190: Skirting Rules

on April 3, 2008 in 07: Pitched Battles

In Which Manners Are Minded

Going all the way up to the top floor of Harlowe with a knee that didn’t want to straighten made me appreciate how hard it must have been for the shorter races to make it up and down every day.

Other than separating them out even more than they already were by housing them on a ground floor somewhere, I didn’t know what could be done about that unless the school was willing to put lifts in. That would be expensive and complicated enough to begin with, but they’d have to double them up, the way the floors were divided.

Steff had the key out of my pocket before I even noticed, and she helped me into my room and over to the bed. I sat down on the edge, kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my jeans, and began rolling them down my legs.

“Help me get my pants off,” I said.

“You always know just what to say,” Steff said, working them down past my crooked leg. I winced. “Hon, are you sure you don’t need…”

“It just hurts less if I keep it bent like that,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. She got the jeans off, working them down to my feet and laid them aside, then sat there by the bed, looking up at me looking down at her. She was smiling again, the pure and simple smile she’d given me when I’d first approached her outside her room. She took the foot of my injured leg in her hands, feeling the toes through the socks. “Pretty feet,” she said. “Little, too… I think they’re smaller than mine.”

“Are they?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said. “I noticed that time you hurt one… most human women have bigger feet than me.”

“I’m not human,” I reminded her.

“Your body is,” she said. “The shape of it, I mean.”

She massaged my foot through the sock, her fingers working deftly on my arch and instep. My foot hadn’t even been particularly sore or tense, but it still felt wonderful, to the point that it distracted from the ache in my knee. It was like the pleasure jumped over to the knee and went straight to my brain. She didn’t even look at what she was doing. She just looked up at me, her eyes full of love and longing.

How much of the hunger I saw in them was for me?

“I want to take your sock off,” she said.

“Okay,” I whispered, wondering what she was going to do. My mind flashed back to my odd subconscious musings on Sooni and her feet, but Steff simply continued what she had been doing, without the fabric getting in the way.

Her hands on my foot… it was, in its own way, incredibly intimate.

She finished, and then lifted my other foot and tugged the sock off with her teeth.

“Pretty feet,” she repeated, and began her work again. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” I said. “Nice.”

She grinned, slyly.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m not giving you the full effect,” she said. “That wouldn’t be fair, if I can’t fuck you.”

“What, you need quid pro quo?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to you,” she said. “Get you all worked up without taking the next step.”

“How worked up can you get somebody from rubbing their feet?” I asked.

“Do you really want to know?”


She showed me.

It had felt “good” and “nice” before… now… it was incredible. She played my feet like they were an instrument, coaxing first whimpers and then moans from my lips. It was like she’d found direct lines connecting the parts of my feet to the rest of my body. If she had told me she could make me come just by touching my feet, I would have believed her… but she didn’t, and finally she stopped, leaving me panting and breathless.

“Told you,” she said.

“You told me,” I said. I sighed, but it was a happy sigh, or at least a contented one. My eyes fell to the jeans on the floor. I still didn’t know what she’d done. I stretched out my hand for them. “Hey, hand me those, will you?”

“Oh, you should probably just get another pair,” she said. She grabbed them and balled them up. “I’ll go find Two and see if she can…”

I held out my hand.

“Give,” I said.

Steff grinned sheepishly and got to her feet, handing the garment over. I unfolded them and turned them over to see the rather sprawling design Steff had drawn on them.

It was a heart, a big stylized heart with loops and swirls coming off the edges like fringe. The inside was filled with lines and abstract patterns… and the word “FUCKABLE” in big, bold letters across the top half of it.

Suddenly, the comments and laughter and whistles made sense. Especially the whistles.

And Professor Hart’s reaction.

Red heat filled my face as I pictured myself, walking blithely through the hallways of both buildings, past the rest of my class.

I could see the faces of the people I left in my wake. Their eyes were drawn to elaborate design, out of which the word fairly leapt thanks to the elaborate shading job Steff had done.

What must they have thought? Especially the ones who recognized me… the nymph’s toy, the harlot…

I couldn’t breathe. My cheeks were hot…. so very, very hot.

Steff was on the bed beside me in an instant, her lips on my lips and her hands on my… well, everything at once, it seemed. She swung us around and laid me back, climbing on top of me. She’d shed her skirt, and our legs locked together, scissor-like… her bare skin sliding deliciously against my own.

