The Author of this story does not own the copyright for Harry Potter or any of the associated characters. This story makes no claim as to the sexuality of the characters. This story is completely fictional and any resemblence to real people, be they alive or dead, is completely by accident, without any malicious intent.
- Phoenix
It was late at night, Seamus Finnigan was lying in his bed with nothing to do. He couldn't sleep so he was just lying in bed, his hands folded over his chest. He missed everything. Now that it was summervacation he missed school, he couldn't use his magic at home, he missed his friends, he missed everyone at school....well maybe not Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, but a lot of people nontheless. He had written his friends of course, he'd written Harry Potter and Ron Weasly, he'd written Neville Longbottom, Hermiony Granger, Fred and George Weasly, Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and all the others. He missed his lessons of Transfiguration and Charms, he even missed Potions with Prof. Snape if it would get him back at Hogwarts. But not all was lost. Tomorrow Seamus was going to the countryside with his parents and then he could persue one of his great hobbies again...he could fly. He missed the sensation of wind through is sandy hair, and he missed the feeling of the broom between his legs, the twigs at the ens prodding into his ass when he sat on them.
Sometimes late at night he'd take out his broom and float inside his room. The desire to go outside and feel what is was like to fly again was great at those times, but he knew he shoudn't. He could be seen by muggles and then the entire wizarding world could be exposed. So he had to wait. He checked his clock on the wall. "Just 5 more hours, and then you'll be going" it said in a slight metallic voice. Seamus smiled....just five hours....then he'd be out of there.
Finally! Air! Wind! Speed!
Seamus turned his broom around again, speeding up with every pass. He was flying over a small forest near the house where he and his parents were staying, but he was looking for a clearing to set down. Then he oculd be alone for a bit, he wanted to polish his broom, make it look good for when he went back to school. He didn't have a Nimbus 2000, or a Firebolt, but a Comet two sixty, a nice broom that he'd had for a long time. Every now and then he'd tend to it but usually he didn't feel like it, but having seen the way Harry Potter treated his brooms, first his Nimbus, then his Firebolt, he'd done the same thing and had found it quite relaxing at that. Besides their house had won the Quidditch cup so he couldn't get to school with any old broom now could he?
There! He started a steep descent towards a small clearing...an understatement as he thought it, the clearing wasn't much more than 5 feet across, but there was a boulder there that he oculd sit on and an old log that he could use as a table. He set down onto the ground and put his broom onto the log. Then he opened his bag and took out the Broom-Polish and a few pieces of cloth he could use as polishing rag. Then he pulled a pair of clippers from the bag, and set it on the log. He opened the can of polish and dabbed a bit on one of the cloths. Then in even strokes he distributed it along the length of the shaft. The strong, firm wood flowing underneath his fingers. He could feel every vein in the wood throught the cloth he was using, a feeling of connection arose in his and he thought of the broom fondly. He took another cloth and started to rub a bit harder, doing his best to rub the polish into the wood, to make it gleam and look alive. It would be beautiful. His forehead streamed with sweat, it saturated his shirt and he started to feel it running down his back and into his shorts and boxers.
He pulled off his shirt and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The sweat coated his hand and ran off it, forming little puts where it landed on the ground. He knew he'd seen a little stream nearby and decided to go there for a drink and a little wash. He walked the small distance through the forest towards the stream that was clear water and knelt down next to it. He put his hands into the stream and felt an intense cold running up his arm. The stream was freezing. But he was very thirsty so he dipped his hands into the stream and took a few big swallows of water, little bit that he couldn't swallow ran down his chin and onto his chest where it formed little beads of moisture near his nipples. The cold of the water made his nipples become hard and erect and he saw little goosebump at the edges. He wiped the water from his chest, and in a sudden move he gently squeezed his left nipple. A sudden rush came over him. Was that lust he felt? He tried squeezing his right nipple, the same intense feeling filled his body and shivered down his spine. Then he brushed his hands over his stomach, the tickling sensation fuelling his feelings even more. Suddenly he noticed that his other hand was at his crotch, gently massaging through the fabric of his shirts. Looking around he saw that nobody was near, so he eased his shorts and boxers off and his penis sprung out. He'd gotten a hardon from touching his nipples! No wonder that felt so good! He gently squeezed the head of his dick and even more rushes of lust and horniness came over him. He sat down in the stream and took his dick in his left hand. He slowly started to jack himself off and the could feel the water running by his balls. He used his other hand to rub his stomach, to squeeze his nipples and to touch himself wherever he could reach.
Then he got the idea of touching his asshole, he'd read about men who fucked each other there, but he'd never tried it himself. Not quite able to reach it lying down, he sat up a bit and reached between his legs, where he knew that it should be. His fingers found the little muscle and touched it slightly, he felt the same rush as before and before he knew what he was doing he tried to push his finger in. It hurt and he could feel that it wasn't slippery enough to get in. He stopped jacking, disappointed at this and got up. He stepped out of the stream and collected his clothes. As nobody was around, nobody would notice him sitting in his birthday-suit a little longer would they? He walked back to where he had left his broom, sometimes waiting a bit to avoid little branches and other prickly things. But he finally made it back to his broom. In the small clearing he sat down forst on the rock, but it was too hard, then he sat down on the grass, but that was too soft and soggy. So he decided to move his broom and sit on the log instead. He was sure it'd be just right. As he touched the broom to move it he got an even better idea. And with a small jump he was sitting, bare buttocked, on his broom. The hard wooden handle wedged firmly between his cheeks. Seamus kicked off and he slowly started to rise, the grand feeling of wind brushing his penis and ass. He could feel the wind gliding over his bare skin.
