Sex? At Hogwarts?
Chapter 2
Author's Note:
The following chapter is taken verbatim from a report shared with me by Professor Horace Pratt. I must say the poor man was in agonies of self-doubt over whether or not to allow this account to become public. I did try to refrain from pressuring him unduly, though I admit that once he recounted a brief summary of the incident I found the whole thing so hot I may in my enthusiasm have encouraged him rather forcefully to permit its publication. I did reassure him that, now that he has retired from his post and is living hundreds of miles distant from Hogwarts, and now that the boy in question has tragically passed away, there is really very little to be concerned about. Furthermore, I believe he was a bit comforted when I pointed out that when people now remember poor Cedrick Diggory they will not only think of him as a kindly boy who always thought first of others as well as a heroic boy who fought bravely in the Battle of Hogwarts, but as a passionate and ravishingly sexy boy as well!
I confess I have been hesitant -- very hesitant -- to share with the world the following incident. It is something about which I am not at all proud. However, I very much support the present effort to bring to light the sexual side of the Hogwarts experience, lest fans of the stories of the redoubtable Harry Potter have an incomplete picture of life at the institution which I love beyond nearly all other things, and to whose students I have devoted the greatest part of my adult life. I am proud to have assisted young wizards and witches in acquiring knowledge and mastering magical skills related to the erotic, and have felt more than a little frustrated at the fact that Ms. JKR's otherwise wonderfully told stories have been lamentably missing this crucial aspect of young people's magical development. So, in the interest of truth, I press forward.
In my own defense I must say that in all my years at Hogwarts I had never before given in to -- that temptation. I implore the reader to understand the extraordinary temptation afforded a boylover like me in the many hours I spent in the magical sexual education of young teenage boys -- some of them very attractive and almost all of them very horny. Consider: among many other things I was charged with teaching them various sexual charms and counter-charms, supervising the preparation of love potions, answering questions about every sexual act imaginable, training them in masturbatory and intercourse techniques of increasing sophistication as they grew older, and assisting them in learning to use their increasing magical skills to interrupt, prolong and otherwise completely control their orgasms.
Over the years I have had many private, often intimate conversations with young wizards in which they come to me pleading for advice on such things as their romantic crushes, their difficulties with premature ejaculation, and, in the cases of the sexually active, their concerns about their sexual sufficiency. I recall many red-faced confessions of anxiety over penis size -- concerns, unlike those some muggle boys have, not about insufficiency but rather, excess.
Those who don't well remember the stressors of their own teenage years may be surprised at the sorts of things anxious young wizards can find to worry about. I remember in particular one startlingly open second-year -- I confess I've forgotten his name, though not his blond-haired, satin-skinned, limpid blue eyed beauty -- who was so dreadfully anxious about his remarkably copious production of pre-cum that nothing would do but that he whip out his already erect six-inch penis right there in my office, surrounded as it was by a barely perceptible halo of blond curls, and show me, his faced twisted in distress, that with a few quick strokes a stream of clear liquid would begin drooling in a steady, apparently ceaseless rivulet from his red and swollen organ. Of course, after offering a handkerchief in lieu of the accommodating mouth I would have much preferred to offer him, I was able to reassure him that, compared to the muggle brothers with whom he had been raised, wizard sexual maturity almost always involves larger size, more copious flow, much prolonged climax, and greatly increased intensity of pleasure. I remember advising him to closely observe the production of pre-seminal fluid of his dorm mates, certain that he would find among the four age-mates with whom he shared a room, and inevitably, a few sexual intimacies as well, at least one or two whose silvery flow rivaled his own.
In many private encounters such as this one I certainly had opportunities to engage in what most would view as inappropriate sexual behavior, acting on my natural and, I believe, basically healthy urges. There was never a year at Hogwarts when there was not at least one horny young wizard who gave me every sign that he would welcome my advances. And yet I refrained. I refrained for two very simple reasons. One, I did not want to run the risk of hurting anyone who might have been confused or even traumatized by a sexual encounter with his own teacher, regardless of how much he may initially have desired it. And two, I wanted to remain employed. Professor Dumbledore was an admirably tolerant school head, and if certain rumors are true was himself not unaffected by the charms of particular youngsters with whom he shared particular bonds. And yet, if word of any liaison of my own with a student had gotten out, Dumbledore would have doubtless had no choice but to relieve me of my responsibilities. Both of these things would have been absolutely unacceptable to me. And so I spent my years perfecting a different kind of sexual self-control than those my second- and third-years struggled to achieve -- the control that requires me to give encouragement without a touch, affection without a kiss, and pleasure using my lessons rather than my own very eager body.
