The cursor blinked. Mouse’s fingers drummed the keys, yet the bar did not move. The persistent flash of the marker on the blank page became a taunt, yet it seemed the opponent was one the boy could not move. Frustrated, he closed his eyes and dropped his head to the keyboard. Ow.

 

    He had only one thing to do for the weekend: a paper. It sounded simple enough, only it was History. Mouse had never been good with History, it was boring and for the older stuff no one even knew what happened half the time. It pained him to think it for something so simple, but he was stuck. Who would help him though? The twins? Maybe if he was writing a history of booze. He hadn’t gone out of his way to make friends either so he was doubly stuck. With a sigh Mouse opened his eyes and sat up, glancing at the screen as if during his moment of lamentation he might have written something. “hyhyjy,” it read. Checking his forehead in the mirror behind his desk He had the marks on his forehead to match. Should’ve seen that coming.

 

    Mouse had picked Modern History to get part of his Social Sciences requirements out of the way so he might actually learn something relevant but that still didn’t make him any better in the subject. He’d gone to all of the lectures, taken all of the notes but now that he had to put what he’d learned into use… nothing. He had a few topics on 60s and 70s human/parahuman interactions to choose from but none of them were clicking. He had to know someone… ah. Kestrel. Even thinking the name brought flame to the boy’s ears. Like a clockwork soldier he stood, walked to his bed, laid down with his face in a pillow and screamed.

 

     That entire sham of a date was so embarrassing! He’d been lead around like a fool! What would his parents say if they knew? What did the twins think every time they looked at him? All of it was so disgraceful! For the umpteenth time the boy rolled back and forth on his bed with his pillow over his face recounting every shame experienced that day, only stopping when a protrusion at his waist made him stop. That was worth another groan.

 

     After that day—at great personal expense—Mouse had gotten a bottle of Kestrel’s perfume. It helped when he was using the happenings from that hotel room as, er, material. He still hadn’t confessed for touching himself, but he vowed that he would once he got himself under control and had worked it out of his system. For now though, he seemed to have conditioned himself to the point that even the scent was enough to cause an erection. Come to think, he really needed to toss the rest of that perfume and wash his pillow but now wasn’t the time for that!    

 

     Kestrel… he could still count on her to be understanding, right? She technically had been back then too, even if it was awkward. She’d definitely be able to help him write the paper, but could he count on her not to do anything uncouth if he asked? Isaac felt confident that she would. He hadn’t known Kestrel long but she felt trustworthy. Now all he had to do was work up the courage to ask. After staring at her number in his contacts for three minutes he finally found it.

“Hello, Mouse?”

“Hi it’s M—I mean, yeah.”

“You haven’t texted me in a week! How are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, uh, sorry. Hey, could I ask you a favor? I’m writing a History paper and I’m kind of stuck, would you be able to maybe give me a hand?”

“What’s the topic?”

“Human-parahuman interactions from the nineteen—”

“You called the right girl! Sure, I’m free. I’ll be there in a few. See you then!”

“You too!”

 

     The two of them spent the next few minutes in totally different ways. Kestrel drove calmly and strode up the walkway, Mouse cleaned frantically and sprinted for the door when the bell rang. He’d been expecting it so he managed to run past Blake (unless it was Drake) and open the door first. Drake exclaimed as the boy ran past.

“Geeze man, what’s—hey hey!”

Mouse flung the door open to Kestrel’s smiling face. She wore a simple white tank top and pink running shorts; simple, but enticing enough to catch Mouse’s eye even as he rushed to get her out of sight. The raconteur opened her mouth to speak but before she could Mouse had her wrist.

“Hi Miss Kestrel! Get in, please!”

Friend in tow, Mouse dash back to his room. It would have looked like something from a movie were it not for Blake (unless it was Drake) yelling “get some!” and thrusting his hips into the air as they ran past.

 

    The boy hadn’t done anything yet but still felt exhausted after dealing with his roommate for the grueling span of a mere ten seconds. With a sigh he shut, locked and leaned against his room door, eyes closed.

“Well that was fun,” Kestrel giggled.

“Sorry, just… well, you know how those two are.”

“I’m getting an idea,” she said, flashing that angelic smile of hers. Kestrel was also getting an idea that running into his room with a girl then locking the door would give his roommates ideas but she decided not to say anything; the boy was already on edge as it was. “So, History?”

“Yeah.” Isaac handed Kestrel the handout describing his assignment:

 

Using either First Contact or the end of the second World War as a central focus choose three of these topics and explore their relationship to one another in no less than five pages. Your choice.

