Winning Isn't Everything

Flooding under a pointed hat, Teryl Candrik's white locks glowed in wisps of moonlight, the orb flickering behind clumps of oval leaves. Dark skin absorbed the light, reflecting not a single ray. Brass racing goggles protected green eyes from the chilly wind of speedy flight.

A smooth shaft of ancient dark cherry wood was tucked twixt her legs. Mother's broomstick. And grand-mama's, she recalled. And great-grand-mama's. Probably great times two or three, witches of her family were broomstick racers going way back. Copper banded a simple straw sweep, ghostly essence flowing off ragged yellow strands.

Massive trunks boxed her in, small branches like black spiderwebs. Teryl ducked and weaved, the odd scratch of twigs failing to pierce purple racing robes. Many witches had ended their run here, suffering a variety of broken bones.

Trees provided only motionless opposition. After clearing the tight confines a woman in bright blue robes and small hat pulled aside Teryl. A second appeared on her right, robe green, hat gray, long auburn hair whipping. Teryl rocked her hips, urging the heirloom broomstick onward. Fuel was derived from pleasure; not one wore underwear. Bare clits pressed against smooth wood. A special rider's nub stirred wet cunts.

Everything contained magic; air, the tall trees, soil, and stones, even complicated things like fire and storms and clouds. The three racers flying through the forest. The closer to one's body, the easier magic was to channel. Blood was powerful, most witches readily attested, but had that ethical dilemma, or safety using personal supplies. Even feelings held magic. Anger was quick, strong, but difficult to maintain. Fear worked too, with difficulty. Pleasure was plentiful and easily accessed, with extensive variety. Any serious broomstick racing witch used sexual ecstasy.

Wind whipping Teryl's loose flaps of racing robe, she channeled excitement from the wooden nub in her cunt. The intensity of delight was sapped by magically consuming the sensations before they affected her mind. Just as well--cumming might make surviving deadly turns difficult. Teryl was going fast.

She rolled and pulled up for left, quickly reversing at the next tree, staying within bright pink streams of magic highlighting the course. Dark trunks flashed by thick enough to be a giant's fence. A woman fell behind and a small smile took Teryl's dark lips. Rocking gently teased her clit; she captured a flush of ecstasy, creating magic for more speed.

Teryl reached a straight, trees forming a natural hall. A flickering shape of green and white, with a small pale dot in the center lay ahead, disappearing around the bend. Body wrapping her broomstick, she poured on speed. Three turns later she was close. A drop of water splattered on her goggles. Wind tore it away. A second drop struck her upper lip.

Cunt juice. Fresh from the leader's snatch. Teryl's own pussy left a stream. Pleasure sensations were consumed for magic but the body maintained natural reactions. Wetness between her legs had only grown since race start. A rivulet was working down the left of her leather thigh boots. Flapping green and white cloth surrounded a pale ass like petals of a flower. Fine silk stockings were twined round a golden staff. Teryl resisted sneering at the rich girl's expensive professional broomstick.

Anastasia Drundmoore. Teryl recalled a tall proud blonde waiting on her stick when they'd assembled, stoic despite the fact everyone knew the broomstick nub was up her cunt. The sight generated Teryl's faint attraction, which she drew on now for a tiny burst of speed. She crept forward. Green flapping robes struck her shoulder.

Astonishment widened Anastasia's quick look when Teryl inched even. The look didn't last--too dangerous at this speed to ignore forward. Teryl grinned into onrushing air, driven by pleasures imagined or inflicted on her body. Vicious turns, including a harsh hairpin around a grouping of three gigantic trunks, didn't shake the blonde. Passage of bodies and broomsticks pulled up clouds of dust and scattered leaves. Teryl gained the lead, pulling ahead as they entered sedate turns.

Teryl burst on to rolling plains, clouds loitering on the horizon. Turns were simple without trees, and her destination was in sight; a glowing wall of transparent bricks. Magical constructs near risers under electric lights gave views of racers all through the course for a crowd of some hundreds. A glance back revealed Anastasia flagging.

She breached the magical wall without disturbing its shape. Pulling up to bleed speed, the nub digging into Teryl's cunt caused a burst of delight. She ceased burning pleasure; free to do what it ought, ecstasy coursed through her body. Teryl's snatch pounded with sudden climax. She floated to a stop, panting on her broom. Teryl relished a double delight; climax and the win.

Sexual magic was potent but not dignified. Curious as to how Miss Prim-And-Proper was handling things, she cracked an eye. Half a dozen racers had finished and more were flying in, no parking order followed, forming a field of climaxing witches in tight robes and tall boots. Anastasia appeared relaxed but her ecstasy was clear in twitch of lip and fluttering eyelids. Her broom was all the way on the ground, silk stockings spread. Her arms shivered, grasping fine gold-crusted staff.

Maybe she's got potential. Teryl wanted to win but stiff competition would enhance ultimate victory.

Women in witch robes and pointed hats of red and green, purple and black, orange and teal laid on their sides, legs and arms shaking, filling the night with wanton gasps and moans, clear juice spraying from cunts. Racers continually arrived while officials called announcements, checking on those recovering. Marked by outfit as among them, a man touched her shoulder, asking after her condition. "Just fine," she said, waving him off, though she did take a water bottle. Perpetually soaking cunts tended to dehydrate.

A cheering and laughing crowd celebrated the first race of the season. Anastasia's light skin colored. The red spread and grew darker. Her arms crossed an ample chest protectively. The man approached, speaking inquisitively. She hurriedly gesturing for him to depart, though greedily clutched offered water.

Teryl smiled. Get used to that, honey. There was no way to end a broomstick race dignified. Teryl just thought of it as a bonus; consolation prize for the losers--free orgasm. As if her thoughts had summoned them, blue eyes found Teryl's green.

Showing a lopsided grin, she waved jauntily.

******

Crisp air brushed blonde locks as Anastasia flew away from the night's race. The full moon struggled with spreading cumulus clouds, bubbling edges traced in silver. The racing nub stirred her cunt, fluids lubricating polished wood. Broomstick racers, according to her studies, turned the nub down for comfortable rides out of races but she wanted to get used to the feeling.

Blood rushed to her face. Mother was right; this is a sport for filthy trollops. Situating herself among a field of whores cumming their brains out was unthinkable yet she'd done just that. Her chin rose into the wind of travel. I didn't crash, fall, stumble, or embarrass myself. She'd hidden her pleasures while other witches had inadvertently cast robes open, spraying their ecstasy into the night.

Focusing on flying while managing intimate pleasures was difficult. Such feelings were not for public venues. It was indecent. And yet... She licked her lips. That was the challenge--it wasn't about sex. Broomstick racing was a sport of discipline. Anastasia could do this. It was exactly the outlet she needed, escaping the circumscribed life of a wealthy trader's daughter.

