Surrender to the orgasm building inside you and let it crash over you completely.

Pandora's Box Costume Shop, Birch Street, at 11:26 PM on Wednesday October 30th, 2024

I stop fighting. I stop thinking. I let the wave take me.

It starts deep in my core — a tightening, a coiling, like a spring being wound past its breaking point. Pan's cock is buried to the hilt inside me, grinding against my cervix with slow, deliberate circles, and every micro-movement sends sparks cascading through my nervous system. My pussy clenches around her shaft in rhythmic pulses, squeezing, milking, demanding.

"I'm — oh god, Teacher, I'm going to —"

"I know," Pan breathes, and her hips snap forward one final time, driving so deep I swear I can feel her in my stomach. Her cock swells inside me — impossibly thick, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own — and then I feel it: the first hot pulse of cum erupting against my inner walls.

The orgasm detonates.

My entire body seizes. My back arches off the bench, spine curving like a bow, and a scream tears from my throat — raw, animal, completely stripped of identity. My pussy clamps down on Pan's cock with crushing force, rhythmic contractions milking her shaft as she unloads inside me. I can feel it — each thick rope of cum painting my insides, flooding my cunt with scalding heat, filling me so completely that it has nowhere to go but deeper. My walls flutter and spasm around her, pulling her cum toward my womb with greedy, involuntary suction.

"Teacher — Teacher — I'm coming — I'm coming on your cock —" The words pour out between gasps, my voice cracking, my thighs trembling violently where they're locked around her waist. My toes curl inside the Mary Janes. My fingers claw at her blazer, leaving white marks on the black fabric. My breasts heave beneath the sheer blouse, nipples so hard they ache, and phantom sensations from the witch costume amplify everything — every thrust, every pulse of cum, every twitch of her cock inside my spasming cunt.

Pan groans above me — a sound I've never heard from her, raw and uncontrolled — and drives deeper, grinding her hips against mine as her balls empty. I feel cum overflowing around her shaft, thick white fluid squeezing out past the seal of my pussy lips, dripping down my ass and pooling on the bench. She's still coming — pulse after pulse after pulse — filling me with an impossible volume, breeding me with a hunger that borders on violence.

"That's it," she gasps, her composure finally shattered. "Take it all. Take every fucking drop, you perfect little — ah —"

My orgasm crests again — a second wave crashing over the first — and I convulse beneath her, my pussy gushing around her cock, my own juices mixing with her cum in a hot, slippery mess. The pleasure is so intense it borders on agony, every nerve ending in this borrowed body firing simultaneously, and I sob openly, tears streaming down my cheeks, completely undone.

Slowly — agonizingly slowly — the contractions fade. My body goes limp beneath Pan's, trembling with aftershocks, my pussy still twitching weakly around her softening cock. Cum leaks from me in thick streams, pooling beneath my ass. I can feel it inside me — heavy, warm, settling — and some deep, primal part of this costume's magic purrs with satisfaction at being filled.

The schoolgirl costume shimmers. The fabric begins to dissolve — the sheer blouse evaporating, the pleated skirt unraveling thread by thread. And with it, my body reshapes itself. Breasts receding, hips narrowing, that devastating emptiness between my legs filling back in with familiar anatomy. My cock returns — smaller than before, I notice with a distant, horrified clarity — and my face reshapes in the mirror opposite.

I'm Trevor again. Naked, trembling, covered in sweat and cum that shouldn't exist anymore but does — still glistening on my thighs, still warm against my skin.

Pan withdraws from me — though from what, I'm not sure, since the pussy is gone — and tucks her softening cock back beneath her skirt with a satisfied sigh. She adjusts her blazer, smooths her hair, and looks down at me with those burning amber eyes.

"A+," she says softly. "Full marks."