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I Blame Ron Jeremy	By : Bargle5 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3768 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-I Blame Ron Jeremy
- 1
The characters and situations, excluding the original character, portrayed here-in are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. and possibly others. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No money is being made from this story.

Author note: Just moved the disclaimer up so the Mods would be sure to see it. Nothing actually new.

Authors love reviews, even simple one sentence ones. See this address below for an excellent essay on why you should review.

http://www.etc.slashcity.net/maeglin/viewstory.php?sid=9

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The characters and situations, excluding the original character, portrayed here-in are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. and possibly others. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No money is being made from this story.

This story was written for the Mary Sue Challenge at Restricted Section.org, though of course it's a Gary Stu, since I'm male.

Contains:

Humor

Sex, of course

Thinly disguised incidents from my own life

Things from the Rules of Fanfic thread

Poorly disguised wish fulfilment

Descriptions of Ron Jeremy (you've been warned)

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I Blame Ron Jeremy.

Yes, the porn star. It's all his damn fault, bless him.

Start at the beginning I suppose.

My name is Bob Bigglestaff. I'm the repairman here at Hogwarts. Some call me Filch's shadow. I do the repairs that can't be done by wizards or are just simply easier to do by hand.

I was born in the US and my father was in the US Air Force. They had Dad moving around constantly for my first sixteen years (averaged a move a year). He got stationed in the Southeastern US most often and I have a noticeable Southern accent.

The feeling of oddness, being different from the other kids began when I was about eleven. I didn't know it then, but that was me turning into a wizard. How could I not know? Well, both my parents were Muggles, so they didn't have a clue. What about my owl-sent letter telling me I had been accepted to the nearest wizarding school? Never got it.

With my father moving so often, things got screwed up. We were living in Germany at the time of my eleventh birthday. The German school thought I would be attending one of the US schools and the US schools thought I would be attending the German one. One of those, �I thought you did it. No, I thought you did it.' things with the result that I never got an owl message, never got properly taught to use my wizarding powers. I didn't even know I had them. For some reason I didn't cause the usual stress related random magic that I understand is common. I suspected there was something more wrong with me than just the usual teenage angst, but I just thought I was borderline crazy.

Anywho, I attended and graduated from a typical Muggle high school majoring in shop classes. After school, I started working at different odd jobs and since I had a knack for fixing things, I rarely had trouble getting work, but after a while that �I'm weird, I don't belong here.' feeling would make me move along.

So it went until about eight years ago. Europe, specifically England, caught my curiosity. When my savings amounted to enough, I planned to take a long vacation there. Once there, I didn't have a set plan, I just went where my feelings took me. While standing at the train station and trying to make heads or tails of a folded paper time schedule, I leaned against one of the pillars and fell through onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

I was completely dumbfounded. Lucky for me, Professor McGonagall was right there. She somehow quickly figured out what I was and got me on the train to Hogwarts. When I got there, they parked me at the end of the Ravenclaw table and told me to just sit and watch. It was all more than a little strange, talking hats for instance, but for the first time since I was eleven, I felt like I belonged.

After the first evening's feast, Professor McGonagall took me up to meet Headmaster Dumbledore. He questioned me for a while until he had the full story. At last he sat back and said, "Mr. Bigglestaff, I don't quite know what to do with you. You're far too old to become a student, yet you do need some instruction on how to use your powers. Hmm, let me think a bit." After a few minutes he went over to a bookcase and pulled out a book, that is, he did after a few moments of tugging on the door.

"Looks like the hinge screws need tightening." I remarked idly.

He gave me an odd look, "You know how to repair this Muggle artifact?"

"I think so. Mind if I take a closer look?" He waved me over to the case. Sure enough the screws holding the left door had loosened up a bit. My Swiss Army Knife with screwdriver blades was in my pocket. A few twists and the door was put to right.

Dumbledore sat back down, "Mr. Bigglestaff, I think I may be able to offer you a position."

I was hired on as the school's repairman. Soon I learned there aren't many people in the wizarding world that are good at fixing stuff by simple elbow grease. If it can be done with a wand, they're aces. If it can't, they're about lost. Filch could do it, but he spent more time trying catch students at something they weren't supposed to be doing than anything. That didn't bother me. He and his cat struck me as more than a little creepy, so I was glad to not spend time around them.

In the typical way of the military brat, I began to pick up British phrases and a bit of the accent, though it was still very obvious I was a Yank.

