After AnimeCon: Punishment Play

/// Mild NSFW warning.

       “Well…” Brian let out a sigh of reluctance that made Christine’s chest tighten.

    Why am I so conscious of him? Christine thought. It was never like this. This shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s just asking for some petty punishment, and I deserve it, anyways. Why is what he thinks about this—about me—about all of this, why is it suddenly so damned important?

    She knew why, that knowledge was a shard of silver lodged in her guts, but actually admitting it to herself wasn’t something she could do. The bleak, dusty mirror in her mind reflected everything in monotone, and although some distant part of her knew there were feelings there for Brian, the raw anguish and regret were enough to sap the color out of them and allow her not to recognize those feelings. 

    “Alright, I guess.”

    Brian’s decision stunned her, and she stared at him without blinking as he unbuckled his seatbelt. His choice was within expectations, but at the same time she didn’t understand it. When he scooched over from the far side to sit in the middle, right next to her, Christine almost recoiled from him in shock. That surprise wasn’t fear, she didn’t find herself shrinking back from him because of trauma or because he’d hit her last night. Instead, she discovered herself incredibly mindful of the distance between them he had closed—even though he had moved over, she was worrying about taking up too much of his space.

    It didn’t make sense. He was all of the sudden right next to her, and it was as though her mind was stalling out in a wash of silver. She suggested he could spank her, she asked for it, but then when he agreed and things began to proceed, she had no idea what to do. Brian turned to regard her, his gorgeous mottled green eyes were examining her, and she was frozen in place while her heart pounded and her brain spun in circles and the raw interest and attraction she felt for him was stifling in her chest but had no possible release.

    “Christine, do you really want to, uh. To do this?” Brian asked.

    Her lips parted to immediately agree, but she was in such a daze that her mind momentarily blanked on what he was talking about.

    Do THIS? What is this? Is he about to kiss me?! He’s so close. He’s so close we could kiss. Or—uh, no wait. He means the thing I was talking about. That thing. THAT. To um. To spank me. To—

    “Hello hello?” Emily snapped her fingers—the Latina was up on her knees and had twisted to face them from her position on the passenger side, one of her arms casually slung over the back of her seat rest. “Earth to Christine? Brian, look. You razzle-dazzled her.”

    “I did not,” Brian protested, looking from Emily back to Christine. “Did I?”

    “Um,” Christine was sure she was blushing furiously.

    “Just do ‘er,” Emily insisted, smacking the seat padding a few times for emphasis. “Chop, chop. It’s paddlin’ time.”

    “Christine, you okay?” Kelly asked.

    “Yes?” Christine blurted out. “Of course. We can—we can do this.”

    “Then—climb yourself on over Brian’s lap and get situated,” Kelly’s eyes in the rear-view mirror were full of amusement. “You can talk about whatever pops up.”

    “Okay,” Christine said.

    With mechanical movements she unbuckled her seatbelt and then sat the whole way up, shifting to the edge of the rear bench. There wasn’t a lot of room, and for a moment she hesitated again, unsure about actually climbing over Brian’s lap without explicit permission. The situation was awkward and embarrassing, humiliating even. Emily was watching with interest, and Christine couldn’t get the image of Kelly’s eyes in the mirror out of her head, either.

    “Here,” Brian offered her a hand.

    “No, I got it.”

    Christine refused his help right away on reflex, but his offer finally spurred her into motion. With clumsy, fumbling movements she clambered over his lap. Crossing over his thighs and groin and entering into his private space seemed to sharpen the saturation of silver inundated throughout her body. The magic blanking out her mind remained monotone but it was like the reflectiveness was growing too dazzling to look at. For a moment, she stared down in disbelief at her hands, her nervous clutching fingers deforming the cushioning of the seat on the other side of Brian.

    I’m on my hands and knees. Right over Brian’s lap.

