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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Two Snakes Walk Into a Coffee Bar ..."  Could you give Steve Patterson a blow job without vomiting? Well, Kendra could, you reflect as you sip your espresso, because she has before. She actually enjoyed it. And, you add as you take another sip, I'm supposed to be Kendra Saunders. The image of Steve Patterson comes vividly before you. Tall, strong, effortlessly confident and capable. You remember the steel of his grip when he seizes and draws you close, and the cold-eyed smile that freezes you to him. The hot skin and the taut muscles, the deepening thrusts and the hard spasms. And the twisting probing tongue afterward, for Steve doesn't end his love-making when the timer is spent. Kendra is a rag doll in his arms before he finishes with her. A half-dozen times they've done it in the loft, since he got a key at the start of summer, and a dozen times before that, during their junior year. And yet they are not going steady, they do not even acknowledge publicly that they are screwing each other regularly. In Steve's case (you guess) it's because he restlessly chases fresh pussy, returning to Kendra only when he wants a sure thing. In Kendra's case, it's because she doesn't want to give Chelsea a tool she can use against her. Chelsea thinks that Kendra sleeps with Steve only when she (Chelsea) urges her to, telling her that she needs to "be nice" to Steve, to "keep him happy" so that Gordon will be happy. If Chelsea thought that Kendra actually liked being with Steve, she would try to use Steve against her. Or so Kendra dreads. "I can do this," you murmur to yourself as you pick up your phone and thumb through Kendra's enormous contact list to find Patterson's entry. It isn't just that I can worm something into Steve, and maybe worm some ideas into him. I can prove to myself that I can really be Kendra all the way, whenever it counts. * * * * * Steve is too busy to check his texts, apparently, and it's after five before he replies by asking, What's up? You repeat your earlier plea: Call me please? "Chelsea wants me to talk to you," you explain in a little, little voice when you pick up. "What about?" Patterson asks. "Just talk. You know. Happy talk?" There's a long pause. "For Chelsea?" he asks. "For me, Steve. I put the idea in her head. She must be going really crazy about this break up, because she didn't think of it herself. Like, if I got with you—" Steve grunts. "I'm going out with my folks," he says. "We're taking Gordon, probably for steaks. I'll have to hang out with him after that, for a little while." "I don't mind it being late. My curfew's not till two. Steve? I really want to try out that sleeping bag you said you'd bring up to the school for when it gets cold." "I'll try to get away by ten." You bite on your thumb and grin to yourself as you drop your phone onto the bed beside you. * * * * * You put out feelers in other directions while waiting for the night to ripen with Steve. To keep in contact with your doppelganger (for it would hardly do for Chelsea, who is a paranoid snoop) to find texts from him on your phone, you set up an x2z account for him, and text him the log-in information. In your first, very long DM to him there, you tell him to keep alert for any news or gossip from either Jason or Steve, and you remind him to keep pushing Jenny and Gordon together. You don't tell him what exactly Chelsea has planned for him (he would hardly appreciate the news, as you know that you wouldn't either) but you do give him the names of a couple of pseudonymous posters on the site, telling him that if he follows their posts he'll have a better idea of what is going on at the school, including fair warning of any shit that's headed his way. Kendra knows some of those posters (and she suspects the real identities of all of them) and she gossips with them frequently from under a secret pseudonymous account of her own, posing as someone who hates Chelsea and her gang (including Kendra herself). To these you shoot a couple of provocative DMs, just to seed the atmosphere with a little poison. To Dylan Lloyd, a grinning troublemaker on the basketball team: Laxers at party ln talking shit about team, say Gordon dumped Chelsea be cleaning up team next. U be ok? To Cristina Ramon, the girlfriend of Marc Garner's best friend: Heard kendra ln at party say marcs at top of chelsea thirst list u think she got chance w him? To Adam Dortch, who hates Kendra and has no idea that he is one of her most best sources for gossip and best tools for spreading hatred online: Wanna fuck with kendra? Go