But, for better or worse, all this changed once I encountered a fourth-year named Cedrick Diggory. Oh my goodness.
Cedrick had of course been my student in second- and third-year Sex Magic. However, being a bit of a late bloomer he did not enchant me then. Of course I noticed his very pretty features in those pre-pubescent years, and I suppose I was vaguely aware of his potential. But his high, unchanged little-boy voice, his small, stick-like body, and his rather small and uninteresting organ, not to mention his childish appreciation of his age-mates' fart jokes, certainly did not distract me from my focus on vastly more interesting boys.
But between the end of term his third year and the following November, when I noticed him again for the first time, everything had changed. I remember that evening, and my first glimpse of him as a suddenly ravishing 15-year-old, as if it were yesterday. I arrived in the Great Hall for dinner a bit early; I seem to recall I had missed my lunch that day due to a rather time-consuming conversation with a third-year witch about her distressingly irregular menstrual cycle, and I was famished. As students walked in I, having nothing better to do, engaged in one of my favorite pastimes, the leisurely appraisal of boy wizard beauty in its most recent bloom.
There may be absolutely no reliable evidence of the fact, and no rational reason to believe it is true -- and yet all the same I do very much believe that in general young wizards are decidedly more attractive than young muggles. Certainly there are exceptions, but one rarely see the off-putting chubbiness, the spotty, pasty complexions, the toothy gawkiness one see all too often in British muggle boys. And there are very, very few in my experience without a single redeeming feature.
As I cast my eyes over the trickles of robed wizard boys filtering into the Great Hall I smiled to myself to see all that was on display. One boisterous second-year, Freddy Mallory it was, auburn locks flopping, luscious mouth grinning widely, joshing and shoving his mate ahead of him as they took their seats at the Ravenclaw table. Lawrence Flutter, a seventh year with a great body and an even greater opinion of it, sauntering in with his friends, robe defiantly flapping open in front revealing a tight T-shirt pulled taut over a chiseled chest. Several first years, still wide-eyed and uncertain, clustering like a nervous flock of sparrows, moving in solidarity into the room, one of them particularly delightful, his enchanting dark eyes flashing.
And then, suddenly, my gaze fell onto to a boy whose beauty I think may actually have stopped my heart for a second. I took him all in in an instant. The frank grey eyes, unnaturally large, eyes that I would later learn glittered when he grew intense. The strawberries and cream of his cheeks. The casual perfection of his dark brown flips and curls. The nobility of his wide forehead, soft yet firm adolescent jaw, slightly cleft chin. The easy grace with which he moved. And then the boy smiled, apparently tickled by a comment his friend made as they strode together across the hall toward the Hufflepuff table.
That smile. The adjectives which I might have heaped upon that single smile could be bound as a separate volume of this story. The lusciousness of red lips, the dazzle of small perfect white teeth, the subtle curve of the upper lip, the adorable dimple . . . I, a connoisseur of boy smiles, was mentally knocked over by that smile's destructive charm. It was a smile that could cause lies to be told, crimes to be committed, perhaps even fortunes to be lost. A smile that would have guaranteed infatuation, regardless of whatever other ugliness its possessor might have had. But of course this boy had absolutely no ugliness, no imperfection, either in his face, or, as would be later discovered, his body.
Unable to take my eyes off him it hit me all at once that I knew this boy. This was the new and very greatly improved Cedrick Diggory. In just a few months he had grown several inches in height, filled out so much his budding teen muscles were noticeable even though his robes, and transformed from immature child to a radiantly blooming adolescent.
Some boys struggle into adolescence, bodies all wrong, too-long arms attached to still-narrow chests, too-long legs turning a boy's cocky saunter into a self-conscious adolescent's stumble, noses too big, skin now slightly hirsute. Other boys explode into it, as if a sudden surge of male potency has caused their muscles to thicken and elongate, their penises to suddenly transform from boyish twigs to adolescent clubs, their faces wider, their skin coarser almost overnight, as they arrive at manly masculinity while skipping entirely over teenage charm. Occasionally, however, there is one who seems to glide effortlessly into adolescence -- everything in proportion, retaining all their boyish cuteness, at the same time infused with spring-fresh sexuality, their faces, their bodies, their very souls suddenly radiant with self-confidence. That was Cedrick -- I could see it in a matter of seconds.
And in the next second a new awareness hit me. I was going to have him. It was not a feeling, a thought, or a fantasy. It was a fact. The possibility that such beauty and I could co-exist in the same castle day after day, week after week, month after month without touch, without gratification, without fulfillment -- impossible. All my years of chastity, all my self-restraint, all my forbearance for which I have many times congratulated myself -- it all went out the window at that smile. All that remained was how. And as so often happens when certainly replaces doubt and firmness replaces hesitation, circumstances seemed to fall into place with breathtaking ease. And so I got my wish. It merely required a couple --well, perhaps more than just a couple -- of well-timed, well-delivered lies. I will tell you how I managed it.