And it was fun; the feel of wind in her face, racing along the ground, dodging trees and surpassing other racers.

All but the dark skinned woman in purple robes, with a simple cherry wood broom. Anastasia's family's resources, secret flying lessons, inquiring with former racers, and affording a designer broomstick, had come to nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, she amended. I came second. She'd learned all that could be learned about racing broomsticks from book or tongue.

Considering the sultry pleasures, Anastasia muttered, "Perhaps not everything via tongue." Her family were not prudes, but her sexual experiences were narrow. Sex was special, something to be enjoyed privately, but that was no proper broomstick racer's attitude. Her feelings might have to change; the excitement of flight called to her.

No one had caught her up til mid-way--white haired and dark skinned Teryl Candrik, famous in the Kaltendower Cup despite tonight also being her first race. The girl's mother hadn't done well, Anastasia learned during her investigations. After Teryl took lead, drops of cunt juice had splattered Anastasia's lips and nose. Realizing that meant Anatasia's sex had also streamed all night caused embarrassment, sapping her speed.

She curved high over the lights of distant Kaltendower, largest city in a region of the same name. Many distant sparkles were torches but plenty of new electrics had spread here, some brought by her father's trade. She whispered, "You don't have to go down there and fuck every man and woman you see." Anastasia didn't have to become a slut to race sticks. Not in the real world--only in her mind.

Far from the city a sprawling blue castle dominated the grounds of the Meerhaven Academy. She was enrolled for the fall semester as freshmen. As was the victor of tonight's race, Teryl Candrik. She'd have a chance to learn more about her, and about broomstick racing, despite it not being on the Academy curriculum.

Reaching the outskirts of Lindenvallon, and her family's country estate, she cruised lower, seeking paths among trees, high fences, and walls. Her best robes and hat, modified for the tight fit better serving racing, stood out quite well at night. And the full moon was not yet subdued by encroaching clouds. Lights in several windows of the fine brick manor suggested someone was still up.

If Mother learns where I've been, what I was doing... She'd be lucky to be allowed to go to the Academy, much less moonlight as a race-whore.

Anastasia sidled up to a second story window. Carefully lifting the broad wood-cased pane, she started when the frame emitted a sharp shriek. Leaping through, with the presence of mind to seize her broom, she hurried to reset the window. Footfalls echoed on stairs.

Guarding against sounds a body could unknowingly unleash on loose floorboards, her eyes fell on a shifting green shape. Bounding across the space with a patter of sticky feet, it leapt high enough to land on her knee, quickly gaining her shoulder.

A squeaky voice said, "Anny! Where been?"

"Shhhh, Tess!", she said, hushing the familiar.

Curving in dismay, the gecko's jaw remained clamped. Tearing off witch robe and hat, she stuffed the lot inside her closet, resisting the urge to slam the panels. The noise outside grew louder, more distinct. Mother's heels, precise, despite the late hour. Fresh from riding broomstick, cunt still slick with delight, Anastasia burned pleasure for a quick spell.

Bed covers became a cloth devil, then a flower to cup her. She dived into the mess, Tess still on her shoulder. The mass of fabric flowed around her body, leaving her tightly secured like a pea in a pod, Tess's small head poking at her neck. The doors swung open. Hazy brightness bathed her shut lids.

"Anastasia?" Mother said.

Mother stopped at her bedside. "Anastasia?" The elder woman gave an uncertain hum. She scoffed. "Still sleeping with your familiar, girl?" she whispered. Mother walked out. The hall's light vanished with the door's click.

Tess whispered from her chin, "Where been, Anny?"

She smiled. "Well, Tess. I was racing..."

******

The Meerhaven Academy was a prestigious institution--Teryl thought ancient a better word.

High drab stone walls of her small room featured no windows. A pair of chairs and a wide table were made of simple wood and plainly built, lacking intricate carving or paint. Stomach down on the bed, which had a reasonably comfortable mattress, she flipped through the course catalog in underwear and thin shirt, dark skinned legs kicking idly. Her purple robes and wizard hat hung on a hook near the door.

Teryl had been reluctant to attend witch's school. It would cut into her broomstick riding practice; the main season went until November, then finals into January. Mother insisted, however, and she was excited about improving her alchemical skills. Fingers flickering, she magically directed a quill at the table, scribbling course possibilities.

The door swung open. A wide-hipped woman with enormous knockers entered. She doffed a red witch's hat. Dusky purple eyes were wide, full lips shaped into shocked "O". Her manor, face, and dress gave Teryl the impression of nobility. Her first utterance banished it.

"Oh. My. Starrrrrs!" she squealed. Two large bags fell as she hopped in place, red robes shaking, huge melons bouncing wild. "I can't believe this. I really can't! Stars. Oh, stars! The Teryl Candrik!" Bouncing halted (tits a moment later), her hands fluttered at cheek level. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily. With less excitement, she said, "Control yourself, Bianca. Teryl Candrik is your roommate. No big deal. You can do this."

"You alright?" Teryl asked, shifting on the bed into a sitting position.

Bianca impersonated a deer staring down a well-armed hunter. She breathed, "She's talking to me. Teryl Candrik is talking to me!"

"Yeah," Teryl said, frowning. "Can you talk back?"

Delicate hands clasped full lips. She stared, nodding slowly.

Teryl looked expectant. Bianca slowly withdrew her fingers. The smile waned, vanished, became a harsh frown. The look restored the elegant noblewoman impression. She said, "You're in your underwear."

Teryl spun back to the bed, and course book. "Comfortable."

Bianca sighed heavily. "I should have expected."

"Huh?"

"Well, you're a broomstick racing pro." She raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you all the biggest sluts?"

"Only during races." Teryl winked. "Mostly."

"Well," Bianca said, hands at her hips, "I'm so honored to meet you."

Teryl frowned over her shoulder.

"Teryl Candrik! Stars! I'm your biggest fan, I've been to all your races!"

Memories of six races before the start of lodging at Meerhaven included a single loss, to the rich girl, Anastasia, who had learned surprisingly quick. Teryl blamed that second place on laying with a print shop boy in Kaltendower the night before instead of conserving sexual potency. Race conclusions, however, made for foggy memories due to the usual state of orgasmic bliss. She recalled no dusky graceful beauty, however; Teryl could not forget such a prodigious bust.

"Thanks," she said, offering a smile. "It's only a family name til I win the Kaltendower Cup."

"You will," Bianca said, nodding seriously. "I know it. You're an amazing broomstick racer."

After some minutes of reviewing courses, Teryl glanced at Bianca. The woman stared. Teryl glared. "Looking to catch a blind spell?"

"Oh, stars. Sorry." She faced the wall, then spun back, picked up her bags, and rushed to a cabinet set at the foot of her bed, wedged by the chairs and table. Bag opened, her hands drew forth an outfit.

