Chapter 7: First Kiss
Tracey's lips crashed into mine. Not tentative, not questioning. Claiming. The scent of her perfume, something expensive and floral, flooded my senses, mixed with the sharper tang of her sweat and the heady musk rising from between her thighs. Her mouth was hot, insistent. A small, shocked sound escaped me, muffled against her lips. My own body, traitorous and buzzing, arched towards the contact. Her hands clamped onto my hips, fingers digging in hard. Possessive. Anchoring.
The kiss deepened instantly. Her tongue swept into my mouth, demanding, exploring with a familiarity that felt alien and terrifyingly natural at the same time. Heat roared through me, a wildfire compared to the embers Megan had left. Every nerve ending sparked. My hands fluttered uselessly before finding purchase on her waist, the scandalously short silk of her transformed princess dress cool and slippery under my palms.
I felt it then. Unmistakable. Thick and rigid against my bare thigh. Her cock. Pressing insistently through the flimsy barrier of her damp cotton panties. It twitched violently as our tongues tangled, a pulse of pure heat against my skin. The sensation was electric, jolting. My core clenched, a fresh gush of wetness slicking my inner thighs, utterly beyond my control. My mind reeled – Tracey, my sharp-tongued ex, kissing me like this, needing me like this, her impossible hardness branding my skin.
A low hum vibrated through the room. Megan. Watching. Her gaze felt like a physical weight. I tore my mouth from Tracey's, gasping for air, turning my head just enough to see her.
Megan lounged back on one elbow, propped against the musty velvet headboard. Her witch's hat was gone, dark hair spilling over her bare shoulder. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded, intensely focused. One hand was curled lazily around the base of her own softening cock, fingers idly stroking the length. Slow. Possessive. Her thumb rubbed circles just below the head. She met my wide, panicked eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. Utterly relaxed. Utterly in control.
"That's it, Trace," Megan murmured, her voice a low, smoky purr that slid straight down my spine. Her gaze shifted to Tracey, who was breathing hard, her lips slick and slightly parted, eyes dark with a hunger that mirrored the frantic pulse I felt against my thigh. "Let yourself feel it. The wanting. The having." Megan's thumb pressed more firmly against her own cockhead, a bead of clear fluid welling at the tip. She held Tracey's stare. "Feels good, doesn't it? Taking what you want?"
Tracey shuddered. Her grip on my hips tightened, grinding her trapped cock harder against my thigh. A low groan rumbled in her chest. She didn't look at Megan. Her eyes, dark and blazing, were locked on my mouth. "Shut up, Megan," she breathed, her voice thick, ragged. "This isn't about you." But her body betrayed her words, pressing closer, seeking more friction, more heat.
"It's all about us, Trace," Megan countered smoothly, her fingers tightening slightly on her own shaft. "About tonight. About the mirror's little… gift." Her gaze slid to me, sharp and assessing. "James knows. Don't you, beautiful? Knows how good it feels to be wanted like this." Her words felt like a caress and a command. "Show her how good you can make her feel."
Tracey didn't wait. My ragged gasp was swallowed as her mouth claimed mine again, hungrier than before. Her tongue plunged deeper. Her hands slid from my hips, one tangling roughly in my mass of unfamiliar red hair, holding my head in place, the other sliding down my flank, fingertips scraping over the sensitive skin of my ribs, my waist. Her touch was demanding, almost frantic. The rigid heat of her cock ground against my thigh, relentless. Each desperate thrust sent jolts of sensation through me, sparking a wildfire in my transformed core. My body moved against hers, seeking, rubbing, driven by an instinct deeper than thought. My own hands scrabbled against the slick silk of her dress, then slid lower, finding the curve of her ass through the short tiers, pulling her harder against me. A low moan vibrated in her throat, swallowed by our kiss.
Megan shifted on the bed beside us. The worn springs groaned. I felt the mattress dip as she moved closer. The scent of her – sex and clean sweat and something uniquely Megan – mixed with Tracey's perfume. Megan's free hand, the one not occupied with her own cock, came to rest lightly, possessively, on my lower back. Her fingers splayed wide, warm and firm. Not pulling, just… owning. Anchoring me between them.
"See?" Megan's murmur was right beside my ear now, her breath hot, her voice vibrating through me. "She's ready. So ready. Can you feel it, James? Feel how much she needs?" Her hand pressed down slightly. "Show her what you learned. Show her how good my girl can be."
