Wizard College - Sexy Pranks Pt. 02

A ghost entered the huge hall, a blue glow outlining his pale form. He was the one they called the Hanging Judge. His beady eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, looking for someone who could quiet the storm that raged inside him. He spotted the Wailing Woman, another pale figure like himself, across the great hall. She was slumped against the stone wall in a wedding dress with her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. The Judge watched her for a long moment, taking in the full curves of her body under the white lace. He greatly appreciated the way her large breasts pressed out the dress underneath her arms, so that he saw the sides of them like two parentheses around the silhouette of her back. Those pillowy mounds shook as she cried, and his smile was not kind.

Ghosts enjoy an existence free of physical and social restrictions. They disregard physical objects that could have impeded them in life as easily as they disregard the social mores and ethics that once steered them toward civil behavior. Ghosts are beings of pure residual emotion, both positive and negative wrapped up into an intense and erratic flurry of impulses. This is all to say that it wasn't surprising when the Judge strode across the room through several thick oak tables and countless chairs, forcibly spun the sobbing woman to face him, and tore open her dress.

She shrieked in surprise, silver tears still running down her cheeks. Tiny buttons and shredded ribbon flew as her incredible tits spilled into view. They were bone-white and bobbed against her torso with no regard for gravity. Her nipples, thick knobs the color of bruises, pointed off to each side like two lazy eyes. The Judge sank his fingers into those orbs and humped his crotch against her belly.

The ghostly bride's dark-lipped mouth twisted into a sneer, and she slapped the Judge across his whiskered face. He howled and pushed her to the floor, tearing at her dress and digging through the layers of skirts to find her sex. He got two fingers into her on first try, and the squelching sounds were audible across the hall. Apparently, the Wailing Woman stayed soggy on both ends.

She screamed as he pumped her with one hand and loosened his britches with the other. She kicked at him and when he grabbed both of her legs, one thigh in each hand, she thought she was making progress. But he was called the Hanging Judge for more than one reason, and the frightening tool between his legs was already pointing right into the glistening black fur at the center of her. If she had seen his thick cock, veiny and long as a child's arm with a knob like a plum, she would have fought harder. But all she could see as he manhandled her were layers upon layers of lace and her own pendulous tits. With a pull and a twist he steered her toward him, impaling her and sinking one solid inch at a time into her overstuffed quim. The Wailing Woman did what she did best: she wailed, long and hard.

Rob Weinie buttered a triangle of toast and started eating it while he gazed thoughtfully at the two ghosts. They were, after all, rutting in the middle of the dining hall. Between two long tables, the grunting specters were bonking each other senseless, droplets of ectoplasm spurting from between their hips with every vicious thrust.

Since the dining hall was the oldest building on campus and home to many historical deaths, the students had long since accepted horny ghosts as a lurid mid-meal entertainment, or just ignored them. They were ridiculously theatrical but didn't hurt anyone and never caused any trouble—unless they were touching you when they came.

"Well, that does wonders for the appetite," Harmony Ginger muttered as she plopped down her tray and sat on the long bench seat next to Rob. Henry Pecker glanced up from his book and grinned. From his position across the table, he could see what he always saw when the two of them were together: Harmony putting on her haughty act and Rob making fun of her like she was a dude. Both of them acting like they didn't want to get down just like the ghosts on the floor behind them.

Harmony had feelings for Rob since they met the first week of freshman year, but Rob had a way of turning as red as his hair and saying the wrong thing around girls he liked. It didn't help that he had a crush on nearly every woman who spoke to him, but Henry could tell his feelings for Harmony ran deeper than that. Henry couldn't blame him: she was pretty damn cute, in a girl next door kind of way. She had kinky brown that frizzed out to her shoulders, freckled cheeks and slight buckteeth that showed a little anytime she parted her soft pink lips. She also had a pleasantly curvy body, from her round ass and cantaloupe-sized breasts to the way her thighs rubbed together deliciously when she walked. And for a goody-two-shoes know-it-all she had a delightfully filthy mouth.

"This OK Split thing is getting out of hand," she announced, pulling apart her sandwich and eating it one little piece at a time. "In my last class, Emma Kunny and Virginia Gash were finger-banging each other, hands on top of their desks of course, just pumping two fingers into the other hand, and everyone knew what was going on. Probably Professor Snike knew, if he's ever seen a woman orgasm."

