A Confession by Hermione G.

BY : Scarlett-Pimpernel
Category: Harry Potter > General > General
Dragon prints: 37167
Disclaimer: DISCLAIMER: This project is based on and features characters and content that I do not own, nor is the content monetized by me. I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Year Four: The Dick Whisperer
“Always mind the cods!”, a guest tutor, somnambulists, and the study of oral pleasure

 

“But this is highly irregular!” The voice of that indominable professor and head of my academic house was unmistakable as I appeared for my next session of tutelage. My mentor had previewed the session, hinting that the next step in my sexual education would include a “guest lecturer.”


“Oh, good evening, Miss G,” said Professor M as she noticed my entrance.


“Good evening, Professor” I replied, blushing.


I had rarely seen the professor flustered, and the novelty tickled me somewhere quite deep in my soul.


“Very well, then I suppose we had best get on with the lesson,” she said, directly her gaze and comment back at her colleague as she fussed with the lacy front of her gown.


“Just so,” said Professor S. “Follow me.”


He led us through his chamber and down the stairs toward the old dungeon. He opened the door and we stepped across the transom. Inside were three figures bathed in the flickering light of many candelabra. Three young men in their bedclothes. They stood at attention, eyes focused far away, glassy and dreamy in their aspect. I recognized them as upper classmen; they varied in stature; they were all quite delicious.


“Ah, I should have guessed,” said Professor M. “Quite clever, Professor S.”


“Somnambulism,” he said simply.


“Sleep walking?”


“Indeed, Miss G,” confirmed Professor M.


“A common enough occurrence on the premises and the somnambulist is never to be disturbed.”


“And so may wander around the castle without a certain caretaker harassing them.”


“Just so,” said Professor S. “Tonight’s lesson signifies the next step in your instruction: the art of oral pleasure. It is a lesson I thought perhaps better delivered from one with more direct knowledge and expertise. From the horse’s mouth, so to speak,” he added with a wry grin, a rare touch of humor at his colleague (and sometime lover’s) expense. “Professor M, the floor is yours,” he said, seating himself.


“Thank you, Professor. Equestrian references notwithstanding,” she said. “I suppose we had best begin with the Hebrew,” she added, half to herself.


“I’m sorry, Professor?”


“The Jewish student in the center, Miss G,” she added with a hint of frustration. “Your circumcised member being more forgiving for the amateur fellationist.”


“Of course, Professor,” I said, dropping my eyes deferentially and somewhat ashamed at having floated an obvious question her way like a slow lob over the tennis net, to have it smashed decisively in my face. She paced for a moment and then her voice took on that tone of serious instruction propelled by deep thought and the lesson was launched…


“The art of fellatio,” she began, “is one that all aspiring practitioners of the sexual arts must master. To the ancients, a woman skilled in the art of fellatio could command a price beyond rubies. Please address yourself to the Hebrew,” she added.


“Do not be concerned, Miss G,” added Professor S. “The young men will remain under the thrall of sleep and I expect, recalling only what I expect will be very pleasing dream - but that is up to you!”


With a flourish of her wand, Professor M transfigured an old bucket into a velvety pillow and via magical levitation, placed it at the young man’s feet.


“You will find that more comfortable than cold stone, I fancy,” she said. “One should never feel compelled to sacrifice one’s own comfort when providing pleasure to another.”


I knelt before the Jewish young man and, heart pounding, gently tugged down the waistband of his pajama pants and so came-to-grips with my first member. From my earliest awareness of the penis - a mélange of horror and fascination - I desired to take it into my mouth. This struck me as a natural cavity, holster, or receptacle for the fascinating organ, even more so than my cunny.


“Very good,” said Professor M, “A fine specimen with which to begin. Obviously, every fellow responds differently to various techniques, but some cursory stroking of the loins should initiate some stirring in the peccant part. A young man rarely requires much encouragement before becoming aroused.”


