I've yet to witness anything like it.My eyes had never been quite so wide as they were then, although even the most pronounced of Wizarding porn was no stranger to me. I'd seen wands taken up the ass, expelliarmus shot to linger drawn-out and moaned up so beautiful a young vagina, but never had I seen such a sight as Pansy Parkinson with her legs spread. It was bizarre. Her lounging like a boy in the still field by the lake, drinking tea and mascara licking at her face, her cheeks eaten alive, her smile behind cosmetic prison bars. And I almost felt guilty that I should be the only one to stare at her.
It was a pink wonderland. A hotspot of frilled flowers. What was she doing all alone there? She didn't notice. I didn't care. She and I cared about her poor, lonely, fabric-kissing slut of a pussy, which danced vibrantly to the left when she swerved her porcelain leg. Leg which dived cruelly into the sparkles of her undergarments. Undergarments which cheeked about a thousand pubic hairs to give my heart an extra cadence. Cadence which blessed Pansy's panties.