Teryl scanned courses and made notes. Time passed and Bianca's motions became repetitive. She stared as outfits came and went. Gowns, simple dresses, comfortable wear, witch robes, hats, and lingerie. Befitting the magical school, they'd sprung for armoires that were bigger on the inside, a trait apparently shared with Bianca's luggage. Teryl chuckled. "I see you travel light."

"I like to be prepared," she said, sniffing.

Teryl was prepared too--for cutting Bianca slack. She might be a rich girl, but there were worse roommates. This one liked her, and she was easy on the eyes. That ass... Teryl chewed her lip as she watched the woman transfer clothing. She curved as much in back as front. Bianca's red robes were loose but the curvaceous woman absorbed all the outfit's give.

Fortunately her fawning died down by week's end, once courses began. Bianca Teldentravol specialized in illusions, scrying, and enhancements to the senses, diving into her studies as eagerly as Teryl pursued alchemy. Distractions from course work and Bianca didn't interfere with broomstick riding; the Meerhaven castle exterior proving a fine place to practice sharp turns, though she had to be wary of eagle-eyed proctors.

Teryl was startled to learn Anastasia Drundmoore shared a one class with her. Unfortunately that was Advanced Alchemical Concoctions, her favorites and where she could learn the most. Except Anastasia distracted her. Teryl couldn't explain the blonde's allure.

Over the mists of a test-cauldron, Teryl discreetly watched the elegant blonde delicately add herbs to a mixture. Anastasia was beautiful but Bianca was an extinction-level smoke show, with massive knockers to boot. And the dusky woman was her roommate! Why should she pine after a rival on the broomstick racing field?

Flickering green motion forced Teryl's gaze to various powders. Even if she wanted to stare, the tiny little lizard always at Anastasia's shoulder was vigilant, glares armed and ready.

Nah, not pining, Teryl decided, completing her mixture. The instructor, an ancient warlock with a long gray and white beard, checked it over. Her eyes widened as he produced a spoon from a voluminous sleeve, sipping the caustic result. He nodded. She relaxed, glancing at Anastasia. Not pining at all; studying the opposition.

The first race of the semester arrived as if via time warp.

Purple robes secured tight for racing, Teryl floated on her mother's dark cherry wood broomstick. A quick spell secured her pointed hat against speedy flight, wide brim shielding her from mid-day sun. The starting area was close to the Academy; dark blue spires rose like a collection of fat spears on the horizon. The course was simple; all about speed. The first race of the season weeded out witches who should have thought better about hurtling through the air at insane speeds with polished wood up their cunts.

Final preparations were begun, dozens of witches assembling, and Teryl rocked gently on her broom, stirring cunt with the polished racing nub. She bit her lip, suppressing a moan, like other women all around. A searching gaze clocked Anastasia six down. The tall blonde's eyes were closed, she looked calm and collected, not like a woman pleasuring herself on a broom.

But her hips were twitching. Teryl smiled.

A black-maned woman with white temple stripes and elaborate robes stood all proper near hazy pink bricks even less visible in daytime sun. She raised an arm, twisting fingers as if grasping a large sphere. Flares danced on her finger tips, assembling into a purple ball.

It shot into the air. Teryl sprang into motion.

Delightful heat in her cunt diminished, pleasure burned into fuel, as with dozens of flying women racing over waving grasses. Bunches formed according to slightly different strategies for conserving magic. Anastasia shot out in front, fine green and white robes flapping, tall silk stockings wrapped round her broom, before an ethereal feather sweep. Teryl admired the woman's stamina; she did that every race yet still gave a good showing.

Teryl floated around tenth, not just conserving ecstasy. Hips twitching against her broom, she teased cunt and rubbed clit on the smooth staff. Quantity was nice, but she'd always found quality to be more potent.

******

Gales of racing wind vainly sought to dislodge Anastasia's magically fixed green pointed hat. She smiled, racing over plains, blue sky tinted orange by her goggle lenses. Her cunt was dripping; she imagined drops splattering on racers behind, experiencing the forbidden delight.

She wondered if her fluids were striking Teryl's face, and sudden desire flared. Anastasia burned the sensation, a trickle of magic boosting her speed. Anastasia found sharing alchemical laboratory with Teryl mightily distracting, her arresting nature to blame. That brilliant white hair, clashing with the nearly jet skin... And how she focused on concoctions, tossing in powders with a steady, calculating gaze. If those intense green eyes turned so on Anastasia...

She vigorously humped staff, briefly forgetting about racing. Quickly burning the pleasure away, pouring the magic into her broom, she hurtled low over the ground.

Tess reported Teryl's frequent sideways glances. The gecko familiar felt certain the dark skinned woman was casting ill charms. Teryl certainly came across abrasive but there was no reason for an acrimonious relationship; they were fellow broomstick racers. Anastasia felt she was professional, but Teryl acted strangely stiff. Could she break that ice?

Swaying left, Anastasia leaned into a gentle curve around a squat hill. Blades of grass shuddered inches from her shoulder. When she came out of the turn, purple robes fluttered too close, thick white locks glowing in sunlight, a dark-skinned face focused ahead, broomstick top pointing from under chin.

Teryl! Anastasia thought.

It was that time, the race near three quarters run, when Teryl brought out her true strength. And where Anastasia lost, unable to imagine the utterly depraved thoughts Teryl used to fuel her pleasure. When the woman pulled ahead, sliding to move directly in front of Anastasia, she got a good look at her cute, toned ass, and slick spot of wetness with a hint of racer's nub protruding from main broom staff.

Drops of cunt juice splashed her lips. She licked them up, wondering what they tasted like straight from the source. The fantasy gave some speed, but Teryl inexorably pulled ahead--Anastasia swore the dark skinned woman's cunt was visibly throbbing.

Desperately mashing her clit against the broom, Anastasia converted the intensity of feeling into magical fuel. Wind whipped blonde locks lashed her cheeks. It was time for her secret weapon, a hidden fantasy she'd never share with anyone: Teryl was in her bed, the woman's body hers, and they explored each other with delicate, precise, and when necessary, forceful fingers, the hot, stiff buds of their sex rubbing together...

The distance shrank. And then grew. And shrank once more.

A tilled field was ahead. Teryl fell close to the ground, preserving speed by minimizing air drag. As she did so, the woman's boot slipped--toe bouncing off ground conjured a dust cloud. Anastasia could not avoid it. Goggles defended her eyes but her nose and mouth took the particles full force. She choked, fighting through the disruption.

The sensual fantasy of Teryl shattered. Her speed fell. A racer overtook her, then a third--a fourth. Anger crept in, preventing recovery of the blissful ecstatic state necessary for best speed.

She finished sixth, and without the overflowing delight to enjoy a brain-melting climax. The instant race officials checked her out she flew back to the Meerhaven castle.