My work schedule was set up so I could sit in on classes and get at least some of the basics of wizarding under my belt.

Crabby Professor Snape said he wasn't having me being an irregular in Potions. That didn't sit well with me. After I got a look at the course book, I had to admit though, he was right. Potions would have to wait until I could concentrate solely on it.

Anyway, I settled into a pleasant routine. Working about five or six hours a day, sitting in on classes when I could. They let me live in an old attached large shed that had fallen into disuse. Much of my first six months was spent in getting that place back into liveable condition. I had to spend the bad weather nights in one of the common rooms until I got it finished. I discovered that there were certain areas of the school where some of the suppression spells were weak and Muggle artifacts would function in them. One of these was my shed. With Dumbledore's permission, I was allowed to set up a small electrical generator. I ran the exhaust pipe over to one of the areas where spells worked properly and one of the professors cast a Silencing Charm around it. I doubt there are many at the school who are even aware of it's existence. It allows me to operate a few Muggle devices that I already had or was able to get my parents to ship over to me. I had rented a storage building back in the States before coming to Europe and put my big stuff in it. I had them send me my TV, VCR and my video tape collection. This is where Ron Jeremy comes in. In my collection of tapes, I had a bunch of pornos. Probably around two hundred of mixed full length movies and shorts. I kept them under lock and key in case any of the snoopier students (Weasleys for example) should stumble across them.

After I had been there about two years, I met a certain young girl student. A first year, Hermione Granger. I first noticed her one day when I was sitting in on Transfigurations class. It quickly became clear that here was one bright young lady.

Anyway. I was working on one of the benches in the Great Hall, lying on my back on the floor when I straightened up while I wasn't quite all the way out from underneath it and banged my head a good one. "Sonofa..." I managed to cut myself off before anything more came out.

Then I heard a voice, "Are you all right? Do I need to get Madam Pomfrey?"

I managed to blink the tears out my eyes and saw before me, Hermione.

"Not necessary, I think, Miss Granger, but thank you for asking."

"Let me look." She walked over to me and gently took my head in her hands. "The skin isn't broken, but I think you're going to have a bruise."

"I'd say you're right on that count."

"Why were you under the bench?"

"I was examining the brace to see why it's loose."

"Why don't you just repair it with a spell?"

"I don't know how. I haven't had the proper class nor have I a wand."

"You don't know how to cast spells? Did they take your wand away for some reason or are you a Squib?"

"No, hon, I've never had one nor am I a Squib."

She looked puzzled, "A wizard without a wand? How's..."

I held up a hand for her to stop. "Miss Granger, My head is beginning to ache a bit. I'm going to take some aspirin and have a lie down. If you're still curious tomorrow, come to my shed after the your last class and I'll answer all your questions. It's at the northeast corner of the school."

"I'll do that Mr. ah...."

"Bigglestaff hon, Bob Bigglestaff."

"See you then."

That's how our friendship started. We began to regularly meet on most Thursday evenings at that time. Given her adventures with Harry and Ron, she would miss now and then, but not too often.

After a couple of weeks we took to calling each other Bobby and Hermione when we were alone, but we were always careful to stick to Miss Granger and Mr. Bigglestaff when we were where we might be seen or heard.

She would ask me about anything and everything, what the US was like and so on. Sometimes we would play games, sometimes we would just chat. Her curiosity was most always on though.

Dumbledore found out about our little get togethers and started popping in on us unexpectedly. After a few times, I think he was satisfied there wasn't anything pervy going on and he left us alone.

I think being around me and my stuff helped keep her from feeling homesick at times. A bit of the familiar as it were. She was curious for a time about my Muggle woodworking tools that I used for repairs. Since there wasn't electricity available all around Hogwarts, I had acquired many hand operated ones. I was careful to buy the better quality older ones. Since they had been made for people doing these things for a living, they were better made than most of the stuff you find in shops these days. They were more than adequate for my repair work. She tried her hand at making a birdhouse. It didn't turn out very well, but she very much enjoyed trying.

She was also a determined young lady. She wasn't satisfied with her first birdhouse not turning out well, so she decided to give it a second try.

First I knew something was wrong was hearing a sharp "ow", followed by a frightened "Bobby". Turning around, I saw blood running from her arm and her face had gone pale. I managed to catch her before she hit the floor. After getting her on the couch, I fetched the first aid kit and put a temporary bandage on the cut. A first year was passing by when I went inside the school and I sent him after Madam Pomfrey. When I got back in the shed, she had come to. "It's all right dear. You didn't hit anything important. Madam Pomfrey is on the way." She clutched my hand with her good one, as tears started to run down her cheeks. "Here now, brave Gryffindors don't cry over a little cut." I blotted up the tears with my handkerchief and stroked her hair.