She was smooth, so smooth. Of course, she probably came by that naturally. I wasn’t so lucky; I was suddenly very conscious of the fact that I hadn’t shaved since Monday, then Steff pressed in against me while she bit my neck, and I wasn’t conscious of anything except her.

Her dick had slipped free of the feeble restraint of her bikini briefs, so there was nothing between it and me except my own underwear. Well, that and the pad. The sudden awareness of what was going on beneath all that threatened to overwhelm me, steal all the passion and pleasure from the moment. Never mind that Steff had no intention of or interest in delving in that particular cave complex…

She pressed against me, her fingers sliding beneath my bra as if it wasn’t there. It was like the foot treatment over again… passion and pleasure but no release. I wanted more. I needed more.

“Give me your mouth, slut,” she said, and I couldn’t think of any reason not to. I slid back and sat up, closing my eyes. I wasn’t ready to see her, not like that.

I felt the mattress shift as Steff got up on her knees and crawled forward. Her hands were on my shoulders to steady herself, and then she touched the top of my head. I let her guide me forward.

The lock clicked and the door swung open. My eyelids flew up and… just like that… I was staring at Steff’s erect penis.

“Hi, Mack. Hi, Steff,” Two said, walking in without any concern for what she saw beyond the observation, “You’re supposed to put a sock on the door,” as she set a bag down on her desk.

I heard cans clanking, but I didn’t turn and look. I couldn’t take my eyes off Steff. I’d been afraid that seeing her without her clothes would destroy my image of her… that “penis = boy” was just too strongly ingrained in my mind.

Now that it had actually happened, “Steff = girl” won out, and I stared, rapt, at what seemed the most natural, most perfect sight in the world.

She’d shucked her panties off at some point. Her dick was… for lack of a better term… pretty. Like ivory, or marble… slightly tinged blue in places, but not all gross and veiny. It was thinner than the few others I’d seen in person, but not as much as I would have expected, from the reputation of elves. Women of elven descent were supposed to be huge in porn… men, not so much.

Though, she was pretty long. The “willowy” descriptor certainly fit in that way.

And… if nothing else… seeing a dick between her legs sure beat the hell out of the alternative.

“You’re supposed to say…”

“Hi, Two!” Steff and I both said at the same time.

“Sorry,” Steff said, though which of us she was talking to, I didn’t know. She snatched up her panties and had them on in the twinkling of an eye—though they didn’t exactly fit at the moment—seemed to slide off the bed and back into her skirt in one motion.

“You can hug me when your erection goes away,” Two said. “Mack! Your knee is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “It’s nothing, though.”

“You should get that healed.”

“It’s healing on its own,” I said.

“You should still…”

“She’s fine, hon,” Steff said. “Really.”

“And you aren’t supposed to be doing sex things,” Two said, pointing her finger at Steff.

“Honey, I wasn’t,” Steff said. “I was just showing her something.”

I frowned and started to say something, but Two shook her head and said, “I don’t think you were,” she said, and Steff just threw up her hands.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “You caught us.”

“You should know better,” Two said to me. “I should spank you.”

“Two, you don’t get to spank me,” I said.

“I should,” she said. “I’m older.”

“Two, hon, that’s not how you get Mack to not have sex,” Steff said. I was pink in the face, but Steff looked like she was about to break down laughing. “Hugs now?”

“Okay,” Two said, and she leaned forward and they did the hug-and-double-kiss thing, and just like that we were forgiven all of our tiny transgressions. Two turned her attention back to the bag of groceries she’d carried in, humming sort of tunelessly to herself.

“Did you go into town again?” I asked.

“No,” Two said. “Hazel did. We had class but she didn’t go.”

“We should have skipped,” Steff said. “The three of us are probably the only ones in Harlowe who went to classes this afternoon.”

“Amaranth went to her classes,” Two said. “And so did Honey, and Dee, and I don’t know who else.”

“I bet the Leightons didn’t,” I said. “Which group would you rather be with?”

“Ours,” Steff said. “Out on the pent, or in the lounge, or in somebody’s room… not stuck up in a classroom. Okay, yeah, woohoo for learning, but there’s more to college than that, you know?”

I sighed.

Steff’s situation was so different from mine… or Two’s… that I didn’t think I could make her understand it. I doubt she actually wanted to do necromancy in any kind of professional capacity that would require accreditation… she’d simply picked it because the subject seemed cool to her. I supposed college might originally have been a way for her to defer real life for another four years, and now that she had Viktor, it seemed like her future was already assured.