-The Thousand Wife March

-Magic Regulation Board

-Changing roles for women in the US

-Anti-Immigrant attitudes - directed primarily at parahumans

-The Committee on Marital Health (propaganda)

-Free Love

 

     The rest of the page consisted of a rubric with a few other minor requirements on formatting and the like. Thinking about how simple it was made Isaac sigh again.

“I know everything I need to but the words aren’t coming. This is why I hate History, if this was a Science assignment I would’ve have been done hours ago.”

“Oh?” That got an eyebrow raise from Kestrel. She still didn’t fully grasp how Mouse thought, this was an opportunity to help as well as understand how he ticked. “What do you like so much about Science?” As expected the question gave the boy pause.

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I just like seeing how everything works and kind of… seeing the pieces come together?”

“Oh, that makes sense. You do seem like the curious type.”

“I guess…”

“But that also means you should like History.”

“Huh?”

“Science and History are a lot alike in that regard. You see how things work but you don’t always know why or how they came to be the way they are, so you investigate. When you lack tools or data you theorize.”

“But you can’t theorize without—”

“With history you can’t exactly the same as with physics or that sort of thing, but you can see similar events cause similar results. And don’t you think looking at the ripples from major events is like following the path of a chemical reaction?”

“I… never thought about it like that.”

“Well, people do tend to see the differences between things rather than the similarities. Your mindset will have a lot to do with how you actually work in situations like these, but try thinking that way. Be analytical instead of following the dots from point A to point B the way the book lays everything out.”

“Okay.”

“Right. Can I borrow your book for a bit? I’d like to see what you’re expected to know.”

 

    Isaac handed Kestrel the book and watched as she thumbed through it. Mouse sighed again. She was really pretty, even the way she nodded as she skimmed the material was cute. Kestrel snapped the book shut and Isaac jumped. How long had he been staring?

“Something wrong?” The raconteur asked.

“N-no. What’d you find?”

Kestrel smiled to herself; he really was too easy. “The book covers a decent amount but it looks like you’re expected to do some research on your own.”

“The professor said so. Apparently I’m not getting enough practice citing things in English.”

“Don’t worry, they stop babying you in the higher classes. Anyway, you’ve got a few options here. All of those events play into one another in some way so this shouldn’t be hard to write, it’s just a matter of which perspective you’re working from. So paint me a picture, Mouse.”

 

     Here was the part Isaac hated. Things happened and then other things happened, that was just how the world worked. That was the wrong attitude though, if he tried to look at things the Kestrel wanted him to...

“Well, in 1960 it would’ve been about 15 years since the end of WWII… and since First Contact. Those aren’t related, right?”

Kestrel shook her head. “No, they just happened to coincide. First Contact was brought along by events on a completely separate world, there’s no way there could be any connection between the two. It’s interesting to imagine what the world would be like now it First Contact had happened much earlier or later though. Actually—no, that would be going off on a tangent. You were saying?”

“Both of those happened and then… I think the Magic regulation board was formed right after that.”

“Why?”

“Because… magic is scary when you’re not used to it existing?”

“Sure, but what else? Similar events, similar results, remember? Oftentimes when you see too many immigrants from one group at once there’s a… prejudiced backlash, like with the Irish or Italians. The same happened here but the immigrants weren’t just a different nationality or color but from a different planet and sometimes with different bits added on. Conveniently, controlling ‘dangerous magic’ also meant controlling the types and number of those outsiders that could immigrate. Of course, having just ended a war with a nuclear weapon they were somewhat reasonably concerned about some alien power being used against themselves. You can tie your anti-immigrant attitudes section into that one pretty easily too, especially since it was there from the beginning and you don’t have to worry about chronology to connect that to anything else.”

“Wait, is mon—parahuman magic really that powerful though? I thought it was mostly just used for, uh, dirty things.”

 

    Kestrel blinked. It was 2008 and Mouse was 18. There was no possible way he didn’t actually know the near miracles magic could do, was there? He would have to live in a hole. That or he was indoctrinated to only think of magic in that manner. Either way this boy was more than just a flighty virgin.

“Did I say something stupid?! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—”

“No no, it’s nothing like that,” Kestrel said while shaking her head. “I’m just a little surprised. Have you ever heard the story of Snow and the Fool?”

“No. Is it important?”