    Then, hands were on her—Christine stopped herself from squirming but only barely—and her body was guided down upon him, her abs draped across one of his thighs. A moment ago she had been watching herself as though from a distance, but touching him, the weight of her pressing down across him brought mirror panes into scintillating focus and suddenly this whole situation was incredibly, intensely sexual.

    “Hmnnh—” Christine let a strange sound escape before clamping her mouth shut in bewildered stupefaction.

    The rear bench of Brian’s car wasn’t particularly wide, and with Brian in the middle and Christine laying across his lap, there was no room for her long legs to extend out. Instead, once she was positioned she found her knees were now jammed up against the molded plastic of the door, and her feet were up in the air. That pose made her feel ridiculous, Brian was solid and warm and real beneath her, and Christine floundered across the stitched lines in the seat padding until she was able to at least get her elbows beneath her and rise up slightly.

    “Here.”

    Brian’s fingers were running through her long tangles of silver hair, combing them up and out of the way so they wouldn’t get pinched or pulled between anything. That small gesture of his was so intimate and thoughtful that Christine found herself freezing in place all over again, stunned.

    “How is it?” Brian asked, shifting beneath her. “Not too uncomfortable?”

    “I’m fine,” Christine’s words slipped out before she could even properly process what he was asking. Comfortable? It’s not supposed to be comfortable. You’re punishing me?

    “Pants down,” Emily commanded with glee. “C’mon. Gotta get her with her pants down. Clap them bare cheeks.”

    “Emily, chill,” Brian chuckled. “It’s fine like this.”

    No—it’s not fine just like this, Christine thought as a silvery spike of alarm shot through her.

    She quickly lifted herself up onto just one elbow, and with her free hand she hurried to pull her pants down. The borrowed jeans were loose and were slipped down with ease, and after a moment of fumbling, her panties were also pushed down and scrunched out of the way. Emily was uncharacteristically silent as Christine did this, possibly surprised, and when Christine settled herself back across Brian’s lap, he felt a bit more tense than before.

    “Uhh,” Brian paused. “Well, alright then. If you’re sure?”

    “Mm-hmm,” Christine’s affirmation felt tiny, but she didn’t have the courage to voice it again any louder.

    Instead, she buried her face against the stitched lines of the seat in absolute shame.

    All of the sudden his hand was moving across her bare buttocks, and Christine’s mind whirled, fragmented from thought to interrupted thought as though each around her was a mirror positioned at a slightly different angle. None of these reflections held images, exactly—but each of the different mirrors held different impressions. of her awareness of the surreal context she was in here. The subject within each was the same, displaying the sensation of Brian’s hand intruding upon her naked behind, but each separate silvery surface revealed that idea in a slightly shifted context.

    In one, she realized Brian was arranging the hem of her shirt and then adjusting the band of her panties where it had been pinching her thigh. His motions were thoughtful, caring. In another, she sensed his gaze upon her luscious derriere and the fingers tracing across her skin were maybe a little… possessive. Like he was admiring her as a precious object that belonged to him and only him. In yet another one, Christine felt boiling liquid mercury—because a line of lubrication was tangible and glistening down the lips of her labia, still barely somewhat hidden from his view by the cleft of her butt. One mesmerizing mirror showed her pale ass quivering with unseen need, desperate to be palmed and played with however Brian pleased.

    Before she could collect any of these thoughts, Brian gave her ass a playful little slap.

    “Ngh?!” Christine made a strange noise and flinched in surprise—her abdomen tense tense tensed in sudden weird little flexes, and the hall of mirrors that was Christine’s mind either all became one, or her attention blossomed in every direction at once rather than focusing on the different abstracts one at a time. She wasn’t sure which was which. It was impossible to think. The flashes of silver and her reflection of what was what became altogether too disorienting to discern, so instead she wriggled helplessly in Brian’s lap. When one thigh slid against the other, she could feel that she was very very wet.

    “One!” Emily counted. “C’mon, you can hit harder than that.”

