Minerva Gold and the Wand of Silver Pt. 14

"This is wrong," Petunia whispered, turning her head aside.

"Do you want me to stop?" Minerva's fingers teased through that hair, coming closer and closer to the cleft of Petunia's sex.

"...no..." Petunia whispered.

"What was that?" Minerva crooned. "I swore you said this was wrong. That you were no lesbian."

"I-..." Petunia squirmed. "Minerva, you've changed!"

Minerva grinned. "Have I?" She leaned forward. Her voice was a soft whisper. "I never even let myself dream of this. Of you." Her fingers slipped. Crooked. The folds of Petunia's sex parted for her as eagerly as and as smoothly as the petals of a flower. "But oh deep down, buried as far as I could force it, I've wanted this since I ever met you, my Petunia." Her fingers plunged deeper and Petunia clung to her with her arms, her body trembling as she held onto Minerva as if she were a life preserver in a storm tossed sea. Minerva nibbled her ear, then whispered into it. "I am a dyke, Petunia. And so are you."

"Oh Minerva!" Petunia gasped, unable to keep it in any more. Her fingernails dug against Minerva's back, squeezing her as Minerva's fingers began to work within her. And oh, oh, oh, how did Minerva thank Professor Melissa Stevenson for her...education. She shifted her grip. Added a finger. And thus, she did provoke a most impressive moan: "Minnie!"

Minerva drew her fingers forth. She admired just how slippery they were. Her grin was wicked. "Oh I am going to do dreadful things to you, Petunia."

"A-Are you?" Petunia sounded dazed, her cheeks flushed. She squeaked as Minerva man...well, womanhandled her around in the bed. Soon, Petunia's thighs were spread, her withered leg propped up on a pillow, her good leg lifted up, crooked against Minerva's shoulder. Minerva, not having time to waste, had simply flicked her wand and Kemb'd her clothes off her body, leaving herself nude and oh so very eager. She crooked her thighs.

"A friend told me about this," Minerva said.

"H-How many lesbians in that school?" Petunia asked, her eyes widening as she crooked her head up, watching as MInerva slid her own sex, dripping with arousal, against the inside of her thighs.

"Not as many as I'd like," Minerva purred.

"Good hea-ah...ah-vens!" Petunia's head rolled back as Minerva bucked her hips and their sexes pressed together. Minerva groaned as she felt warmth and wetness intermingling. The pressure made her bite her lip hard. She started to rock her hips and with every motion, her pussy and Petunia's pussy slipped against one another. Their clits bumped together. Their bodies intermingled and their moans twined together as Petunia allowed herself to groan in eagerness. Minerva, her head buzzing with pleasure, realized her mistake. She hastily grabbed her wand, whispering and flicking it.

Soundproofing magic flared around the room.

That done, she grabbed onto both of Petunia's hips. Thanks to her polio induced injury, Petunia could not quite buck back. That was fine. That was more than fine. Minerva leaned in and channeled her inner Professor Stevenson. She began to rock her hips into Petunia, squeaking the bed beneath her as sweat beaded and dripped along her body, the stifling heat of the room and the harsh electric lights only making the sensation of body grinding against body feel more intense, more forbidden, more perfect. Petunia's back arched as she cried out. "Minerva! Minerva! Oh Minerva! Oh...I..." She clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks burning. She tried to keep herself quiet.

So.

Minerva fucked her harder.

The bed was squealing loudly now and Petunia's cheeks burned, but she couldn't stop it. Her hand released her mouth, her other hand gripping to the headboard - joined by one of Minerva's, using them as a brace as Minerva leaned over, her breasts swaying above Petunia. She leaned her head forward, panting softly. "Cum for me, my little flower, yes, cum for me."

"Minerva!"

Minerva leaned in and felt her orgasm - her orgasms, really - mingling with Petunia's. They rode higher and crested, and then crested again, and then again, as sweat beaded, and dripped, and hands clenched and caressed as easily as winking. Their bodies fit together perfectly.

For that time, in the bed, Petunia's crutch felt a million miles away.

And slowly...

Slowly...

They started to wind down. Minerva laid beside Petunia, her body glistening, her muscles aching, her thighs tingling. She felt sore, and she felt throbbing points where Petunia, driven wild, had left small kisses and bites along her skin: Her nipples, in particular, had been her lustful target. Meanwhile, Petunia was beginning to look as if she had been ravaged by a swarm of mosquitos, Minerva had left so many red marks on her. Minerva's cheeks flushed. "Ah...s-sorry about..." She trailed off.