"I fainted, didn't I? How embarrassing." She managed a small smile.

"Don't think a thing about it." I held up my other arm. "See this scar. A few years before I came to Hogwarts, I was visiting my parents. I was making myself a sandwich and while I was cutting open a package of meat, the knife slipped and cut me. While I was arguing with my mother over whether or not I needed stitches, I fainted. One moment I was telling her I didn't need stitches, the next I was laying on my brother's feet. Narrowly missed landing on the coffee table. It can happen to anyone. Don't give it another thought." Madam Pomfrey arrived and looked the cut over. She complemented me on my bandage (thank you Boy Scouts) and applied a healing mixture to the cut and it began healing up immediately. Good stuff, that magical salve.

Hermione thought she'd had enough woodworking for one night and went up to her dorm. The second birdhouse turned out well.

Our relationship wasn't all one way either. With my hit and miss schooling going on, I sometimes would miss critical things. Asking her about what was giving me problems usually resulted in a quick, direct answer pointing out what knowledge I was lacking. I began to actually learn how to do some wizard stuff.

I ran into her one day in Diagon Alley during Christmas break. She came with me to Olivander's to finally get myself a wand. A nice walnut one with a Unicorn hair inside. I was tickled to death with it. Still am even though I don't use it very well.

Things went on this way for five years. One Thursday night when she hadn't shown up after about thirty minutes, I figured she wasn't coming. Probably off on one of her forays around the school with her friends or studying. I hauled out my locked box of pornos and picked out one I hadn't watched in a while. I put the tape in the machine and sat down on the couch and unzipped my pants. No, I didn't take it out and start beating off (wanking they call it over here). I just usually get an erection while watching them and it's more comfortable to give it some space to expand to.

About ten minutes in, Ron Jeremy was about to apply himself to someone when a soft voice came from behind my head.

"Bobby, is this what they call a �nasty'?"

I jumped about two feet and after a bit of frantic flailing about, I got the tape stopped and my pants zipped. If I've ever been more embarrassed in my life, I can't remember it.

Hermione, with her usual curiosity and aplomb, walked around the couch and sat down at the far end from me. "Could you start it back up again?"

"Uh, um, I don't think that would be appropriate Hermione."

"Bobby, I turned seventeen a few weeks ago. The library here doesn't have anything on sex to speak of. The Muggle novels some of the girls have are long on passion, but rather short on detail. I'm not saying I'm going to start jumping into bed with every boy in school, but if I decide I want to have sex with someone, I'd like to have some idea of what I'm supposed to be doing."

I recognized that determined look. "All right, dear." I sat back down at the other end of the couch and picked up the remote and hit �play'.

"Bobby, how come you had your trousers unzipped?"

"Uh, you see darlin', they aren't really designed to accommodate an erect penis."

"Hadn't you better unzip them again then?"

"Thank you, but I don't think I'll be having another one tonight." Or for maybe another month.

Hermione, being Hermione, had a thousand questions.

"Are all men's penises that large?"

After a moment of confusion, I realised she wasn't looking at me, but the TV. "No hon, that's just considered a turn-on by some women and a point of pride by many men. They believe having a larger than average penis makes them more desirable."

"How big is yours?"

I do wish she wouldn't make my jaw drop like that.

"Um, about seven inches when erect. That's about average for men."

"How big is his?" She pointed at the screen.

"Looks like about ten inches."

"Waaaahh." she said in a low, voice

There went my jaw again. I looked over at her and she was not quite containing a giggle. Have I mentioned that she has a wonderful sense of humour, even if she doesn't show it very often?

"I saw that on the Benny Hill Show. He'd see a pretty girl and do that. I'm beginning to get an idea of what he was about." She turned back to the video. Her quill was moving across the page of a small notebook.

"Please tell me you're not taking notes."

"Of course I am. I don't want to forget something important."

"What if someone else sees them. I don't want to try and imagine what will happen if Dumbledore finds out I'm watching pornos with a girl student."

"Don't be silly. I keep a Privacy Charm attached to it. No one can get in it but me."

This went on for several weeks.

"How many slang names are there for a woman's vaginal area, Bobby?"

