by Doctor MC
I don’t know about you, O Reader, but I can’t stay unexcited when there’s a woman-shaped earthquake underneath me. About ten seconds after Kristin started her orgasm, I had mine.
Kristin said between kisses, “Ohh, I felt that, I felt you cum inside me. You’re my man now, you fucked me and it feels good. You’re my man, and I’m one of your women.”
“Whoa,” Elena said. “Marvin is sexy and all, but aren’t you overdoing it, Kristin?”
Remember, Reader, that I had not touched Elena at this point. Kristin shook her head. “Overdoing it? I would take it up the ass from Marvin.”
I said, “Thanks, appreciate the thought, but that’s not really my kink.” I gave Kristin a few kisses, then said, “Elena, you and Kristin change places.” While the girls were playing Chinese Fire Drill, I put on a new condom.
When I came back to the bed, it was Elena lying on the wet spot, and it was Kristin gripping her gash.
****
Elena told me, “It’s no baseball bat, but it’s bigger than Jorje’s. Move yourself up closer to the pillow, so I can put you in my mouth.”
For some reason her remark annoyed me, commanding me during sex. So I held out my hand and said, “Get out of bed. Stand up.”
Of course, as soon as her hand touched mine, her expression changed. As soon as she was standing, she said, “Tell me how to please you.”
I brought my face down close to hers, then said, “Kiss me everywhere you know I’ll like it.”
Elena was good at French-kissing—but Reader, you’re not interested in that part, are you? Five minutes after she started tonguing my tonsils, she was kneeling, taking my latex-covered cock in her mouth.
I asked her, “Can you suck me to where I’m two seconds from orgasm, then back off? If you can’t, tell me now—no harm, no foul.”
She took her mouth off me long enough to say, “Are you kidding me? You’re gonna be gritting your teeth in a few minutes.” Then she started slurping me like a maniac.
And sure enough, not too much time later, Elena was sitting on her heels, smiling in triumph, and my cock was throbbing and twitching. I gasped out, “Get on the bed. Now. Legs spread.”
She obeyed, I got between her legs, I shoved my cock in her—instant Fourth of July.
Elena whimpered. I said, “Fear not. I have a plan.”
I jumped out of bed, pulled off the second used condom, then put on a third one. Then I got back on the bed, slid my cock in Elena’s wet pussy, and said, “I expect to be hard for a while, before I pop again. Hope you don’t mind.”
Elena didn’t mind. The fact that her pussy was very slippery might have had something to do with it. Almost as soon as I put my cock in, Elena started thrusting her hips, and saying things in Spanish.
Meanwhile, Kristin was saying, “That is so hot, you getting her off. We are yours, Marvin, and you’re so generous, giving Elena orgasms.”
Like I said, I took my time at fucking Elena. I didn’t try to count her climaxes, but I’m sure she had at least four.
But a half-hour after I started that slow fuck with Elena, I spurted. After trashing my third used condom of the night, I climbed in the middle of the bed and pulled both Elena and Kristin to me.
“I am yours,” Elena said.
“We are yours,” Kristin said.
A few minutes later, I sat up. “And I belong to Plato Smith High School. Well, till Graduation Day.” So saying, I got out of bed and walked toward my book bag.
Kristin asked uncertainly, “Should we get dressed now?”
I looked over at the two well-fucked, naked teen girls. “Well, I’ll give Elena a choice. I have homework that has to be done tonight—the party’s over for me. So, Elena, you two can get dressed now, and we all three do homework together; or you two make lesbian love till I tell you to stop and get dressed.”
“Sweet!” Kristin said.
Elena eyed me. “Are you hoping I’ll act adult and do homework?”
I laughed. “Ordinarily? Yes. But right now? No way.”
Elena turned to Kristin. “Let me do you first, otherwise I might chicken out.”
And with that, naked Elena climbed onto naked Kristin and started kissing her, while I tried to learn about the U.S. federal court system.
