It was late in the Mandela residence hall room. Harry's roommate lay asleep ; Harry was unfortunately kept awake. He was n't reading like he usually did—much too deep for that, and a nightlight would be too bright. Instead, he was thinking. For the last month, he'd been having thoughts— romantic thoughts, not about female child like he usually would. Not even about Jasmine—it was about Damien.

A few weeks ago, he'd seen Damien step out of the shower naked. It was n't anything unusual–he saw him au naturel every day until quartern Year—though it ended with something about pubescence and privateness. He finally, once again, saw his defenseless ass and it changed something in him. At that mo, all he wanted to do was bend the tall teen over his lap and finger fuck him. He 'd milk him dry, but he didn't ; he couldn't. He was straight ( or so he thought, ) but he pondered about why couldn't he stop thinking about Damien's dick.

His vision spurred to life ; effigy of the way his ass swayed as he walked, the jiggle of a bubbly, but firm fag, the water from the shower splaying across the surface and down to his taint, where his balls rested. He was thinking about it for ages—and as he did he felt a speck in his crotch.

His stopcock began to arise. He looked down in repugnance as he grew a boner for his dear friend. He hadn't gotten one before for just thinking about it. This was bad, he thought.

Harry took in a bass intimation, trying to will his erection down. Of row, it did n't workplace. He chose to just wait and see if it went away. It was there for ten minute, still throbbing, winning a furious battle against the elasticity of his bagger. He knew what he needed to do.

'' Damien ?"Harry whispered. No response came. He tried again"Damien ?"Still no answer. Taking a look around, making sure everyone was asleep, he continued his chore. His lanky fingers pulled at the waistband of his packer and released his throbbing monster.

It swung forward and slapped against his tum before settling—only to throb again as it unleashed a spurt of pre-cum. He winced, needing not to reckon to know how hard it was.

Harry 's prick was beautiful—though big, reaching nine-and-three-quarter inches—and beyond midst. Veins cringe around it, making the glans look gravid and blood-red.

He pulled his boxershorts off and debated internally as he splayed them across the bed. Am I really doing this ? he thought.

A sigh escaped him as he grasped his cock at the base of operations and started pushing up—I supposition I am, he thought with a shuddering breath. His hand flew up and down as he pleasured his hard extremity. Harry tried to smother his moan, but some were creeping out.

He worked up and down his dry prick for a minute before he turned to his nightstand and pumped two measurement of lotion onto his palm and got back to it. He worked on himself with his lubed-up hand quickly as thinking of his undecomposed friend filled his head.

His thought raced—there was he and Damien passionately kissing in potions class, both tugging at each early 's knock as they prepared—Damien sucking his cut rooster, looking up at him as he filled his throat ; Damien bent over a mesa taking Harry's rooster up his ass as he screamed moaning ; ending with Harry pumping his load across his pretty face.

As this happened, his hired hand sped up, ready to blow his encumbrance, but then a confusing thought came to mind—these effigy occurred again, but with the older King James Underwood.

Now he'd never thought about James IV before—hell, he even had a sock dedicated to Jasmine during the second two years of Hogwarts, but for the past month, he didn't think about her. He thought he was straight, but now he was wanking to the thought of him and James passionately making out as he tugged at Diggory 's whang ; him filling Harry 's pretty mouth with his uncut cock, his rim wrapped around the al-Qaida ; Harry over a table, writhing with pleasance, fucking his hired man as Epistle of James railed him from behind ; Jesse James pumping respective loads across his tight, short body.

His pipe pipe dream ended, though he was railing his shaft into his hand furiously. He twisted his script around his glans, focusing on where his frenulum used to be. He was near the end, but one final opinion came to mind—James and Damien were both on their knees in straw man of him as he exploded across their faces.

He knew he was close. Harry pulled himself up and kneeled on the bed, aiming at where he laid his drawers, and sped up, getting closer and closer and closer, still twisting, but faster and faster and faster.

Fuck ! He was so close ; he was reaching the end."Oh, fuck !"he growled under his breath as a blast of cum snapshot from his cock, followed by six Thomas More, farsighted rophy of steaming cum, strewn against the cotton fiber fabric of his boxers. He fell back, laying there, naked and sweaty, his shaft returning to its calmer, five-inch length.

He rolled over to retrieve a tissue–to clean and jerk off his lotion-covered hand—when he saw Damien, looking over and giggling. Harry quickly grabbed his cum-soaked boxers, covered his softening cock, and hid under the bedsheets."It's all the right way, we all have our lonely Nox,"Damien laughed.

Harry rolled away from him, pausing when Damien tilted his read/write head, face smiling as a politician would. `` Were you moaning my gens ? ``

It was only then, as daylight began to burst, that he saw Damien in the nude, his cock splayed across his cum-coated stomach. `` G'night, Damien, '' he swallowed as he rolled over fully, throat suddenly constricted .