"Hm, I don't know exactly." Anticipating her next question, I started naming off the ones I could think of. "Muff or muffin, snatch, bush, twat, furburger, poontang, pussy, beaver. There's probably a bunch more I don't know."

"What's your favorite one?"

At this rate I'm going to end up with a dent in my chest.

"Uh, muff."

"Why is it sometimes called muff eating and sometimes muff diving?"

"Well, since the lips and tongue are used for stimulation, that's where the similarity to eating comes in. Diving comes from the natural lubricants produced by a woman's body which causes her to become wet, sort of like water."

"Have you eaten muff, Bobby?"

I was beginning to think tying a small pillow under my chin might be a good idea.

"Um, yes."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeeess."

After we had watched a bunch of different ones, she started asking about some recurring themes and people. "There's a lot of scenes of girls having sex with girls, but none of boys having sex with boys. Why?"

"Well for one thing, this is my collection, so I only include stuff I like and I don't like the guy-guy stuff, but you still won't see many that have guy-guy sex along with guy-girl and girl-girl stuff. It's one of those odd contradictory things in life. I should mention that the primary market for most pornos is straight men. There are videos aimed at the guy-guy crowd, but they're usually meant solely for that group. Most straight men will find the guy-guy stuff a big turn off, but for some reason, many men find the idea of two pretty women pleasing each other extremely erotic. Yes, I am one of those men who find that appealing." I had learned by this point to just go ahead and tell her what my preferences were, because she was going to ask anyway.

"Bobby, why are there so many girls wearing either school uniforms or those cheerleader outfits?"

"Well, those are two of the most popular �naughty fantasy' type girls in the US. I don't know about over here. The school girls are often supposed to be Catholic School girls. They have the reputation of being somewhat sexually repressed, so getting one of them to engage in passionate sex is considered highly erotic. Also they're usually supposed to be underage, which adds to the feeling of doing something wicked. Because you've got someone who wouldn't normally engage in these kinds of things to go against their upbringing, it's got a high �naughtiness' factor that's a big turn on for many.

"The cheerleaders are a bit different. They are usually considered to be a near ideal type. Not only are they usually among the most attractive females in their group, but to do the jumps, cartwheels and other maneuvers that are part of their routines, they are usually in much better than average physical condition with firm, lithe bodies. They will have many of their boy schoolmates vying for their attention. So to get one of these girls, you have to have beaten out a number of other males. Many desire a cheerleader, but few actually succeed in catching the attention of one. Therefore, they're sort of a trophy or symbol of your attractiveness and an example of a rarely attained ideal."

Sometimes, she would ask a real tough one.

"Bobby, what's sexy?"

"Boy, that's a tough one."

"It is?"

"Yes, Hermione. There's many different kinds of sexy. What you see in the videos is a very overt and obvious type of sexiness. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's far from the only type of sexiness. It can be simply having a confident attitude. One that you'll like, some men find a smart woman very sexy."

She turned a very becoming red after that one.

"But, onward. A woman who believes she's sexy, even though she doesn't do anything obvious to show it, can still, somehow, catch your attention and hold it. There's just all kinds of things that are sexy and it ain't always what you'd expect. I'll give you some examples from my own life, since you seem to like those."

There went that red again.

First an example of the overt, but unexpected, kind. A friend of mine's car broke down and he wasn't going to be able to get it fixed for a few days, so I lent him my old car for a while. I had a company truck to drive back then, so it wasn't an inconvenience for me. I stopped by and visited him at work after he got his car back on the road. At the time one of his co-workers was a girl named Margie. Margie was what you'd call very sexually active. Before I got over there that day, my friend had gone to Margie and said, "Hey, Bob did me a good turn and loaned me his car last week. Would do something nice for him?" I should mention that the building they were working in was undergoing an upgrade to the heating and air conditioning system. Much of the old duct work had been removed, but the large floor grates were still in place, so you could look through them as you walked under or over them. When I got there, my friend told me he'd arranged something nice for me as a thank you. "Go stand under that heater grate right over there." I did and when I looked up, I could see a pretty girl wearing a long snug fitting black skirt standing on the grate above.

"Are you Bob?" she asked.

I said I was. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her skirt and slid it up to her waist. She spread her legs apart slightly and I could see that she had modified her panty hose. She had made an opening to her muff. She held up the skirt with one hand and with the other reached down and masturbated herself to orgasm while I watched.