Henry chuckled. "You saw them cum?"

"EVERYONE saw. Virginia came so hard that she squirted, and she must have been going commando under her skirt because it was like a sudden shower under their table."

Henry waved a hand. "Ah, that's nothing. I went down on Violet in the middle of her seance demonstration in Necromancy. It looked like she was really being possessed and enjoying the fuck out of it."

Rob made an OK sign with two fingers, raised it to his mouth and stuck his tongue through it. Henry grinned and nodded. "Yeah, like that."

Harmony snorted. "Bet she was pissed about that."

"You'd think so," Henry said. "But the truth is she's addicted to it, me getting her off in public. Especially when it's a surprise. And she got an A plus."

"Well, getting tongue-jacked in the fuckbox by an unseen presence is a pretty successful seance," Harmony quipped. As if in response, the Hanging Judge and the Wailing Woman stumbled up in the midst of their passion and slammed onto the bench seat between Harmony and Rob. The two students quickly made more room for them: the defiled bride leaning back across the table, her mouth open in an endless moan as the Judge slammed into her and made the bench shudder. Rob went silent, mesmerized by the way the her boobs helicoptered wildly on top of her arched torso. Harmony licked her lips as she watched the Judge reach down to the tangle of wiry hair he was pounding his monster cock into and started strumming the rough pad of his thumb across the bride's swollen clit.

"So what about you, Harmony?" Rob asked across the thrusting bodies. "Anybody finger your nappy dugout in class?"

"No," she returned with a scowl. "Anybody finger yours?"

Rob opened his mouth to retort when the ghostly bride suddenly reached up and stroked his face, her fingers gripping his bright red hair hair convulsively as she came. She shook with pleasure and, because of the nature of ghosts, Rob came too. It's an incredible feeling, suddenly be pushed from zero to orgasm via supernatural transference, but always an inconvenient mess. Rob lurched in his seat, crying out as his cock fired blast after blast of cum directly into his underwear. He was vaguely aware of the laughter around him. It was embarrassing ecstasy.

Harmony cackled and rocked on the bench, but a moment later the Judge reached back and grabbed one of her tits through her blouse. His other hand was on the bride's hip and he slammed into her one last time before he finished with a howl. Harmony's gasp of surprise rose to a moan and her eyes squeezed shut.

"Uhn uhn uhn uhn," she grunted, grabbing her own crotch and humping her suddenly enflamed pussy against the pressure. Her other hand clutched at her untended breast, found the hard nipple through layers of clothing and pinched it viciously. Her face and neck flushed pink, sweat stood out on her temples and her cleavage shook violently. Henry had to admit it was a lot sexier than seeing Rob cum in his pants.

Spent, the ghosts both slumped onto the table and faded from view. Slowly and without acknowledging each other, Rob and Harmony both stood up and walked gingerly out of the dining hall.

Henry laughed heartily and went back to his book.

***

Roger Roundly had listened to the whole conversation from a few feet away, stuffing his mouth with eggs and sausage while pretending to study his Remedial Alchemy notes. He'd wanted to join in, finally having something he could confidently talk to Henry Pecker, Rob Weinie and Harmony Ginger about. Finally feeling like he had some valid sexual bragging rights, some sheets cred as it were. Because he'd used the OK Split just last night, and it had been a mind-blowing experience in his otherwise sorry excuse for a sex life. But Henry Pecker and his friends were cool kids—not the rich kids or the super-popular kids but cool in their own self-assured way—and Roger found that he couldn't stand the idea of drawing their attention to his chubby, nerdy self. After all, he didn't know if they'd actually approve of what he'd done.

His freshman year at Wizard College, Roger had struck gold with his roommate situation: three days into Orientation Week his roommate wandered drunkenly into the nearby forest and was attacked by a unicorn. The kid survived but ended up moving back home to recover from his multiple horn wounds, and after that Roger had the whole room to himself.

Sophomore year, Roger wasn't nearly so lucky: he got Ollie Spunkmeyer, a mean-spirited asshole who made it his personal mission in life to intimidate his roommate. It was a daily job, blasting punk music and breaking Roger's stuff and encouraging other students to mock him whenever they had company. It was also his nightly job, and that was where Ollie's girlfriend Raven entered the equation.