****
The pizza-delivery guy’s eyes were bulging as he handed me the pizza. Without thinking it through, I had assumed that when he knocked on the motel-room door, then Elena and Kristin would hide in the bathroom, or at least pull the bedcovers up.
But nope. I had told Kristin and Elena to stop lesbian-ing only when I said to stop, and I hadn’t given that command. So all the time that Pizza Guy and I were carrying on our transaction, Elena was slurping and Kristin was moaning.
Pizza Guy looked around at all the discarded red-and-white Plato Smith High School clothing on the floor. He said, “Man, I wish we’d get girls like this at Ewert Grant.”
****
I had not said much during the drive from the motel.
Now the girls were in the back seat of my clunker, the engine of which was idling in one of Plato Smith’s student parking lots. We were stopped two feet from Kristin’s car.
Kristin opened my car’s rear door, but before she stepped out, I said, “Both of you have told me that you are mine. Remember saying that?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes, Marvin, and I meant it too.”
I nodded. “Very well. Then I claim Kristin for my harem.”
“But not me?” Elena said. “Have I displeased you?”
“You have Jorje as your boyfriend. Kristin doesn’t have a boyfriend, not really.”
“But have I displeased you?”
“No, Elena, you haven’t displeased me. But Jorje—”
“Master, please listen. If you tell me to keep a million miles away from Jorje, it’s done. But if Jorje or any guy tells me to stay away from you, too bad, ’cause this ain’t gonna happen. I am yours, whether you ever again touch me or not.”
“Very well,” I said. “I claim both of you. You may not have sex with any man other than me, except by my order.”
They both nodded.
“You may not have sex with any woman, except by either my order or my permission.”
Again, two nods.
“Elena, you will sit with me at lunch, not with the athletes.”
Elena nodded.
“Kristin, Elena, you will each no longer wear pants, except for shorts. But I prefer skirts or dresses. You will no longer wear flat shoes except when the school requires such, and I prefer you wear the highest heels that you can walk in. Tomorrow, we will meet just inside the main doors at 7:15. Any questions?”
“Thank you for choosing both of us,” Elena said.
“You won’t ever dislike how I serve you, I promise,” Kristin said.
Two minutes later, I heard Elena’s car start and its headlights came on. I thought, Two women belong to me now. That’s a good start.
Chapter 12
I Confront Mr. Bender
Some parents deserve to be lied to. They’re untrusting, they don’t listen, and they don’t consider anything that is important to their child to be “truly” important.
But my parents weren’t like that. Quite the opposite, in fact. So I felt like shit, lying to them.
“...So then I said to Jorje and Nathan, ‘I’m taking your girlfriends.’ I was joking around, trying to shock them. I never in a million years expected either of them to say, ‘Okay.’ But they both said that. So what was I supposed to say then? ‘Cancel that, I changed my mind, I’m not man enough to have sex with two girls’?”
I’d realized that I couldn’t lie to my folks about taking Kristin and Elena from the school parking lot—there were too many witnesses who’d tell the real story. And not even my parents would believe that, once I’d taken these two luscious girls, we’d spent a G-rated night eating pizza at CiCi’s. So I was playing a dangerous game: being truthful about the What, and
lying out my ass about the Why and How.
I continued, “So I took them to this motel, I don’t remember the name of it, it’s in the industrial part of town on Woodrow Wilson.”
Lying to my parents about why and how I’d gotten in bed with Kristin and Elena, this bothered me terribly. God, I wanted to tell my parents about the brass lamp, about Fatima, about Uncle Warren’s wishes and my own. I’m giving off magical pheromones, I wanted to tell my parents, and they make almost everyone act weird. The only problems with full disclosure to my folks were One, what would I tell them? I was still not sure what exactly Fatima had done. And Two, what if my folks blabbed about the lamp to the wrong people? I did not want my parents put in danger, and Fatima deserved better than having (another) lowlife for a Master.
I replied, “Condoms? Of course I used condoms.” I didn’t tell my folks that I’d been optimistic and bought two boxes.
“Did they seem unwilling, those girls?” my mother asked.
