%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Just Desserts"  You can't take it. You need something to eat, and you're willing to run the risk of telling Gordon what you've got planned for lunch. So you text your old phone number: Need food bad. Bring ur lunch to the loft? Pls? A minute later your phone tweets. It's Will Prescott: "What's wrong? Whaddaya need food for?" "'Cos I'm starving. Wait, are you in class?" "No. Obviously. I'm just leaving the elementary school, just got all those bags moved in. Christ. If I'm going to be spending any time being you, I'm going to have to start working out." This alarms you -- not the threat to work out, but the fact that he's skipped his morning classes. But he explains it was only the bullshit second and third period classes that he skipped out on, and he'll be back to school in plenty of time for English. "I'll run you my lunch up to the loft when I get there." He hangs up, for which you're grateful, since you haven't had to explain about Chelsea. But when he arrives and meets you in the loft, he asks you about it point blank: "So how come you can't wait until lunch? You can have all the slop you can eat then." You concentrate on tearing open the paper bag and spilling out the sandwich, apple, bag of chips and bottled water. "'Cos I'm having lunch up here with Chelsea." You avoid his eye until the silence becomes awkward. When you look up, he looks away. "Oh, I see," he says quietly. "She asked me," you tell him. "It was her idea. I, uh, I thought it would be weird if I said 'no'." "Yeah, it would be." He's turning red, but it looks like embarrassment, not anger. You also feel yourself turning red. "Look, that's the way I'm going to do it, okay?" you tell him. "Um, when it's her idea, that's the only time I'll, you know -- " "No, you should do it whenever. It'll look weird if you don't." "I don't want to!" "You don't?" Naturally, he looks surprised. Oh, how to answer that? "I don't want to do anything that'll piss you off or make you think I'm -- " "It won't," he says, though he doesn't sound entirely convinced himself. "I know this is the way that we have to, uh -- " He swallows. "And I'm going to be doing stuff with your, uh -- " He flops his arms awkwardly instead of saying "your body" or "your cock." "So, we'll be even." "You said that before. Anyone in particular, or are you just farting and pretending it's perfume?" He flushes. "Well, with somebody. I'm planning on it." He turns insolent. "I'm gonna get you fucking laid, Prescott, okay? So fucking deal with it!" He deflates as you snort. "So, to be even, you're going to have to, you know." You're silent for a moment. Then you lean back. "Well, it's not like I won't have to work for it. It's not like she's going to roll over just because I ask." That gets a little smile out of him. "So, really, when I say I'm only gonna get laid when she asks for it, it's just me being realistic." He laughs, and the tension drains from the room. "That's true. It's alright." He looks you in the face again, and those crooked eyes and crooked smile are fixed in a friendly way. "Thanks." "Sure. And if our moment of total gayness is over, if you do manage to get laid in that thing, can you at least try to make it a cheerleader?" "I'll do what I can. Oh, speaking of cheerleaders, we made up a new mask yesterday, me and Caleb are gonna try to get it on one of the Garner girls. Lift a debit or credit card off her and try to use it to get some money." "Wow, you're kind of bending things." You cock your head. "That's not your plan for getting laid, is it? Put Caleb in a mask of Jessica Garner, and then you -- " "Jesus! No! I don't know what I'll do, but I'm going to do something. That sock was good enough for you, but not for me." "Fuck you, it's what I had to make do with. And you better get out of here before the bell rings. And I gotta eat. What are you gonna do for lunch?" "Sponge off the guys." His face tightens. "Probably gonna have to eat with Ioeger and Lamont." "Hey, I have to hang out with Patterson and Lynch. Call it even." "Whatever. Maybe I'll just try keeping it to Johansson and Tilley." "Try to catch up with Tilley anyway." You grin. "He might have a story to tell you." "Oh?" But just then the bell rings, so he takes off, and you shove the food down your gullet before Chelsea can arrive. * * * * * She's a little long in coming, which gives you time both to finish your food and to brush your teeth (though you have no water and have to spit as best you can into the