Tracey broke the kiss with a gasp, her forehead resting against mine, her breath coming in ragged pants. Her dark eyes, dilated and fierce, bored into mine. Her hand fisted tighter in my hair, the slight sting sharpening the haze of sensation. Her other hand slid from my waist, down, trembling slightly, until her fingers brushed the slick mess between my thighs. I jerked at the contact, a choked cry escaping me. Tracey’s gaze didn't waver. Her fingers explored, sliding through the wetness, circling my opening. Testing. Claiming. Her cock jumped violently against my leg.
"Fuck," Tracey breathed, the word raw, awed. "You really are…" She trailed off, her eyes dropping to where her fingers were working, then snapping back to mine. "Show me," she demanded again, her voice trembling with need. "Show me now. Take this… this fucking thing…" She ground her hips, emphasizing the thick ridge pressed against me. "...and make it feel good. Like you did for her. Please." The challenge was back, laced with desperation, her gaze flicking towards Megan for a split second.
Tracey’s plea hung thick in the musty air, raw and urgent. Her fingers tightened in my red hair, pulling my head back slightly, exposing my throat. "Show me," she repeated, breath hot against my skin, her cock twitching insistently against my thigh like a trapped animal. "Make it feel good.Now."
Megan’s low chuckle vibrated beside me, a sound of dark approval. "She asked nicely, baby," she purred, her hand still a warm brand on my lower back, fingers tracing idle patterns. "Be good for her."
The command, the need radiating off Tracey, the sheer impossible reality of it all – it short-circuited my hesitation. My hands, guided by some instinct deeper than thought, slid down her sides, over the scandalously short silk tiers of her princess skirt. The fabric felt cool, slippery beneath my palms. I moved deliberately, lowering myself, my knees sinking into the worn carpet beside the narrow bed. The scent of her arousal, musky and potent, intensified as I descended. It washed over me, primal and demanding.
Tracey’s breath hitched as my lips brushed the low neckline of her transformed bodice. I trailed kisses downwards, tasting the faint salt on her skin, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my mouth. The silk was smooth against my lips. My own heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the steady throb I could feel emanating from her core.
I nuzzled the soft swell of her stomach above the skirt’s waistband. My fingers found the elastic edge of her damp cotton panties. Tracey tensed, a sharp intake of breath whistling between her teeth. Her hand still knotted in my hair held me firmly, expectantly. "James…" she breathed, a warning, a plea.
Slowly, deliberately, I hooked my thumbs and eased the waistband down past the crest of her hips, over the curve of her ass. The fabric caught momentarily before slipping lower, revealing the dark, soft bush beneath. And there it was. Her cock, thick and flushed, fully erect now, springing free just above her glistening folds. It stood proud, a magnificent, impossible curve of flesh, the head already slick with pre-cum. The sight stole my breath.
Her musk enveloped me then, richer, earthier, filling my nostrils. Sweat, arousal, the unique scent of Tracey transformed. It was overwhelming, intoxicating. I leaned in instinctively, drawn to the heat radiating from her. The tip brushed against my cheek, startlingly hot. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, letting the reality of it sink in. This was Tracey. This was happening.
My lips found the base where hard flesh met soft curls. I kissed it gently. Tracey groaned, her hips jerking forward slightly, pushing her length against my face. The groan deepened into a shuddering gasp as I trailed my lips slowly upwards along the rigid shaft. The skin was smooth, impossibly hot velvet stretched tight over steel. I felt the powerful thrum of her pulse beneath my lips.
"Oh fuck," Tracey choked out, her hand tightening painfully in my hair, anchoring me. "Just like that… yes…" Her voice was thick, fractured. Her hips moved again, a small, involuntary thrust. "God, your mouth…"
I reached the swollen head, slick and salty. My tongue flicked out tentatively, tasting her, a jolt of pure heat shooting through me. Her cock jumped against my lips. A low moan rumbled from her chest, vibrating down the length pressed against my face. Her grip in my hair urged me on, pleading without words. My lips parted, taking the head into my mouth, the heat and weight a shock and a revelation. Tracey cried out, a sharp, ragged sound that echoed in the silent room. Her free hand flew to the back of my head, pushing down gently, demanding more. "Take it," she gasped. "All of it… please…"
The salty-slick head filled my mouth, heavy and hot. Tracey gasped, her fingers tightening convulsively in my red hair. "Yes!" The word burst from her, ragged and raw.