    “You gonna be a backseat driver this whole time?” Brian joked. “Or uh, frontseat driver?”

    “Spank her again, spank her again!” Emily encouraged. “Little bit harder, this time. C’mon.”

    “Let him have fun,” Kelly scolded Emily. “He can smack her around however he likes.”

    That sentiment should have been horrifying, and Christine thought that anger and outrage should have been roiling up within her, but none arrived. Instead, she pressed her face deeper into the seat. Instead, all these reflections jumbling up into different silver surfaces were revealing… different feelings. Very different feelings.

    His hand clapped down again with more force, and the impact rocked through Christine in coursing glittery color and light. That one was even better, but it didn’t quite satisfy. It wasn’t enough, yet. She could take more.

    “Two,” Emily said. “Harder, Brian.”

    “Christine?” Brian asked. 

    H-he’s asking me what I think?! Christine found herself too horrified to vocalize an answer. What can I even say? That I like it? That I’m some kind of pervert?!

    She nodded her head against the seat, refusing to lift her face from where it was hidden.

    “Yes?” Brian asked. “Yes, go harder, or yes, we’re done?”

    “Harder,” Emily answered on Christine’s behalf. “Bro come on, you barely even tapped her.”

    “Christine?” Brian pressed.

    “You—y-you can go more harder,” Christine mumbled out. You can GO MORE HARDER?! Really? REALLY?! That doesn’t fucking even make sens—

    Before she could mentally articulate a clarification, Brian’s hand came down hard, hard enough to create a loud smack of flesh, so hard that she could feel herself jiggle. Strong, pure silver shone through her in a solid beam of satisfaction at that sting of pain and immediately demanded more. Christine couldn’t fathom why something that hurt felt so good, but she needed him to spank her again, she needed it even harder.

    “Three—” Emily said.

    “Go more,” Christine whimpered.

    “Go more?” Brian asked.

    “More,” Christine confirmed. “Yeah.”

    The next spank slapped down so hard that it rocked Christine forward from where she was perched across his thighs—arousal dappled across the interior of Christine’s crotch somehow, flicked free of her aching sex. Christine’s insides were wriggling with obscene pleasure. Silver streaks of lust rolled through her like she was some brainless, debauched sycophant eager for more punishment, which she knew couldn’t possibly be true. Mirrors shattered and scattered in shards to reveal deeper and deeper impressions of this she didn’t dare to look at, and Christine found she was squeezing her pelvic muscles, her abs, and then her tummy in an undulating wave.

    “...Four,” Emily remarked in a very quiet voice as Brian’s hand fell again and again. “Five. Six. Seven.”

    Christine wasn’t sure she had orgasmed, but getting spanked by Brian felt like she was being thrusted into or fucked, almost. It was so much more than foreplay. Being struck was just so primal, violent, and she craved this from him in ways that shocked her to her very core. With Chloe gone, that unfulfilling pretense of superiority had vanished as well, leaving behind a flat, monotone pane of absolute indifference. Each of these spankings obliterated that level indifferent pane, and beneath those lines were a submissiveness so sensual that light and color were melting into strands of quicksilver amidst a kaleidoscope of shattering pieces and perspectives.

    “Go more?” Brian asked again.

    “Please?” Christine begged in a tiny voice. “A little bit harder?”

    As if to confound her wishes, Brian’s next spank wasn’t a spank at all—instead his hand sunk slowly into the softness of her butt and explored the pale half-globes, massaged and groped across her. If the forceful strikes were delight, these gentle touches were agony, and Christine let an involuntary moan slip out as she twisted atop him. He squeezed and stroked her thighs, and she clenched. Brian spread her supple cheeks, and she trembled. When he traced feather-light touches across her curvature, she bucked against him, impossibly horny for more.

    “Please,” Christine gasped, her vision swimming with tears. “Harder—please?!”

