Chapter Twelve

Carl lay on his side with his mother in his arms. A heavy teet between his lips and hips thrusting lethargically as they indulged in a slow cuddle-fuck.

“That’s right, baby. Drink as much as you wish. Your Mama will always have more to feed her hunky boy.”

The evening had turned into night as they went at each other like bunnies hopped up on Ritalin. Only after fucking his mother raw in the shower–soapy bodies slapping together under the spray and steam–had he spotted the empty takeout container.

By then, Carl was too lost in an animal frenzy of reckless rutting to care or stop. A distant part of him knew, come morning, there would be music to face and a piper to pay. But that seemed an age away, and right now, there was a beautiful insatiable angel in his arms, lavishing him with love, affection, and no small amount of her titty cream.

The long, smooth leg hooked over his waist tugged him all the way in as Clarita shuddered through another soulful climax, bathing the sodden bedsheets with another dose of spicy nectar. The mattress beneath them squelched like a soaked sponge as they coupled.

“Mmmm, Cariño. You make Mama feel so good.” She sighed, clutching him close. Her squirting snatch convulsed around his throbbing girth. “Like a real woman again. Not a lonely, dried-up husk of my younger self struggling to get by. You have breathed new life into this old lady.”

Disengaging from her breast, Carl met his mother’s adoring stare. Her brilliant crimson hair shrouded their entwined bodies like a cloak of the softest silk, and her bright hazel eyes showed nothing but a heady blend of pride and desire for him.

A corkscrew of guilt twisted his gut.

“It’s not real, Mom.” The confession tumbled out unbidden. “The leftovers I brought home, those you ate, were laced with magic from the party I waitered last night. That is why you look and feel so different.”

“A bruja curse?” Clarita frowned but didn’t pull away, locking his hardness firmly inside her quivering quim. “You wouldn’t–”

“No, no. I think it’s Fae… sex magic? It’s difficult to explain. But the effects are temporary. We’ll be our regular selves again tomorrow. I’m very sorry. You were never meant to eat them.”

Carl watched as comprehension settled in before concern, and then an unreadable expression worked across his mother’s stunning face. She reached out a finger to rest upon his chin, wiping away a stray droplet of milk.

“My love for you has always been real, baby. No magic could replicate that.” She said sternly, then leaned in to kiss his forehead. “These changes and the feelings though–the fierce passion and energy–Mama would be lying if she said she wouldn’t miss them. It has been lonely with your father away so often, and tonight was a reminder of the wilder days of my youth.”

Clarita slipped the milky digit between her pouting lips and moaned when his cock lurched within her. A playful giggle eased the tension.

“Really? You’re not upset?” Carl gaped as she began to rock her hips and put his grumbling balls on notice. “Mom… Mama, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna–”

“Shhh, Cariño. Relax and let Mama spoil her big, strapping boy.” She purred, pussy coiling around his steely length. “Morning is still hours away, and I crave more of your manly touch. Love me, comfort me, ravish me, and trust in heaven to handle tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.” Carl gripped her waist and started hammering into his mother’s welcoming wetness. “Mama, I fucking love you!”

She cooed in delight and pressed her mouth to his ear with a teasing whisper…

“Your Papa won’t return for another week. Hmmm, perhaps you can find more magical treats for us to share?”

God help him; only a single thought flashed through Carl’s lust-drunk mind before he filled her with another boiling eruption of incestuous seed.

What was the name of the frat douche’s dealer again?

“Apparently, he calls himself Fin. The physical description they gave is short, skinny, and…” Captain James Sterling paused to quote verbatim from the printed report. It barely covered half a page, double-spaced. “...kinda nerdy. That’s all we could get before the Beta Theta Fi lawyers arrived.”

Dean Chaumers glowered at him from behind his expansive mahogany desk, hands steepled in front of a hawkish beak of a nose, cold iron rings gleaming dully on several pudgy fingers.

The dean's office exuded authority and professionalism. Situated in the heart of the university, it was a monument to the man’s intellectual vanity and academic ambition. The entrance, marked by polished wooden doors, led to a modest yet distinguished space. The desk commanded the room, its surface adorned with neat stacks of papers and a gleaming nameplate. Behind him, shelves lined the wood-paneled walls, housing volumes of scholarly works and journals.

A pair of leather armchairs faced the desk, but James hadn’t been invited to sit.

“And how, pray tell, does that help us narrow the field of suspects, Captain?” The Head of School snarled. “Have you toured our esteemed campus recently? Other than the dubious moniker, you’ve maybe identified thirty percent of our male enrollees. Very helpful.”

The dripping sarcasm cut at James sharper than any knife. He wasn’t a detective, simply the head of a team of glorified mall cops. The rank of Captain was a job title, not an actual honorific. Nobody would be pinning medals on his chest for escorting drunken coeds back to their dorms in a golf cart.

“This could be a matter better suited for the local PD, sir.” He hazarded, standing at parade ground rest. Feet apart with hands clasped behind his back. “**** offenses fall squarely within their jurisdiction. Magical or otherwise.”

“No police.” Chaumers sputtered, clambering to his feet. “Madison University pays you and your… minions to handle these problems discreetly. The last thing we need is our academic reputation dragged through the mud because you couldn’t keep a lid on a small **** scandal. Do your damn job and find the culprit spreading this… this…”

“Do-Me Dust, sir.” James provided helpfully when the Dean floundered.

“Ugh, how vulgar. Bring me the culprit, Captain, or I will be **** to replace you with someone who can. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir. Loud and clear.”

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