The nectar fromthe sorceress' forehead-pussy smarted when it trickled into theshemale's eyes. As much as she could, Tiffany tried to participate intheir lovemaking, lifting her head in short, jerky movements as shejabbed the cock rising from her own forehead into its cunt counterpart,but she couldn't continue these actions for more than a few momentsbefore she tired; besides, a girl could get a headache from fuckingsomeone with a forehead-prick. Of course, she supposed, Charisma couldhave magically enabled her to fuck her without experiencing fatigue orpain, but, apparently, the sorceress wanted Tiffany to feel just suchsensations, along with the tickling that ran up and down her forehead-cock and through her forehead-balls. There was, it seemed, a touch ofthe sadist in her hostess.Tiffany turned her attention to the cock had sprouted from the roof ofher mouth and penetrated her lips. It was a long cock, and Charisma hadmade it longer still, so that six inches jutted from between. When Shawn reached the place that Anna and he had been assigned to, he could find no sign of her anywhere. ‘That’s funny,’ he thought, ‘She didn’t tell me that she would be going anywhere.’ He walked down the hall, searching for Anna. A couple steps later, he nearly slipped in the water that Anna had slipped in before. He groped around in the half-light until his hand came in contact with the abandoned mop, and began mopping the liquid up. Something caused Shawn to look down. He wasn’t sure what it was, but a peculiar prickling sensation ran up his neck. He studied the mop. The white threads had gone red–blood red. Shawn knelt by the pool of liquid, fighting a sense of horror as he did. In the semi-darkness it was hard to tell… He brought his fingers down into it and smelled the luke-warm liquid. It was blood! Shawn stared at his reddened fingers. If this was a prank set up to scare him, it sure was working. As Shawn knelt beside the crimson puddle, he absently released his grip.
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