Uses magic

The living room was a mess—cushions askew, a faint sheen of sweat lingering in the air, the echoes of Leah and Tracey’s moans still ringing in Dave’s ears. The girls had finally exhausted themselves, their enchanted fervor sated for the moment. Leah wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes still hazy with devotion as she murmured, “You’re amazing, Dave,” before stumbling to the bathroom to clean up. Tracey followed, tossing him a sultry wink over her shoulder as she adjusted her shirt. “See you tomorrow, Boss,” she purred, her voice hoarse from exertion. Minutes later, they were gone, slipping out the front door with giggles and whispers, leaving Dave alone in the wreckage of his own making.

He stood there, shirtless, jeans hastily pulled back on, his chest heaving as reality crashed back in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, running his hands through his sweat-damp hair. The high of his eleventh—or was it twelfth?—climax was fading fast, replaced by a gnawing panic. Abbie was out there, doing who-knows-what with magic, and their mother was a ticking time bomb. He needed a plan, a way to cover this up, but his mind was a scrambled mess. He started pacing, kicking a stray sock under the couch, when the sound of gravel crunching under tires froze him in place.

A car. In the driveway.

His heart slammed against his ribs as he darted to the window, peering through the blinds. The headlights cut through the dusk, and his stomach dropped as he recognized their mother’s sedan. Worse, he saw two figures stepping out—his mom, her posture stiff, and Abbie, her silhouette impossibly perfect even in the dim light. What the hell? he thought, his pulse racing. Abbie was supposed to be hiding, not strolling back in with their mom like nothing was wrong.

The front door creaked open, and Dave spun around, his hands clenching into fists as Abbie and their mother stepped inside. Abbie’s eyes met his, a glint of something unreadable—triumph, maybe?—flickering in them. She smiled, soft and disarming, and gestured toward the couch. “Hey, Stretch,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “Can we sit and talk this out? All of us?”

Dave’s mouth went dry. He glanced at their mother, expecting fury, but her expression was… calm. Too calm. She nodded, her lips curving into a faint, almost resigned smile. “Abbie explained everything to me on the way here,” she said, her tone surprisingly gentle. “I was wrong to deny you both magic if it makes you happy. I see that now.”

Suspicion coiled tight in Dave’s gut. This wasn’t right. Their mom had been adamant—terrified—about magic just hours ago. He remembered her haunted look, her cryptic warning about burying things to keep it out of their lives. And now she was fine with it? With Abbie looking like a goddess and him turning half the school into his personal harem? Bullshit. His eyes narrowed as he studied Abbie, who was settling onto the couch with a grace that screamed confidence. She’d done something. He could feel it.

“Mom, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low, testing the waters. “You were pissed this morning. What changed?”

Their mother opened her mouth to answer, but Abbie cut in, her tone firm and commanding. “Mom, why don’t you show him how sorry you are? Strip out of your clothes and seduce him. He deserves it after all the stress we’ve put him through.”

Dave’s jaw dropped, a choked sound escaping his throat as their mother didn’t hesitate. Her hands moved to the hem of her blouse, pulling it over her head with a mechanical precision that sent a chill down his spine. She stepped out of her shoes, her skirt sliding to the floor next, revealing a body that was still fit for her age—but this wasn’t her. Not really. Her eyes were glassy, her movements stiff, like a puppet on strings. She approached him, her lips parting in a **** smile as she murmured, “Dave, honey, let me make it up to you.”

“What the fuck, Abbie?!” Dave stumbled back, his arousal warring with horror as his mother reached for him, her fingers brushing his chest. He swatted her hands away, his heart pounding. “What did you do to her?”

Abbie leaned back on the couch, crossing her legs with a smug little smirk. “I fixed things, Beanpole. You were so worried about Mom finding out, so I made sure she wouldn’t care. I used the candle, her hairbrush, and a little spell I found—the same one you cast on me. She’s fine with magic now. She’s fine with us.”

Dave’s stomach churned. He glanced at their mother, who was still advancing, her hands reaching for his waistband now, her voice a whisper. “You deserve this, Dave. Let me please you.” It was wrong—sickeningly wrong—and yet his body responded, a traitor to his mind, his cock twitching despite the revulsion clawing at him.