"Ravaging me?" Petunia asked, her voice dazed.

"Well, no, the, ah, love bites," Minerva said, grinning lopsidedly.

Petunia chuckled. "Why don't you add some-"

The room jolted. Minerva jerked.

Her eyes blinked open as her desk shook her from side to side and she blinked sleep out of her eyes, her brain feeling as if she had been quite short circuited. She blinked a few more times and whispered. "Oy vey!" She put her palm over her face.

A dream.

That had been a dream.

"Oh I'm just...I'm..." She grumbled to herself.

And then her desk shook her again and jiggled. "What are you doing, you absurd thing, I'm up!"

"Good lord, what kind of a broom is that!?"

Minerva almost screamed. Her face was bright red as she jerked her head up-

Then froze.

"Why that's almost exactly like- bloody hell, Minerva Schross-Scableknight!?" Captain C. C DuVaule-Cordwine exclaimed as he ducked his broom forward a touch to come level with her. "What above God's green earth are you doing here!?"

Minerva, too dislocated by her wakening, too wrong footed by her utterly absurd and obscene dream, gaped stupidly at the Captain. "What are you doing here?" popped out of her mouth.

"Well! I could ask the same!" Captain Cordwine used his most impressive attribute - his large and cleft chin - to the best of his ability, sticking it out like a bullfrog as he lifted his head. "I happen to be on a vital mission for the War Ministry - you've heard on the Wireless, those blasted Reds have decided to toss the world into the fireplace just on a lark. Well, the ministry needs to decide what to do about it - and that meant calling back all their best officers, and I don't mind saying, I'm one of them. Only the best for Hexgramatica and all that. Now..." He leaned in, looking right at her. "If I ask you, will you be having a permission from the Headmaster?"

Minerva blushed. "No..." She admitted, as she knew that any attempt to lie would be found out fast as winking. "I just had to talk to a friend of mine - about all this."

"Ah, say no more!" Captain Cordwine said. "I expect everyone's running in a tizzy about all this. Sides, the best pilots know when to take initiative, show some proper dash." He paused. "Well, unless they're mundane chaps, I suppose, those poor blighters were all firing line this, massed firepower that." He clicked his tongue. "Not a spot of adventure in the lot of them by the end there. Not that I could blame them."

Minerva felt a flare of hope. "S-So..."

"So I don't believe I noticed anything in my flight to the Ministry myself," Captain Cordwine said, beaming at her and giving her a big wink. "Though, you know, if I were to happen to spy you on my way back, and you maybe followed me home, well, I won't say I've been struck blind..."

"T-Thank you, sir!" Minerva said - she had been a little leery about finding her way back home. She had several spells in mind that could have made it easier, but having the navigational aid of an expert flier would be far better. She bit her lip, then skimmed her desk closer to his broom. "W-Why are you being so, um, helpful, sir?"

Captain Cordwine grinned at her. "Why, you're the most impressive flier I've seen in all my days. Not in the technicalities, no, but in the imagination. Your broom is so ruddy impressive, I've sent five letters to the War Ministry - four maxims on a broom, can you imagine it?" He looked distant, as if he was already imagining enemy wizards going down in droves. "Just need to knock it through their thick heads. Won't help if the wizard who pioneered it got kicked out on her tail, what?"

Minerva chuckled. "Thank you, Captain."

"Think nothing of it. I'll be in this quadrant of London this time tomorrow. Keep an eye out! Comfort the young sir - I am, ahem, assuming he is handsome as well as in need of a kind word?" His eyes sparkled.

Minerva tried to not choke. "Sir!"

Captain Cordwine laughed and flew away - soaring towards the heart of London.

***

Minerva flew down towards Petunia's rooms and had to admit, she was a little cross at herself. Petunia is depending on you to heal her. And here you are, thinking of...of holding that healing above her head and just making her dance to your tune like some kind of...of...of molesting brute!

The fact that if someone had done the opposite to her, a part of Minerva would have rather enjoyed it, only made her feel more deeply chagrined. She shook her head as her desk slowed and slowed, coming to Petunia's room. It was late in the evening, so she expected Petunia to be abed, and when she peeked into the window, she saw nothing but darkness. She warred with the guilt of waking her dear friend when a faint sound squeaked through the window. Minerva craned her head, narrowed her eyes and...gaped in shock.

Petunia was laying upon her back, with one leg thrown up, the other tucked to the side, beneath her blankets...and her body was entirely nude and...oh...

