John is in Control

[Author's Note: Reading week and finals loom, so the pace will remain slow until December 16th. Wish me luck.]

John kept his hands bolted to the chair despite the urge to grab hold of June and show her all the Game had to offer. Her buttocks glistened as her gyrations grew more violent, constantly almost letting him slip into her and yet continuing to pin and torment him under her paragon posterior. Whenever she slid down near his base, he could see the trail of her own, natural lubricants glistening on his shaft. Her eager cunt all but consumed her swimsuit, and her perfectly bald lips kissed and gripped and strangled him until he was sure he was truly inside her, though never was.

Her fingers went to his ankles, and the odd, ticklish sensation of having them oiled and sensually rubbed drove his pleasure to spike. Crap, I'm gonna- John stared down at his cock, and how it pointed up at naught but his own chest and face. Fuck- John glanced once more at June and heard her humming as she continued to twerk and masturbate with the underside of his meat. Figuring she'd be none the wiser, he opened a tiny tunnel at the tip of his cock, blasting the contents of his balls into the grass nearby. John steadied his breath as his first orgasm-by-teacher escaped him, but June hummed and laughed through closed lips as she felt the tell-tale pulsing underneath her.

The tunnel closed just as she glanced over her shoulder with a wicked smile. "Well, I hope you still have enough for-" Her words cut off as she turned more, letting John appreciate her stacked profile as she scanned his body. "... Where did...?"

"Am I... ready for tutoring?" John just barely managed it with a steady smile.

Achievement unlocked! "Smooth Criminal"!
You pulled a fast one, and were dashing while you did it.
+1 CHA
+100XP

A smirk and a narrowing of her eyes recognized the challenge. "Well, young man, there's still one part of you I have to oil..."

As it turned out, it wasn't John's back.

Earlier, at Felicity's...

Moira abandoned her position behind the rack of bathing robes and followed, more worried of being mortified than whatever horrors the back of a mall store could possibly offer. Felicity's suppressed grin was not lost on the Warden, but the lack of any magical presence had Moira dismissing her in favor of finding that exit. "Just look for the crevice in the walls; that will be where the false panel can be pushed and let you through to the emergency exit," Felicity explained as they passed her. Once the mirror clicked back into place, the shopkeeper hummed a happy tune while she walked back into her store. With an eager bounce to her step, Felicity flipped the "OUT TO LUNCH" sign on, locked the front door, and went to the corner of her store where an oddly-placed display rack of crotchless panties had been moved. With a soft grunt, she began dragging it back against a blank space on the wall, and so revealed the glowing green EXIT sign and the door underneath.

A single, narrowly-constructed hallway greeted the two as they winded their way through it. Seemingly oddly happy for having lost the chance to further torment the youth with underwear-shopping, Brenda led Moira towards the backroom and, as the latter believed, the emergency exit. After three narrow turns, the purple light washed over them; slowly, Moira realized her folly. "What... is this...?"

The first to catch her eyes was not the armory of fucktoys--from strap-ons to vibrators to onaholes to self-inflating blow-up dolls--or the bowl of condoms on a simple, black nightstand, but the tacky, king-sized, and heart-shaped bed that dominated the center of the room. Blacklights set the room into a skeezy purple glow, and a black vanity against the far wall, with drawers no doubt filled with all manner of costumes and toys, was covered in the simpler hardware of the S&M trade, each chain and link glittering violet, every whip and leather binding glistening as if freshly cared for with oil.

"Where is the..." Sniff. "... the exit...?" Sniff, sniff.

Moira's nose itched as the incense filled it, and she looked around, eventually finding the source of the odd, but pleasant odor: an even odder statuette of ivory that glowed in the blacklight. The creature depicted, because it could not truly be human, wore a human expression of exaggerated ecstasy, with its head opening and flaring out from the back and with unrecognized sigils carved on its features. She, if it was a she, bore four breasts, sat cross-legged on two pairs of legs, and held in four grips the four sticks of burning incense, each wielded like a halberd on fire. Moira felt herself growing warmer in this poorly ventilated place, and the obviously alien nature of the figurine demanded that she check it, or anything else about this suspicious room, for an aura.

Nothing. Even this was mundane, it appeared. So the shopkeeper's ring really was an anomaly...

Brenda put her hand to Moira's back and urged her deeper in. "Come on, then."

Moira protested, even as her feet let Brenda's gentle push guide her deeper in. "This is... obviously not where the emergency exit is..."

“Well, we should just relax a bit, look around...”

Moira sighed her frustration... and her fatigue. She felt so tired suddenly, and the bed really did seem inviting...

“Go ahead and relax,” Brenda’s voice came from behind, “and we can just... talk. I know this has probably been a lot for you.”

“I don’t believe there’s anything to disc- why are you undressing?!”

Moira hadn’t taken her eyes off of the woman for more than a few seconds, she could have sworn, but Brenda was already stepping out of her panties, the last offending piece of cloth censoring her. Brenda Newman was beautiful; Moira knew this, but somehow, here, it was more poignant, and Moira felt ashamed for not being happier-

“W-Wait,” Moira muttered, shaking her head as the woman slowly approached, “this... this doesn’t make any sense, I... I’m sorry, I should have cured you from the start...”