The knock at my office door came precisely on the dot of 5 pm in the late afternoon.
"Ah, good day Cedric, good day! Thank you for coming so promptly!" I ushered the boy into the room, daring to clap his shoulder in a manly sort of way. The boy looked, if possible, even more stunning than he has the day before when I observed him in the Great Hall.
"Hello Professor. I wasn't sure you, um, remembered me."
I waved him into a seat.
"Oh my, of course I remember you! How could I forget someone so, er, charming -- you absolutely lit up my classroom last year. And such an avid student! Your essay on the seven different techniques for delaying ejaculation was, um, memorable!"
The boy blushed a bit at this and grinned a bit awkwardly but said nothing.
I plunged on, determined to follow through with a line of inquiry I felt certain would bear fruit.
"I was particularly impressed by your approach -- much less theoretical than hands-on, I should say. Many students simply copy the relevant rules from musty old texts and call it a day, but you -- no such lazy steps for you! No, it was quite clear from the manner of your descriptions that you had practiced those techniques yourself! Personal experience -- that's the ticket No substitute for personal experience, I'm sure you'll agree!"
I stopped and gazed at the boy as he swallowed all this, observing his response to my rather outlandish flirtation as carefully as I could. Of course he was embarrassed -- I intentionally made him so. But to his credit, after a moment of awkward hesitation he fixed me with his big gray eyes, tilted his chin up rather proudly, and replied, "Thank you sir. I -- yes, I have personally tried all the techniques. That's what you advised us all to do."
"Excellent, excellent, I would have expected nothing less for you, my boy."
I paused, choosing my next words with care. Cedrick eyed me steadily, waiting politely.
"Cedrick," I finally began, "I'm in a bit of a bind. Or perhaps more accurately, one of your fellow students is, and I have agreed to help her out. And in turn I need to ask some help of you."
The boy blinked. "I will do what I can, sir."
I smiled. This might turn out to be easier than I thought, I reflected.
"There's a good lad. I felt certain I could count on you. So allow me to explain. As you no doubt know, once students become sixth-years they are old enough to learn charms and spells which are much more advanced than anything I taught you in second and third year Sex Magic. There is one in particular, really quite a potent one, which must be used with caution. It is essentially a love spell. The reason I would never instruct a younger person in this spell is that it really does require a certain degree of self-control, a certain emotional maturity, if you will, to use this spell in a safe manner."
I paused, gauging Cedric's response to this. He was listening attentively, and a frown now furrowed his elegant brow.
"A question, Cedric?"
"So this is a spell that -- causes people to fall in love? I think I've heard about that. Isn't it called -- the Crushing Spell?"
"Well, some students call it so. It is actually the Erotum Fascium. It can be a wonderful spell when used correctly. More than a few happy marriages have begun with a judicious use of the Erotum, I assure you. But the spell does greatly intensify erotic desire -- desire that is both romantic and sexual. Not only is the object of the spell drawn to the caster but the caster's desire usually becomes very, very strong as well."
"I understand. But -- what does this have to do with me?"
"Hmm. Well, have you had any unusual, um, communications with any young witches recently?"
"Me? Umm . . . I don't think so sir." The boy stared off into space, seeming to search his memory.
"Someone who, seemed, perhaps, a bit infatuated with you? A bit flirtatious, perhaps?"
He blinked. "I . . . no, I don't really . . . "
"Or someone who touched your hair, perhaps in playful way? Or perhaps fondled a bracelet or necklace of yours? I notice you have a leather strap around your wrist . . ."
"Sir, are you saying that someone has -- cast a spell on me?"
"Not exactly -- but someone has tried. And she has come to me for help, At first she was desirous that I somehow manufacture an excuse for the two if you to be together in my office. Now that she has performed the spell on herself all that would be necessary for the power of the spell to hit you as well would be a touch of her hand and a brief wand gesture. I made it clear to her that I would have no part of anything that causes anyone to become infatuated without their knowledge. Completely wrong, don't you agree?"
"Well -- yes. Yes, of course . . . "
"It was hard to tell her no -- the poor girl is really desperately in love with you. She -- wants you so badly. You know, this is going to happen to you from time to time, Cedrick. You really are a most attractive boy -- young man, really."
A blush came into his cheeks then, cheeks that were as soft and flaw-free as spun silk. He blushed just enough that he glowed.
"Not really, sir. I'm -- nothing special."
"Oho, you most certainly are special. This young lady certainly feels so -- and she won't be the last, that's for sure."