The extacy of flight in all it's purity was now washing over the young man's body and in this form, and combined with the fact that he was naked and had a hard rod between his buttocks, it was enough to give him a full-grown hardon. He decided to stay low, just in case. And he proceeded to flying around, carefull not to his any branches. After a few minutes of this he landed again next to the stump and got off the broom. He sat down, the hardon still raging between his legs, and he started to touch himself once more. He felt the hardness that was sticking from him like a broom stick and squeezed the head gently. Then he started to slowly jack off. He looked towards his broom and thought of the feeling it had given him between his buttocks. He then got a great idea. He picked up the bottle of broom-wax and examined it for a bit. After having made sure it wasn't dangerous he dabbed a bit onto his hand and felt that it was nice and slippery. He looked the broom and decided. He got up and walked over to his broom. His stiff penis bobbing up and down slightly as he walked. His behind swaying slightly. He sat down next to where his broom was lying and he took a look at his cock. It was a nice five and a half inch uncut cock and he was very happy with it. He jacked off a bit more to make his arousal higher and then he did something very special. He dabbed a bit of broom-polish onto the end of the broom, looked at it and decided to add a bit more. He then, with a bit of stretching, splashed a bit on his own ass and rubed it over the little muscle that wasn't very slippery before. Then, after a little bit of worrying, he took the broom and put the end at his hole. He carefully gave it a push and he felt that the wax made it possible for him to push it in. Seamus took a deep breath and slid the handle in. The filling of his ass was yet another feeling he'd never experienced.
He slowly drew it out again, savouring the feeling, the sensation of something like that, something hard leaving his ass. It felt like taking a dump, but the amount of arousal it produced was many times higher. He pushed it in again and noticed that it was even easier this time. Again he pulled out but on the way out he pushed back in again. Then out, in, out, in. As fast as his hands could. And as fast as he could take it. This feeling still took some getting used to, but Seamus Finnigan was loving every minute of it. He could feel the hardness climbing up his insides and then racing down again. He took one hand off the broom and stuck out his hand towards his wand. He picked it up and made a swishing movement. "Wingardium Leviosa" And with a flick of the tip he cast a livitation spell on the broom. Now he could control it's motion with his magic and concetrate his hands elsewhere. He kept the broom entering and exiting his bunghole and all the while he started to fondel himself again. He ran a hand up his chest and down his stomach until he reached the hardness again and took it into his hand. He started to pull again, slowly at first, but as his arousal grew so did the speed at which he jacked off.
He could feel the broom deep inside his colon everytime he tightened he muscles of his behind and that gave him even more arousal. His hand was moving faster and faster up and down his cock. The sensations every where, his hand on his dick, the broom in his ass, the leaves he was lying on, the wind across his chest, everything around him hightened his arousal and the sence of peace in him. However this didn't last long, for he very soon felt his balls scooting closer to his body and his semen climbing slowly up his penis. He jacked a little longer and then the tip of his cock exploded with a stream of white. It landed on his stomach and his chest, a few drops even touched down on his cheek and nose, yet at that moment another gusher of spunk escaped from the insides of his penis and he felt again the bliss of orgasm. This continued for another four times, but then he was thoroughly spent. He flicked his wand once more and lifted the spell from the broomstick.
For a moment he stayed on the ground, but then he realised that he'd been gone a long time and that he should be getting back to the cottage. He gathered his things and made his way back to the stream. The coldness of the water quickly drove off the last remains of his arousal and he wiped his chest, stomach and face very well, making sure in the reflection that not a spot of seed was left to be seen. Then he redressed himself, even though his shirt was all stained with grass, mud and whatnot. With a piece of cloth he cleaned the broom and washed it off as well as he could. Then he waxed the end again, making sure that nothing of what had happened here could be seen from it. This was his secret. The secret between a boy and his broom.
After this Seamus climbed onto his broom once more and pushed off, leaving the wood behind him. He looked down at the clearing and then flew off towards the small cottage. When he arrived his parents were sitting in front, a worried look on their faces. Mrs. Finnigan walked towards her son, who was looking a bit flushed in the cheeks and asked him "Where have you been Seamus Finnigan?" He looked at her and answered "Playing out in the wood mum!" he walked past her, greeted his father and went into the house. There he placed the broom into it's carrying bag and closed it. This was something he was sure Harry Potter would never have done with his broom. And knowing that made him very happy.
This story came into being thanks to a friend of mine who shall remain anonymous. Although his original idea was Harry and his Broom, I changed it into Seamus, not only because I'd already done 5 Harry story's but also because of Dan R.'s request for a Seamus story.
Hope you like it ^_^
as usual, any ideas, suggestions etc. can be sent to:
lordphoenix36@yahoo.co.uk
or
lord_phoenix36@hotmail.com