"I said, �Thank you.' and she lowered her skirt and went back to her work. I just loved the homemade open crotch pantyhose"

"The second one happened when I was driving by the local high school. There was a pretty blonde girl sitting on a bus stop bench by the school. I recognized her as one the girls from a local church, one of the more conservative ones. The young girls from it all wore their hair long and straight. Their clothes were usually simple blouses and cotton or denim skirts that came down just past the knee. This girl was a natural blonde with a nice slim figure. The traffic light turned red and I came to a stop right in front of her. She was just sitting there idly playing with the hem of her skirt, one of the light cotton ones, and looking around for her ride to show up. As I looked over at her, she looked away and just then she flipped up the hem of her skirt. I could, for just a second, see all the way up to her hips. She had lovely legs and was wearing a pair of bright yellow panties, er, knickers. The skirt dropped back down and the light changed and I drove off. Why was that so sexy? Because for a moment I saw something I doubt few other men ever got to see. Other girls, when she changed for gym class, maybe her family at home, but not men or boys. And it wasn't because she was doing anything obvious or forced. She was just being herself. No one else was at the proper angle to see what I had just seen. She didn't realize she had done it, so I was the sole witness to that wonderful unguarded moment and the hidden treasure of beauty under a simple straight skirt. Each of those moments is as sexy to me as the other."

Hermione never fiddled with her skirt hem around me after that.

"Bobby why is that hairy man in so many of these?"

"That's Ron Jeremy, Hermione. As I understand it, by porno standards he's a good actor, knows his lines, gets along well with his women co-stars and is reckoned a good sex partner by them. Therefore they tolerate his hairiness and less than slim body."

"Are you that hairy?"

I'm surprised there's not a permanent bruise on my chest. I should mention I usually wear the top button of my shirt undone, so there's a little hair visible. No, I'm not trying show my �manly chest', I just like a loose collar. "No, not quite."

"Can I touch it?" The double meaning struck her and there was that lovely shade of red again. "Your chest hair, I mean."

This should have been the first warning. Typical for me, I completely missed it. "Sure, help yourself." I undid a couple more buttons on my shirt and leaned towards her. Expecting just a quick brush, I was surprised by her actually spending more than a few seconds running her hand around my chest. The only reason I could think of for her hand lingering was because of my chest muscles.

I should explain that for a time I worked in an auto parts warehouse. The company changed suppliers for our line of batteries and as a result, I had to pull off all the old ones and replace them with the new ones. I probably handled over two hundred and fifty batteries in the space of a week with a resultant buildup of chest muscles. One of my female co-workers gave me a funny look the next week and asked, "Bob, are you growing tits?"

Anyway, I tucked the memory of her hand on my chest away to enjoy later when I was alone. We went back to watching the video.

"Bobby, why does the man most always pull out and, erm, orgasm on the woman rather than inside her?"

"That, my dear, is what's called in the business of porno films, the �money shot'. It's done to prove that the man at least has had a real orgasm. The woman can usually successfully fake it, but the man can't. It has to be a real orgasm. Also many find the sight of the come shooting out and landing on the woman very erotic, especially on the face or breasts. Also, if the woman licks it off herself or gathers it up with a finger and puts it in her mouth is considered very stimulating by many. Ron Jeremy is known to be excellent at being able to time his ejaculation."

Hermione looked doubtful, but made notes any way.

One night as we were watching one, Hermione gave a little start, "That girl looks like Lavender!"

I had to agree. It wasn't her, of course. These were US videos, several years old, but the resemblance was definite. A brunette actress went over to where the Lavender look alike was sitting on a couch watching a videotape of her husband having sex with women at his office. The brunette tried to comfort the blonde, leading to a round of girl/girl sex. My inner monologue started tapping me on the shoulder, trying to get my attention. The brunette looks like Hermione. The resemblance wasn't as strong, but it was there, especially the bushy hair. I wondered if Hermione had caught that. My eyes slowly turned a bit to the right. It was about then I realised I hadn't heard any notes being written for the last few minutes.

Hermione was staring intently at the screen, her lips a little apart and breathing more deeply than usual. I was sure her nipples hadn't been erect when she sat down. (Yes, I look if I don't think she'll notice. They're quite nice.) I turned my attention back to the screen before she noticed me staring. The video ended and I was putting it back in the trunk while Hermione gathered her things and left after a quick good night. As I suspected, there was a small, but definite damp spot on her end of the couch.

We got onto clothing one night.

"Rubber skirts?"