Catching her drift, I ran my hands up and down the smooth, firm flesh of his thighs. Many hairs had begun to sprout thereabouts but had yet to attain the wiry texture of the mature male. His member was quite attractive - and responsive. I felt his frame give a little shudder as I stroked him and even perceived a little moan from him as his penis pulsed, throbbed, to a state of erection straightaway, the beautifully shaped head bobbing in my face. And while I have met and manipulated many, many members since that night, this first article looms large in my memory. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever beheld.


“Oh, I see we have a lively subject!” said the Professor. “Very well, Miss G, you may take hold of the shaft - gently but firmly, just as you would your wand - and, I suggest that you begin by kissing the head, or glans, of the penis.”


I did as instructed, my lips immediately sensing the throbbing of the stiff member.


“Now, lightly part your lips and lick the head and the little ridge around the base. Now, take the head into your mouth, using your lips and tongue to caress it, Swirl the tongue… around the head, the rim, and particularly the frenulum, the underside of the head…”


Her words were deliberate, the resonance of his voice thrilled me, almost as if casting a spell of lust.


“Now, let the phallus slide into the chamber of your mouth. But do not feel compelled to take it entirely into the throat - lest you gag!”

 

I smelled and tasted - and appreciated - the lingering vestiges of soap from a recent bath.


 “Now, it is important in these early stages of praxis, Miss G, to take care with your teeth. The penis, in spite of the turgidity is a comparatively delicate piece of equipment. Of course, as your advance in skills, the teeth may be brought to bear in a variety of ways - especially effective for teasing, and toying with your prey, so to speak,” she said with a sideways glace at Professor S.


 “Eventually, move your head up and down so that your lips caress as much of the shaft as you can comfortably accommodate. However, the shaft is considerably less sensitive than the head, so return to it frequently unless the man asks for something different.”


“Now, stroke the shaft as his erection builds…Yes, stroke that shaft…” Then, in what would become the most memorable piece of direction I ever received - and that re-plays in my head with each oral encounter - the Professor sharpy scolded me: “Bolllocks! Do not neglect the bollocks, Miss G! They are precious and quite sensitive, and most practitioners fail to give them their do, upstaged as they are by the shaft itself. Cradle them with care, respect and reverence! For the bollocks are the factories of life! Very good. Now you may feel free to lick or nibble the scrotal sack. Very good. Now, you may take a bollock into your mouth!”  

 

She directed me as well, to the sensitive cords of muscle between the scrotal sack and the anus. “It is a particularly peccant part that should not go unappreciated or unserviced!”


“Now, please readdress your attentions to the shaft. Be so good as to alternate sucking with licking the head and shaft…Flick your tongue rapidly around the head. Stroke the shaft with both hands while sucking or licking the head. Fondle the scrotum as you suck, Miss G! Neglect not the bollocks! Gently squeeze the head between your thumb and forefinger. Now, gently slap his erection against your lips or outstretched tongue. Very good!”

 

I continued to follow her directions diligently, returning to the shaft and pumping it eagerly into my mouth. Then, for the first time - but certainly not the last - an ejaculatory explosion took me by surprise, splashing my palette with a strong, bleachy taste of spunk. It was only by the grace of the gods that I did not choke on the stuff, though it leaked from my mouth and dribbled down my chin.

 

“Oh, I see our subject is a somewhat stealthy ejaculator. Well done, Miss G , an admirable first servicing. Fret not over any spillage or seepage of the vital fluid! There can be no lovemaking without the dispersal of the spermatic juices!”


After wiping my chin, I continued directly to the next subject, with a member considerably larger than the first.

“We may note that this subject is quite well endowed! And we have here the added complexity of the foreskin. Do not be intimidated. Just proceed as we have discussed.”

 

Like my first guinea pig, an erection was easily produced by a variety of stroking, fondling and kissing. And as I began to work the shaft in and out of my mouth, the Professor coached me in the manipulation of the foreskin with my lips. The stroking of the shaft required the deployment of both hands and when it came, his ejaculation was presaged by a series of recognizable spasms and so I was well prepared to manage it. In a brief pause between the second and third experiment, the Professor expounded upon the merits of swallowing versus “expelling the ejaculate from one’s mouth.”