“They seemed resigned at first, but they didn’t hide in the bathroom, if that’s what you’re asking. Or scream for the cops. And eventually they enjoyed it.”
My father said, “Meaning that they...?”
“Yes, Dad, they did. They definitely did. Do I want everyone at school to think I’m a dork?”
Mom said, “But what about—?”
“Mom, Dad,” I said, standing up, “it’s late and I have trig homework still to do.”
I really, really needed to talk to Fatima soon.
****
Climbing the stairs to go to my bedroom, I felt weary. I’d had a hard day (pun intended), and hadn’t gotten home till late, and then my parents had insisted on grilling me. And I had to be at school early tomorrow, which meant getting up early. And I hadn’t been lying about the trig homework—I needed to get started on that. Add to all that, I hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night—no shit, I was tired right now.
But fuck the trig homework, fuck the sleep, I needed to talk to Fatima! As I was putting the key in the footlocker’s padlock, I heard the doorbell ring.
This late, I figured it was an embarrassed neighbor at the door: “My dog escaped. Have you seen it?” Let Dad handle that.
I had the brass lamp in my left hand, and was just about to rub it with my right hand, when my father’s voice yelled, “MARVIN! GIRL AT THE DOOR, SAYS SHE NEEDS TO TALK TO YOU.”
Shit!
I tossed the brass lamp under my bed, then went downstairs.
****
It was Kristin at the door. She had a paper bag with her.
“What’s up, Kristin? It’s late.”
“Oh gosh, Marvin, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad—”
“How can I be mad at the woman who gave me her virginity? But you need to get to the point.”
“You told us, ‘I prefer you wear the highest heels you can walk in,’ right?”
“Go on.”
Kristin picked up the paper bag; inside were two pairs of women’s shoes. She told me, “The brown shoes have a quarter-inch higher heel, but with the blue shoes, I can wear a sexier dress. Which should I wear tomorrow?”
“Brown shoes.” Then I kissed Kristin goodnight, and sent her and her bag of shoes home.
Once I got back upstairs in my bedroom, I was really feeling tired. What did I still need to do, before I could go to bed? Set the alarm clock to an earlier setting, talk to Fatima, and do my Trig.
But I felt so, so sleepy. Fine, I’d lay my head on the pillow for a few minutes, and take a brief nap. Then watch me get cracking...
****
I woke up at 6:30 and smiled. How about that, I’d awakened before my alarm went off! Then I remembered that I’d never bothered to reset my alarm, and was supposed to be getting up now.
I sat straight up. And that’s when I remembered the trig homework undone, and the genie not talked to.
Shit, that does it—this evening, I don’t care if all the models from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue march into my bedroom and beg for sex, I’m making time to talk to Fatima.
That is, after I tutor Anna Kay, of course.
Once out of bed, I rushed around, showering and getting dressed. I was pleased that I remembered to lock the brass lamp back in the footlocker, what with all the other things on my mind.
I was so distracted, I almost didn’t notice what my mirror was showing me. I was 6′0″ now, and muscular. Not Arnold-muscular, but I had a definite taper from shoulders to waist, and all my shirts claimed to be custom-made.
****
At 7:16, I was walking toward Plato Smith High School’s main doors. Ahead of me were Natasha, and some girl in a purple blouse who was following behind Natasha. I didn’t recognize the girl, but at first I didn’t give her any thought.
But once at the door, Natasha didn’t pull it open, but instead stopped dead. At that point, the purple-dressed girl who’d been walking behind, rushed up to the door and pulled it open for Natasha.
Wait, hold on—that was Harold who was holding the door for Natasha. How could I have mistaken Harold for—
Elena ran out the door as fast as her high heels would permit. “We have a problem. Mr. Bender has taken Kristin to his office.”
I said, “What happened, he shanghai her as soon as she stepped through the door?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
It looked like I was about to give my magic pheromones a real workout.
With Mr. Bender, you know the drill: a defensive linesman in college, didn’t get picked up by the pros, became a high-school football coach, and then eventually an assistant principal. In short, a man who both looked intimidating and acted intimidating.