The gall of it! she thought. Thus far theirs had been a friendly competition. Clearly Teryl wasn't having that; willing to employ literally dirty tricks.

I'll show you dirty...

******

Cruising around towering keep pillars of the Meerhaven Academy, Teryl relished the tight maneuvers under cloak of thickly clouded night. The next race was tomorrow; she wanted to practice. She quickly finished two laps, then settled on eaves of the student dorm, where roof touched a small parapet with space to walk. Withdrawing broom and racer's nub, she sighed and reclined on slate shingles. Two more runs, she promised herself. She had to sleep too.

Rolling shoulders and stretching, she mounted broom, flying off. A flapping sound followed. Teryl spotted broad bat wings descending. Two sparks of red suggested glowing eyes. Her own went wide, and she forced hips into staff, burning a slight pleasure. Too alarmed for proper speed, the shape caught her.

Thick red arms encased her shoulders. She resisted crying out. Proctors could rescue her, but they'd ground her for sneaking out. "Let me go!" she whispered. A cut chest pressed at her back, thick muscular arms holding tight, though decidedly sensually. He seized her broom staff, the other arm taking a wrist.

"No!" she cried. The racer's nub left her cunt, legs unwinding from the staff. Hanging in the air, her only support was the magical creature. A different nub rubbed her pussy lips, thick flared ridge teasing, the cock warm and quite veined if her sensitive lower lips were any judge. She dripped all over it, pussy pounding with craving. Pleasure dulled her senses before she thought to burn it off into useful magic.

I know this spell. She'd summoned an incubus or two with friends, learned from Mother's conjuring books. Great fun. Amazing stamina. Oh gods damn, stamina... she thought. Teryl had a race tomorrow night; she had to conserve her sexual potency--no chance of that spending a night with an incubus. It had been sicked on her deliberately.

Anastasia! she thought. The incubus's thick member penetrated, parting lips slick from riding broom. Her body easily admitted the intruder. She emitted a squeak, unprepared for the sheer delight of being stretched, combined with thoughts of the elegant rich blonde's pale body.

Heavy wings flapped a tour of towers and ramparts as they fucked. Wind brushed her face and tossed her hair, strong arms holding tight. The thick cock was surprisingly gentle; drawing in and out with subtle shifts, allowing her to thoroughly contemplate veins rippling along an extensive length. A muscular arm compressed her nipples through bra and robe. With a secure grasp, his second sank to her sex, teasing her clit.

Heat built up, swirling into a tornado of delight. On reaching her center, Teryl's body shivered as she came, raining cunt juice on the castle roofs. Her moans were heavy, throaty, but subdued; she knew how to keep her head while climaxing. Mostly.

Somewhere between the second and third climax, the flying demon unloaded. Gooey seed added heat to her body, rapidly bringing on orgasm. The incubus didn't stop, drawing two more out of her, and depositing another load. It left her panting on flat stone near where shingles touched, cunt twitching with aftershocks. The demonic man stepped away into nothing, body becoming sprites of magical essence then fading into the night--the spell completed.

Flopping on her back, she stared at dark clouds. Her body felt drained. Amazing, but drained. She'd cummed herself out.

She whispered, "This means war, Anastasia..."

******

The Meerhaven Academy boasted the finest conservatory in region, long terraced rows sheltered by a broad screen of clear panels, supported by thick wooden rafters. A complex irrigation system ran through the beams, intricate pipe-work to direct water (or other chemicals) where needed. Sun shined through the panels on a wide collection of crops, everything from plain Miner's Weed, a dour brown root with properties related to defensive potions, to the intricate and beautiful Tremblrose, very effective in illusion mixtures.

Anastasia's gloved hands worked dirt around a Succubulb, a curvy flower vaguely female-shaped, complete with a bulging upper half, useful in emotional manipulation potions. She'd volunteered to assist with gardening for extra credits, and improve her alchemical understandings. She diligently ensured each plant was suitably distant from others. Succubulbs didn't get along, very territorial, according to Mistress Palgran.

Tess hummed from her shoulder, watching the work. "Plants nice, Anny."

"Yes," she said. "Plants nice."

Anastasia wondered how Teryl had taken her gift--certainly it effected her racing. Candrik had placed fifth, lagging behind Anastasia the whole time.

Fair's fair, Teryl, she thought. A wild romp with an incubus was better than a spray of dirt in the face too. Wiping a sweaty brow with her arm, she avoided touching pale skin with dirty gloves. It was warm and humid in the conservatory, better for most plants, but not quite comfortable. She puffed a moist sigh, looking up from the work at Tess's high pitched chirp.

Two glowing dots hovered over broad leafed herbs. They glowed purple, the hue rarely shared by much of the surrounding greenery, brown supports, clay pots and such. The orbs fluttered on tiny wings. She decided they were Mistress Palgran's; the tall severe ravenhead commanded dozens of familiars to help with planting, watering, fertilizer, and managing more active plants. They neared and she saw long bodies with bulges at the tail, sort of like a squash, or maybe cucum--

"Anny!" Tess said, alarmed.

Cocks! she realized, recognizing fleshy tails as fat balls. Their speed increased--they'd found their target. Grasping robe skirts through the heavy brown apron, Anastasia ran, glancing backward. Conjured? Illusions? she thought, deciding how best to counter the spells. She might have dispelled illusory creatures but for familiar-esque things she'd best find Mistress Palgran.

Fortunately this row of plants was empty. Unfortunately the magical flying dicks were quick. Ruffling of green skirts caused a reflexive kick. Warm fleshy sensations crawled along her legs. She stopped, clutching her crotch. Tess squeezed through her collar, down her shirt, wriggling past her breasts. The little gecko's passage tickled. She hoped the creature could help. Fleshy tubes snaked upward, thrashing through her underwear. A stiff bulbous cock head broke through her lips and plunged inside. The second located her ass, diving to the balls, which slapped her taint.

Unsure shivering legs would keep her upright she froze, closing her eyes. Tess tried pulling, the beastie's small feet planted on inner thighs, pulsing with tugs. It didn't help, except maybe when the magical cock withdrew for a new thrust. The flying dicks knew their trade, heating her body with rising delight, too distracting to burn away for magic. Her breath came heavy. Her cunt pounded, ass filled with cock.

"Ah," said a deep woman's voice. Anastasia's eyes flashed open. "How are you faring, Anastasia?"

"M-m-mistress Palgran!" she said, voice barely above a whisper. Patting her apron front halted Tess's vain struggles underneath.

Black hair braided into a thick trunk snaked around Mistress Palgran's shoulder, tapered end resting in cleavage of a dark purple and black robe. Belying the harsh angles of her face, she was a frequent smiler, and did so now. "Not having trouble with the Succubulbs, are you?"

