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Le Petite Mort

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Her index and middle finger were sheathed in the moist and warmth of the other woman. Two delicate digits gripped tightly as they were slowly slid in and out in a torturous motion. Thumb and ring finger led themselves either side of the sensitive nub that lay slightly higher, twitching and erect in need. With each withdrawal from the tight heat she would pinch lightly and pull from base to tip and back again as she plunged back into the welcoming channel. The woman above her trust her hips in time trying to savour every microsecond of pleasure that was firing its way down every nerve ending in her body. She wasn’t going to last much longer as her whole body quivered with the anticipation of what was about to happen. Back arching, breath leaving in a grunting moan Minerva McGonagall tipped over the edge into the abyss of heaven, muscles tensed and twitched clamping the fingers tight within her molten core. As the tensing began to subside her mind beginning to refocus on what was happening those fingers began to curl, slowly, tantalisingly. Quickening their assault on the hypersensitive area Minerva could feel her body starting to tense once more, panting in time with the massaging fingers her eyes screwed shut and her head slammed back into the pillow. Mouth open in a silent scream, seeing stars and losing all conscious thought she rode out the second more intense orgasm of the minute. Slowly opening her eyes she sought and found the molten chocolate staring back at her. There was wicked grin on the face of the younger woman as she licked her lips and lowered her head to place a chased kiss under Minerva’s belly button. The stoic witch gasped sharply at the sensation and couldn’t believe her body would be able to take any more. The talented fingers were still sheathed in her and from the look she had just seen she was in no doubt as to what was about to happen. Unable to form words, she couldn’t tell the witch to stop, she couldn’t protest the next move, she couldn’t…

All thought vanished once more as plump moist lips slipped over her protruding clit and sucked it fully into the glorious heat that was the mouth of Hermione Granger. A constant sucking with a tongue flicking frantically at the underside had the headmistress bucking her hips and shouting her completion for the world to hear, before blackness took over and she collapsed motionless onto the bed, breathing shallow and heart racing, limbs week and finally understood after all these years why something so intense had been named Le Petite Mort.