I took more, deeper, finding an unexpected rhythm as I sank down her thick shaft. My jaw ached instantly, a sharp counterpoint to the dizzying heat flooding my senses. Her taste – musky, primal, utterly Tracey – coated my tongue. Her hips jerked, a shallow thrust pushing her cock towards the back of my throat. I gagged reflexively, pulling back slightly, my eyes watering.
"Easy," Megan murmured from the bed, her voice a low thrum right beside my ear. I hadn't even noticed her slide off the mattress onto her knees behind me. Her warmth pressed against my back, solid and grounding. Her scent, familiar and intimate beneath the lingering sex and magic, enveloped me. One hand slid around my waist, fingers splaying possessively over my abdomen. "Relax your throat, baby. Breathe through your nose." Her other hand, the one that had been stroking her own cock, gently brushed sweat-damp hair from my temple. Her touch was startlingly tender amidst the frenzy. "That's it. Slow and deep. Let her feel you."
Tracey whimpered above me, her thighs trembling. Her free hand fumbled, finding my shoulder, nails digging in. "Don't stop," she panted, voice tight with need. "God, don't fucking stop."
I tried to obey Megan, focusing past the stretch and ache. I relaxed my jaw, let my throat open as I took her deeper again. This time, the thick intrusion slid further, hitting a spot that made Tracey cry out, a sharp, broken sound. Megan's hand on my stomach pressed, encouraging me forward. Her lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Good girl. So good. Feel how much she needs you." Her own arousal pressed hot against the curve of my ass through the thin schoolgirl skirt.
I moaned around Tracey's cock, the vibration pulling another shattered gasp from her. The sensation was overwhelming – the thick fullness in my mouth, Tracey’s desperate sounds, Megan’s possessive guidance, the slick wetness pooling between my own transformed thighs. I moved my head, finding a steady rhythm – down, taking as much as I could manage, then up, swirling my tongue around the swollen head before plunging down again. Each descent drew a ragged groan, each ascent a sharp intake of breath. Tracey’s fingers in my hair shifted from painful anchor to desperate caress.
"Fuck, James... your mouth... it's..." Tracey trailed off, unable to form words. Her hips began a shallow, involuntary rocking, fucking my mouth with small, urgent thrusts. Pre-cum flooded my tongue, thick and bitter-sweet. Megan’s breath hitched behind me. Her hand tightened on my waist, her own hips pressing rhythmically against me. She was moving against my ass, seeking friction. "Watch her," Megan breathed into my ear, her voice thick. "See what you're doing to her. Look at her face."
I forced my eyes open, blinking away tears. Tracey’s head was thrown back, her throat working. Sweat sheened her skin, catching the dim glow from the bare bulb. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted in a silent cry. Her chest heaved. The sheer intensity of her pleasure, focused entirely on what my mouth was doing, was staggering. It was power and vulnerability tangled together. Her cock pulsed heavily against my tongue.
"Oh god, oh god..." Tracey's chant was frantic, breathless. Her thighs clenched, trembling violently. Her thrusts became erratic, shallow jerks. "I'm... I'm gonna..." The warning died in a strangled gasp. Her whole body tensed, rigid. Her grip on my hair and shoulder became almost crushing.
"Take it," Megan commanded softly, her own voice tight with arousal, grinding harder against me. "Swallow it all, baby. Taste her."
Tracey came with a raw, guttural cry that tore from her chest. Her cock swelled impossibly harder, then pulsed violently, flooding my mouth with thick, salty heat. I swallowed convulsively, once, twice, the bitter warmth coating my throat. She kept coming, wave after wave, her body shuddering violently above me. Her cries dissolved into choked sobs as she rode the desperate crest, her legs trembling so hard she nearly buckled.
Megan pressed flush against my back, holding me steady, her own low moan vibrating against my spine. She watched Tracey unravel, her breathing harsh. "Good," she murmured, her voice rough with satisfaction. "So fucking good." Her hand slid lower on my stomach, fingertips brushing the soaked fabric between my legs. "Now," she breathed, her lips finding my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Show me what that did to you."
Megan’s teeth grazed my neck, sharp and possessive. Her hand slid lower, fingers slipping beneath the soaked hem of my schoolgirl skirt. They traced the edge of my damp panties, a deliberate, lingering touch that sent electric jolts through my trembling legs. "So wet already?" Her low murmur vibrated against my skin, equal parts amusement and raw approval.