I couldn't help allowing my gaze to linger a trifle longer than I should have then, I must admit. I just wanted to touch him, to just be bonded to him in some way -- the desire hit me like a wave, and it took a moment to gather myself. Cedrick licked his luscious red lips and shifted uncomfortably.
"Who -- who is she?" he asked, a troubled look now marring his beauty.
"Ah, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. You remember the confidentiality requirement I imposed on all you boys and girls in Sex Magic. Well, of course the requirement continues for sixth-years as well. Any private communications about personal issues between myself and any student must remain secret. By the way, that pertains to the conversation you and I are having right now. As well as . . . whatever actions you may take to help me out with this -- young witch's problem.
The boy swallowed and ran a hand through his luxurious, somehow perfectly tousled hair. "Actions?"
"Cedrick, I'm going to ask you to do something that will be such a help to this young girl. A tremendous help. I know it may seem a strange request, and one that may feel awkward or embarrassing. That's why I'm so glad that, compared to the typical fourth year you seem to be such a mature young man. I'm sure that you'll be able to handle it . . . "
I took a deep breath then, and launched into the next phase of what surely must have been the riskiest conversation I have ever had with a youngster at Hogwarts, filled with more lies than I have ever before told in a single sitting.
"There is no possible way this young lady can be allowed to act on her urges, even if you were willing. She has -- overdone the spell to such an extent that she is obsessed, she is irrational, she is -- almost like an animal in heat, she is so desperate. She can't eat, she doesn't go to class, she -- well, she's a mess, frankly. Even if you were interested in her, found her attractive and all that, I cannot allow you to be on the receiving end of a spell of this power. It would overwhelm you. You're simply too young. She herself is too young for the spell as she has cast it, and she is two years older than you! So there is only one alternative. We must break the spell."
"So -- how can I help?"
The boy had such character, I could see. Despite whatever discomfort he may have felt with the situation, he wanted to do the right thing. A noble soul, I said to myself.
"Breaking this particular love spell -- one of the most powerful there is -- requires a potion which I can brew up easily enough. That's where I need your cooperation."
"What can I do? I don't know any love potions."
"You don't need any knowledge -- I have that. But as the object of the young lady's infatuation, what you have to do is provide several ingredients."
"Ingredients?"
"Yes. Somehow this young witch procured, either from your person or through an intermediary, something from your own body. A few hairs, some nail clippings, a bit of blood, a sweaty item of clothing . . . something. That's necessary to make the spell work, and it's also necessary in order to break the spell."
"So you need -- some nail clippings?"
"No. That wouldn't be enough now. The spell intensifies daily until there is -- consummation, and she has been in the grip of it for five days now. No, the antidote won't require nail clippings. It will require bodily fluids."
"Bodily fluids?" The boy almost squeaked.
I tried to make my voice as matter-of-fact as possible. "Five, to be precise. Blood, tears, semen, sweat, and urine."
"Sir, I'm afraid I haven't . . . been completely successful."
The boy's face contained a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. Yet even in distress he was beautiful.
"Oh dear. I'm sorry to hear that. In what ways have you . . . not succeeded?
The boy swallowed.
"Well, the blood wasn't too hard. I just nicked my finger a bit. Of course urine was easy too. And I scraped a bit of sweat off me after exercise class." He paused and again gave me a troubled gaze.
"And the tears?"
"Actually, I got them too. Took me awhile, but I kept thinking of a real sad scene -- I remembered the time my younger brother's dog died. He was so heartbroken. I felt so bad for him. I . . . "
The boy was tearing up just at the memory.
"Very admirable, Cedrick," I murmured, daring to pat him on the hand comfortingly. "Compassion for another's suffering is a wonderful trait. I hope you never lose it."
"Thank you, sir." he wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his wrist.
"But that's only four fluids," I pointed out.
The boy nodded.
"Yes sir. I just -- I couldn't, um, come up with any semen."
"Couldn't come up, eh?" I grinned.
The boy blinked and quickly got my little joke. His sudden smile was so dazzling I was left defenseless, overwhelmed.
Then the smile quickly vanished as he tried to explain.
"No sir. It -- it was so strange. Normally I -- I mean, you told us that boys our age need at least one orgasm a day, good for our health and all, and so -- well, I normally, um . . . "
"Now Cedric," I pretended to admonish, with a gentle grin, "I hardly think a healthy 15-year-old wizard like you needs a professor's encouragement to enjoy his own body!"
The boy's face relaxed and he grinned a small smirk.
"No, I suppose not."
"But for some reason you were unable to ejaculate, is that right?"
"I don't get it! Last night I couldn't, well, get anything to come out! I tried forever! And this morning I tried again and couldn't even get hard!! That never happens!"