    Brian obliged, spanking her harder than before, and blinding silver exploded within her. Each sensitive mental sheet was fragile glass and broke with just enough force. None of the breaks were quite the same, each of them were delicious and each savory reflection dissolved into uncountable new shards. Following the tumbling and falling pieces focused on new impressions, and then those new ones were smashed in a decadent orgy of destruction as Brian spanked her again and again.

    Some mirrors spiderwebbed into angular pieces from a singular point, some thinner ones simply exploded into glass dust and silver particles. A mirror creaked and then split when one edge was twisted over with a bit of torque—Brian had been concentrating all of his smacks in the same area until now, and then gave one that caught her from the side in a way that made her ass ripple. He didn’t stop there, and his broad hand continued to fall until it was leaving behind weltering red prints upon her bare bottom. Each time, a mirror in her mental maze broke into tinkling bits of silver with each hit, Christine was panting for breath, and her wetness down there had smeared across his hand. The back of the car now smelled of her arousal, and the shallow assumptions and worries and lines of thought she had accumulated throughout the whole morning at the camp shattered, one after another.

    “Seventeen, eighteen,” Emily’s voice was distant and dreamy. “Nineteen. I, uh. Chief, I think we lost her.”

    “Yeah, sorry,” Brian said. “Got a little carried away.”

    When he eased his hand slowly across her burning backside, Christine lifted her hips as if to plead for more.

    “Y-you can,” Christine’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat as she attempted to catch her breath. “You can… you can keep going if you want. However long you want.”

    “You’re looking pretty red, so let’s not overdo it,” Brian played his hand across her butt to offer her some relief. “Did you like it?”

    “Y—” Christine choked on the admission, but little pieces of her felt like they were still clattering down and the interior of the car smelled like sex, so she couldn’t really deny it. “Yes.”

    “That’s good,” Brian assured her. “I liked it, too. We’ll do this again, sometime. Whenever you’re a good girl.”

    “Yes,” Christine quickly promised. “I’ll be good.”

    “So, uh,” Kelly let out a polite cough. “Either we’re rollin’ down the windows and cranking the music back up, orrr we’ve gotta pull over so I can fuckin’ masturbate.”

    “Yeaaahh…” Emily exhaled slowly.

    “Christine, I think you might’ve already came, but,” Brian slipped his hand between Christine’s thighs. “If you want, I can…”

    When he drew his middle finger up along the sensitive folds of Christine’s soaked pussy, her consciousness blurred. Her half-lidded eyes fluttered, she mouthed a confused line of drool against the seat cushion, and the entire mental realm of different mirror surfaces—contexts, ideas, impressions—seemed to distort together all at once. Before she could protest, he stroked up across her again, and then again, his slick fingertip depressing her clit and then sliding on up between her lips with a wet sound.

    Christine climaxed like she was a compact pocket mirror dropped from a fifth floor balcony. 

    Bits and pieces of her ego scattered way behind her ability to recognize where or who she was, and her feet kicked senselessly against the door of the car. If she had been able to, she would have let out giddy, incoherent giggles of absolute delirium, but instead she raked her fingers into claws to grasp at the seat cushion, gasped desperately for breath, and grinded as much as she was able to against Brian’s invading digit as he fingered her.

    “Well holy shit, don’t mindbreak her,” Emily warned. “I mean, we just got her all fixed up into Christine, and—”

    “I’m pullin’ over,” Kelly said. “Annnd also—dibs on next.”

    “Fuck, not fair,” Emily groaned. “No, I guess it really is your turn. Damnit.”

    “Hold on—Christine can cum more than once,” Brian said.

    His hand was now pressing down upon her back—pinning her down, as he brutally finger-fucked her.

    “Chloe could before, sometimes. Just, I guess now for once I can finally control the pace of things.”

    * * *

    The power to dictate what they did and how fast they explored sex was a little intoxicating for Brian. When Christine had begged him for more savage spanks he had given her none, instead switching to teasing caresses. He smacked his hand across her bottom when he wanted to, according to the rhythm of his own desires. Watching the ex-girlfriend who had always been a selfish lover be denied or satisfied only at his whims was an incredible experience.

