One revelation nearly discarded Mandeeb's concentration. The young mystic almost rocketed back into his body from sheer embarrassment.
"Um, uh, sorry...uh, about..."
Mollie-Anne regarded him with a quizzical eye. "Truly, you must be very skilled. Most astral travelers could not accomplish such a feat."
Mandeeb would have blushed, had his astral body allowed it. "Well, I have studied for quite a while." A sweet nectar of sandalwood wafted through his senses; Mollie-Anne must have been using incense in her meditation technique. "I have yet to master a sense of touch on this plane."
His new friend smiled wickedly. "Could've fooled me," she said with a wink. "Seems a shame, that you won't be able to feel anything."
His mind formulated a question, but lacked the second to bring it to his lips. The woman's astral form was as quicksilver, deftly and purposefully crashing into his midsection mouth-first. Suddenly, lovers' trysts and dragonflies were no longer crucial to anything.
In a second, Mandeeb learned to feel all over again. The touch of her spectral lips around his astral member was indescribable; had he the right words, they surely would have been lacking. But how was it possible?
Mollie-Anne's eyes opened once more, silently asking his permission to do what she had already intended. Curious, and more than greatly aroused, the young scholar nodded.
Her oral caresses began in earnest, and she took him deep within her astral mouth, sending static thrills through Mandeeb's form. His mind raced with the pleasure, easily many times greater than any physical sexual contact, even as it wrangled with the implications. How had she done this?
The American witch Vanessa was known for her wicked sense of humor, among other things.
Today, she had decided to surprise her friend Mandeeb. Her afternoon metaphysics class had been cancelled, due to the ever-popular "unforeseen circumstances." Goddess-only-knows what warped in and ate the professor this time.
Sweat pooled on her slightly-tanned skin and clung to her long braids of raven-black hair, and she took a moment to wipe some from her forehead. She was dressed in a combination of beach wear and party casual, prepared for either occasion with a quick addition, or subtraction. She re-adjusted her baseball cap, a staunchly mundane article worn for pure irony, and approached the door barring her from her friend (and would-be "partner" in more than one respect, should she have her way). Perhaps their cultural and ethnic differences would be too much to overcome, she sometimes thought. There was at least deep admiration, if not untapped love, between the two.
The knob refused to give. "Shit," she hissed, and glanced around before de-shouldering her backpack. She un-zipped and reached into the side pocket and produced her empowered weapon of choice.
"Membership has its privileges," she smirked, working the credit card along the latch. It clicked and allowed her entry. A quick glamour would have done the same, but she'd rather avoid the headache involved in channeling the energies.
She entered the room, finding Mandeeb highly tantric inside. Her eyes bugged out at the state of his physical body, mouth agape and member highly erect. Her body heated subtly, from factors beyond the humidity.
Vanessa set her pack down, closing and locking the door behind her. Oh, the opportunities, she thought, licking her lips.
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