“I just thought you might’ve. Anyway, the most common civil use for magic is sexual but when used destructively magic can be pretty powerful. Like I said, the concern was somewhat reasonable and they had to consider the transformative type of magic werewolves and the like have. Though that one actually had to be addressed by using magic to prevent—”

“Miss Kestrel?” Mouse’s voice was timid when he spoke as if he was afraid he might be yelled at for interrupting. “Are we still on topic?”

For her part Kestrel’s disappointment at being brought back to task was palpable. “No, I guess not. Let’s see then, the Thousand Wife March was a bit later on so we should discuss that later. Next is ‘changing roles for women in the US?’ Oh! That should be good for either topic! What are your thoughts?”  

 

    There was an easy one. All Isaac had to do there was regurgitate what had already been said in class. That fact was also something he hated about the subject but whatever.

“It’s pretty simple but you had women working traditional men’s jobs so when the war ended there was kind of this feeling of ‘hey, why am I not getting paid as much or expected to stay at home again?’”

“Yes, that’s the WWII focus in a nutshell. And in relation to First Contact?”

“I…” Mouse trailed off. He waited for Kestrel to jump in and rescue him but she didn’t. She obviously wanted him to try on his own but Kestrel was a woman and a raconteur to boot, this was dangerous territory. Still, he had asked her for help and she was trying so he had to go along with it. Isaac gulped, then spoke slowly to give himself time to gauge the raconteur’s reactions. “The women’s rights thing was ongoing since before the war so anyone from Cokyne would step right into the middle of it.”

“Mhmm.”

“And… the experience for human women or parahumans coming through wouldn’t have been too much different from an Earth woman’s, right?”

“It actually might have been. Keep in mind that portions of Cokyne were very progressive as far as gender equality so they’d feel not like they hadn’t been given rights but like rights had been taken away.”

“Why was Cokyne so different?”

“Well—” Kestrel’s eyes lit up, but then she shut her mouth and smiled.

“Are we getting off topic again?”

“Mmm, unfortunately. If you ever want to talk though…”

“I-I might.” After the trip to the museum Mouse thought his reaction to that invitation would always be polite refusal but looking at things in this light made the experience sound almost pleasant. “So… the Marital Health Committee?”

“Not yet actually. The existence of parahumans also fed the feminist movement in an interesting way, especially in relations to job equality. Can you think of how?”

 

    How? When Mouse thought of monsters he thought of rape. Mind-numbing magic and women holding men down and having their way with them. He’d known before coming that he was wrong, but the image was hard to shake. Kestrel seemed to think magic was good for far more but the boy still didn’t understand. Still, there had to be something else to the Mon—er, parahumans… Oh!

“Does it have something to do with strength?”

“Bingo! The chance to work the same jobs had already shown that females were capable of working the same jobs as men mentally, but there was still a physical gap much harder to overcome in things like construction. Get yourself a few of the stronger parahuman species, however…”

And women could outperform the men. That made sense!

“So then parahumans showed that women could be just as strong and just as smart!”

“That was the idea, anyway. Though we aren’t human we are still female so it was easy enough to say ‘us too!’ for the human women of the time. You see parallels a few more times as well.”

“Did that happen somewhere else, too?”

The question brought a smile to the raconteur’s face. “Getting excited now, are we?”

“No, I… should I not be?”

“I think it’s good, that should make it much easier to work. Can you feel the ideas coming together now?”

“I don’t know, maybe. Can we talk about the committee now?”

“Well if women’s roles caught your attention…”

 

    So they continued. What had for Isaac been a tedious affair became enjoyable and enlightening once he shifted his frame of mind and had the right person to discuss things with. It turned out the subject was actually genuinely interesting if you just wantedto be interested.

“That should cover all of it,” Kestrel said just as Mouse put a mental check mark next to the last item. “Now you just have to decide what you’re going to use as your focus.”

The boy didn’t have much experience with parahumans and little more with human women but he knew when his mother made a statement like that there was a right answer and a wrong answer.

“First Contact?”

“Great! I should be able to think of a few good articles for you to quote too. Why don’t you get started and I’ll try to remember some?”

 

    The determined look in the boy’s eye as he set to work was endearing. It seemed both of them had lots to think about; for Mouse it was his assignment and for Kestrel it was Mouse. It wasn’t a long exchange they’d had but what had been revealed was interesting.