 

“There is a good deal to be said for tasting and swallowing the spermatic juices - especially in instances when one is afraid of soiling one’s garments or marring one’s makeup. And of course, one’s partner may express a preference that should be considered. However, never let this sway you, Miss G! The choice is entirely ours as to the disposition of the ejaculate! However, there is a great deal to be said for the receiving of the ejaculate upon one’s person and few things are more erotic than to share a deep kiss with a subject while the juices still linger on our palette.”


 Turning, finally to the third young man, the professor said: “I do believe, Professor, that young Miss G is getting the hang of things. We may even press on to the question of the so-called ‘deep throat.’ In this case, Miss G, we will practice taking the entire length of the member - considerable in this young fellow’s case. Bear in mind that a woman is less likely to gag when men remain still and allow us to control fellatio. It is with the lover who favors a so-called ‘skull-fuck’ that one must be wary. Anxiety is our enemy, here. But, to show you that there is nothing of which to be afraid, I will demonstrate!”


And so, kneeling before the student’s erection, she confidently took it into her mouth and drew it in-and-out several times. Then, she took the member deep into her gullet, her lips coming to rest against his crop of pubes, snugly against the scrotal sack, the underside of which she gently prodded so as to reinforce her emphatic stipulations in that regard. “Self-training can dampen the gag reflex,” continued the Professor as I took the shaft deeper and deeper into my throat. “While brushing your teeth, brush the back of your tongue. Breathe deeply and visualize yourself not gagging. Discover the point at which you gag. Over a few weeks, you should notice that you don’t gag as easily.”


With that, it was my turn to take over following the impressive example of the Professor. After repeating the previous steps of stroking with, of course, a good deal of attention to the bollocks. I gathered the gumption and ventured my first deep throating.

 

“Oh, admirable work,” Miss G, crowed the Professor, causing me to blush with pride. “One may see that you truly appreciate a good phallus. Professor S, I believe we may have a prodigy in our presence!”


 As I returned to to pumping the shaft out of my mouth, keeping the skin of the shaft taught and taking care to work my tongue against the frenulum as instructed, the muscles of my neck began to scream. A certain amount of conditioning would be necessary, I quickly realized, if I was indeed to become a proficient at this craft.


“While providing fellatio, you may see fit to massage him elsewhere, “ added the Professor. “Some men enjoy anal sphincter massage during fellatio. Others like being fingered in that place—though you must take care to keep your nails trimmed before playing at such games!


 “And, of course, the waking subject may desire you to gaze into their eyes as you work. Many fellows find this quite exciting, do they not, Professor?”


“Indeed,” he replied, deadpan. “I once knew a witch who claimed she could bring about a climax simply by gazing into one’s eyes.”


“Very good, Miss G,” said Professor M when I had brought about the climax of the last fellow. “I am quite pleased with this night’s work.” Without more ado, she shuffled out of the room, leaving me to restore myself. Professor S dismissed me to my room in order that he could return the sleepwalkers to their beds. Returning to my own, flushed and excited, I found it necessary to undertake certain masturbatory practices before surrendering to slumber. Over the next several weeks, I was called to practice on more somnambulists until Professor M judged that I was ready to be “safely unleashed upon the universe of male-dom to spread oral pleasure.”


In subsequent days, I happened to cross the Jewish upperclassman whose smooth prick had provided fodder for my first, memorable foray into fellatio. He did a double take as he passed me in the hall, a quizzical expression on his face and it was all I could do to stifle a grin. Others that had served as my tutorial subjects, seemed to regard me somewhat quizzically as well when I came across them, and their unwitting participation in my ‘baptism by sperm.’ Thus, the practice upon the sleepwalkers had the added benefit of ‘greasing the wheels’ for future encounters as I did indeed enjoy waking pleasures with several of my subjects at future junctures, earning, I am proud to say, the sobriquet “The Dick Whisperer.”

Of course, many hours of diligent practice lay ahead before I could truly claim competence. Fellatio still ranks for me as a consummate skill, one I continue to stive to perfect. After that memorable night of tutelage, the cock continued to grow and swell into a sort of psychic obsession. But my study - and heart - was about to take an unexpected turn toward a quite different set of genitalia.

 

 



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