I, on the other hand, had exactly zero prospects in life. The only thing going for me was that I’d managed to get into a great school with a prestigious enchantment program. Yeah, my “social education” was important, too, but it wouldn’t mean anything if I ended up out on my ass.

“Hey,” Steff said. “Don’t go all pouty, unless you want me to kiss you again.”

“I’m not going ‘all pouty’,” I said, turning my head. “I’m just thinking.”

“Come here,” Steff said, drawing me in with one hand and turning my head up to hers with the other.

“Two’s here,” I said. Our lips twitched, hovering tantalizingly close.

“I don’t mind if you kiss,” Two said. “Steff kissed me already. Just don’t do sex things, or I’ll spank both of you.”

We both laughed, and stumbled backwards out of the embrace.

“Oh, pseudowench,” Steff said. “You should talk to the owner if you want spanking privileges.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” I said.

“I think I should,” Two said. She’d picked my jeans up off the floor, and turned them around to inspect the hole and the seat. “Look at what you did to your clothing.”

“That was an accident,” I said. “And the marker was Steff. Can you… um… do something about that?”

“My friend Hazel says I shouldn’t let myself be treated as a laundry service,” she said.

“Well, she’s right,” I said. “And good for her. If it was just the tear in the knee, I wouldn’t bother, but I don’t think the marker will wash off and I don’t really have jeans to spare, you know?”

“Okay,” Two said. She folded the damaged garment and set it on the corner of her desk. “I’ll work on it this weekend, when I’m not at work. But you need to be more careful with your things.” She turned to Steff. “And you shouldn’t draw things on people’s clothes.”

“Sorry,” Steff said, ducking her head.

Two turned back to the task of sorting out her groceries. She pulled out an enormous bag of salt-water taffy, about three times the size of the one Amaranth and Steff had bought for her during our trip to Enwich.

“My friend Hazel got you some lemon drops,” she said, handing me a large bag of little yellow candies.

“Thanks,” I said, putting them on my own desk.

“Make sure you say ‘thank you’ to her next time you see her,” Two said. “She bought them for you.”

“I will,” I said. “It’s not like I don’t have any manners.”

“Well… to be honest, it’s a little bit like that,” Steff said. I glared at her.

Two nodded.

“Yes,” she agreed, her gravity contrasting with Steff, who once again looked fit to burst. “It is a little bit like that.”

I glared at both of them.

“Oh, honey, you are adorable,” Steff said. “But seriously, it wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit better with things like gratitude, and apologies.”

“I apologize all the time,” I said.

“Yeah, you apologize for existing if some leggy young thing glares at you,” Steff said.

“So, I apologize too much,” I said.

Steff rolled her eyes.

“Amaranth can fight this out with you if she wants,” she said. “I’ve got better things to do.”

I didn’t have to ask what. I wouldn’t have had time to, because we were together again, kissing.

“I’m going to my friend Hazel‘s room,” Two said. “I’ll put a sock on the door on my way out.”

I waved to her, or vaguely in the direction of her, as Steff pushed me back in the bed.

“Skirt on,” I said.

“Shirt and bra off,” Steff said.

I complied, and it was me in my panties and her fully clothed, grinding against me, between my legs and then bent over behind me. She came at least once before we were finished. Was that sex? I couldn’t see how it counted, when neither of us were satisfied. It wasn’t quite what either of us wanted, though it was enough for the moment.

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4 Responses to “190: Skirting Rules”

  1. pedestrian says:

    Our Mack definitely needs a more experienced woman to explain the facts, no, the realities of life to her. Belts & suspenders kid, belt & suspenders.

    It does not matter if there is no vaginal penetration. It just takes one eager-beaver sperm wiggling its mindless way into a fallopian tube and Mack’s anti-pregnancy idealism is what gets flushed.

    The medical-science word for a female who does not use at least two birth control methods is >>MOTHER<<.

    Current score: 0
    • Athena says:

      She’s more concerned there about Viktor’s ruling and the date thing with the “is that sex?”.

      Last time they were grinding, Steff specifically came elsewhere, not on or near Mack, and nothing here to say this time was actually any different. As for the “two” bit, different universe. Only one kind has been shown at all so far, it’s quite possible doubling up isn’t an option.

      Current score: 1
  2. Arkeus says:

    Goddamit mack. One step forward, four steps back.

    Current score: 0
  3. Anon says:

    This seems like an awful good way to get tortured to death by an ogre prince, Mack.

    Current score: 1