"No, Mistress," she said. The flying cocks stepped up their pounding. Tess's feet tickled her thighs. Her hips twitched, cunt alight, ass divided by a large fleshy magical appendage. She had plenty of practice containing pleasure after a race, but this tried her composure. Anastasia sensed a mild lust component to the spell. The cocks felt so good, sliding in and out, exquisite veined geometry readily apparent to pussy and asshole both.

Mistress Palgran closed, eyebrow raised. "Are you certain? You appear flushed." Her eyes widened. "You didn't touch a bulb, did you?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Anastasia said. The pussy cock pulsated while shifting, delicate ridges tickling her velvet folds, generating ever greater heat, doubled by the dick plowing her ass. A wave of delight crested, tipping over her defense--an orgasm broke through, stronger than usual, triple-packed with ecstasy thanks to her resistance. The pussy spasms were so vicious she thought she'd crush the magical cock.

"Good, you know..." Palgran started. Anastasia heard nothing past the third word, busy ejecting her brains through her snatch. A protected sliver of awareness enforced the command "Don't move" on her entire body. She lamented the outward flow of sexual potency from her quivering cunt, its drainage soaking her thigh-high silk stockings, boots, and luxurious fabric of her green robe. And probably Tess. Not even a race this week, she thought, tide of delight abating.

"... touch the bulbs, especially when in bloom. The emotional residue is potent, it must be distilled."

Nodding, shakily, Anastasia, said, "I understand, Mistress. Thank you."

She said, "Good. When you're finished with those, start on the Tillwarts."

"Yes, Mistress."

Anastasia hurried back to where Succubulbs made wide-spaced lanes on a raised growing table. Drawing up the gardener's apron and her robes, she inspected the ruin of her panties. Nothing except her own fluids; the spells dissipated after extracting her pleasures. Tess clutched her thigh, giving her a look after wiping a sheen of love slime off a little green face.

Anastasia winced. "Sorry, Tess."

The gecko chirped annoyance, scrambling down a soaked silk stocking.

She watched Mistress Palgran speak with another student, lingering aftershocks of climax electrifying her body. I came so hard. In front of an instructor, she thought. A smile turned her lips. And she didn't notice a thing. She really was a pro broomstick racer with that kind of control. She ought to thank Teryl for this lesson; great willpower training.

Anastasia knew the perfect response.

******

At the conclusion of Alchemical Concoctions, Teryl washed her hands in the nearest lavatory, along with most of the class. A plain room of pale water-stained stones, it easily supported twenty odd women with long sinks. Sleeves of purple robes drawn back, she scrubbed extra well, splashing hot water over seemingly clean skin. Velstatore seeds had been the focus today, noxious things that smelled of garbage, rotting flesh, or whatever substance the inhaler found most disgusting. For Teryl, rancid butter.

Not at all toxic, there was no cause for extensive safety equipment. Anastasia had asked, to which Potion Master Vandred had said, "Your vanity, Miss Drundmoore, will suffer no great loss I assure you. It is merely a little scent." Her noble nose wrinkled at that. Teryl couldn't help a smile.

When the rancid scent was nearly gone, she turned, catching a flash of green. A little four-legged creature zipped over a curving stone chunk, around the corner to the showers. Tess, Teryl thought, familiar with the familiar, always planted on Anastasia's shoulder. Except, of course, when carrying out her dark will.

Washing until the other students departed, she crept toward the showers, pausing to peer cautiously around a massive tiled wall. The stalls were separated by waterproof curtains and ancient copper piping. Tess crouched at the center drain, tiny green body hiding something glowing and purple. Checking flank and rear, Teryl approached. The gecko mumbled, poking little arms as though working.

Tess suddenly turned, looking up in shock. It didn't last. Teryl swore the small gecko grinned. She lunged but the thing darted from her reach, pattering over the tiles. Letting it go, she faced the glowing thing; a small orb, seemingly glass. Something to plant in my room, Teryl thought, excited to interrupt this scheme.

The orb cracked. Teryl blinked. Splitting down the middle, it released five balls of thick orange slime, swirling in the air and around her. I'm an idiot. She was at the door when the balls crashed into tiles, creating rough spheres with leafy green bases. Pumpkins. Fingers catching the entrance lip, Teryl's course curved out of the showers into the sink room.

Strides later a thick tentacle seized her ankle. Tripped on her face, hands up to guard her chin. Her body never hit the floor, half a dozen tentacles suspending her. Hauling her back into the showers, she discovered half a dozen large pumpkins, each sprouting long green tubes. Some tubes brandished cock heads leaking fluid, others were smaller, delicate like fingers, and yet more had small mouths with tongues.

Tearing off robes and doffing witch's hat, Teryl was nude in seconds. And unable to move. Tentacles wrapped her legs and arms, her core, massaged her tits, and several dug inside her holes. Three plied her ass, two competing for pussy, stretching her good. One found her mouth, diving deep. Ecstatic moans couldn't leave her throat. Her tits were sucked. They fucked her good and hard, cocks spurting inside and all over her body. Their gooey orange fluid was sticky and smelled fruity. She came a dozen times.

An hour later, pumpkins and tentacles frittered into orange motes, then nothing. She fell, catching herself on elbows and knees with a groan. She puked a thick stream of orange goo, only because her stomach was full. It tasted like pumpkin, and she'd found early on it let her breathe--the tentacles hadn't left her throat til the end. Teryl flopped on her back, soaked in slimy orange ejaculate, delightful haze of afterglow permeating her body. We just raced last night! she thought. She'd taken first, at top form. Anastasia had placed second, right behind her. This was beyond sabotage--it was personal.

"Teryl! Teryl! You in here?" Bianca called. The big titted woman rounded the corner. "Alice said you never came out--" Sudden silence extended. Not a true silence; Bianca failed to suppress giggling.

Teryl spoke to the vaulted ceiling. "I'm gonna kill her." Heaving a sigh, she repeated, "I am going to kill her."

After she teaches me this spell, she amended.

******

Anastasia woke with a start, sensing something amiss. Patting down her body, she realized the feeling was beyond physical. Broomstick racing had attuned her thoughts to her sexuality, and she recognized a powerful compulsion to fuck someone. The first person she saw. The room was dark, her roommate Kaliss Giancarro sleeping, but she squeezed her eyes shut.

That filthy little strumpet put a lust-lock on me... Anastasia realized. How did she sneak in? Where's Tess? Her patting hands touched hips, stomach, breasts--nothing. She found Tess curled on the pillow near her head. However she did it, Teryl hadn't alerted the familiar.

Anastasia smiled. Her senses had saved her. All she had to do was break the enchantment, and unfortunately for Teryl, her roommate was an accomplished enchantress. Eyes closed, she felt her way across the short gap to Kaliss's bed. A tall stick of a woman with long black hair and a narrow face, she was one of the few women Anastasia knew before coming to Meerhaven. Upset with only having the one sexual organ, Kaliss had permanently enchanted her body to feature cock, cunt, and balls. A lust-lock would be trivial to undo by comparison.