“Cured me of what, Moira?” Brenda was upon her, and quietly wrapped her arms around the teenager before deftly unclasping the borrowed skirt.

Moira felt that same sensation—of drowning in lust, of drowning in Brenda—and fought it with her last ditch effort, throwing worries of how Mrs. Newman might react to the wind. “The Lady bless you!” she suddenly exclaimed, channeling the healing power of the Golden Rose as she leaned up and kissed Brenda on the chin, surprising the brunette as a cleansing, pure feeling washed over her. Moira was ready for the backlash: a mundane citizen suddenly breaking a spell of demonic influence, Brenda would no doubt be crippled with guilt until they could edit her memory. And then, to find a psychomancer who would keep it under wraps, much less any detected memories of her time with Moira... but Moira finally ignored the bureaucracy, the scolding she would receive, the risk of doing it here in public, and finally healed this poor woman.

Brenda blinked with a blank expression at the teen girlfriend of her son before slowly smiling.

“I’m sorry,” Moira began.

“Don’t be, Moira: I love you too.”

“... Wait, what-“

Brenda leaned in and kissed her right back.

Back at the Summers residence...

The pretense had finally faded when she had ceased all faux concern for his sunburns and focused on oiling and squeezing nothing save his fuckstick. She crushed his shaft in her grip, pressed her thumb and pinkie in all the right spots to make him shudder, and molded his pleasure like so much clay in an artisan’s hands. He was nearly there a second time with only her single hand pumping his meat while the other glided over his oiled inner-thighs and pelvis, making him convulse and shudder at the awkward mixture as it kept him alert.

She leaned her head towards his meat, her breasts filling the space between his legs while he sat at the edge of the pool chair, and stopped just short of putting her lips upon the crown of his dick. Instead, as if speaking into the microphone, she met his eyes and breathed her questions onto and at him, “How many lessons do you think you can receive today, John?”

“A-As many a-as you can g-give...” John shuddered, and her coy smile was replaced by a pursing of her lips as she tightly kissed the tip of his cock, spreading the droplet of precum, once dancing on his tip, onto her lips as she slowly, tightly **** her sealed mouth open with his meat. Her tongue shoved against him as if to resist, and he couldn’t handle it any further. “I-I’m coming-!” he warned, not wanting to offend his way out of whatever else the day had in store.

Rather than pull away, June brushed her hair aside and took him deep into her mouth... into the back of her throat... and God help him, into her throat proper. It was no new sensation for him, but to have this wet dream so eagerly deepthroat him, crushing him with an obvious expertise and not so much as muttering a gag as he began to come right into the core of her, was all too much. He held himself down to the chair as his body demanded the right to buck, to try and fuck itself deeper into her throat even as that throat swelled with his presence and swelled again as he dumped baby batter into her stomach. Her eyebrows perked as she realized the volume the young man was dumping into her; she used her discipline to resist the instinct to remove the suffocating cock, and left him in her throat until she knew he was done.

“J-... June, that was...”

She slowly withdrew him, and the feeling on his sensitive meat silenced him again as it dragged up her throat, across her tongue and, before escaping, was sucked on the very tip by her half-kiss, half-suckle on his purple head. She held him firmly in her hand, appreciating how rigid he remained. “I don’t know that I’ve ever had this effect before... unless you took something. You’re not taking any kind of pill to keep this up, are you?” If the oil she had been using was bothering her mouth, she made no indication of it.

“Just you,” he gasped. She suppressed a chuckle before rising to walk to the pool. “A-Are we...?”

June turned and opened her mouth... and then seemed to think better of it. “I was going to say we should go for a swim... but I think you're ready to move on to the more advanced lessons.” She began walking towards the house, the sway of her ass being John's only invitation to join her.

Quietly, he followed... and, even as his oiled, spit-coated cock bobbed after its prey, it hit him again: this was normal. Well, I mean this is clearly not normal, but... yeah... yeah, I'm actually... I'm actually seducing my teacher with a single spell! It sounded far better in his head than it should have, and he took a measure of pride in it even as the house's temperature made him shiver.

"You must be thirsty after all that time in the sun," she called from the kitchen. He noted the golden bottle of tequila as she brought it to the counter next to a gallon of orange juice. Two glasses that waited nearby were then given generous shots at their bottoms.

One for me? He suddenly felt silly being surprised at a teacher offering a drink, given the one she just had. She wants me drunk then... maybe she thinks I need it, to relax? C'mon John, show her you're more ready than she bargained for.

"I hope you like orange juice-" June started as she felt a familiar bit of meat glide up her crack, and grinned at the boldness of her apprentice. "... I didn't even hear you enter."

"I was hoping," he whispered, gliding his hands down her oiled sides, "we could skip the drinks and go right back to tutoring." His meat slipped off her ass and tucked between her thighs until he guided it to tap against her familiar sex. The swimsuit was still being eaten by her labia, which was slick with her own excitement as he rubbed up against it.

"You're... an impatient student," she whispered, though her tone was too playful for him to worry.

"Which one excited you?" She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow as she contemplated his hungry expression.