"Oh dear." I pretended to be disappointed. In fact all had gone exactly according to plan. The small spell I had placed on him the day before without his knowledge had accomplished its purpose. Time to plant the next seed.
"Did you -- ask for some assistance? I'm sure one of your dormmates would have ben willing to, you know, help out."
Cedrick colored slightly. "Well, that would be kind of, I don't know, embarrassing . . . ."
"Oh come, come Cedrick! Don't pretend you and your mates don't fool around a bit with each other! It's a virtual Hogwarts tradition! And quite encouraged, by the way. As we've taught you, a little boy play keeps the stork away!"
The boy gave his head small shake.
"I know, lots of my mates do it, and I know it's not gay or anything -- it's just . . . .I don't know, it's awkward . . ."
"it's just not you," I said, trying to show sympathy.
"No."
"Mmmm. Well, this does put us in a bit of a bind. I wonder what we should do." I frowned, trying to appear at a complete loss.
There was silence.
"The poor girl -- she's desperate," I murmured. "And you -- you're the object of her crush. You and I -- we're really the only ones who can break the spell, me with the relevant incantation and you with the right fluids . . . " I paused. "Do you think -- well, do you think you could try again, Ced? Now another day's gone by with you -- frustrated. Maybe that will be enough."
The boy looked downcast. "I -- I don't think so. I tried again just a couple of hours ago . . ."
"And . . . ?
The boy shook his head.
"The same result?"
"I don't understand it, sir!" he exclaimed. "I'm usually -- well, I never have any problem . . ."
"Well, there is perhaps one thing we could try . . ." I tried to sound as hesitant as possible.
There was a pause.
"What's that, sir?"
I gazed into his open face, so guileless, so trusting. A wave of guilt passed through me. Despite the guilt, I pressed on.
"Oh, but perhaps not, it would be too awkward for you, and I daresay for me too. Of course, it will probably work, but . . . oh, but no, I really can't ask you . . ."
"Sir?"
"Yes Cedrick?"
"Don't worry about me. If I truly am the only one who can help her, then I must help." The boy's pretty face was suffused with determination, his mouth firm, his little chin raised proudly. "I've -- I've made up my mind on it. If you know how to fix my problem, whatever it is, so I can get hard and ejaculate then we must."
I allowed him to see admiration in my gaze -- admiration which I did genuinely feel, mixed as it was with elation that things seemed really be about to happen. The things I had fantasized about and carefully planned.
"Very well, then let me explain what we must do. I will prepare an erection potion for you to drink. It will take me some time this evening. You will come back tomorrow after dinner. Hopefully the poor girl will be able to hold out for one more day. The potion will be the first step -- it will certainly create an erection."
"But -- what if this potion doesn't work?"
"No matter what the cause may be of your current impotence, the potion will definitely work -- have no fear. In a matter of seconds your masculine virility will be restored. The potion will solve the erection problem. The next step will be to address the, um, semen production issue. After you drink the potion I will perform some -- expert manipulations of your genitals. In no time at all you'll be ready to, well, to gush like a veritable fountain, I can assure you."
"Manipulations?" the boy squeaked.
"My boy, I'm sure than in your short life as a sexually mature young man you have developed some skill at coaxing your very essence from your body. I know you and your classmates mastered several sexual techniques I taught you way back in second year when most of you were barely able to ejaculate at all. But in this case something more, much more will be needed. I know techniques you cannot even dream of which are sure to unblock whatever is currently blocked and set your boy sperm free!"
I hoped my face didn't show how flushed with excitement I felt as I gave Cedrick the first hint of what I had in mind for him. I studied him to see how he would take this.
Cedrick gulped and was quiet, staring at me as if my face could calm whatever anxieties were racing through his brain at that very moment.
"Ah, I see you are unsure," I finally said briskly. "Well, well, this certainly is a lot for a boy as young as you to take in, of course. Perhaps you're not up to it after all. Perhaps you don't feel enough trust in me, is that it?"
The boy swallowed, was about to speak, then swallowed again. "It's not really that sir, it's just -- well, you're a professor, and I'm . . ."
"Of course, of course, I quite understand. You're still a bit too young to take on such a challenge, eh? Still feeling rather a child, really, rather than a young man, not up to enduring a bit of embarrassment -- more than a bit, I'd say -- to save a poor suffering young lady? I imagine no one would blame you if you begged off. Being naked with me, man to man, doing what we need to do in a crisis like this, might just be too much for you. I--"
"Sir, I'll do it!"