Minerva's eyes widened more as she saw that her Petunia, the very girl she was imagining earlier, was being taken. That was the only phrase for it, she was being taken in a quite manly fashion by...well...a man! Minerva didn't recognize him, but that wasn't entirely surprising: He was black. Which did mean that he was none of the regulars at their favorite pub or any of her coworkers or any of the other residents in the building, something that Minerva felt obscurely relieved about.

After all, some mysterious new man was better than Petunia settling.

The man was quite a picture, for a man. Minerva knew she was increasingly doomed when it came to evaluating masculine aesthetics, at least from a female perspective, but she noted his broad muscular shoulders, his head dusted by thick, silvery knots of hair that Petunia was gripping too most eagerly, drawing his head down to her perky, perky breasts. Minerva licked her lips as Petunia's moan escaped through the window.

Good heavens.

She looked as if she was having a lot of fun. She watched as the black man paused in his bucking and thrusting to shift his position - no, to shift Petunia's position with one palm. His lips moved, not quite loud enough to reach through the window. Petunia, her cheeks flushing, nodded and then smiled dazzlingly at him. Her lips formed words and Minerva was able to piece together: Yes, quite comfortable.

"Well, good," Minerva whispered softly. He wasn't just not someone to settle for, he was also taking good care of- oh! Her eyebrows went up as his thrusting resumed and she could see, just barely, the edge of a condom was visible. So, not only was he not someone to settle for, he was also taking good care of her in every-

Minerva put her hand over her mouth as, with one hand on Petunia's leg, the other reached down to rub her clit as his hips drove into her faster.

"Well, I must commend her for her taste, I suppose!" Minerva whispered.

The black man continued to buck his hips and Petunia shifted, thrusting back as best as she could, with one leg kicking up above his shoulder. The delightful sight of her toes curling up as her back arched and she twitched her arms above her head burned into Minerva's eyes as she saw that both of them were reaching their pleasure, the man trembling with an intensive focus that made her bit her lower lip. While she was sure that she was not interested in men - at least, not without a Love Potion - she could at least appreciate the joy he was bringing Petunia.

And...

Oddly?

As Minerva touched her own feeling with a probing thought, rather in the same way one might touch an abscessed tooth that was rotting in the jaw, she found that she was, to her surprise, not jealous. She would have expected that she'd be quite jealous. But...lewd dreams notwithstanding, Petunia was a friend.

You don't own friends.

The man withdrew from Petunia. He peeled off his condom and Minerva risked touching her wand to the window and whispering a soft kemb spell, opening the smallest hole so that she could put her ear to it.

"I keep saying, you shouldn't have to stay here, darling," he said, his voice sparking within Minerva...a sudden realization.

She knew this man.

She gaped. How did she know this man?

She had heard his voice before, but...

"It can't be," she whispered, while Petunia laughed.

"Gregory, please! I still owe a month's rent-"

"Which I can pay!" Gregory Klamath Utah Smith, Great War veteran, widower, American, and all around adventurer and remarkable fellow said as he stretched one arm up behind his back, cricking his neck to the side. This caused his impressive musculature to rippled most alarmingly beneath his sky dark skin.

"Aren't you Americans always the ones saying to never a borrower or lender be?" Petunia asked. "Franklyn, right?"

Gregory was still, then chuckled, his teeth flashing in the darkness. "Shakespeare."

"Oh," Petunia colored.

Gregory slid into the bed. But before he could speak, Petunia leaned her head against his shoulder, her voice soft. "A-And there is the fact your in-laws are still trying to claw poor Francine's savings out of your hands. And after she left it all to you!" She shook her head. "I'm sure they could use this as some kind of an excuse. It's not like I am the most becoming of choice for a woman for you..." Her hand twitched, tugging her blanket slightly over her thigh.

"Oh my little flower," Gregory said, leaning in. The kiss was intimate and reminded Mineva quite a lot of some of the kisses she had stolen with Kat. She felt rather low for stealing this glimpse into what was so private. She drew her head back, while the kiss continued - and then Petunia's voice carried through the hole she had made.

"Go. Go on. Get out before someone wakes up and sees..."

"We shall flee to France next time," Gregory said, standing. There was another soft kiss. The door opened, then closed once more. Minerva peeked back in and saw Petunia putting her fingers to her lips, before flinging herself back into the bed, her arms spreading wide.

"Bother," she whispered.