And I was about to face the monster in its lair.
I strode into the school office, a cla-cla-clack behind me telling me that Elena was trying hard to keep up with me.
(Now Reader, let me describe what Elena was wearing, since you’re dying to know. Head to toe, she was wearing some kind of wine-red dangling earrings, a white pearl choker necklace, a white blouse with the top button unbuttoned, a wine-red skirt, white stockings, and wine-red skyscraper stilettos. The skirt was maybe “fingertips length”—if Elena bent her elbow slightly and Mr. Bender didn’t notice. As for “[f]ootwear must meet community standards for appropriateness,” Elena could argue that at least she wasn’t wearing porn-actress platform heels. All in all, Elena’s outfit complimented her dark-brown skin, as well as acting as an R-rated parody of our school colors.)
As I hurried into the school office, a woman in her forties looked up in surprise. “You can’t—”
“Yes, we can,” I said. “He has Kristin.”
One of the disadvantages of being a straight-A student (besides the fact that 83.2 percent of straight-A students die as virgins) is: having no knowledge of where the assistant principal’s office is. I wasted valuable seconds, reading nameplates on doors.
But then I figured out: Head toward the loud male voice. That had to be Bender who was saying, “Young lady, Plato Smith has standards for a reason, and dressing like—”
I burst in, looked Kristin up and down, and said, “She’s dressed like a wood nymph.”
“Marvin!” Kristin squealed, and ran to hug me (as fast as her shoes would permit).
(I’ve already told you that Kristin has light-brown hair. She also has hazel eyes. And you already know that she came to school wearing brown fuck-me shoes. In Bender’s office, her earrings, necklace, and belt were dark green; her stockings were bark-brown; and her dress was light brown. It was that dress that was giving Mr. Bender conniptions. If Elena’s hemline was borderline high, there was no question about Kristin’s hemline being inappropriate. Plus, Kristin’s dress had twin slits, going all the way up to the hips. And Kristin’s dress was held up with a halter, showing lots of her back and her shoulders in the process. That dress broke two, maybe three dress-code rules all by itself.)
Mr. Bender puffed up like a poisonous fish. “What are you...?”
> Then he started blinking, and I guessed he was feeling the magic pheromones.
That’s it, nice and submissive, Mr. Bender, nice and submissive.
Then fire returned to his eyes, as he pulled his shoulders back. “Who are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my office?”
He was resisting. This was not good.
I was nervous now, but I didn’t show that. “I’m Marvin Harper, these two belong to me, I told them to dress up for me, and I have a problem with you contradicting me, Anthony!”
“You have a problem?” he said sarcastically.
Then he took a step toward me. “You have a problem?”
“Back up, Anthony,” I said.
Then Mr. Bender took another step toward me. “You’re about to get yourself a three-week suspension which, if you’re a Senior, will really be a problem!”
“Back up!” I yelled.
But he stepped forward again; now his chest was a foot away from mine. This close to him, I noticed that he was two inches taller than me. Meanwhile, Mr. Bender was saying, “So, Marvin Harper, the wise thing for you—”
He made a move to poke his finger at my chest. And to the surprise of us both, my left forearm zoomed up and around, knocking his hand aside.
After a second of silence, I said in a tough voice, “You startled me.”
Mr. Bender blinked, then he looked me up and down—then his shoulders slumped and he stepped back. He said, “Your ... woman Kristin is clearly in violation of the school dress code.”
“Which you enforce.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Elena and I graduate in 2-1/2 weeks. I might add others to my group before then. What I want is, friends of mine get a free pass for dress-code stuff through Graduation Day.”
“And what if Kelly Brown gets sent to the office for her one-millionth dress-code violation, and she tells me, ‘Oh, I’m one of Marvin’s women’?”
I didn’t tell Bender that the magic pheromones guaranteed that such a thing would never happen. Instead, I said, “If anyone invokes my name, call me out of class. That way, no guesswork.”
“And what do I do if Mr. Chandler gets on my case about not enforcing the rules?”