I blinked. "Are you sure, Cedrick? Are you sure? Are you not too shy to have me manipulate your genitals, to bring your healing sperm forth? And, I might add, to give you sexual pleasure you have never dreamed of? Be absolutely certain, now. This poor young lady's suffering hangs in the balance."
He looked at me intently, his huge grey eyes glittering with emotion. He took a deep breath.
"I'll do anything to help sir. I'm a Hufflepuff. It's how we are."
The two of us sat on the edge of my bed, a little distance between us. Soft indirect light suffused the room. Cedrick had seemed surprisingly comfortable entering my private chambers. He was the first boy ever to visit there. I could only half believe it was really happening.
From the moment he entered my chambers Cedrick seemed to be in a very determined state. The awkward, embarrassed moments he'd had in my last encounters with him were not in evidence.
"I see you have -- you seem to have made up your mind to . . . "
He stopped in the middle of removing his robe.
"I've thought about it. I guess I was being kind of a baby when I, you know, wasn't sure. You've always been, well, nice to me. To everybody, really. I know you're not going to do anything that would be bad for me. You're only trying to help. And that's what I want to do too. So . . . whatever you do to me, you know, sexually, it's in a good cause, right?"
He looked long at me. I knew he was reading my face for confirmation. The guilt rising in me then, guilt at my selfish lies and manipulation competed with my lust for this beautiful lad -- beautiful inside as well as out. But it was all about to happen. The competition didn't last long.
"I'm glad you trust me, Ced. We'll work together -- a team. Just think of the relief that poor girl will feel when we finally free her from that wretched charm."
The boy nodded and resumed undressing. I sat and watched the boy as he disrobed. Of course I was anticipating the discovery of his body. Would it be as astonishing as his face? Admiring his face I wondered, as I often had before when gazing upon a specimen of adolescent beauty: why is it that just a tiny fraction of an inch can make the difference between heat-stopping beauty and ordinariness? Between the perfect and the uninteresting? The boy's features were literally perfection.
His robe had been tossed aside, his shoes kicked off and his socks hastily tugged off -- and then he began removing his T-shirt. The softness of his belly as he twisted to the side, its ridges slightly visible under the peachy skin, and not an ounce of fat. The chest, just slightly developed, muscles swelling just a bit. A very small spray of armpit hair. A sweetly muscular shoulder. Small biceps that jumped as he tossed his shirt aside. And, when he finished, and turned to look at me, absolutely perfect proportions. A newly 15-year-old torso to take one's breath away. He waited.
"First the charm, then the potion," I managed to announce, trying to sound in control, although everything inside me seemed to be losing its moorings as I contemplated him, like a boat about to be tossed hither and yon by the waves. "Come over here and sit by me."
The boy scooted himself closer. I moved my wand with practiced ease over his head, then his chest, his belly, and then, for quite a bit longer, directly over his crotch. The boy stared into his lap as I did so, lips parted, glistening red.
I set my wand aside.
"Very well. Are you ready for me to touch you -- there?"
"It's -- it already might be sort of -- getting a little hard."
I smiled at him. "Of course. Allow me."
With that I lay my palm gently on the bulge in his jeans -- a bulge which indeed appeared to be somewhat larger than it had been just a few seconds earlier. He did not flinch or draw away at all. Settling my hand a bit more firmly against him I could feel the tubular bulge of his penis, still more limp than hard, already six inches, maybe seven, firm as a slim sausage above the rather large swollen bulge of his balls. I gently, slowly stroked its length once, up and down.
I whispered the secret incantation, the second part of the charm. In not ten seconds the bulge had swollen outward toward his hip.
"It's working!" the boy cried excitedly.
"Must be a bit uncomfortable now, right? Best to shuck everything off."
The boy shrugged, and with a surprising lack of hesitation stood and stripped out of his jeans and briefs and tossed them aside. Suddenly he was absolutely bare. He was so astonishingly beautiful, and now, suddenly, completely available to me. I somehow suddenly relaxed. Nothing bad could happen now -- not with such perfection offering itself to me.
I gestured to the bed right next to me and the boy seated himself again. His penis soared, curving, a good eight inches up from a small nest of fluffy brown pubes. I looked up at him, He watched me watching him.
"We're going to go very slowly. The counter-charm is already beginning to work. But the spell is a powerful one -- it won't do to rush things. We must take our time."
I reached out and tenderly gripped the first few inches of his cock.
"Close your eyes," I commanded.
Very slowly I began drawing my loosely cupped fingers down the glorious length of his teenage shaft -- and then very slowly upward.
I leaned forward and whispered, "Think of nothing. Relax your mind. Focus only on the pleasure."
The boy's face was as peaceful as a baby's as he leaned just a bit forward, his luscious mouth slightly open, a pink flush in his cheeks. Whatever resistance he had had the day before as I shocked him with the proposal of what we were going to do seemed to be gone.