    That said… Brian thought as his finger delved in and out of Christine. I guess it really makes me realize that I’m NOT all that selfish when it comes to this stuff.

    He wanted to make her cum.

    Getting off himself hadn’t even been on the negotiation table with Chloe, because she wasn’t interested—so, it was natural that he drew some fulfillment over the tables turning now. That said, his own gratification during intimacy wasn’t difficult or impossible like it used to be—Stephanie had climbed on top of him last night into the sixty-nine position and he’d blown load after load into her eager mouth. The night before that he had been unusually pent up and shot wads across the girls, his living room, into the girls, and finally been milked out into a jar like a prized bull.

    Just about filled the damn jar, too, Brian wanted to laugh at how insane that was. Like, I’m hard now, sure—but I doubt I’ll even get through the rest of today without spurting ridiculous amounts of cum all over—or into—someone.

    His erection was a thick slab of cockmeat squashed back against him by Christine’s stomach pressing down across his lap, but the writhing and whimpering girl seemed to have not noticed its growing presence between them just yet. Despite his attempt to pin her in place on top of him, she was moving back and forth and trying to rock her hips as his middle finger plunged knuckle-deep into her. The sight was so erotic that he cautiously swept aside some of the tangled silver hair spilling across her back so that he could grab a fistful of her shirt rather than just holding her in place.

    The entire car canted at an angle and kicked up gravel clinked up against the undercarriage as Kelly pulled them across the shoulder and then to the side of the road, Brian wasn’t paying attention. It was all but impossible to mind what was going on around him, because Emily had suddenly discovered the release lever to recline the passenger seat—she rode the dropping seatback down until it was quashing the back of Christine’s thighs. Her hands were all at once on his neck and shoulders and pulling him into a feverish kiss.

    Christine was truly trapped now between Brian holding her in place and the reclined seat coming down over her legs, and for a moment of struggle he thought she was panicking. Instead, as Emily’s tongue slid against his and the girl moaned into his mouth Brian realized Christine was shuddering atop him. Her slick pussy pulsed around his finger in short squeezes, as if she was sucking on it, and wetness liberally coated his palm and the gaps between his fingers.

    He kept rapidly fingering her, but now he could barely hear the slopping wet sounds as Christine squealed and tried to buck her legs. Her feet flailed in futile little kicks between the rear door and the seatback Emily was on, but after reclining fully something had locked into place and the passenger seat was going nowhere until someone pulled the release lever again. Brian barely noticed—Emily’s lips were mashing up against his and the Latina was all but clawing at his shirt.

    “Brian—” Kelly warned in a breathy voice, twisting in her seat. “Move your hand.”

    The driver’s seat dropped back before he could release his grip on Christine’s shirt, and for a moment he had to disengage from her and Emily both to rearrange himself in this new awkward position. Christine remained draped across his lap, but now both of the front seats were reclining down over her, while he was jammed in between them where he sat in the middle of the rear bench. He had slipped his finger out of Christine while getting both of his arms back up and out of the way of the seatbacks, and the girl laying across him seemed more in a fluster about that than the seats squashing down on her.

    His penis flexed involuntarily from where it was crushed in down there against Christine, but there was little Brian could do about it. A desperate nymphomaniac in blue and a seductive succubus in red were double-teaming him from above, kissing him and pulling at his arms, biting across his neck and running tongue across his skin. The collision of senses was more than just physical, and he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t even determine whose boob he was being made to grab.

    On one side, a relentless tide of blue was sweeping in across a mirror pane, on the other a shooting star had crashed in at an oblique angle and was skipping across a shattering surface. Water rushed in to fill the cracks and broken pieces, the mirror greedily soaked up every sploshing wave. The burning red starmetal rolled and tumbled on before finally coming to a stop, covered with silver dust and sending shards in every direction. Worse yet, the horizon in the distance was beginning to color with the bright hues of daybreak—

    * * *

    With her beet-red face covered with one hand while the other was jammed down into her pants, Stephanie struggled to keep from cumming her brains out.