"Yes, Hermione, it's one of those things that doesn't appeal to me, but there are people who find them very stimulating. I can't explain why. Leather is very popular, that at least makes sense to me, though it's not a favorite of mine."

"Is there any special clothing you do like?"

"Oh, let's see. Well, those homemade open crotch pantyhose I told you about before. Sheer bras that fasten in the front. Knit stockings that go all the way up to mid thigh. Tight jeans, not those current �falling off your ass' style, but the ones from the 80s, the designer ones. Mini skirts, tube tops. I do like both those school girl outfits and the cheerleader ones we discussed a while back."

Sometimes we'd get off on a more personal tangent. I noticed Hermione wasn't talking nearly as much tonight.

"Something else on your mind, hon'?"

"Well, today, one of the Slytherins called me �stick girl'. When I look at the women in the videos, I see a lot more curves than I've got and I wonder if boys will ever want to... and... and..."

Then the tears started rolling down her cheeks. I got right next to her and put my arms around her and tucked her head into my shoulder and let her cry herself out.

"Honey, let me show you something."

I skimmed through the porno box until I found the right tape, put it in the machine and fast forwarded to the scene I wanted.

We watched a very slim redhead crawl under the desk of a man, unzip his pants and begin to suck his cock. Every so often, she'd pause and remove a piece of clothing, then go back to sucking. After she got down to just a sheer bra across her small breasts, a garter belt, (suspenders they call them over here) and stockings, the man pulled her out from under the desk, sat her down on it and slipped his cock inside her. After a few minutes of his pumping for a bit, then changing positions, (which we got to see from a variety of angles), she orgasmed (or appeared to), then he had her start sucking him again until he told her he was about to come and then she began rapidly stroking him with her hand until he shot across her breasts. She gathered it up with her fingers, stuck them in her mouth and sucked them clean with a very pleased expression on her face. I stopped the tape and turned to Hermione.

"Did you see that, Hermione?"

"Yes, but why did you want me to see that particular scene?"

Every once in a while, one even gets by her.

"Hermione, if I'm any judge of clothed figures, the girl in that scene has less �curvature' than you do. That man has been in a bunch of pornos with every extra curvy actress working at the time. Yet that little redhead, who's even slimmer than you, was able to take him from flaccid to full erection and orgasm. He didn't mind that she's a thin little thing, she pleased him and did it as well as any of his curvier co-stars. You got nothing to be feeling inadequate about, Hermione. You've got it within you to satisfy anyone willing to give you a chance."

She blushes really nicely.

One Thursday night, she comes in wearing lipstick. Nothing obvious, a quiet shade, but even that's unusual for Hermione. Her hair seemed a bit less bushy than usual. She was wearing one of the regular school skirts except the hemline stopped four or five inches above her knees. Her legs are very nice. Nylons were covering them, also unusual for her. When she leaned over to set down her school bag by the corner of the couch, I realised the top the two buttons of her blouse were undone and she was wearing a sheer red bra. I could swear her hips swung a bit more than usual when she walked around behind the couch and hugged my shoulders and kissed my neck. Easy Bob. Don't think about what's pressing against your shoulders. She's just your friend. A rather young friend. Also, there's probably all sorts of rules about touching the female students in any manner.

"Bob, I don't think I've ever said thank you for all the time you've spent with me since I came here. I want you to know I've enjoyed it greatly. You're a good friend."

"Thank you, Hermione. Believe me, it's been just as much a pleasure for me." I hugged her back.

"Bob, could we watch that one with the girl that looks like Lavender again? There's something I'd like to review."

"Fine with me." When I bent over to look at the box of tapes, I felt something slide lightly across my ass. That was her knuckles. Just an accident, surely. With her back to me, she bent over to take her notebook out of her bag and I caught a glimpse of something brown out of the corner of my eye. I didn't pay it much mind right then. She sat down and I started the tape.

"Oh, Bobby, I nearly forgot. Would you mind taking a drink of this potion? It's supposed to give you improved hearing for a few hours. It's hard to be objective myself, so I'd like another opinion."

"Sure, why not?" My friend, inner monologue, coughed to get my attention. I think that was pubic hair earlier. Those nylons go all the way up, no suspenders, so that means there's only one way she could be showing muff hair. They're crotchless, boyo. The video got to the scene with the two lookalikes again. Out of the corner of my eye I could see her arm moving. Inner monologue tapped me on the shoulder, Where's her quill? I slowly shifted my vision towards her. The notebook was bobbing about a bit because Hermione's hand was busy underneath it between her thighs. The staring and deep breathing were back. I felt the couch shake ever so slightly. A soft noise escaped from her. I pretended not to notice. After the video ended, we just sat silently for a few moments, then she got her quill out and acted like she was doing her normal note taking.