With the fingertips of my other hand I brushed the top of his head. Then I slowly tangled my fingers in his wild, thick brown locks and gently drew my hand downward to the base of his skull. Cedrick trembled as I drew one finger tip lightly down his spine. There was just the trace of fine light brown hairs -- the hairs one finds there on an immature boy -- as I drew my finger over the little knob of his tailbone.
I gripped his cock more firmly now, and continued to slowly jack him. Eyes glazing over the boy stared into space. After a minute of this I gripped his glans between my thumb and two fingers and gradually peeled his satiny foreskin downward, revealing the raw, pink, slightly moist snakehead, and as I did so the boy tensed for a moment, then relaxed and gave a deep sigh. I slid my fingertips down the bottom side of his shaft and cupped his warm balls in their soft sac. I squeezed very gently.
"Yes," I murmured. "It's beginning.
I squeezed his organ more firmly, feeling it growing hotter and more rigid. He breathed a fluttering sigh and licked his lips.
"You do it now," I urged. ""But very slowly. Respect the charm." The boy grabbed his penis and began to stroke it.
"Slower Cedrick, slower. Your sexual power is rising in you, but you're not ready yet. Just let it build. Verrrry gradually."
As the boy carefully worked his cock I began touching his body here and there. A caress of his ear. Four fingertips lightly stroking down the tiny folds of skin of his belly. A fingernail scraping one nipple.
The boy was breathing faster now. His skin glowed with the beginnings of perspiration.
I stopped his stroking with a hand on his wrist.,
"Time for the potion," I announced. With that I drew from a side table a small bottle of a dark liquid. I had told the boy I would be preparing a draught to help counter the love charm. Actually, nothing of the kind was necessary, since of course there had been no love-crazed girl and therefore no such charm placed upon herself at all. But the bottle did contain something I hoped would prove most useful. It continued a very modest, boy-sized dose of the most powerful aphrodisiac known to magical science.
Cedrick drank it down without pause, then made a face.
"Tastes awful." he proclaimed.
"Many of the best potions do, unfortunately. Lie down now."
The boy eyed me a moment, then slowly lay down on his back.
Using both hands now I continued pleasuring his body, touching him very gently, very tantalizingly here and there, on what I hoped were just the right spots. The front of his shoulder. Behind his knee. The arch of his rather delicate foot. His open palm. Meanwhile he continued to slowly masturbate. His organ seemed to have swollen up even larger, and had gone from a healthy pink color to a rather dangerous purple-red. He was breathing harder, and occasionally would roll his head slowly from side to side. The potion, I could see, was beginning to get to him. Time for the next steps.
Stroking with my finger tips down from the tiny fold of skin at the bend of his shoulder, down the muscles of his upper arm which tensed and relaxed as he stroked himself, tenderly over his inner elbow, down to his wrist, I then stopped the movement of his hand. I placed it to his side on the bed.
"One's mind is empty and peaceful," I murmured in his ear. "Just tuning in to the pleasure." His face looked utterly relaxed as he waited passively, eyes closed.
I moistened my lips, took a breath, and then firmly slipped my lips over his glans and downward, until I held the whole head of his penis in my mouth. He gave a little cry then and tensed up a bit, but, caressing his belly very gently I began laving the upped third of his hot organ, my tongue squirming saliva all over it. Wonderfully, astonishingly, he seemed to accept what I was doing! His body relaxed once again.
Gradually I began surging more forcefully, taking him deeper and deeper, and speeding up the pace. He began hunching his hips upward at me, trying to force himself as far into me as he could. His cockhead surged deeply into my throat over and over as I relaxed to receive his youthful, budding masculine power driving itself into me. I felt his fingers on my shoulders. The part of me that still only half-believed all this was happening had faded away, being replaced by a rising tide of pure lust. Sucking him, deep throating him, licking him, nibbling him -- I wanted to eat this beauty up. I wanted him inside me, to devour him, to make him mine. The more I ate his burning cock the more ravenous I became for him. I was feverish with desire. It was as if I too had consumed the aphrodisiac.
However, my crazed lust of him was not so strong that I forgot what I was doing. With no warning I suddenly pulled off his raging organ, grabbed his hairless thighs, slid my hands behind his knees, and bent him double.
Splaying his legs wide apart I paused only a second to admire his rosebud -- a pink knot, tiny and rather cute, completely devoid of hair and just begging to be kissed --before plunging my mouth onto it, nibbling and squirming my lips against it. He cried out in surprise, but still there was nonresistance. Before long he was panting with pleasure. I pushed his hand off his own organ, grabbed his cock and began squeezing it rhythmically as I ate his little ass.
