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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Life of Gianna Johns"  "So do you like Ms. Johns?" Sydney asks you as the meal is wrapping up. "I like her fine." You grin and stretch your legs out before you. An almost erotic ripple runs up you, from your toes and up your legs, then through your core and up your spine to the base of your neck. You fluff your hair out over and around your shoulders. You smirk at Sydney. "Do you like her?" Half her mouth goes up in a smile. "Why Ms. Johns," she says, "I do believe you're trying to seduce me." "Bet your fucking cooch I am." But your eye can't help flitting to Paul. Sydney catches it. "Both of us?" she asks with a lifted eyebrow. "If I can manage it." Your heart is beginning to beat hard. "That wouldn't be hard to arrange." Sydney picks up the empty containers from the coffee table and carries them into the kitchen. That leaves you alone with Paul. "What are you thinking about, handsome?" you tease him. "I don't think I've got a thought in pretty little head," he replies. "Really?" He shrugs. "I'm waiting to see what comes next." You're about to tell what's coming next, but catch yourself. How far ahead does "next" stretch? Yes, you jumped out of Paul Griffin's mask, but you still feel a residual responsibility for him. Not to mention for Sydney who, as long as she remains in Becky Oliver's mask, will depend on him for support. "What are we going to do with you two?" you ask her when she comes in to pick up the remainder of dinner. "I mean, where are you going to live? What's he"—you jerk your head at Paul—"going to do for a living?" "Can't he get acting gigs?" "He needs something until then. And Calabasas is too expensive for him—and you—to live in if he's only got savings to draw on." Sydney starts to make a reply, but she seems to catch herself, and says instead, "Do you know of anything for him?" "The only thing Gianna's good at is finding college spots for her students, and even then— Well, she knows someone who works for a dinner theater troupe. But," you add when you catch the wince on Paul's face, "maybe that should only be a last resort." "Well, something will turn up," Sydney says as she returns to the kitchen. "Maybe we should be on the lookout for someone who could get him a job or a gig, add that person to the Brotherhood." "I thought that's what we were doing," you retort, "before we decided to go back to high school." "Don't be so cramped in your thinking, Will," she replies when she returns. "When I say we could add someone who could get him a job, I'm talking about another teacher, or a parent. We've got plenty of time to find someone like that, don't we? And besides—" She straddles your knees and sits on your lap. Almost you yelp and come off the sofa, for Gianna's own instincts aren't very far away, and the boldness of Sydney's move has surprised even you. "—I thought you wanted to do something else this evening." She leans forward and covers your mouth with hers. * * * * * You spend a pleasant forty minutes or so on the sofa, snacking on the body of Becky Oliver as she snacks on you. You kiss and caress and slowly undress each other, helping her lift her t-shirt off, and helping her pull yours off. You nibble the crook of her neck, and nuzzle your way through her long, heavy, musky hair to the side of her head; she reciprocates by lightly biting the side of your throat. You unhook and discard her bra, and the tips of your own breasts harden and rise as you drink in the lifting and bulging curves of her uncovered breasts. You embrace her, and giggle drunkenly as she reaches around to fiddle with the hooks on your own bra. Her skin is warm, and your own skin itches pleasantly where her bare flesh rubs over yours. Then, when your bra is off and thrown away, you twist around and lay back on the sofa, to let Becky hunch over you and swallow one of your breasts in her hot, wet mouth. She suckles there as you caress the back of her head. And behind her, directly in your eye-line, Paul Griffin sits watching with a bemused smile. After the jeans and shoes come off, you and Becky move into the bedroom, but you invite Paul along, telling him he can watch. (Becky starts a little at this, then grins at you.) On the bed, you don't bother to pull Becky's panties off you, just pull them down far enough that you can push your muzzle deep inside her bush, and your tongue up inside to touch and lick the tender, trembling, salty flesh within; the girl wriggles and writhes, and clutches the hair on either side of your head in fistfuls. But she hasn't climaxed before twisting away and demanding that she do the same to you, so you sit back and spread your legs and let her snuffle around inside you. You gnaw on a knuckle and try to will yourself to an orgasm, and yet one doesn't come—not even after you have locked eyes with Paul and (by mouthing the instructions silently over Becky's head) ordered him to take off his shirt and unbuckle his jeans and masturbate while watching you. But all that does is deepen your hunger to feel his cock inside you. At last you can't resist the siren song any longer, and gently you coax Sydney into getting off you. "I want to try something," you tell her. "I've got to know if—" You beckon to Paul. He strips his jeans and underwear off, and clambers atop you. Oh Jesus, this is exactly what I want and need, you groan to yourself, and you know it even before he has begun to gently guide himself inside you. Just the touch of his bulging cock sets you thrilling from your lower back all the way down to your toes and up to the base of your skull. You wrap your legs around his hips and gently squeeze, pushing him toward you; you wrap your arms around his neck. But even as he slowly sinks deeper into you, and thrusts farther up inside you, he balances himself on his hands and locks his elbows, and stares down at you with a hard and hungry look. His lips slowly twist into a sardonic smile as he begins to rhythmically thrust inside you, and you feel an answering smile appear on your lips as you clench him there. Then his cock touches something inside you, and you slam your eyes shut to concentrate on it. And in that moment, as he cock swells and blooms inside you, you forget him and yourself and everything except his hard, thrusting shaft, and the crack he is prying open within you. And when that crack bursts volcanically open, and you rise, shrieking from the bed, you have no other thought but to grasp and grip him to you, and to pull him inside the infinitely deep pit of joy that he has opened within you. For what seems an endlessly hanging moment you cleave to him, squeezing, gripping, crushing him to yourself as you weep and wail, and when the moment wings silently away, you droop bonelessly back onto the bed. But your flesh shivers and puddles as he kisses you all over the tops of your breasts. You cuddle with both him and Becky after that, and pass out for a little bit, before being woken again by Becky, who invites you to watch as she goes down on her father. That wakes you up, and arouses you to join them afterward, with you and Becky making a kind of parentheses around Paul, who dozes with a smile on his face as you and Becky kiss him from opposites sides. Then you and Becky, on your knees, clasp each other and make out over his prone body until he returns to life and takes each of you in turn in his arms for a lengthy makeout. Then, after he's fully recovered, you lie on the bed and let the crouching Becky go down on you while he takes her from behind. And in this way you pass the late evening and early hours of the morning. It's from an exhausted sleep that the alarm wakes you, and time is so cramped that you and Becky have to shower together if you are both to get to school in time for Alpha class. * * * * * You arrive at school with only ten minutes' margin, and you don't even have time to change into the spare set of clothes that Gianna keeps in her office. Maybe it's your imagination, but you think you see the accusation in the veiled, once-over glance that Chloe Crain gives you as she waits for you to unlock the practice room door: Why are you wearing yesterday's clothes? You put it out of your mind, though, as you race to set up for class. What you can't put out of your mind, though, is your determination to set Paul Griffin up someplace in Calabasas so that you can see him—and fuck him—without having to make that shitty drive all the way down to Los Angeles. The simplest way, of course, would be to just have him and Becky move in with you, but you quail at the questions that would cause if it ever got out (which it would be bound to do). But you are blanking on alternatives. And then Riker White walks in. Riker and his gang irritate you, because they're in this class only for "the lulz." But they have a sizable online presence, and a hundred-thousand subscribers watch the skits they write and perform, making them the closest thing to "celebrities" there are at Rocky Beach High. If Paul "joined" their channel, it might get him the buzz he needs to keep his career on track—and worm you and Sydney more deeply into the high school. Next: "School Survey" |
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