Raven was a short, angry girl with dyed black hair, a pierced lip and beady soulless eyes, like doll's eyes. But that didn't stop Roger from lusting after her body, with her obnoxiously tight ass and stupid perky boobs. When she slept over, she wore nothing but lacy black panties and a loose tank top. Roger would sit on his bed with the covers pulled over his lap, pretending to study but really memorizing every jiggle of her delicious body, every movement of her hard nipples under the ribbed shirt.

Unfortunately, her sleeping over didn't involve much sleeping. Ollie and Raven would always end their night by drunkenly stumbling into the room, tearing each other's clothes off and loudly fucking until they passed out. They seemed intent on making sure Roger could see and hear everything, and several times even did it against or partially on his bed...while he was lying in it. And on top of the humiliation, he was left every night with a raging boner he couldn't sneak off to take care of, for fear of their mockery. His policy was simple: just pretend to be asleep.

And that's exactly what he tried to do last night, when he heard the sound of sloppy roommate and slut hit the door, fumbling with the doorknob and each other. It was only ten o'clock, a few hours earlier than he expected them back, and he had been deep into a jerk session over a wizard porn magazine. Wizard porn isn't much different from your standard, except with more winged ladies and well-hung centaurs. Also, the pictures moved. They shimmied, showed you the goods from different angles, and made eye contact from the surface of the glossy paper.

Roger was particularly taken with the page that showed a blue-haired elfin woman leaning over a fence in the middle of a sunny field, with her sundress rucked up over hips. She looked over her shoulder at him while sawing three fingers in and out of her shaved snatch. He was matching her pace with the strokes of his own fist and feeling the first flutters of pleasure behind his balls when he heard all the commotion at the door. Practically on autopilot, he stashed the magazine and pretended to be asleep. His dick followed suit.

They burst through the door and slammed it shut behind them, sucking on each other's faces and banging into furniture so loudly that Roger began to wonder if he might draw more attention to himself by pretending to sleep through it. He decided they didn't care either way; he was furniture. So, through cracked eyelids, he took in the show.

They were both wearing black leather jackets covered in patches and safety pins, but when Raven removed hers Roger felt his hard-on return full force. Raven hadn't changed out of her uniform after classes, but had modified it. She kept on her knee-high white socks but rolled up the waistband of her skirt so that every movement revealed a glimpse of her lacy black panties. She'd lost the uniform sweater but kept her white blouse, unbuttoning it and knotting it under her breasts so that her flat stomach and star tattoos were on display. And holy fuck, even in the low light Roger could see the bounce of her unhindered breasts and the darker shade of her areolas through her white shirt.

Ollie put his hands all over her, gripping and squeezing his girlfriend while he hungrily kissed her throat and chest. He tried to untie her shirt for several minutes before standing back and snapping his fingers. The knot pulled itself even tighter and she cackled at him.

"Holy fuck you're drunk," she laughed. She snapped her fingers and the knot untied itself with a flourish, letting the shirt hang at her sides while her pale boobs swayed before her. She still had tan lines, and the white of her tit flesh was almost blinding before it reached her puckered red nipples, turned up at the end in a way that make Roger's mouth water.

Then his view was obstructed by stupid Ollie while he groped Raven to his heart's content, digging his fingers into her breasts and sucking on her nipples until she squealed. Raven's clever little hands fumbled with his belt and zipper until there was room enough to reach into his jeans and scoop out his swollen prick. It was a decent size, but as usual Roger felt a surge of pride that his was noticeably bigger. Also, Ollie seemed to be having trouble getting completely hard; Raven squeezed and jerked it in her hands but it did more squishing than growing. Whiskey dick, the poor bastard. Tugging idly on his own rock-hard tool, Roger stifled a laugh.

Raven dropped to her knees and fed the fluffed dick into her mouth like a sword swallower practicing with a rope. "Oh yeah, baby, fuck yeah," Ollie said in a theatrically deep voice. "Suck it bitch. Suck that hard dick."