 

    The cursor blinked. Mouse’s fingers drummed the keys, yet the bar did not move. Now he had windows open with a few interesting articles he’d be able to quote but no way to use them came. What if he still couldn’t write? Wouldn’t it be a huge letdown if after getting help he still couldn’t put together a simple paper? Kestrel was watching him not type, what would she think? For the umpteenth time he glanced back in the mirror at Kestrel where she sat on his bed. He meant to gauge her reaction to how he was doing but once again found his eyes wandering her body instead. She wasn’t dressed provocatively, Mouse had come across the same look on campus too many times to count already, but Kestrel in particular seemed to make his eyes catch in all the places they shouldn’t. The way the shirt clung to the curve of her breast and crept up to reveal just a hint of flat stomach was too much. If one managed to instead look down her shorts covered little, showing off toned legs flung carelessly across the comforter. Looking up instead her exposed bra strap made the distracted mind conjure images of what shape the rest might take and if he lifted his eyes above the danger zone to her face—

 

     Their eyes met in the mirror and he snapped his gaze back down to the screen.Oh no, she was going to think he’d invited her over just to check her out! He did have her alone in his room after all, this would be the perfect time to do something untoward! Even the thought lead his mind back to that afternoon in the hotel room when—don’t think about that! He couldn’t do it! He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t! He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t write this paper, he was going to fail the course and drop out of school and—argh!

 

    Kestrel lounged on the bed. Having already given Mouse what she thought he’d need all she had left to do was wait and see if he needed any more help. Fortunately, that meant she got to focus on not smiling. Even her own house didn’t smell this much like her! As soon as she started moving pillows to make herself comfortable the smell hit her. To think that he’d actually go out and get a sample of her perfume after that was almost too much. How many times? How many times had he touched himself thinking of her? Surely what she and Mouse had actually done together wouldn’t be enough, what kind of debauchery had they done in his mind while he inhaled her scent? If something so subtle as perfume could send him down that path he was going to be a fun project indeed.

 

    Still, playing with Mouse wasn’t why Kestrel was there. The sound of keys clicking was conspicuously absent and even from behind she could tell the boy was tense. Their eyes met in the mirror while she observed him and when his quickly darted away she knew where his mind was. Maybe it would be better if she left; she probably could’ve dressed more conservatively too. Even as she thought that she shifted to reveal more leg. That said, if she did go now there was no guarantee the boy wouldn’t spend a few more hours wandering his pubescent fantasies and there was still another way she could be of service. She hadn’t come to do that sort of thing, but when Mouse’s head hit his desk and the poor kid groaned Kestrel made her mind.

“Mouse?” He jumped at his name and turned to look at her. The guilt on his face was so clear it was almost comical. There wasn’t any need to feel bad about what he was thinking and Kestrel was actually flattered but overreactions were his forte. The raconteur had expected as much so she ignored his expression and continued. “Still can’t work?”

“I’m… a little distracted.”

“I think you’re too stressed out over this.”

“Probably that too…”

“Hmm, I think I know what to do,” Kestrel grunted as she sat up. “Come here.” The dark priest patted a spot on the bed between her spread legs and Mouse followed her hand with his eyes.

“I don’t…”

“Come here.”

His eyes never wavered from that spot between her thighs but true to his name the boy scampered next to the bed.

“Um, Miss Kestrel? What are you planning on doing?”

“Just helping you relax a little.”

“We aren’t going to do anything dirty, are we?” He was turning beet red now, the dark priest again found herself struggling not to giggle. “Because last time was… I don’t think we should—”

“We aren’t going to do anything dirty, I promise,” Kestrel said, taking the tone of an exasperated mother.

“Because I-I-I mean we are in my room and alone and—”

“Mouse. Come. Here.”

“Sorry!”

 

     The response to Kestrel’s more demanding voice was more than she’d expected: Mouse jumped as if he’d been shocked, then rushed to sit where Kestrel had indicated. Or rather, a foot away from where she’d indicated. It took a bit more prodding but she finally got him to scoot back until he was nestled against her crotch. That still left his legs clamped together in front of him, his hands clasped in his lap and his back so far forward it looked like he was trying to touch his toes but at least they were at the starting line. Kestrel sighed.

“Are you really that afraid to touch me?”

“No, it just doesn’t seem right!”

“It’s alright. It’s going to be harder for you to relax if you’re not in a comfortable position so let me help, okay?” The nod she received in reply was barely perceptible but Kestrel would have to take what she could get. With his consent she wrapped her heels over Mouse’s ankles and spread his legs until they were at shoulder width. She didn’t move after getting him into position, leaving their lower bodies intertwined. With someone like Mouse she knew it would be better to take things in stages so she sat him up straight but decided to leave his arms be for the time being and focus elsewhere. One step at a time, Kestrel reminded herself. One step at a time.

