Doesn't she want to take some pics of her own?

A teeny smile pried through my cheeks.

Now before you call me out, I was feeling impish. And plus, I was only being fair.

If I had the luxury to take her pussy's photos, how rude was it of me not to extend that same right to pretty lil' Christina?

Equality, liberty, and genitalia, as they say.

"Hey, Christina," I began. She looked up at me, pants zipped up, when I introduced a new idea in her head. A ruminating look appeared in her eyes, but I thinly had the time to process it.

An ache the scale of a two-man migraine slammed me. I winced. Like earlier, it seemed to exert itself through a bubble-like medium, except this time it felt harder and more abrasive. I sensed it pushing and expanding out until it surrounded the entire school grounds. It was like... it was like a pipe accosted with fissures, drainage leaking through.

Not sure if that sounded so good.

Back in the oblivious now, Christina's voice distantly resounded in the background. "...early forgot!"

When I had recovered, the air still felt a little murky around me. But Christina remained as pleasing to watch as ever as she took out her own phone and looked back at me. "Alright, er... what was your name?"

"Daniel." I found it amusing still that she let a guy take pictures of her slit without even a formal introduction.

After repeating my name approvingly, she gestured to my pants. "Let me see it please."

I looked at her with figurative question marks. "See what?" She just rolled her eyes. Not much of a joker.

"You know."

"I know what?"

"Your penis," she finally explained, and I stifled a laugh. Such a word departing her mouth in such a context. How twisted. How tantalizingly eschew. How... wrong. "You already saw my vagina. I get to take pictures of your penis now. So come on."

"Why do you--"

"Oh just get it out already!" she seemed a bit rattled, as if I was making a fuss over nothing. So much so, apparently, that she decided to take over. Without a flutter in her step, she approached me and grabbed my zipper, pulling it down. Surprisingly not the first time that happened that day. Or second.

Who knew I would live to see a day where I could say that and actually be telling the truth.

Not me, that's for sure.

"Hey," I wriggled away in light resistance, throwing my back to the restroom wall, "what are you doing?!"

"Getting your penis -- "

She briefly paused, a tilted brow over her eyes, then continued.

"-- I'm getting your dick out, that's all!" She flipped a thatch of hair over a shoulder as she found access through my boxers and released said dick into the open. I moved my hips to the side, away from her face. "Jeez, would you stop being such a hassle?" Her exasperated voice echoed through the room with pristine reasonableness.

"I can't believe it," I faux-cried, and took another backward step. Looking out of the restroom to the unfilled campus, I shouted, "Help! I'm being ****! Heelp!"

Christina looked like a mother whose patience was currently running on power-saving mode. "Oh nice try." She grabbed my penis with her hand, even stroking against it slightly, and held her phone with the other as she pulled it towards her like a leash on a dog. "No one's going to fall for that old trick. Now," she continued studiously, like the leading architect of a dig. She was probably an honors student. "Just stay still and get some blood pumped in there. I wanna see this rod in its full hardness if possible."

Luckily for her, that was not... 'hard' to do.

Barely a second later, her eyes shone as my dick rose to attention, and to the attention, which she gave with rapt sincerity. "Oh wow!" I heard the sound of the phone's built-in shutter sound effects flank my throbbing manhood, which, amazingly, was undergoing quite the throb. The attention really did pack a punch, in the sharpest, most unusually arousing way.

After all, I never had my penis's picture taken before; at least not like this.

"That is nice, Daniel!" Somehow, I suspected the Arbiter's Mark had something to do with my current motility, but still wasn't sure. I'd have to investigate it later. Meanwhile, fixated brunette down there continued the schmooze. "Nothin' to be ashamed of, really! Oohf, this would make for some great frigging material later."

If I wasn't hard before, there was certainly no denying it now. I felt my tip nearly graze her cheek. That was nothing, however, compared to how she grabbed my shaft and pushed and pulled -- not up and down, per se, but to the side and diagonally and loop-dee-loop, like a broken lever on a switchboard. She wasn't giving me a handjob, after all -- she was just trying to get a good angle.

"Oh," I heard her mumble, "the lighting looks better here."

"No, wait, that doesn't really translate the size that well in the picture..."

"Let's get a closer look at those balls."

"This tip," poke, "is so hard and bulbous! Yet soft!" Poke.

