." he moaned. Whilst smoking the joint with one hand, he undid his pants with the other. "Keep going, take it out."The actions felt automatic, like I ...asn’t even the one doing it. I glanced up at his face, to see him smirking; I blushed and looked back down to his crotch as I reached into his pants; I slid my hand in, encircling his already hard cock with my fingers, and pulled it out of the hole in the front of his boxers. Once I had it pulled out I just stared for a moment while gripping his. The storieshave that part right. My teacher claimed to have spent decades perfectinghis craft, learning invisible sigils and precise ceremonies to direct thecurrents of the arcane. Unlike him, I do not claim to be a sorcerer. WhileI can perform this ritual, I cannot control who will be affected. I lackthe proper focus, as he would say."That was the official tale. In reality the "ritual" was a ridiculouslittle thing, nothing more than a storytelling technique. A rathereffective one, to be fair,. More

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