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A Confession by Hermione G.	By : Scarlett_Pimpernal Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 45315 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Year Five: The Kiss or Romance with Rani
A sideline of study leads to my first real affair. “It was all quite innocent - until it was not”
Early in our informal program of tuition, the Professor mused: “I think the kiss, the use of the tongue is perhaps the most important and, dare I say, overlooked quality for an adept lover," he said. “In many ways, the kiss is the most intimate of acts.” He then added: “If you really want to master it, I suggest you take another woman with whom to practice.” His words lingered in my mind over the subsequent days, amplifying in meaning from day to day. Had my friend Myrtle been corporeal, I would have engaged her straightaway for a lesson in kissing, but alas, I was forced to direct my fantasies elsewhere. I had, for as long as I could remember, been fascinated by female beauty. The discovery of pornography tossed petrol on those flames of curiosity until my fantasies swelled into a lustful conflagration.
Rani S. was my roommate for 5th year. Because of our academic standing, we were appointed to share a large, corner room, circular, with its own bathroom. We had a spectacular view of the lake via the leaded windowpanes that were guarded by a stone gnome and gargoyle on either side. I became quite fond of these figures during my residence and often found myself giggling over the salubrious events to which they stood silent guard. Did they gossip, I wondered, while we slumbered?
Rani was a stunning beauty from the south of India: Skin of deep rich mahogany common to that region; flashing white smile of perfect teeth; twinkling brown eyes full of intelligence and mischief. Like many of us young women in the throes of puberty, her frame was long, thin and coltish, her breasts were still smallish, firm, but of beautiful shape and embellished by prominent nipples of dark chocolate with which I was to become quite familiar.
Based on my attraction to her and the convenience of our situation as roommates, Rani became a natural target for my experimentation in the art of the kiss. I do not like to see myself as a coquette or seductress, however, the fact that I am guilty of plotting numerous liaisons may give-the-lie to that claim. I began by testing the waters and undressing in Rani’s presence. When I noticed her checking me out more and more, I felt comfortable to escalate my plans.
The next step in my seductive efforts involved soliciting her opinion on various fashion choices or help in fastening bra straps. This was simply a stratagem conceived to allow me to appear bare breasted or even entirely nude before her. A ritual of sorts evolved as she began to follow suit: placing the lacy cups over our bare boobs before turning to one another with the direction: “Right, hook me up!”
We each received gossip magazines regularly from our parents that kept up apprised of the sordid lives of the rich-and-famous of the mundane world in our respective countries. We would often lie side-by-side on one of the beds, magazines open before us, taking turns explaining the various characters involved: Bollywood actresses besmirched in the pages of Rani’s magazine, Page 6 girls caught in flagrante with MPs in mine. There was an element of titillation, feeling her body next to mine, exchanging quips and hinting at naughty encounters and confessions of mild fantasies.
It was quite easily to escalate this chaste exercise by introducing a magazine that I had borrowed from my father’s collection. It featured lovely pictorials: a nude blonde, swathed in lingerie, caressed by soft focus; a pair of lovers explicitly captured in flagrante from flirtation to penetration to completion with a pearly discharge artfully deposited across bare breasts; and finally, with regard to the mission-at-hand, an encounter between two nubile women, a blonde and a brunette, in a hidden bower al fresco.
As the familiar pages turned, I felt my own heat rising and a pronounced wetness seeping between the legs. With bent knees and swinging feet, I was able to bring some much-needed stimulation to my clitoris, but hardly enough to satisfy. I was growing incredibly horny, sides of the thighs growing damp. Once we proceeded past the first pictorial, I knew Rani was interested. As we ogled the image of the tongue-kissing ladies, I grew confident of closing this deal. When she cast me a playful sideways glance, brown eyes sparkling, and uttered the words, “So sexy!”, I reckoned it was time to risk action.
The moment of our first kiss was so entirely erotic, so exciting, it is indelibly etched in my memory where scores of other encounters have faded. The soft, slippery wetness, the interplay of our tongues was entirely intoxicating. I remember pulling away so that only our tongues remained in contact, the tips continuing a subtle congress, mimicking the image in the magazine. This mode of kissing with extended tongues is still my favorite, feeling as it does, quite brazen and lewd. This was the opening salvo of what would become an extended and elaborate affair.