First question: "Bobby, do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes Hermione, very pretty."

Second question: "Bobby, do you think I'm sexy?"

"Um, yeeesss." Where is she going with this?

"Well then, Bobby," Her voice sounded a little bit nervous and strained, "would you like to fuck me?"

I now understand the meaning of dumbstruck. My mind got all fuzzy, and I'm pretty sure I gaped for a bit.

Hermione mistook this for rejection.

"I dressed up the way you like and I, erm, pleased myself while you watched and you said I'm sexy, so why don't you want to..." Here came the tears. I moved over and sat down beside her and put an arm around her.

"Oh hon, it's not that at all, it just never occurred to me that you would want me to. It's quite a surprise."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a good deal younger than me and I'm a bit of an overweight lump."

"But you're sweet and kind. I know you really like me. You're always looking at my bits. (Inner monologue was exultant. Hah! Not as discreet as you thought.) You're very gentle with your hands. I know I can trust you not to go around giving me a reputation as a slut. You showed me with these videos that a guy doesn't have to be real handsome to be a good lover. Your not as big or hairy as Ron Jeremy. Please, Bobby, I want you."

Who can resist that kind of request? My damned inner monologue interrupted things. What if Dumbledore finds out? I looked Hermione up and down, took my inner monologue by the throat, shoved him in a closet and locked the door. He's a bloody nuisance some days.

I unbuttoned my shirt a bit. Once again her hand began rubbing my chest and then it traveled up behind my neck and pulled me over for a kiss. She tasted like peaches. The lipstick, I assume. My hand started tracing little patterns on her thigh. Apparently, since Hermione had already brought herself to orgasm once already, this wasn't moving things along quickly enough for her. I say this because next she straddled me, quickly unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra. Yes, they looked as lovely as I had imagined. Then I couldn't see them anymore because my hands were covering them. I tasted peaches again and her tongue was doing things I hadn't felt in a long time. I took advantage of a moment when her tongue wasn't in my mouth to speak, " �er... min... ee... stop."

"What? Why Bobby?"

"Because I really need to unzip my trousers."

"Let me, please."

"Okay, just hurry." After backing off my lap, she quickly got the zipper down. She's very clever with her fingers. I know because the next thing she did was the give me the best hand job I've ever had. I'm not sure exactly what she did because my eyes were squeezed shut the whole time. "Hermione! I'm about to come!" No exaggeration there. A drop landed on her chin, the rest on her chest. With a finger she put the drop from her chin in her mouth. Her expression turned thoughtful as she held the finger in her mouth for several seconds. I waited for her verdict. With a delightfully wicked grin, she gathered up the rest from her chest and sucked her fingers clean. My head was getting a bit buzzy by now. Her fingers returned to my erection.

Erection? That shouldn't be. I looked down. Indeed I had a full erection again. Confusion wrinkled my brow. I looked back up at Hermione.

"Bobby, I lied earlier. That potion wasn't to help your hearing, it was a Potency Potion. For about two hours after it starts working, you'll be able to have many orgasms with less than a minute between ejaculating and the next erection. I hope you don't mind?"

The possibilities clouded my mind briefly. I returned to earth. "No, I don't think I'll mind that at all." Her fingers started playing along my shaft.

"So, Bobby, would you like me to suck your cock next?"

Whimpering is not a dignified method of communication. Thankfully she took that as a yes. Her lips moved close to the head, until I could feel her breath on it. Her face tilted up to look into my eyes. That low voice I'd heard once before, again said, "Waaaahh." And again some giggling. Starting at base of the underside, she slowly ran her tongue out to the tip. Pausing for a moment, she looked up at me again, then back to what was in front of her. Her fingers gripped the bottom half. A brief suck of just the head. Now she began easing me well into her mouth. Her tongue went back into action, then she began sliding back. A tongue flick on the underside and heading down again. I moaned loudly and gently put my hand on her head. She stiffened for a moment. When she realized I wasn't pushing, she started again. "A little faster, please. Oh, yes, yes." For the next little while I was pretty much reduced to making odd noises as her head bobbed up and down. Finally I felt the pressure building, "I'm about to come, Hermione!" I fully expected her to remove her mouth and finish me with her hand, instead her head, tilted a little to one side, remained in place as her hand was stroking the bottom half. My muscles bucked as I released for the second time that night. Her throat worked briefly. She had swallowed it. I don't why I was surprised, but I didn't complain.