garbage sack). But she's worth the wait. She's changed out of her jeans and blouse and into her cheerleader uniform. But without the stockings. And when she flirtatiously twirls, you see she's not wearing anything beneath the skirt. "You are just begging to be molested, little girl," you say, and catch her into an embrace. "I was begging this morning," she says. "And I was thinking about it all during classes. We should do it in the halls some night," she says, digging her fingernails into your back. "We should break into the main building some night, do it on the floor in each of the wings." "Floor would be like ice." "So we'd bring one of the mats with us. Or I'd keep you warm. You'd keep me warm." She pulls up your shirt and rubs her face in your meaty chest. "You make me so hot and wet," she murmurs. You pull off your shirt and shorts and kick off your shoes, then sit on the mat. She straddles you, standing on her knees and covering your lap with her skirt, to touch your cock with her bush. You brace yourself with one hand and hold her with the other; she cradles your face between her hands. You kiss, slowly and gently, sucking on lips and touching tongues. As you warm to each other, though, she takes the tip of your cock inside her. Bit by bit she lowers herself onto you, and you lean back, first onto your elbows and then onto your back, as she takes in more and more of you. You've had Gordon's memories to titillate you, but they are nothing like having her hot, velvet flesh actually wrapped around you. It's a sweet contrast to the satiny feel of her cheerleader top as you grip and hold her up. When you're firmly anchored inside her, you begin to thrust and retreat, slowly and rhythmically. Chelsea groans and sucks on her lower lip. This beautiful girl, this amazingly sexy girl, is yours, and she is gulping with aching pleasure as you thrust inside her. Faster you push, and she rumbles and squeaks. Up you push, lifting your hips from the ground, and she throws her head back. "Oh, God," she moans. "Oh, Gordon!" You wish it had taken a little longer, but you freeze in mid-air as you feel the boiling froth rise inside you, and when it reaches the tip, you drop and bounce off the mat. You clamp onto her hips and push her down onto yourself as you jackhammer her insides. Your lips peel back and you squeeze your eyes shut and you are the Fucking Sex God of Westside High. * * * * * Afterwards you hold her tightly to yourself as she sprawls atop you like a rag doll. She is breathing heavily in your ear, and her lips are very still. You like the silence after these things. Chelsea likes to talk, and you flatter yourself at these times that you've fucked her speechless. But after long minutes her lips work. "Hm?" you ask. "You say something?" She swallows. "We forgot the condom." "We'll be okay. Won't we?" "Mm-hmm." She swallows again. "Just don't want to get out of the habit, get careless." "Not much chance of that, right?" She swallows again, and sighs deeply and contentedly. "I want to do it more often." "Yeah?" "Mm-hmm. I promised I'd make things work. I will. Things seem to work better for us, don't they, after we've -- " She kisses you. "I guess so. But, you know, just because I'm horny doesn't mean you have to be too." She raises her head to peer down nearsightedly at you. Then she lays back down, to brush your cheek with hers and grind herself a little farther down your softened but still engorged cock. "I wish I was as horny as you," she says. "It'd be easier. And fun." She snickers softly. "Guys have it so easy. You know what makes you happy, and it's easy for you to get happy, and you get happy -- what, a dozen times a day?" "You mean get wood? More like a hundred times a day." "You don't see me a hundred times a day." "No, I just think of you that often." "Mmmm. I want you inside me, Gordon. All the way inside me, all the time." She wriggles. "I want a big, swollen belly, and you're inside me so I can hold you and rub you all over and all around -- " This is getting very scary. "You don't want a baby, do you?" She raises her face. "Well -- Eventually, yes. Don't you?" "Well, yeah. But not yet, not while we're still in school. I mean, you don't either. Right? What would happen to your squad?" "No, you're right." But she sighs happily. "I'm just telling you what I want, eventually. But for my fantasy -- " Impulsively, she kisses you. "Forget fantasy. I've got what I want right now." Next: "The Ultimatum" |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