Before long I was able to squirm the tip of my tongue into him, then more of it, then still more. After a few minutes I wasn't sure if he was ready for a finger, but my passion was taking me over. I sucked my finger to get it wet and began pushing it against his back door. I nudged with ever-increasing force against his small opening until he was able to take just the tip. As I had done with my tongue I kept up the steady rhythmic pressure, timing my nudging of his hole with my squeezes of his cock. After a couple minutes of this my finger was mostly inside him. I sat up then and looked at him. He was holding his own knees against his shoulders curled up in a ball, his eyes squeezed shut, face red, gasping and grunting. The potion had hit him full force. I knew he was now completely swept away by sexual passion. There would be no hesitation now, no doubts, no shock or distress that his own professor was about to fuck him. He would be aware of nothing but the craving for more and more pleasure.
The boy's fiery cock was drooling a little pre-cum onto his belly. I slurped the head into my mouth again, and as I did so I drove my finger completely into him. Snapping his head back onto the mattress he let out a yell, but, whether he knew it or not, his ass surged upwards against my hand, as if hungry for more. I began finger fucking him at the same time that I sucked him, and every time I dug my finger into him I pushed hard against his little walnut-sized prostate gland. His body was now writhing beneath me, and his groans and gasps were constant.
The boy was ready for the final act of this little play. Naked under my robe, I quickly unclasped it and tossed it aside. I would have loved to have the boy suck me and lube my cock for me but I didn't know if he was quite out of his mind enough to do that. Grabbing up my wand from the side table I quickly muttered the appropriate charm and instantly my cock was shiny and dripping with lube. I knee walked forward, bent my organ down, and placed the head at the now reddened and slightly distended opening of the boy's ass.
I leaned forward, bracing my hand on the mattress next to the boy's head. He opened his eyes then, and I was shocked at the change. Gone was the serene beauty of those big, innocent boy-eyes. In their place were the narrowed slits of an adolescent crazed with lust. He was panting between clenched teeth.
"You ready to give me your juice?" I panted, my voice desperate and quavering.,
He tried to speak but the excitement was too intense, and he could only cry out, almost with a note of wonder as I drove firmly into him. His virgin ass was tight, of course, but he didn't seem to be in intense pain. His hips snapped and jerked as I began to fuck him. I drove into him over and over. In response he squirmed and surged, bouncing and yelling, bucking like a young colt, his vigorous young body exploding with sexual energy.
It didn't take me long. Another three thrusts and I was driving my seed deep, deep into him, as he yelled and groaned the whole time. Once I had cum I continued plowing him, but I wanted to observe the boy's passion, so I propped myself up on my stiff arms as I continued to fuck. He had spread his arms wide over his head, grabbing the bedposts, his muscles quivering, the dabs of hair in his armpits dark with sweat. I continued to pound him until, spreadeagled, crying out, almost sobbing, he finally gave a great gasp and began to cum.
Boy wizards who are barely 15 certainly are capable of cumming copiously, but I honestly never knew that one so young could produce so much semen. Every time I would jab him deeply his cock would splatter a wad of boy juice over his belly, up onto his chest, even onto his neck and his chin. As he came he thrashed his head, teeth gritted, neck tendons straining. He must have produced a quarter cup of boy juice, maybe more, before he was through. His orgasm left him shaking, and as I pulled out of him and lay down next to him his shaking continued for several more minutes before at last he was still.
The boy gazed into my eyes as we lay comfortably next to each other.
"That was -- so much different than --"
"Than what, Cedrick?"
The boy frowned. "I'd have thought I'd feel . . . I dunno . . ."
"Well, how do you feel?"
The boy smiled a perplexed but relaxed smile. "I feel great! So odd though. I mean, sex with a professor and all . . ."
"You did wonderfully well. You are a naturally lusty boy, and I'm happy to have helped you, well, deepen your knowledge of, of what two people can enjoy doing together. No harm done, none at all!"
He smiled and shook his head, still evidently in a bit of disbelief. He was quiet.
"But professor," he finally said, "I'm afraid, well, we kind of botched things."
"Whatever do you mean, Cedrick?"
"Well, we never got around to collecting some of my -- my semen! You know, for the girl!"
"For the -- oh yes, the girl! You're absolutely right Cedrick! And you certainly did make plenty of it! How could we have forgotten?"
"I know."
"Well, I guess there's only one possible solution."
Cedrick looked at me a minute, then gave a little half-smirk.
"Whatever it was that was causing your problem is certainly throughly cured." I caressed his balls, rather large for his age, and warm in their damp sac. "I believe I have a condom around here somewhere. Think you can squeeze out just a bit more?"