    “Are… are they really?” Rebecca voiced her disbelief. “Should I, what, should I honk the horn at them?”

    “J-just drive!” Stephanie stammered. “You can just go, hah. It’s, um, it’s good that they’re, they’re getting along?!”

    Clamping a hand down over her own labia did nothing to stop the assault of colors and pure ambrosia of pleasure spilling through her charm sense. The punishment play Stephanie had suggested they try worked a little too well, because Christine seemed to be just the happiest little clam as a mirror stuck beneath their feet—falling stars twinkled with delight and a tidal wave of horny were crashing across Brian in a tag-team typhoon.

     “Should I honk as we go by?!” Rebecca leaned forward and peered over the steering wheel as she slowly pulled past them. “What are they doing?!”

    The horn honked twice as they passed, and they caught an eyeful of boob and a rather salacious grin from Kelly and maybe a wave from Brian—it was hard to tell—before they rolled on. Distance eventually had the rush of sudden sex feelings slowly, reluctantly begin to recede from Stephanie’s mind, and she sagged back in her seat. The fingers stuck down there between her thighs were wet.

    They had already turned her on, though, and that was just so vexing!

    “Better?” Rebecca asked. “Or, um, or should I go back?”

    “N-no, it’s better,” Stephanie said, trying to steady her breathing. “I, um. I need to let Kelly and Emily have special time, too! I kind of hogged Brian to myself at night, last night.”

    “Yeah, but like—that’s only fair, you’re going back to your university,” Rebecca reasoned. “For however many weeks and weeks.”

    “It’s okay!” Stephanie assured her. “We’ll all meet back up at the gas station in Tionetta. We can get a bit of a head start there, they were um. Starting to leave us behind, until they stopped. You really do drive… very carefully.”

    “Thank you!” Rebecca beamed. “I’ve always been a super safe driver. You can never be too careful!”

    “Yeah,” Stephanie said. “Yeah. I go pretty slow, too, on my bike. Since motorcycles can be so dangerous. I really do love it, though. It does make me feel just so… alive.”

    “Steph,” Rebecca let out a laugh. “You can, um. You can play with yourself while I drive, it’s okay. It’s okay. I get that you were just privy to, well, to what they were getting up to? It’s okay! I can um, I can turn on the radio or look the other way, if it bothers you?”

    “Y-you really don’t mind?” Stephanie squeaked out in embarrassment. “Sorry, yeah. I just… yeah.”

    “Go for it!” Rebecca encouraged her.

    Stephanie wiggled in her seat the moment she was given permission, curling a finger down inside of herself and letting out a small coo of relief at the sensation. It was so embarrassing to be doing this in a friend’s car, but she needed the release! She needed to clear the lingering feelings and impressions the others had doused her in. With rapid movements of her wrist, Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut and hunched against the door, fingering herself as fast as she could.

    “Hngh!”

    * * *

    The sudden sun had rolled across the sky and disappeared in a glamorous pink sunset shortly after arriving, and Emily thought she’d heard some other driver blaring their horn at them. It wasn’t something she put a lot of thought into, however—because she was slurping and tonguing Brian’s mouth with fervent energy, because she’d taken his hand and planted it on one of Kelly’s tits. He was mauling those fat teats, fondling the pale pillows in a way that made the scorching red comet that had crashed to a stop tremble and start to tip end over end again.

    Love that he just GETS it, Emily gave the sight one last appreciative glance before turning her attention to making out with Brian again. Gropes and grabs her just the same way I would, he completely gets the appeal.

    The crunching glassy shores of Christine laid overtop Brian were delicious angles and sharp vertexes to gush and pour herself across. The jagged edges and razor thin lines of silver could part Emily but never cut her, because she was fluid, she was blue sex juice, she separated and recombined in an amorphous wash of blue weight that splashed and splattered them all with her enthusiasm.

