She lifted her short plaid skirt slowly past her silkly smooth thighs. His nuckles whitened,
his hands clenched his chair so hard, he was sure they'd bleed. Her fingers fumbled thru the folds of her sex and she moaned loudly, causing his d&%k to actually jump in his pants.
Her honey brown hair fell down her shoulders as she moaned in pleasure. His mind raced. Sweat trickled down his face. He couldn't take much more.
She stopped, eyeing him coyly. "Don't you want me?" she asked smiling. She knew the answer.
He felt his mind shut down. He nodded dumbly, his c@$k throbbing maddeningly in his pants. She walked towards him, taking his scarred face into her hands. He felt himself throb impatiently as the smell of her arousal hit him like a wave. He'd wanted this for so long. His hands found the buttons of her shirt.
"Take me, Proffesor." And he ripped open her shirt.
He smacked himself. Daydreaming in class? Merlin, he had issues. This was getting out of hand.
A dream here and there at night was innocent enough but in class. That wouldn't do, especailly with the b!*%r he was sporting now. 'Oh Hermione' he thought gazing dreamily at her.'the things you do to me.'
Yes. This is a made-up story straight up out of the Harry Potter universe.
Jesus, I can never look at Emma Watson or David Thewlis the same way ever again!