 

    The beating of Mouse’s heart and the warm softness touching him in so many places seemed to fill the whole of his being. How could it not when their legs were touching?! Somewhere in the back of his head he’d had a feeling something like this might happen by accident, but he’d never thought Kestrel might do this on purpose! He was frozen, just like last time. His purity was at stake, he should be doing something! Before he’d put together words to say or the courage to say them however, Kestrel spoke.

“Have you ever had a massage before?”

“A m-massage?”

“Yes. Touch is a great way to help someone relax and I’ve picked up a few tricks. Oh my, did you think something else was going to happen?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer that, I was just teasing.”

She was messing with him again, but it was easier not to freak out if she was doing something as normal as that. As such, he only jumped a little when the dark priest touched his hair.

 

    Half-truths were an amazing thing. Kestrel certainly did know how  to give a good massage but she wouldn’t be able to give a proper one from this position where she couldn’t put any weight behind her hands. Still, she could make make him feel good and relax until he was sedate enough for her to move to the main event. To start things off she curled her fingers and dragged her hand up the back of Mouse’s head. Gooseflesh rippled out from her touch and the boy’s cute little flinch brought a smile to her face. She’d learned from their little tryst in the hotel that having head touched seemed to relax him so she’d start there and then…

 

    Never before had something so ticklish felt so good. Every hair on Mouse’s neck was standing on end but he wanted more of the touch that caused it. Kestrel delivered in spades. She dragged her nails over his scalp just hard enough to leave that trail of tingles he was coming to love in their wake. She went from the back of his neck to his forehead, then down the sides of his head and back over his ears. There was a scratching sound her fingers made as they moved through his hair that made the experience even stronger. He was finding that it was impossible to feel worked up at all when Kestrel moved her way down to his jaw and pulled backwards. Mouse was past the point of fighting and went with the tug until he was resting against Kestrel’s chest. The boy said nothing but still arched his back away from her breasts on instinct.

“Ah ah, no running away,” Kestrel said before wrapping her arms across his stomach. The position left Kestrel’s head right next to his right ear so when she spoke the woman’s whispers seemed to reverberate in his head. “Try breathing with me now. In… and out. Come on, you’ll like it if you try it. In…”

 

And out.

 

    It was just breathing, but the rhythm seemed to soothe Mouse. His back, not used to holding such an awkward position, relaxed and the boy slumped against his therapist. She really was soft, and despite the heat of the season he found he didn’t dislike her warmth.

“Feel good?” Kestrel asked, breath tickling Mouse’s ear.

“Yeah.”

“Glad I do.” What? Oh. “That was a mild reaction, you’re getting better at this.”

 

     It was hard to overreact like usual, Mouse was feeling tired, the good tired like the kind that came from a warm glass of milk in front of a fireplace. It was hardly a state to write papers in but he wasn’t tense anymore, either. Yet still, Kestrel wasn’t done.

“That’s perfect,” the raconteur said before shifting beneath the boy so her chin rested on his opposite shoulder. “Let’s do something else now too, okay? Keep breathing but I’m going to do some ticklish things. Instead of clenching up I just want you to breathe and relax where I touched when you exhale. Think you can do it?”“‘Kay.” Even to his own ears Mouse’s voice was dreamy.

 

     With that acknowledgement Kestrel loosened her grip on his stomach. Her hands were already near Mouse’s chest so she started there. Mouse’s shirt dulled the sensations somewhat but the fabric was thin and Kestrel was clearly an expert with her hands. Her touch was too light to induce hunched over laughing, but still more than enough the make the muscles twitch subconsciously and send out waves of tingles that raced to the back of Mouse’s spine and left goosebumps in their path. As instructed though, Mouse let the feeling come, then breathed out and relaxed. He melted. The boy was rewarded with Kestrel’s musical giggle when he sagged against her.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Mouse had his entire body weight resting against the woman now but she didn’t seem to mind so he stayed that way, letting the tips of her fingers tease away every bit of tension in his chest.

 

    After a few passes across his torso the raconteur moved to Mouse’s shoulders. Both of them could feel how tense those were but the boy simply did as he was told and let Kestrel’s random, teasing movements draw the tightness away. When his shoulders too gave in, the dark priest moved down Mouse’s arms, gently tugging his hands out of his lap in the process, resting them on the bed palms up.