She sat back and asked, "What would you like to do next?"

There was that lightheaded feeling again. After a couple of slow breaths while I tried to look thoughtful, I decided it was payback time. "Stand up please." Standing myself, I leaned forward and started kissing and sucking her nipples. Her hand began stroking my hair. I trailed kisses up her chest, along her neck and over to her lips. A pause. Considering what I had in mind next, I made a suggestion, "Better take those shoes off." Gently I positioned her on the edge of the couch making sure to push her skirt up to her waist and spread her legs. Kneeling in front of her, I reached out and ran my finger down her slit. Rewarded with a moan, I did it again with a little more pressure this time. My finger began slipping between her folds and I did it again a little deeper. More moaning and wetness. I kept on until finally my fingertip felt a little bump. That got a loud groan and a shudder.

"Yes, Bobby, right there." My finger continued on down and then inside. Her hips shifted towards me as I began to stroke in and out. Time for stage two. Leaning my head forward, I reached out with my tongue and buried it in her folds and worked my way down until I felt the little nub. Keeping in mind something I heard from Snape once, I began to repeatedly ring the doorbell. Her answer was hips bucking upwards, a ripple of muscles just in front of my eyes and a loud yell. I felt a heel thump my back and was glad I'd thought about the shoes. There was an expression of mixed wonder and pleasure on her face when I looked. "Can you do that again?" I never turn down a reasonable request from a lady, though I wish her thighs hadn't squeezed my head so hard the second time.

Now I began to feel a twitching between my legs. Evidently a side effect of the potion is it doesn't like lengthy waits between orgasms. I finished undressing myself. Moving back to the couch, I leaned down and hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her pantyhose. "Lift your hips please." She did and I slid them down to her knees. After she lowered her bum back down, I took them the rest of the way off. Here's where a bit of serendipity came in. I discovered that if I knelt in front of the couch, I was perfectly lined up to enter her. So I did. Slowly at first until I was all in. Yes, she was tight, very nicely so. My hands cupped her ass (arse they say over here) and I began thrusting. I pretty much went into auto-pilot here until I realised Hermione was saying my name and not out of passion, she was trying to say something.

"Bobby, would you like to change position?"

"Hermione, honey, this is not a porno video. This position is just fine. If you don't shut up and let me finish fucking you, I swear I'm going to scream and not in a good way." Just to make it clear I wasn't really mad, I took her head in my hands and kissed her hard. She liked that and wrapped her legs around me. A bit more thrusting and I felt her shudder and clench around me. Of course I couldn't hold back after that, so I didn't. Slumping forward, I put my head on her shoulder and let my breathing get back to normal. The potion kicked in again and I began to stiffen again. "Now I'd like to change position, Hermione." My knees said they'd had enough of kneeling for a while, so I moved her around behind the couch. With her resting her arms on the back, I lifted her skirt up and laid it on her back. My fingers again began to stroke her pussy.

"Bobby, don't tease me. Put your cock in me. I want it."

Well, I'm no tease, so I took hold of her hips and gave her what she wanted. Seeing and feeling that beautiful little bum bounce against me has to be one of the most erotic things I've ever known. After a bit, I once again felt her shudder and groan. Yea, I finished as well. Doesn't do to overstay your welcome, you know. This time I stayed limp afterwards. Bloody potion had finally worn off. At this point I needed a rest and I suspected, so did Hermione. We went back around the couch and sat down. Her head rested on my shoulder.

"Bobby, thank you. That was a wonderful first time. You're so sweet." A kiss landed on my mouth.

I began replaying the evening in my mind. "Hermione, if this was your first time, how come I didn't feel your hymen break?"

"Apparently, I broke it myself some time back. I think it was that time during my third year when I fell off my broom and did a split. There was a sting at the time. I was having my period then, so I wouldn't have noticed a little extra blood. I planned to break it myself a couple of weeks ago with one of Lavender's dildos. I didn't want there to be any pain during our first time. It was rather surprising when it went all the way in without stopping. Felt very nice though."

That's Hermione, always planning ahead.

"Bobby, what do think of my inviting Lavender to join us for a threesome next time?"

That dent in my chest is never going to heal.
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I Blame Ron Jeremy