Hand settling on the ravenhead's shoulder, she shook gently. Then harder when Kaliss did not respond.

"Mmmmhhmmgghh," mumbled Kaliss. Anastasia prodded again, earning a "Whazzit?"

"Kaliss," she whispered. "I need help."

A hand touched hers. Anastasia resisted opening her eyes, boiling sensation of the lust-lock waiting to burst, take over her thoughts, force her to hump til she burned out. And there was a race in two days. She needed to save her sexual energy.

"Anna?" Kaliss said, annoyed. "Why am I awake?"

"I've got a lust-lock, Kaliss."

"Great," she slurred. "Look at someone else, I wanna sleep."

"I can't, I have a race!" Anastasia said, rustling the woman's shoulder. "Take it off!"

Two hands seized her wrist, halting the pushing. "Fine. Let me wake up."

She sat on the bed while the woman shuffled, padding around the room. Hazy warmth glowed behind closed lids as Kaliss lit candles on the table. She heard fingers paging through a tome, clinking of gemstones, rubies Kaliss kept on hand to store magic, if it wasn't convenient to arouse herself for instant power.

"Alright, let me have a look..." The woman's hands rested on Anastasia's shoulders. Soft breaths caressed her lips. "Hmm, oh, very nice..."

"Just break it."

"Sure," Kaliss said. Anastasia's mind sensed the intrusion of magic. Something snapped, with a joyous feeling of relief. "There, done."

Anatasia opened blue eyes, staring into Kaliss's brown. Magic raced through her mind, electrifying her body with arousal, overriding all concern and decorum. Teryl, the Academy, her courses, the hour of night, or broomstick racing; all forgotten. Only claiming this sexy ravenhead before her was important. Kaliss's eyes went wide. "Wait! Oh fuck--"

"That's the idea," Anastasia said sultrily, kissing the woman. She clawed Kaliss's sleeping robes off, seeking her tits, cupping them as she pressed forward, rising from the bed. Kaliss responded like the slut she was, stiff rod of her girl cock springing to attention. Anastasis's fingers found it, stroking it lovingly, guiding it to her wet snatch. Forcing Kaliss to the bed, Anastasia mounted, rutting like her life depended on it, urged by sexual magic controlling her mind.

Meaty girl dick rammed her insides. Kaliss's fingers explored Anastasia's body, holding her ass, driving it down on an amazingly ridged rod. Her cunt contracted with delight, fluids soaking the invading fember. Bodies sweaty, they moaned with urgency as they fucked. Kaliss popped off, thick ropes stuffing Anastasia's pussy.

The bed squeaked as their lovemaking grew more energetic. Anastasia couldn't care if anyone heard. She had to have sex, as hard and fast as possible. She kissed Kaliss passionately as she humped, hips up and down forcing thick girl dick to plug her insides. Climax didn't stop her body from working toward the next. Kaliss pumped cum at regular intervals; even without a lust-lock dominating her mind she was a real slut.

Suddenly the hunger left Anastasia's lips. She broke off, glaring at Kaliss, who hadn't got the message, lips and tongue worming like she was still making out. The lust-lock was no memory spell, she recalled everything, having thoroughly enjoyed herself. "Kaliss, what the fuck? You broke it!" The woman's hard staff stirred her guts, which felt amazing. Her hips moved without her conscious desire.

Hands resting on Anastasia's ass, fingers squeezing, Kaliss said, "I did. Or so I thought. There were two chants, the first an illusion. Real fine job, covered up the actual lust-lock til the last second." Her eyes showed false-accusation; she didn't mind fucking up. Twice. "You opened your eyes too soon, Anna."

Anastasia growled. "That ghost-haired whore!"

******

Sleep disrupted by stiffness pulling at her crotch, Teryl tore her blanket free. Cool night air fell on her bare skin, doing nothing to dilute the stiff pressure. Fingers gliding from hip to crotch bumped into something hard. And a little too big.

Actually, a lottle big.

Pleasure provided an amazing source of magic, but even air worked for something small. Snapping her fingers cast a minor cantrip, flipping the electric switch for a too-bright bulb. Bianca groaned, shifting. Bathed in yellow light, Teryl studied the anomaly in all its glory.

Its intricately veined, delicately crafted, twelve-inch glory. A thick pillar of girl cock towered from her crotch, dark to match her skin. A pulse ran up the shaft as if the organ was pleased to bask in her adoration. Teryl's mouth fell. She shuddered as a warm bead of pre-cum appeared like a shining star at the tiny slit.

"Oh. My. Stars!" Bianca said, somehow squealing in delight without squealing.

Teryl glared at her buxom roommate. Her mind fluttered. The girl-cock enchantment wasn't the only spell afflicting her. A lust-lock fixated on Bianca Teldentravol. The woman laid on her stomach, covers thrown back, round plump bare ass on display. Teryl moved automatically. Bianca smiled. She climbed on the woman's bed, spreading legs to lay thick meat between those wobbling cheeks. She shifted slowly outside, but the lust-lock would not be denied.

Sliding in easily thanks to flowery-scented lubricant, the sensations of the girl cock urged her to shift her hips. She plowed Bianca's thick ass, leaning over the woman. The mattress squeaked as they rutted, Teryl drawing out far enough to clap loud when hips collided with Bianca's large rump.

Her arms burned supporting herself above Bianca, while legs did the heavy lifting. The thick rod plunged in and out, plowing Bianca's asshole. She cooed with delight, legs together, keeping her ass nice and tight. Black strands of luxurious hair fell into scraggly lightning bolts on her back, stuck by sweat. Little drops spilled from Teryl's white hair, and drool. She rutted savagely, enjoying every minute.

The burning grew intense. Teryl worried this was not a lust-lock, but dark magic forcing her to fuck to death. A final plunge put her deep inside Bianca.

"Oh, Teryl. Stars," Bianca whispered. "Inside me. Stars, Teryl, cum... Fill me!"

Molten iron was pouring through the shaft, bursting into the woman, so intense was the heat. Teryl felt her mind vacating into Bianca's bubbling ass, involuntary trembles rippled up her girl cock. Gooey warm liquid floated around the head. She pumped and pumped. And pumped. Her legs shivered, arms giving out; she collapsed on Bianca, still climaxing.

Dead tired from intense rutting, Teryl's restored mental state could do nothing but maintain heavy breaths for minutes. She didn't have to pull out--the spell had run its course, taking girl dick with it. Teryl rolled off Bianca.

Bianca turned. "Oh, Teryl, that was great."

"Are you in on this, did you help her?"

Bianca adopted an innocent look, batting luscious lashes.

"You were lubed!" Teryl glared.