 

    Not surprisingly, Mouse was hard. Kestrel’s technique was relaxing but everything else about the situation was incredibly arousing. She had her legs wrapped around him, her body heat flowing through every part of him but his chest and something about the way she moved pressed her breasts against him in increasingly interesting ways. And then there was that smell, her fragrance tickling his nose and bringing back situations both real and imagined to his mind. His instinctive hand placement was accidental but had served to hide his erection and now that cover was gone. If he said anything Kestrel would stop. If he tried to rearrange himself she’d notice and then she’d stop. Mouse really wasn’t ready for this to end. Besides, she wouldn’t be able to see from her angle, right? Mouse gulped and prayed.

 

Meanwhile, Kestrel continued.

“Ah, your arms are so slender, they’re so easy to massage!” She giggled in that musical way.  Kestrel didn’t mean anything by it but something about the comment slighted Mouse. Still, it was true, even with her hands she could attack from multiple angles on biceps as small as his and so she did. He felt too good to do anything now, but later he might need to do something about that. For now though, the raconteur wasn’t done with his arms.

 

    He hadn’t typed much but Mouse still must have done a number on his hands; his forearms were in knots when Kestrel prodded them. Each stroke stretched tendons and made Mouse’s fingers roll in time with Kestrel’s hands. It was an alien feeling but he was long past fighting or being bothered by it. Without noticing it Mouse’s head lolled back into the raconteur’s shoulder earning him another of those giggles and a  pat on the head.

“Just like that. Am I being too rough?”

“Mm mm.”

“Goood boy.”

 

     Mouse wondered if she’d ever stop. His body felt heavy, but heavy was nice. Heavy was comfortable. Heavy felt so good he never wanted to move. The boy considered his weight again, but if it was an issue Kestrel would say something. He was more than half asleep as the dark priest took his left hand in each of hers, rubbing the flesh of his palm, tenderly stretching his fingers and stroking the back of his hand. The boy hadn’t been expecting that but he was past the point of fighting. All he had to do was breathe and let Kestrel work, so he did. She repeated the process with his right hand, finding and unkinking knots even Mouse hadn’t known was there.

 

     When she finished, Mouse’s consciousness seemed to come in bursts. He knew he shouldn’t fall asleep but the treatment he was getting made it too hard to resist, leaving him in that twilight sleep where he was still awake but only technically. Kestrel moved her attention lower to his thighs, the last part she’d be able to reach in this position. He only fully woke intermittently when she stroked the sensitive spot inside of his legs in just the right way making him tingle (and another part twitch) so hard he almost squirmed despite feeling like an elephant sat on him. Kestrel seemed to do so at regular intervals, keeping Mouse from actually falling asleep. Unless she actually wasn’t, it was impossible to keep track of time.

 

     Through this all Mouse had remained silent. It seemed the only sound he would make at all would be a snore until Kestrel found a spot that made him sigh. She didn’t move away and come back to it that time either, she kept stroking, her touch light but all the better because of it. Up and down… The boy’s eyes snapped open and he looked down to find Kestrel’s hand wrapped gently around his penis. When had she gotten that out?! Mouse’s first instinct was to bolt upright but the arm across his chest squeezing him more tightly into the raconteur’s breasts squashed the thought.

“Miss Kestrel! You said we weren’t going to do anything dirty!”

“I’m not,” the dark priest responded without stopping her slow assault on his dick. “My hands are clean and your penis is clean, isn’t it?”

“It’s not!”

“Of course it is. It can clean itself, you know. See?” Upon asking the question she ran a hand over the tip of his dick, stretching out a long string of pre-ejaculatory fluid. Her next remark came as a whisper in his ear. “It must be clean now, your underwear are soaked.”

“Wh—” He couldn’t croak out the question, he knew it was true. Instead, struggling to hear himself over the beating of his own heart, “T-that’s not what I meant! What we’re doing is—eep!”

Kestrel interrupted by licking his ear. “Cute! But what we’re doing is perfectly natural, nothing out of the ordinary between a man and a woman.”

“It’s—ah! It’s immoral!”

“Mmm, that depends on your morals. But, if you really don’t like it you can say so. I can be kind of slow but if I hear ‘please stop, Miss Kestrel,’ even I’d get it. Or, instead of clinging to the sheets you could knock my hands away.” The boy hadn’t even noticed his hands but only momentarily managed to loosen his grip before an especially strong stroke sent him right back to clutching them. “I’m not a rapist, you know? But if you’re this hard in my hand and you let me do as I please what’s a girl to think? It makes me think I should do this.”