As she proceeded with her photo shoot, I twitched, thought, and twitched. Mostly twitched.

Yes, it was inane. It was wrong. But it was convenient above all -- who needed to send dick pics to anyone, when you can just have girls take the pics themselves? Brilliant!

Amazingly, my libido was insatiably insatiable. Two women in the span of a dual movie marathon. And still the beast hungered.

Agh, I winced as, once again, that... 'bubbly' feeling returned. I felt a little lightheaded too. However, I shouldered through the slight nausea and weird gurgly sensations bubbling in me. Right now a certain situation was at hand which had my monocles at the ready, and that hand thing was not a metaphor.

"Hey," Christina suddenly lowered her phone, eyes still fixated on my air-licking dick. Then finally, she asked, "Do you think... do you think you could cum in my bra?" She tugged her neckline downward, exposing the upper slope of her left breast. "It's so cold. I want to get warmed up."

"Yes," I grunted.

She expressed her gratitude and tucked her phone into her tight pocket, giving it a pat. Girl jeans. How did anything fit in there, seriously?

Before I could form another coherent complaint, Christina scooted forward, grabbed hold of my dick and this time gave it a nice, healthy stroke -- no longer looking for perfect angles. No longer tossing out lingo. Just an old-fashioned good time.

I was panting again, feeling another soft warm hand wrapped around my hard man-meat and without a single physical **** or cheap dollar table offer. Just natural, as unnaturally as could be.

While Christina circled the ridges of her fingers around my twitching head and vigilantly rubbed back and forward in a most pleasurable way, I also came to the hazy realization that, surprisingly, I couldn't remember directly commandeering anything for a while now -- not since I had mentally compelled her to be excited about getting her pussy's picture taken a couple minutes back.

It almost felt like I was... going on autopilot. Or rather, the mark -- or gift or whatever-ya-call-it -- was doing all the work for me.

Well... the more convenience the better, right?

Oh it sure was, if you haven't watched enough sci-fi films to know any better.

At this moment, however, this intersection of hedonism and nastiness, with this nicely pussied lady at my beck, my third release of the day was on its crux and it was too hot to ignore. Christina's pretty face sat in wait as I expounded another grunt.

"Christina, I'm cumming," I informed her.

"Uh-huh." One hand went down to her shirt. Tugging it forward, she made sure my penis's launching trajectory was angled properly towards her cute, perky boobs. In the last minute she suspected that might not work, and instead pulled it down until she was able to grab one bra cup and turn it partially inside out. Them she swiftly situated the inside face of it under my dick which she continued to stroke, and said, "Alright!"

And I came, right into her bra cup. In place of disgust and revulsion, as such emotions would probably normally have been fit for, Chrstina affixed her gaze on her bra and the special filling flowing out of my dick with serious-faced precision, gently guiding my head in order to acquire as much area on the fabric as possible.

Quickly, enough that I didn't even notice it through my climactic mist, she returned the cup back over her breast and mushed it against her nipple and tit without any cause for grace or concern. Then tugging the other side of her shirt down, she did the same for the other cup, making sure to accrue as much of my spunk as my reserves could permit, then returned, mushed, then double-mushed.

It kind of looked like she was applying glue on paper for a school project and then pressing them nice and hard onto a bigger sheet of paper.

I even heard a soft squick! come from one bra squash.

A minute later, we were both standing side to side, washing our hands in the sink.

"Ah," intoned Christina like a woman who'd just soaked her feet in a warm trench of water as she dried off. "Much better." She felt her breast a bit, giving her left a mild shake.

"Warm?" I wiped my hands, eyes on her jizz-adorned chest.

She smiled. "Warm."

Then giving in, I wiped my hands on her jizz-adorned chest. She smiled again.

When I walked out, we went our separate ways. From a little more conversation I learned her boyfriend actually had the same class with me later that day, though I was sure with my new ability there should be little issue.

A slight pep in each step, and I admit, even with the faint lightheadedness, I was feeling particularly lucky. Out of a whim I glanced my mark over, and frowned. A faint, yellow tint flickered, appearing then disappearing through the embedded contours. I wondered if that signified anything, but then again, I wasn't sure.

This didn't exactly come with a manual.

I sniffed, entering the hallway to my current, Period 3 class room.

Felt like there was some kind of electricity in the air. A tingling. May have just been my imagination though.