Meanwhile II: The Twinsluts

Ngh...god, my pussy ached...

It had only been a little while since Michael let us put our clothes on, yet since that time, a group of boys spotted us in the athletics hall, questioned why we were wearing our gym Leotards under our skirts and shirts, and **** us to scissor each other, much to their amusement. I chose to look only at my sister, her hands slapping and twisting away at our...her nipples, causing us both to pray desperately for relief. I get why she put on everything; we wanted...she wanted to prove her loyalty to Michael, show that we were willing to go the distance and endure anything for his sake.

That didn't change the fact that our nipples hurt. God! My nipples hurt! Why was I starting to think like this? It's not like we were one person or anything. We'd lived completely separate lives, Callie with her soccer and yoga and partying, and me with my chess club and reading...we wanted more than anything to not become those creepy twins who shared everything, who did everything together, who even looked identical...now look at us. Sharing one name, thinking as a unit, even sharing sensations. Either Michael knew us on a deep level and wanted to mentally **** us, or took a lucky shot in the dark and satiated his own fetishes. God, what a creep.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we were allowed to stop scissoring. We both just lay there, panting, Leotards pulled to the side, skirts flipped up, legs locked. I looked up at the group of boys, and one of them, through a dumb baritone giggle, questioned us again.

"So, uh...what's up with your outfits?" Immediately, we rose back up, grinding against each other once more. I sighed from frustration.

"Please fuck our holes, leave us alone." The guys were shocked.

"YOOOOOOOO WHAT!?!? THIS BITCH IS CRAZY! HAHAHAHA!" One of them pulled out their phone and started recording. "Hang on, hang on, say what you just said again!"

"PLEASE FUCK OUR HOLES, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU PERVERTS!" That just made them laugh even more.

"Yooooo what the fuck!?"

"These bitches are actually insane!"

"Oh my god, no way! Hahaha!"

I shouldn't have said anything. I knew it. I fucking knew that saying something would just make things worse. And yet, here I was, acting like my sister, being aggressive and brash and reckless all because I couldn't handle being toyed with by some stupid guys.

Fuck them.

Fuck this.

And fuck Michael.

When the boys had stopped laughing and cheering at our scissoring, I finally noticed it. Callie clearly noticed it before me. Down the halls, some ways away, it sounded like an orgy had started up. Dozens of voices moaning. The pleasure practically radiated down the hall. Even the guys noticed it, and some wandered off to find out what was going on. I quivered in fear, and stared at my sister's wide eyes. What the fuck had Michael done?

Before we could even answer that question, the gym teacher's door burst open, with Mrs. Peters and Mr. Armani going to town on each other. Clothes started flying as Mrs. Peters begins desperately undressing both Mr. Armani and herself. She looked hornier than anyone I'd ever seen.

"Fuck! Bob! Fuck me right here! I don't care! Just fuck me right now!" Even this startled the group of boys, as they stared confused at the **** sex starting to take place in the hallway. Michael definitely did something. There's no way on this, or any reality, that the gym teacher and the health teacher would completely stop their lessons only to fuck, on the ground, in the middle of a hallway people often walk through. And yet, there it was, Mrs. Peters, a happily married woman with three kids, begging Mr. Armani, a lonely, sad old man who made Gary Busey look attractive, to fuck her. Even with just him, she wasn't done.

"Boys! Boys! Quick! One of you, get over here! Fuck my ass, too! Please! One dick isn't enough!"

All of them were too stunned to move.

I looked back at Callie, who was equally as scared as me.

What did he do?