster!” she said.

I aim to please, so faster I went. Her cunt was like a slip-and-slide with how wet she was. With such little friction, I was litterally pounding the table with my thrusts.

“Gracie, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum inside me!” she said, the last word lapsing into a moan.

Just a little longer and I was done, shooting my load deep inside her young, tight twat.

“I’m gonna cum too,” she said.

I steeled my nerves and sped up, trying to make for the biggest finish for her I could.

“Yes… yes… FUCK!” she shouted, her back arching as her fluids shot all over my crotch. She went limp, and I set her down on the table and backed away. She turned so as to lay down on it, facing me, smiling.

I pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Somebody said a naughty word,” I said. We both busted out laughing.

---