to her page and ask why she was talking to jason lynch for at starbucks and tag jason in lol. And to Christian Padilla, a gay gossip that Kendra pumps reliably, you DM under Kendra's own name: CC says she heard jl and gb had big fight, jl banned from loft. Ask around and see if true? Love u! After that, you get ready for your date with Steve. * * * * * He picks you up in the Starbucks parking lot, where you leave your car, at a little before ten, and drives you out to the school. It's a quiet drive, full of silent anticipation, which Steve shows by massaging the back of your neck with one hand as he steers with the other. At the school, he hugs you close to his side with one arm while carrying a burly sleeping bag with the other. You tactfully refrain from asking him how his dinner with Gordon went, lest he think that you're with him only to get news about Chelsea's ex-. Up in the loft, he puts on the light long enough to dig out some small candles, which he scatters on a couple of nearby surfaces. Then he unbundles and rolls out the sleeping bag. Still crouching over it, he looks up at you, and beckons you over. Still squatting on his haunches, he pulls up your shirt and pushes down the hem of your jeans, to give your bellybutton a wet, gnawing kiss. Then he pulls you down with a grunt (from him) and a giggle (from you) onto the bag. For the next twenty minutes or so you keep your clothes on, and make out slowly with lots of stroking and kissing. He caresses your face and combs out your kinky hair. You grip his butt and grind your pussy up and down the front of his thigh. But eventually the clothes come off. You start by unbuttoning his shirt while he's atop you, kissing your forehead, and push your palms up under his t-shirt to caress the hard ridges of his stomach. (He flinches at your cold touch, but then begins to writhe as you stroke his abs and the small of his back.) Then he sits up long enough to unbutton and spread your blouse before diving in to kiss the small of your chest between your boobs. You throw a leg over his ass and pin him to you. When he finally rolls off you, it's onto his back. "Salty shake?" he asks, which is his code word for "blow job." But as you've heated up, you've decided you want more, and shake your head. "I had my period last week," you gasp as you clamber atop him. "I'm safe. No rubber." His eyes, though still cold and gray, crinkle pleasurably at that. He's naked inside the sleeping bag when you settle onto him, balancing yourself on his shoulders (like a gymnast, almost) as you lower yourself onto a shaft that is as hard and rigid as a steel bolt. "Oh God," you gasp. "God god god god god! Steve!" You stifle a cry. "Are you ... bigger? Than last time?" He grins up at you. It hurts as you drive yourself down on him, but it's a hurt that drives you frantic with pleasure, and you bite on a knuckle as he begins to drive up into you from below. You are still boiling with an unspent steam when he explodes inside you, but he senses this, and grips you close and forces himself deeper into you even after he's spent himself. When you do cum, it's sparked by the thought, I've got two guys inside me, and I'm being fucked by both of them! Afterwards, you splay yourself atop him and drag the sleeping bag over yourself for cover, and let him caress and nibble you as he slowly—very slowly—relaxes inside you. After he's rested, he shifts so that you are laying on your sides, and then he makes a meal of you with his mouth, his tongue, his fingers and hands, and his feet. You grip yourself to him as though seeking to melt inside him. Only after you are cuddling do you broach the business that is our reason for doing all this with him. "Chelsea's gone crazy," you murmur. "I don't wanna talk about Chelsea." "'Cos you wanna think about me," you add for him, and kiss him lightly on the lips. "But she's making me crazy too. She's gonna make all of us crazy. For the rest of the school year." Steve grunts. That's one of the things Kendra likes about him. He doesn't like to talk about what she likes to talk about. But he will listen, and he never does anything stupid like try to offer actual advice. Sometimes he'll make an observation, though. Like he does now. "That's gonna be fun for the cheerleading squad. Having a captain who's crazy." Probably he didn't mean anything by it, but in a flash it gives you the greatest idea you've ever had. Perfect revenge on Chelsea. For you and Kendra both. With Cindy's help, you can kick Chelsea off the squad. And claim the position of cheerleader captain for yourself! That's all for now. |
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