Minerva gulped, then lifted her hand and rapped gently on the window. Petunia lifted her head and she and Minerva both met one another's eyes. Petunia's eyes went wide. She opened her mouth. Then she hastily grabbed her blanket and yanked it over herself. She scrambled to her feet, using the wall, then her crutch to hobble over to the window. SHe stood there, barely clad, her hand grabbing onto the sheets she had draped around herself, and watched as Minerva took hold of the window (it did help that she had sculpted a hole into it) and pulled up. Once it had risen out of the way, Minerva smiled.

"Good evening, Petunia," she said.

"What are you doing here!?" Petunia whispered.

"I, uh, I came to visit you!" Minerva said, then shivered as the wind blew past her. "Can I come in?"

Petunia shook her head slowly, then laughed, a ragged, weary, confused laugh. But still a laugh. "Yes! Yes you can come in. Just let me dress." She hobbled away from the window and Minerva began to work through the steps of getting off the desk, the desk into her pockets, and her in the room all without dropping straight down several stories to her death. As the window slid shut and she quietly whispered a soft kemb spell to reforge the hole shut, Petunia sat on the bed and flicked on the lights, her nightclothes concealing her nudity, her crutch leaning against the wall.

"So, uh..." Minerva snapped her fingers and clapped them against her palm. "How did you meet Gregory Klamth Utah Smith?"

"You know him?" Petunia asked.

"After a fashion," Minerva said. "My friend Gina bewitched him to drive us to Waterloo Station. He had a rather nobby autocar, if I remember right."

"...interesting..." Petunia said. "See, he came around my corner and, well, out of the blue, he asked me if I happened to know a lady named Minerva. Well, of course, I did, and as he's not exactly the kind of person to be running with Mosely's goons." Minerva smiled dryly at that. "So, we got to talking. He wasn't entirely sure why he was looking for you - he admitted, he was mostly just driving to take his mind off things, and...well, I asked him what things and heard this awful story about his harridan of a sister in law and those hideous brothers in law of him, absolute wretched people. So, we got to talking more, and he offered to buy a matchbox..."

"And one thing led to another?" Minerva asked, her smile playful.

Petunia's cheeks flushed. "He's very dignified!" she said, her own voice weighted with intense dignity. "And..."

"Older?" Minerva teased yet more.

"Handsome! Besides, forty isn't old..." Petunia's voice dripped into a soft mutter mutter there. "Not old at all."

"WEll, I'm no one to judge," Minerva said. She took her seat and frowned. "Though...I suppose I should bring your thanks to Gina. Do you care for this man?" At Petunia's blush and squirm and wriggle, she smiled. "Do you care for him quite a lot?" Petunia stuck her tongue out at her, which was more than enough answer. "Then I'll have to thank Gina. Mind magic, ah, it seems can have a long term effect. Most people dismiss it as deja vu, but, well, he is quite a strong willed man. So, he sought me out and found you..." She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing. "You've heard on the wireless?"

"That is why he came here," Petunia admitted. "He has to visit late at night, people would talk otherwise."

"Ah, just to talk politics?" Minerva asked, teasing her friend.

"Y-you must think I'm quite a...a...that i'm some kind of..." Petunia groped for words. Minerva slid her arm around her shoulder, drawing her close.

"I have nothing to brag of," she said, nodding. "Let me tell you my story."

She had been afraid of baring every little thing she'd done to Petunia - but, well, after having seen what Petunia had been up to, she wasn't afraid anymore. She told every detail, and Petunia listened and nodded and gasped, then slapped Minerva's shoulder.

"A werewolf!?" She exclaimed. "A werewolf transvestite?"

"She's more of a...the word she used, uh, was transexual, I think!" Minerva said, a bit at sea at how best to describe Kat.

"I've never even heard of a transexual," Petunia said, frowning.

"It's German," Minerva said, smiling at her. Stevenson and Titania's names tingled on the tip of her tongue as Petunia turned that frown on her. Minerva's bravery fled. "T-Then, uh, the, uh, the Soviet Union news broke and I came right over."

Petunia leaned back on her palms. Her good leg kicked gently at the air, swaying.

"What does...all this mean?" she asked.

Minerva bit her lip. "Well...it means that the world is changing. It means...we may not need be secret in this new world. It may mean that I can do more than just heal your leg! And, uh, I will have to apologize to Mr. Smith about the ensorcelling, if he hasn't figured it out yet. But yes, you have to meet my girls, and I have to meet your boy!"