 

    Even as she spoke Kestrel peeled the boy’s foreskin. Kestrel’s first touch of the bare skin was electric. His skin too had filled with precum so Kestrels finger swirled frictionlessly around the naked head of Mouse’s dick. She explored the angles she could reach, flicking idly at the glistening skin. It drove Mouse mad. His hips floated up, longing for more of the dark priest’s touch but Kestrel’s left hand on his stomach urged them back down.

“No no, this is still part of the massage. Breathe and relax.”

“How is this part of a massage?!”

“In China they believe a massage isn’t complete until one’s sexual stress has been relieved as well.”

“That doesn’t sound right!”

“You’ll understand when I’m done.”

   

    Without thinking, Mouse’s breathing fell back into rhythm with Kestrel’s. She was doing something different now, still breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, but now on each exhale she voiced a breathy “ahhhhh.” It was less a moan than a groan, barely voiced at all but it made the situation erotic in a way Mouse couldn’t comprehend. It was as if that little whimper with each breath robbed him of any trepidation and left him to follow his base instincts; once again he sat still and let the feelings Kestrel brought wash over him.

 

    Her touch now was almost random. A caress here, a poke there, a few regular strokes, then some with a twist of her wrist added. It seemed like she was playing around until Mouse realized she was actually experimenting. In short order she found all of the favorite spots the boy used when he masturbated, then a few more. That also meant she discovered ways to touch him that didn’t do anything, she alternated between using those and the ones that drove him crazy to keep him on the edge of orgasm.

 

    In another attack on his sensitive spots Kestrel twisted her hand around the bottom part of his head, her thumb, index finger and the webbing between them all rubbing an area that made his toes curl. It was too much to bear quietly. Mouse’s breathing grew louder and those groans he mimicked were quickly becoming full moans. Kestrel backed off, stilling her hand and rubbing her finger around a spot on the bottom of his dick that felt far better than it should have. It wasn’t a spot he would’ve thought to touch at all, maybe a quarter of the way down his shaft when he normally focused on the top. All she had to do was press down and rub her finger in a circle and his pleasure increased. The sensation wasn’t overwhelming but the anticipation of what was coming still made him raise his voice.

 

     The boy was dangerously close now, and in response Kestrel switched to a standard stroke. After having his entire body teased and slowly being tugged to the brink of orgasm the touch ran through him like a wave. It was a basic technique, but everything else Kestrel had done combined with using the perfect grip and speed made it feel euphoric. Involuntarily Mouse pinched his eyes shut and rolled his head back to yell at the ceiling. He could last maybe four more strokes before painting Kestrel’s fingers white. One. Mouse sucked in a breath. Two. He clenched his stomach. Three. Fireworks began shooting behind his eyelids. And then nothing; the hand that could’ve brought him to heaven rested against his pubis doing nothing. Mouse rested for a moment, panting, before slowly opening his eyes.

“Miss Kestrel?”

“Exciting, wasn’t it? How close were you?”

“Why?” Mouse struggled to keep any whine out of his voice. He only failed a little.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish, it’s just better at the end if we stretch things out a bit.”

Thank God, if she’d said she was going to make him beg Mouse wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist. Though maybe God wasn’t someone he should think of in this situation...

 

“Hey, Mouuuse?” Kestrel cooed into his neck as he came down, “did you think I wouldn’t notice this thing straining against your pants?”

“I didn’t want to make you mad.”

“Mad?” The question was punctuated by a kiss on the neck, a single gesture that combined the tingling Kestrel invoked earlier and the flames she’d just stopped stoking. “When a girl wraps her legs around you it’s not because she wants to hold hands. I might’ve been offended if you didn’t react.”

“Sorry, I didn’t… women are hard.”

“Not as hard as we make men.” There wasn’t any need to hold back now; Kestrel had Mouse’s dick in her hand and an orgasm waiting for her command. Even if he got a bit flustered Mouse wasn’t going anywhere. “But really, did you think I wouldn’t notice this thing in your pants? I can see it as well as you can from here, you know. And you didn’t even try to hide it because you didn’t want me stop, hmm? You’re a greedy boy.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh Mouse, what did I just say?” As if to give him time to think the dark priest took his earlobe into her mouth and played with it, swirling her tongue around it, sucking and nibbling in a way that made the boy both shiver and throb. “I don’t mind it at all,” she whispered.