She smiled shyly. "I saw that lizard sneaking, laying runes on your forehead--" she raised a hand quickly "--wait! Teryl! Stars, I didn't see it til it was done. What could I do? You know I'm bad at abjuration."

Laying on her stomach, tits bubbling beneath her chest, she shrugged. "I made the best of a bad situation. Would you rather wander the halls, maybe run into a proctor?"

"I've got a race tonight." She sighed, glancing at her normal crotch. "Wasn't too rough, was I?"

A hand touched Teryl's cheek. "You were a darling, Teryl. I loved it."

"That's something."

******

Returning to her room after the day's last class, Anastasia found an unmarked envelope on her bed. Carefully, she opened it, drawing out folded papers with white dust. Anastasia frowned, rubbing powder between thumb and forefinger. She read, "Got Milk?"

Anastasia sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

Kaliss found her an hour later, sitting against the wall on her bed, unable to move. Her robes were open at the chest, tits so large they rested on her thighs as she sat straight. Enormous nipples pulsed, spraying white milk. Each spurt felt like cumming from her tits and she moaned. If she didn't empty every few seconds, the pressure built up until she burst.

Milk soaked much of the room, pooling toward the back, which was how she'd learned the floor was slanted. Kaliss stared, hands falling to her sides.

Anastasia blasted a heavy dual stream, recovered, and calmly said, "Little help?"

******

For imps, Teryl decided, they got pretty big dicks.

A quick trip to the conservatory for reagents had been interrupted by a gang of summoned imps. They bound her magically with vines, hanging from the woodwork on which they normally grew, hidden by an enormous pumpkin Mistress Palgran was growing for Halloween. Green skinned two-foot tall creatures took turns on Teryl, soaking her in seed and filling her holes. The sun crossed a high skylight while she awaited rescue.

After it passed out of sight, Teryl worried. The imps could ravage her all night, no big deal, but Mistress Palgran might find her. The imp-box enchantment she'd sprung had been compacted with a secondary effect that prevented her from casting basic spells.

Finally, Bianca happened upon her, worrying after Teryl hadn't returned to their room.

******

Anastasia was unable to move.

Sun shined from a blue sky on a broad plaza in Kaltendower, fine merchant buildings lining the square. A crowd had gathered, watching. Anastasia's skin was smooth and hard as marble. She stood on a dais; anyone could step up and have a slot. And many did, and did not last long. When one left, another stepped up. A parade of people blasted cum inside her, or teased her clit and ass or tits.

This is too far, even for her! Anastasia thought. She couldn't recall being transported to the town, so far from Meerhaven. Or how Teryl had managed this intricate petrification spell. Her skin was immobile as stone yet felt like flesh to her many partners. And she remained aware.

If Mother realized Anastasia was playing town whore for any and all comers... Each penetration came with a burst of ecstasy. Burning rage overcame these sensations. She couldn't move, call out, do anything. She--

The sun went out.

Anastasia sat up, tits swaying. Kaliss was asleep on her bed, snoring. Anastasia patted her body; everything normal, if sweaty, flesh. Her thighs were slick, cunt pulsing. Soaked covers stretched between her legs, smelling of pussy juice. Cumming wild in my sleep. Fingers clenched into fists; that was no normal dream. How real it felt... A spell, for sure.

This is out of control.

******

Flying high in a cloudless night after a race, Teryl took a slow breath. She'd placed first, while Anastasia had fallen to sixth. Those early hints of attraction had grown, drawing her thoughts to the elegant blonde frequently, but there was this feud--Teryl could not stop. Feels like fucking, not fucking with each other. Bianca helped with the latest trick, a dream spell activating deep and dark fantasies. Without early classes, she had the morning off. Shortly after Bianca returned from class, a visitor appeared in their room.

Teryl stared. She had to remember they were technically rivals. She put on a face. "What are you doing here?"

Anastasia Drundmoore stepped in, imperious finger aimed. "This childish game must end."

Teryl had felt Anastasia enjoyed the game; the prudish rich girl's idea of flirting. She realized that was silly, considering the advanced tricks they pulled. More annoyed by this understanding, she said, "You started it, sicking an incubus on me!"

"Me?" Anastasia said, fingers splayed on bosom. "You kicked dirt in my face!"

"I--" Teryl blinked. "I what?"

"At the seventh race, over the fields. Your foot hit the ground, brought up dirt. I lost two places!"

She had to think, then shook her head. "That was an accident!"

"I'm supposed to believe that?" Anastasia crossed her arms, haughty and smug and annoyed. Teryl's cunt pounded--Anastasia looked even hotter roused. "Flying dicks?"

Teryl waved. "Tentacles ring a bell?"

Anastasia colored. "Lust lock? I fucked my best friend!"

Bianca said, "Did she like it?"

"You gave me a massive cock!"

"A really nice one," Bianca put in, "I appreciate your attention to detail."

"You poisoned my dreams!" Anastasia yelled, face twisting in anger.

Whoops, Teryl thought.

Bianca whispered, "Told you."

She'd warned dream spells were not precise, because dreams themselves were not precise. Nightmares could become very real feeling instead. Teryl shrank slightly, averting her eyes. She mumbled, "Sorry."

Anastasia blinked. "What?"

Teryl glared. "I said sorry! I didn't mean to give you nightmares."

Anastasia raised her brows.

"I kind of thought we were playing."

"Playing?" Anastasia said, incredulous.

"Oh. My. Stars!" Bianca said, hands at her cheeks. "Oh, stars! I've got to get out of here!" She rose, scooting to the door. Anastasia allowed her passage, watching her go.

Teryl said, "Where are you going?"

"It's so obvious!" Bianca chewed her lip, deciding. She blurted, "You two have to fuck!"

"What?" They both yelled. Then locked eyes. Then looked away.

Bianca slammed the door.

Slowing bring green eyes to bear on Anastasia's blue, Teryl sensed growth in the attraction she'd nursed since late summer. Blonde hair, elegant face, soft blue eyes, firm bosom, fine ass, shapely legs, Anastasia was the entire package. And a skilled racer, with magical knowledge to keep up in a game of slutty tricks.

Anastasia crossed her arms firmly. "We are not having sex."

Teryl nodded. "Absolutely not."

The blonde extended a hand. "No more tricks, Teryl. Fair fights from here on out."

Teryl's fingers fell into delicate digits, grasping gently. She enjoyed the feel of the woman, realizing this was their first touch. Teryl like it. And thought of touching Anastasia more. She said, "Deal."

Anastasia smiled. Teryl's cunt shivered.

******

Teryl proved more reasonable than Anastasia assumed.

She woke comfortably in bed, the last seven days featured no tentacles, summoned demons, haze of active lust-lock in her mind, or any other filthy, disgusting, messy... intense... pleasurable anomalies. She smiled at the warmth of an adequate blanket, supporting if not exactly expensive comfort of the mattress, even the cool early morning fall air that perpetually leaked through the drafty castle.