    “Okay stop,” Kelly panted.

    Their resident redhead shot back up as she yanked the driver’s side release and righted her seat.

    “Christine, get the fuck off of him—I want him in my mouth,” Kelly demanded. “It’s my turn. I had dibs, I called next—he is blasting ropes down my throat and filling me the fuck up. Okay?! Emily, get up off of them.”

    With a bit of reluctance, Emily unpinned Christine’s legs, and then tried to readjust herself as Kelly opened her door and scrambled out of the car. The rear door was opening before Brian could even help a very discombobulated Christine back up onto her elbows and knees, and then the silvery-haired minx was promptly pulled the whole way out of the vehicle and staggering for balance.

    “Wait, would you—” Brian tried to say.

    “—Can I—” Emily interrupted.

    “—Oh, ah? O-oh-kay—” Christine babbled.

    “—Shut up shut up shut up,” Kelly cut them all off as she climbed into the back seat. “Emily, go uh, go check on Christine. S’good for your power.”

    “—Go check on?” Emily said. “Yeah. Okay.”

    Kelly’s cleavage jiggled in a fascinating way as the girl impatiently ripped at the fly to Brian’s pants and yanked them down. His girthy rod of pure penis sprung out into the air and bobbed against Kelly’s boobs before she captured it in her hands and began pumping it. Distracted and disheveled, Emily hurried to twist the other way and grab the latch for her own door. She meant to step out in a smart way but instead she spilled out of the car and regarded the gravel and grass beneath her hands with a manic smile.

    Arousal was a wet line seeping down her thigh, her chin and cheek were smeared with drool from a super sloppy series of kisses, her blood was surging with energy and blue pressure was building and bursting out to flood across her thoughts. Finding her way back to her feet was a problem at first, but eventually Emily groped across the car and made her way around to the other side where Christine likewise seemed to be holding on for dear life.

    “Christine,” Emily stared at the tall girl.

    “E-emily,” Christine groaned back.

    Seeing the silver-haired beauty with her pants down around just one ankle standing against the car along a long stretch of empty country road was impossibly surreal. Moreso when just past her in the back seat Kelly was bent over Brian and now greedily devouring his cock—glk glk gllk noises and the steady bob of her head was just visible over the crest of Kelly’s impressive ass all but sticking out the doorway. They were all feeling it though, their proximity or involvement still had them tethered on the same sex strings of some strange mental tapestry that was unraveling their individual cloth to weave them into something together.

    Because while here in real life Brian was clutching at the seat rests in front of him and holding on for dear life as Kelly furiously fellated him, in the dreamscape a comet was bashing down with dizzying crashes of gravity, cratering deep into the earth. Just outside that on the periphery, silver surface submerged in water was broken up by only craggy bits of glassy reef and surf spray of blue. Before she even realized what she was doing, Emily had stepped forward and was holding Christine by the girl’s naked hips.

    She wasn’t even sure what to do with her once she had her.

    Do we… do we kiss? Emily made dazed eye contact with Christine and instantly regretted it.

    Christine was absolutely mortified but was also gazing at her in that same stupor—they were both too turned on to think. The delicate features the girl possessed was the same familiar face of Chloe she had despised for years, but her expression was a lost look of helpless submission Emily had never seen before there. They were standing in the road, and that should have bothered her, but instead Emily found her thumbs playing across Christine’s naked tummy.

    This is, is, it’s TOO weird, Emily told herself. Right?

    The attractive power of the charm had a hold of them both, but when they looked into each other they each seemed to see reflections. Shadows of each other in the water or across the panes. Looking deeper seemed to draw them in deeper, and Emily’s awareness of her surroundings fell away. She stared into Christine’s eyes and saw herself in them, or a version of herself—the collection of impressions and assumptions that was Christine’s idea of her. Within that she again saw Christine—or maybe Chloe—she saw memories bleeding with hatred and then Christine’s images of Emily stacked up haphazardly across one another in an unending line.

