Olivia's hazel eyes widened, her light brown, wavy bob bouncing as she stepped back, the flickering fire in her palm flaring briefly.
"Twerk?!" she exclaid, her voice a mix of shock and disgust.
"You're a filthy pervert, Lor! A disgusting creep!" Her tight shirt strained against her busty chest as she crossed her arms, her tight pants hugging her hips and thighs, accentuating every curve in the dim light of the abandoned classroom.
The broken windows let in faint drafts, stirring dust motes around her, but her fiery glare was hotter than the fla in her hand.
Lor leaned back in the creaky chair, his black hair falling over his hazel eyes, his grin unfazed.
"That's how the Guiding Light works," he said, his tone smooth and deliberate. "My grandfather wanted to help people, sure, but he wasn't a total saint. He liked to... help himself too." He shrugged, his average build relaxed. "The Light picks the ritual, not ."
Olivia's cheeks flushed, her hazel eyes narrowing.
"No way. I'm not doing that." She tossed her head, her wavy bob swaying, her tight pants emphasizing the curve of her hips as she shifted her weight.
Lor stood, brushing dust off his shirt, his expression casual but his mind racing.
"Your call," he said, stepping toward the door. "But you're the one who wants out of Class D. If you change your mind, you know where to find ."
"Wait," Olivia said, her voice sharp but hesitant. She lowered her hand, the fla flickering out, leaving them in the dim gray light. "What did Eva do? For her... guidance?"
Lor turned, his grin widening slightly.
"Honestly? First ti, I played with her breasts for five minutes. Second ti, she sat on my face. No underwear." He kept his tone matter-of-fact, watching her reaction.
Olivia's jaw dropped, her face turning scarlet. "That's disgusting! Why's mine different? Why twerking?"
Lor shrugged, his hazel eyes glinting.
"I don't know. The Light chooses randomly. Each ritual's unique to the guidance you seek." He was lying through his teeth, of course but Olivia didn't need to know that.
She bit her lip, her hazel eyes darting between him and the dusty floor, her ambition warring with her embarrassnt.
"Fine," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "I'll try it. But I... I don't even know how to twerk."
Lor's heart skipped, but he kept his face calm, motioning to the center of the room. "It's fine. I'll teach you."
Olivia hesitated, her cheeks burning, then nodded.
She stepped into the open space, her tight pants clinging to her thighs, the fabric stretching over her round, firm ass.
Lor stood behind her, his voice steady but his pulse racing.
"Start simple," he said. "Squat down, knees bent, back straight. Like you're sitting in a chair."
Olivia tried, squatting awkwardly, her legs wobbling, her tight pants pulling taut and outlining every curve.
She stumbled, nearly falling, her hazel eyes flashing with frustration.
"This is stupid," she snapped, standing up.
"Relax," Lor said, stepping closer.
"Let help." He knelt, his hands brushing her legs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the tight fabric.
"Keep your feet shoulder-width apart," he said, gently guiding her thighs, his fingers lingering on their plush firmness.
The fabric was smooth, almost silky, but the heat of her body was electric. "Now, balance your weight on your heels."
Olivia tried again, squatting lower, but her hips barely moved, her attempt at shaking them more of a twitch.
She groaned, her wavy bob swaying. "I can't do this!"
"You're overthinking it," Lor said, his hands still on her thighs, guiding them slightly apart.
"Pop your hips back, then forward, like you're pushing your butt out and pulling it in."
His fingers pressed lightly, feeling the muscle beneath her curves, the tight pants accentuating every jiggle.
Olivia tried again, her hips jerking awkwardly, her ass barely moving. She stumbled, catching herself on a dusty desk, her face red with embarrassnt.
"Again," Lor said, his voice patient but his eyes glued to her form. "Arch your back a bit, stick your butt out."
He stood behind her, one hand brushing her lower back, the other on her thigh, guiding her into position.
Her ass, round and full, strained against the pants, the fabric hugging every curve as she finally managed a shaky twerk.
The jiggle was hypnotic, each movent sending a ripple through her firm cheeks, the tight pants amplifying the motion.
"That's it," Lor said, his voice low, his hands lingering on her thighs, feeling the heat and slight tremble of her effort.
"Keep going, faster now." Olivia's movents grew smoother, her hips popping back and forth, her ass shaking with a rhythmic bounce that made Lor's breath catch.
Her tight pants outlined every curve, the jiggle srizing, her busty chest bouncing slightly under her shirt as she found her rhythm.
For five minutes, Olivia twerked, facing away from Lor, her ass a vision of curves and motion, the tight pants leaving little to the imagination.
Her wavy bob swayed with each shake, her hazel eyes squeezed shut in embarrassnt but her determination pushing her through.
By the end, after the five minutes, she stumbled forward, gasping, her legs shaking from the effort.
She collapsed onto a nearby chair, her face flushed, her chest heaving under her tight shirt.
"So," she panted, her voice firm despite her exhaustion, "tell now. How do I improve my spell-casting precision?"
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