Anastasia's joy waned, why coming to her quick: she missed the sexual hijinks, even more so after learning Teryl had thought they were playing games. Or maybe... Flirting, she thought. A minute shiver electrified her body. I am imagining things. Teryl was competitive--defending a family legacy.

She massaged her right hand. They'd shook, the first time she'd touched Teryl. Had fingers lingered? Subtle flavors of longing coated the memory, a sense Anastasia hadn't wanted to leave Teryl's room. She had, after earning peace. A twinge of regret dogged her since, both the leaving and the peace. Recasting the shenanigans as Teryl metaphorically touching her caused a shiver of delight.

Throwing back the covers, she dressed and went about the day. The castle had been decorated with pumpkins and scarecrows. Tonight was the last open race of the season, All Hallows' Eve Derby, last chance for low placed racers to enter the finals. Anastasia's record was already sufficient; if she wanted, she could skip the race.

Floating on her golden broomstick, racer's nub delicately ensconced within sopping cunt, Anastasia waited under a half-risen moon with the rest of the witches. Fine robes, many cut tight against the body to reduce drag, rustled. A faint chorus of moans filled crisp October air. Anastasia looked them over, concerned as a large silver hour-glass emptied of liquid-like white sand. Where is she?

Teryl appeared from darkness, entering the torch-lit racing prep space, flushed from speedy travel. She landed quick, race official meeting her on broom for check in. Teryl stared forward, grinding hips against broom to seek pleasure. White hair spilled from under a purple pointed hat.

A witch in race official uniform raised an arm, conjuring a green ball of fire. Another man counted and she hurled it skyward. Dozens of broomstick riding women launched, Anastasia and Teryl among them.

Racer's nub stirring cunt, Anastasia burst into the lead, the rest of the witches in her dust. And dripping cunt juice. Rocketing over the silent plain, tall grasses silvered by the moonlight, she cast a glance back at the crowd lagging behind her--except one. A purple-robbed witch gained fast. Teryl's face was set with shocking determination, goggles hiding green eyes.

Writhing against her broom while focusing on turns, she felt the nub stir her cunt, converting pleasure to magical fuel. It wasn't enough. A smear of purple pulled along side. Anastasia stared forward, expecting any second she'd been eating Teryl's pussy. The thought caused unexpected delight, which she burned, jerking forward.

Teryl stayed with her into the most chaotic portion of the course, pink magical lines following many sharp turns, several hairpins, and a loop tying itself. Anastasia carefully and speedily navigated all, increasingly worried about Teryl's nearness. She couldn't help but admire the woman's skill, but this was out of character--Teryl saved her best for last, where Anastasia usually lost.

Clearing trees, they experienced relaxing straights. Anastasia spared a glance at the dark skinned woman. Her cherry wood broom sidled closer, barely a hand span distance parted loose flapping bits of tight witches robes. Anastasia, alarmed, scooted an inch off. Teryl's hand seized Anastasia's broom, drawing them together, bodies touching. Before Anastasia could panic, Teryl's lips collapsed on her own.

We're going to crash, was Anastasia's last sane thought; her pussy exploded with delight. She failed to absorb the ecstasy for magical fuel. And she wouldn't if she could. An orgasm ravaged her body, loosing her grasp on her broom. Part of her was aware of the absence of racing wind, and an unusual tug of inertial. Her focus was on her mouth, dueling with the tongue breaching her lips. She drank in the woman, loving the taste of her, excited by Teryl's tongue touching her own.

Dwindling breath forced the kiss to end. Teryl panted in her face, heavy hot lusty breaths. Their foreheads touched. They were floating high in the sky, broomsticks combined and tilted up. Her pussy was soaking wet, cunt juice dripped down silk stockings and the broom's shaft. She whispered, "The race..."

"I don't care," Teryl said, kissing her again, as long as the first. "Follow me."

Flying low, off the race lines, they reached a secluded grotto of tall leafy trees. Crashing through, Teryl tackled Anastasia off her broom. They tumbled together, landing with their bare cunts combined. Her hips bucked against the other woman, Teryl beneath her, neck stretching so their lips could touch. Nubs of clits met, rubbing against each other. Both broke kiss for heavy gasps. Clear fluids spurted from their cunts.

Orgasms barely concluded before their bodies pressed tight again, as if trying to merge into one being. Anastasia loosed her robe, baring her chest. Teryl fell on her tits, licking and sucking and biting ever so gently her nipples. She returned the favor. They tumbled through grass and weeds, ignoring all discomforts, hands and legs twisting together, cunts rubbing and spurting, lips locked.

Sitting with legs locked around Teryl's, cunts touching, hips working to rub lips and nubs. Heat flared in her body, brighter and brighter. She hunched forward, a hand on Teryl's shoulder, the dark skinned woman mimicking the posture. Their heads nearly touched. Eyes forged a green-blue connection, pulsing with wanton lust, more physical than the touch of wet slits. Almost painful relief heralded the dam of ecstasy breaking, floods of juices loosed. Teryl uttered soft shrieks. Anastasia fell back, writhing as an orgasm electrified her nerves.

On her back, she studied the glowing moon, at zenith. Sobriety slowly returned. And satisfaction, intense satisfaction. She whispered, "Your roommate was right."

"Bianca?"

"Yeah." Anastasia sighed.

Creaking leaves indicated movement, then Teryl's hand was on her hip, sensually moving higher, cupping a tit, soft at her neck. The woman's face appeared, white hair glowing in moonlight, and shining with sweat. She kissed her cheek, whispering, "I nearly missed the race tonight."

"I noticed," Anastasia said. "I looked for you. What happened?"

"I was thinking," Teryl said. "Lost track of time. Ana-- I mean... You..."

A warm flutter filled her chest. Mustering impressive racing-honed self-control, she kept her voice even. "Yes, Teryl?"

There was a tremulous intake of air. Teryl said, "Anastasia Drundmoore, I like you."

Short-lived tension demolished, Anastasia smiled. "I like you too, Teryl Candrik."

The dark skinned woman hugged herself to Anastasia, tits pressing at her side, leg climbing over her own. Teryl shivered. Anastasia sensed magic. Their robes flew into the air, spread out to form a crude blanket, settling on their bodies, blocking late autumn's chill. After a few minutes, Anastasia whispered, "The race?"

"We're placed."

"Right." Anastasia's hand touched her cheek. "Your family legacy?"

Teryl was silent. "Finals is where it counts." The dark skinned woman rose, staring down. "I'm gonna go hard on you, Anastasia. This--" her hand delicately charted Anastasia's core, drawing out a delightful shiver "--doesn't change on broomsticks."

Anastasia smiled. "I'll go hard on you too, Teryl. Every way you want it."

Teryl kissed her.