I gasped, arching back against her instinctively, seeking more contact. My entire body felt hypersensitive, alive with nerve endings screaming for attention. Beneath the thin cotton, I was drenched, slick heat pooling where her fingers teased. "Megan…" It came out a strangled whisper, caught between protest and desperate need.
"Look at you," she breathed, her fingertips pressing firmly against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow, maddening circles. The pressure was just shy of direct contact, amplifying the ache. "Just from watching. From pleasing." Her other hand slid up, cupping one of my transformed breasts through the white blouse, thumb brushing over the hardened nipple. A choked sound escaped me. "Tracey made a mess of you, baby." Megan’s chuckle was dark velvet. "But I think you liked cleaning her up. Didn’t you?"
Her fingers finally dipped beneath the elastic, sliding through the slick folds. The direct contact was a shock, a bolt of pure sensation that made my knees buckle. I sagged against her, a low moan tearing from my throat. Megan held me up easily, her body solid against my back. "Whoa there, gorgeous." Her fingers explored with confident intimacy, finding my swollen clit with unerring accuracy. "That's it. Show me."
She circled the sensitive nub, slow at first, then with increasing pressure and speed. Pleasure, sharp and overwhelming, crashed through me. My head lolled back against her shoulder, my hips rocking helplessly against her hand. "Yes!" I hissed, the word sharp and involuntary. Sparks danced behind my eyelids. Every nerve was on fire.
From the corner of my vision, I saw Tracey. She’d slumped slightly against the doorframe, breathing heavily, her eyes half-lidded but intensely focused on Megan’s hand working beneath my skirt. Her own softening cock glistened against her thigh. A lazy, satisfied smirk touched her lips. "Looks like she's enjoying the lesson," Tracey rasped, her voice still rough. She shifted slightly, watching Megan’s fingers move. "Fuck, Megan. Look at her move."
"Learns fast," Megan murmured, her breath hot against my ear. Her fingers pressed deeper, slipping inside me with shocking ease. I cried out, the sudden fullness stealing my breath. She curled them, finding a spot that made my vision blur. "Found it," she purred, relentless. "That's the spot, isn't it, sweetheart? Right there." She stroked, deep and demanding.
The world narrowed to the point where her fingers moved inside me, the relentless pressure on my clit, the heat of her body pressed against my back. Rational thought dissolved. Pleasure coiled, tight and urgent, in my lower belly. "Megan… please… I can't…" My words dissolved into incoherent gasps. My hips jerked, fucking myself on her hand. Need consumed me, raw and primal.
"So close already?" Megan’s voice held a predatory thrill. She tightened her arm around my waist, pinning me. "Not yet." Her fingers slowed, withdrawing slightly, denying the peak that had been seconds away. A whimper of pure frustration escaped me. The sudden absence was agony. "Look at Tracey," Megan commanded, her voice low and compelling. She turned my head with a gentle pressure under my chin. "Look what you did to her."
Tracey’s gaze met mine. Her dark eyes were wide, pupils blown, fixed on Megan’s hand buried beneath my skirt. Her breathing hitched as if she could feel every stroke. One hand had drifted down to cradle her own softening length, fingers idly tracing the veins. Seeing her attention, the raw hunger in her eyes reignited something desperate in me.
"She wants to taste," Megan whispered, her lips brushing my earlobe. Her fingers began moving inside me again, slow, deep pumps. "Taste what you feel." She slid her fingers out, glistening wet. Held them up before my eyes for a heartbeat. "Show her." Her command was soft steel. "Show her how good you taste."
The implication hung thick in the air. Megan’s hand on my waist urged me forward, towards Tracey, who straightened up, her smouldering gaze fixed on Megan’s glistening fingertips. A fresh tremor ran through me, anticipation warring with a dizzying surge of renewed heat. Tracey’s tongue darted out, wetting her own lips as I stumbled the single step towards her. Her eyes flicked from Megan’s fingers to my mouth, waiting. The air crackled, thick with musk and the promise of shared sensation.
Tracey’s gaze locked onto Megan’s glistening fingers hovering near my lips. Her own lips parted slightly, a flicker of raw hunger replacing the post-orgasm haze in her dark eyes. "Do I just…?" Her voice rasped, rough and hesitant, yet her body leaned forward unconsciously.