    “Em-Emily?” Christine whispered. “I’m. I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry.”

    “Christine,” Emily murmured.

    It was hard to make sense of which layers were which—she caught sight of a gloating, sinister Chloe and then a furious, screaming Emily and she saw a broken, devastated Christine and then reflections of herself she barely even recognized. In most of them Emily had dark hair, and Christine had reverted to the darker brown from before. Involving their magic with one another was intimate in ways that displayed ghost after ghost of each other in a rush of reflections pressing down across each other.

    Emily was turned on now, but interacting directly with Christine’s magic chemically released all of Emily’s other feelings that were repressed deep down inside of her. The good and the bad were drawn out, the vitriol seeped up in nasty bubbles carried up by little pockets of hope and joy. She felt everything at once; it was amazing. It was terrible. She wanted to sob in anguish and cry out in exuberance and also throw up.

    It hurt, a lot.

    Deep cuts discovered across her psyche became etchings that were carried upwards on drifts of silver reflection. Disgust and lust and shame and pride swirled into and out of each other. Emily’s whirling and roiling blue took on shapes and shadows within itself as if a photo bath developing film—here, silver was the major instigating component that defined darks and thereby created lights.

    Emily’s magic power activated.

    * * *

    Christine blinked in absolute confusion, unable to tell if the Emily she was seeing right in front of her was real or not. Her head was a mess of light and imagery and less than half of it was her own—broken reflections steeped in blue were invading her senses in every direction, but there was also a bullish red meteor crushing down deeper and deeper. Pressure and color were building up upon every surface, and the moment something gave way—

    * * *

    Kelly’s cheeks bulged as Brian exploded into her mouth—she had felt him edging closer and closer to release but still found herself caught by surprise when it actually happened. She swallowed sky and stars in a big blissy gulp but her mouth filled again, enormous sticky wads pumped out in steady throbs. Her hand that had been cupping his generous balls was splattered as a line of cum escaped down. She swallowed again, and again, guiding warmth and color down her throat as her entire body lit up with happiness and pleasure.

    As always the stuff tasted like pure heaven, it was love, it activated neurons in scintillating flashes of oversaturating red, it tickled the whole way down her body in open invitation for an unprompted orgasm of her own. She came, a little, but her own dripping snatch was still an afterthought because she was experiencing Brian’s climax, because the exultation of his release was something he could share with her on blinding beams of brilliant red pleasure.

    “Guwahh—”

    She was finally forced to gasp for air, but Brian was still going, and she watched in dreamy disbelief as the crown of his cock flexed and shot string after string of warm goo across her face. It got everywhere—it slid across the bridge of her nose and clung to her eyelashes. Kelly felt an impressive spurt arc up high enough to land in her hair and felt globs of it land on her forehead.

    “Hahh—hahhhh—hahhh,” Kelly panted out incredulous laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

    His output was absolutely absurd, but maybe it was even dumber that somehow she hadn’t expected this much. After all, he had nearly filled a jar before, and that was not counting that little whoopsies that had painted Steph’s skin with semen or been shot deep inside of her to be lapped up later. Kelly watched now in fascination as the dick in her hands gave a last few spasms, filling the area between her thumb and forefingers with a little pool of magic jizz as she slowly began to try drawing her hand up to collect it all.

    It was getting hard to focus, though—Kelly’s higher thought processes were tapping out. She managed to let out a little giggle, and she smacked her lips, and clumsy fingers were either trying to smear the mess across her face or trying to pull some of it across her lips and tongue, she couldn’t tell. She just felt so at peace! Flavors of delirious color were swirling in her tummy and then spreading throughout her body in a glow of starlight, and the last thing she saw before closing her eyes in contentment was her Brian looking down upon her.

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