 

“I also wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do more than sit there,” Kestrel breathed into his ear. “You can grab me instead of the bed.” Knowing Mouse wouldn’t move on his own Kestrel gingerly took his right hand and placed it atop her thigh. “Don’t be shy, this isn’t the time for holding hands, remember?” That little bit of encouragement was all it took to start Mouse’s hands roaming that pale flesh.

“How are they?” Kestrel asked while gently rolling his testicles in her hands.

“Soft. And smooth, and warm. I… I could do this forever.”

“I’d let you, but I don’t think you’d last that long. This poor thing looks like it’s ready to burst.”

True enough, despite being largely ignored the boy’s penis was straining into the air harder than it had at any point that day.

   

     While still juggling his testicles the raconteur caressed the underside of his penis. The touch was soft, but still enough to make him jump out of her hand.

“Good reaction. Then…”

Kestrel took his member and stroked. She released on her return movement so she only touched it on the downward stroke. To Mouse it felt almost as if he was plunging ever deeper into an endless hole, one slow, rhythmic thrust at a time. As if that wasn’t enough Kestrel also had full access to his ear. She used it to lick him when he was least prepared, flooding his hearing with the lewd sound of her her hand smacking as she jerked him off on one side and dirty slurping and blowing on the other.

 

     Despite his wild arousal Mouse found that he did not pick up where he’d ended before, just one stroke from exploding. Instead he got to start from square one again. He climbed the heights of pleasure more quickly than before, but he wasn’t on a rocket to orgasm, especially with the way Kestrel was touching him. Still, he soon found himself stifling a moan; he’d been to loud before, any more and his roommates might hear him.

“Miss Kestrel…” He managed to murmur so the woman could prepare herself as his balls began to tighten.

“That’s kind of hot. Say it again.”

“Ah, Miss Kestrel, Miss Kestrel!” As a reward for complying Kestrel stopped releasing on her up stroke and picked up speed, jerking Mouse up and down at a pace both knew he wouldn’t be able to resist for long. Whispered words of encouragement only spurred him more quickly.

“Good boy. Stain me white. Cum!”

 

    Like a hurricane, Mouse’s orgasm came fully expected but indefensible. By biting his lip he managed to keep from howling but every muscle in his body tightened and his hips thrust as if to nestle his member against a womb that wasn’t there. The world went white and shrank to simple orgasmic pleasure, naught but an endless stream of semen and the heat of his own lust. Even after the initial explosion Kestrel slowed his descent from the heavens with a stil hand she squeezed rhythmically from pinky to thumb like a vagina quivering from the whitewashing he’d just given it.

 

    Finally spent, Mouse groaned. Had it been possible for him to flop back he would’ve, but instead he let his head roll back, completely spent.

“Oh, man.”

“You gave me so much,” Kestrel laughed while reaching for the tissues next to the bed. She wiped her hands, then Mouse’s penis before tossing the soaked wad into the garbage. Doing her best not to disrupt the boy’s afterglow the dark priest tucked Mouse back into his pants then untangled their limbs and wiggled from beneath her charge, laying him onto his back as she freed herself. Mouse moved to sit once the dark priest found her feet at the side of the bed, but a gentle hand on his shoulder kept him down.

“No, you need to rest right now. You’re going to have a nice clear head when you wake up and then you can write, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re tired, right? I made sure of that. It’s still early, just go to sleep and when you wake up you’ll be at your best. I’m going to go but you can call me if you need anything else.”

“But the door—”

“I’ll let myself out,” Kestrel said before bringing her nose to Mouse’s for a quick rub. “You just worry about that paper. And remember, there’s nothing wrong with what we did today, okay? Sleep tight.”

 

     Before the boy managed to utter another word of protest, Kestrel slid from the room and shut the door behind her with a quiet click. He thought to sit up and get to work right away, but before he did a fatigue deeper than the one brought on during the massage sank into him and he fell fast asleep.

 

     The sun had set by the time he awoke, but it was still early enough to get some work done. After grabbing a quick snack Mouse sat in front of his computer again and tentatively pecked at the keys. The first words came slowly, but they came constantly and soon he typed in a steady rhythm. He knew what and how to think now, and for once it seemed there was nothing to stop him from thinking it. He was going to have to think about his relationship with God and Kestrel because that was really—no. For now, just this. Mouse rolled his now very loose shoulders then put his fingers back to the keys and set to work with a sharp mind. Maybe the Chinese were onto something after all.

 

 

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