"Open," Megan commanded softly from behind me, her hand a steady pressure on my waist pushing me closer still. Her breath was hot against my neck. "Taste what you made her feel."
My own mouth opened slightly, a reflex. Tracey didn’t hesitate. She closed the tiny distance, her tongue darting out, tentative at first, tasting the slick moisture coating Megan’s fingertips. Her eyes widened, pupils swallowing the irises. "Fuck," she breathed, pulling back just an inch, then surging forward again. Her lips closed around Megan’s fingers, sucking hard, her tongue working greedily. A low groan rumbled deep in her chest. Her free hand grabbed my hip, fingers digging in possessively.
The wet, eager sounds filled the small room. Tracey’s eyes squeezed shut, lost in the flavour – my flavour, amplified by Megan’s touch. I could feel the vibrations of her groan through her grip on my hip. Heat flared anew between my own legs, a fresh pulse of wetness soaking the thin cotton pressed against me. Megan chuckled, a low, dark sound of satisfaction. She slowly withdrew her fingers from Tracey’s mouth.
"Good?" Megan’s murmur was thick with amusement and arousal. She rubbed her damp fingers lightly over my parted lips, transferring the taste back to me. Bitter, musky, uniquely mine, yet transformed by shared touch. I instinctively licked, the flavour igniting another wave of dizzying heat.
Tracey released my hip, her hand trembling slightly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her gaze, when it met mine, was fierce, blazing. "Fuck yeah," she rasped. A shaky grin touched her lips. "Who knew Red here packed such a punch?" Her eyes dropped pointedly to the soaked front of my schoolgirl skirt.
"Plenty more where that came from," Megan purred, her hand sliding possessively down my stomach again, fingertips dipping beneath the skirt’s waistband. "But maybe we relocate? Carpet’s murder on the knees." She gave my hip a light pat. "Bed’s right there."
Tracey glanced at the narrow, musty mattress where Megan and I had been tangled earlier. Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, then hardened with renewed determination. "Fine. Whatever." She pushed off the doorframe, her movements still unsteady. "Just… keep doing whatever that was."
Megan guided me the few steps towards the bed, her body pressed close. The worn springs groaned as we sank onto the edge of the thin mattress. Tracey followed, her scandalously short princess skirt riding up further as she perched beside me, her thigh warm against mine. The scent of sex, sweat, and Tracey’s fading perfume was overwhelming. Megan shifted, kneeling on the bed behind me, her fingers already tracing the damp seam of my panties through the skirt. Her other hand slid around to cup my breast again.
"Alright, girls," Megan murmured, her lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Time for round two." Her fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties. "These are soaked, sweetheart. Off." It wasn't a request. She peeled the damp cotton down my thighs, the cool air hitting my slick skin making me gasp. She tossed them aside carelessly. "Better."
Tracey watched, transfixed, her breathing shallow. Her own cock, though softening, twitched visibly against her thigh. Megan’s hand slid back between my legs, fingers parting my folds with intimate familiarity. I arched into her touch, a helpless moan escaping. "See?" Megan directed at Tracey, her fingers circling my clit with agonizing slowness. "Look how responsive she is. Ready to burst." She pressed deeper, finding that spot again, making me cry out. "Why don't you give her something nice to look at while I work, Trace?"
Tracey blinked. "Me?" Her brow furrowed. "What?"
Megan laughed, a low, rich sound. "Touch yourself. Show her. Show her how good it feels." Her eyes held Tracey’s, challenging, compelling. "Put on a show for my girl here. She deserves it after your little… performance."
Tracey flushed, a deep red creeping up her neck. She glanced down at her own body, then at my face, contorted with building pleasure under Megan’s skilled fingers. A mixture of defiance and burgeoning arousal warred in her expression. Slowly, hesitantly, her hand drifted down her stomach, over the ridiculous ruffles of her transformed bodice. She paused above the dark curls, fingers trembling. Her gaze locked onto mine, watching my reaction as Megan’s touch made me writhe. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "Seriously, Meg?" she breathed, but her fingers were already moving lower, brushing through her own dampness, finding the base of her slowly reawakening cock. Her eyes never left mine as her hand closed around it. A sharp intake of breath. Her first tentative stroke pulled a soft gasp from her lips. My own breath hitched in response, mirrored desire flaring hot. The air hummed.