Her hair, usually parted in the middle and hanging down like black curtains, was up in two cute pigtails. Ollie was steering her head with them, and in his hands they looked like the tasseled handlebars of a little girl's bike. He humped his hips and she let him facefuck her for a bit, obviously having no trouble with his half-mast. The whole time he kept telling her how hard it was, telling her to choke on it, and Roger nearly felt bad for Raven having to humor this fragile male ego.

After a few minutes she let the dick flop out of her mouth, stood up and slid her panties down her legs. She turned around and crawled on all fours across Ollie's bed, wiggling her bare ass enticingly. Roger admired the way her tits hung down from her lithe form in two swinging cones. He admired the perfect lines of her ass and legs. He loved the way her plump pussy lips peeked out from between her thighs while she was bent over. And when she flipped around on her back, beckoning Ollie to her, he followed the thin mohawk of pubes that trailed down her mound to heaven.

Then she turned her head and looked Roger full in the face. He scrunched his eyes shut, sure that she saw him.

"Is that little perv awake?" She slurred.

Roger kept his eyes shut but he could hear someone cross the room to his bed. "Fuck no," Ollie burped after a few long moments. His whiskey breath hit Roger in the face, almost making him cough. The footsteps moved away again, and Ollie added, "If he is fucking awake, I'll pound his face."

"Ugh, what a loser. You better not leave any of my panties around, he'll probably jerk off into them." The casual venom in her voice erased all sympathy Roger might have felt for the bitch. Let her enjoy fucking that marshmallow, he thought bitterly.

He heard them moving around and cracked his eyelids again. As he watched, he realized they were too drunk and oblivious to really catch him. Raven's eyes kept closing sleepily and Ollie was blundering and unfocused. They were acting so out of it that he imagined getting out of bed, crossing the room and jerking himself over them until he sprayed across the girl's face and chest.

She brushed her fingers through that thin mohawk and traced circles around the top of her slit while Ollie hopped around, trying to peel off his clothes. Roger felt safe opening his eyes more, being less sly with his movements. His erection had deflated in the fear of Ollie's approach, but now it returned with a vengeance. Under the blanket he began stroking it again, at first just with his fingers, lazily feeling the veins along the shaft and circling the helmet, spreading the precum with his thumb.

Now nude, Ollie clambered between her spread thighs like he was going to mount her, but Raven put her hands on his shoulders. "Eat me for a bit, ok?"

Her stupid boyfriend sighed as though he couldn't believe his bad luck. Oh what a chore to stick his tongue in that perfect cunt. He slid down her body, grumbling all the way, and got to work. It looked horrible, like Ollie was sloppily motorboating her pussy lips, and Roger could see the idiot's dick shrivel even more with disinterest.

Roger ran his fist up and down the length of his cock and wondered if Raven would appreciate how hard it was. He wondered if the sight of his superior dick would cut through her bullshit mean girl routine, if she'd spread her legs for him. Then it occurred to him: the OK Split, the spell that was taking the campus by storm, that was his answer. He had the perfect opportunity to use it, so perfect that it would almost be criminal to waste it.

Technically, it would be criminal to secretly fuck this girl. But then again, this was Raven the bitch. Ollie and Raven, the banes of his existence. He could fuck them both, in a sense.

He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, then whispered the incantation. Peaking under the blanket, he could see the portal glow in that circle, waiting for his cock. It would be a tight fit, but he was willing to take the risk.

While Ollie made yummy sounds and slobbered on his girlfriend's gaping snatch, Roger slowly slid his hand down the first inch of his cock. He had aimed the exit of the portal very carefully when he cast the spell, and the thick head of his penis appeared just inside her vagina. It spread her, pushing her labia aside and putting a delicious pressure on the muscles at the entrance of her sex.

Lying on her back, Raven gasped and bit her lip. Roger pulled the portal slowly down his length, watching her body arch, listening to her groan. He pulled back, then slowly sank into her body again, and was rewarded with an even deeper sound of pleasure. He pulled back, feeling her pussy lips drag. Then he slid back in, harder, driving to the hilt. Across the room, Raven tilted her head back and her mouth fell open. Her breasts shuddered, long red nipples pointed at the ceiling.

Ollie heard the little noises she was making and doubled his terrible technique. While he was writing the alphabet with his tongue and drooling on her asshole, Roger was filling her, hitting her deepest nerves, and pressing his hardness against the back of her clit.