My first orgasms with a partner – with Rani – were intense and quiet; certainly, none of the bucking, screaming and thrashing that seems to be the common, cliched mode of behavior in films. The first time I came, grinding my sex against Rani’s thigh in the midst of a heavy and prolonged bout of tongue kissing, took me quite by surprise. I remember squeaking out a small “oh!” like a church mouse, which caused Rani to ask if “everything was alright?”
“Yes, quite, lovely, oh, I just came!”
And then we laughed, before continuing along.
Orgasmic exercise then became our focus as we graduated from “making out.” In addition to frequent grinding against one another, we would lie against one another, “spoon” fashion; the partner behind reaching around to finger the partner in front. In the beginning, we could work together to produce an orgasm, teaching one another our respective masturbatory techniques. But then, as we became more familiar with the proper amount and patterns of pressure to bring about a sexual crisis, guidance was no longer required. We became extremely deft at diddling one another.
Rani’s body would grow more and more tense against mine, and her orgasms tended to be accompanied by long, luxuriant exhalations during which she would stretch out her legs and sometimes moan ever-so-softly. I became addicted, as it were, to the particular feeling of happy accomplishment when bringing a partner to climax, something that would grow more and more as I added male partners to the scope of my sexual experiments, with the drama and lewd beauty of their ejaculation. On occasion, I have had female partners with a proclivity to “squirt” during climax, something that delights me to no end. And I've been known to squirt, myself, on occassion.
Having brought Rani to a climax, I would, surreptitiously at first, but later quite brazenly, bring my fingers to my nose and mouth to revel in her aroma. From the probing, rubbing and fondling of Rani’s peccant parts, her clitoris and labia, I began to push deeper, penetrating her with first one and then another curious finger, anxious to feel the slick interior of her sex canal. Up until that point, most of our intimate work took place in shadow, or under the bed covers. But my eyes hungered for her flesh as well. And at this point in our liaison, it is as if a dam burst, giving flood to a carnal need.
We began presenting ourselves to one another under candlelight, offering up our bodies to thorough inspection. Eager to taste my friend, I thrust my mouth upon her sex and so began a long fascination with the practice of cunnilingus. I love to explore the fleshy geometry of another woman’s sex with my tongue: the particular shape and texture of those intimate folds and petals, the unique configuration of a partner’s clitoris, and, of course the rich variety of taste and smell.
My first experiments suffered from a surfeit of zeal, but over time, my technique became more refined. My favorite mode was simply to present a firm tongue to Rani’s bottom hole and from there, trace slowly up, parting her cunt lips and ending with a firm pressure against her clit. This motion – slow, steady, remorseless – repeated over and over, sometimes for the better part of an hour, never failed to provide dramatic results. In the early stages of my assault, Rani’s body would melt into the bed and she would languidly roll her head from side to side, sometimes cooing or making funny little quips. Then, as my assault developed, a period of rising tension in her body would occur, punctuated by delicious twitching of her limbs, the inner muscles of her thighs, her belly. She would clutch at the bedding; her breath would catch, and a quivering state would begin as the whimpered for release. At this point, I would deliberately lessen my pace of my tongue through the wet flesh. With my hands grasped against her strong flanks, or sometimes resting on the corded muscles of her inner thighs, I tried to gauge her progress to the point of crisis. Ultimately, she would break into a long, long, lovely release.
Of my dear first lover, it must be mentioned that when it came to erotic pleasure, she gave as good as she got. I recall vividly the first time she trailed her tongue down my belly inexorably toward my sex. I knew what was coming and I craved it intensely, clutching the bedding in my fists as she inched closer and closer until he tongue glided over my clit, causing me to moan and shudder, before she clamped her mouth down onto my labia and delivered that first direct genital kiss, her strong tongue pushing past the transom of flesh. Her technique, often quite merciless, often drove me to the edges of erotic despair. I simply could not get enough of her ministrations and for most of fifth year, I spend an inordinate amount of time in my bed chamber with Rani “catching up on sleep.”
- 8
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- 10
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A Confession by Hermione G.