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They ended up back in Hermione's room. Millicent wasn't entirely sure why they chose there rather than somewhere else more discreet, but she couldn't bring herself to care once she got another flash of Hermione's creamy chocolate thigh.
She proceeded to dutifully taste this thigh for the rest of the afternoon. And more, besides the thigh.
For her part, Hermione seemed mostly delighted but also a bit passive - she'd done the immensely difficult work of setting Millicent up for the race, and Millicent had enough endurance for a cross country marathon, once she got up to speed. So to speak.
Millicent was exhausted soon enough, however. She was coated in sweat from brow to her toes, and her jaw and tongue were a bit stiff from her lack of recent practice. But she couldn't bring hersf to care what she looked like or how she felt. She luxuriated in the sublime feeling of having feasted well of pussy, and having more to go back to once her hunger piqued again.
The candlelight shone in little sparks, highlighting the darkness of the room beyond Hermione's beautiful chintz lace curtains.
Hermione, for her part, looked every bit the sexual savant, splayed across her pillows panting, the whispery clear cum from her vagina, glistening in the candlelight across her creamy thighs like the contents of a smashed snow globe.
She was beautiful, and wicked, and intelligent, and assertive, and Millicent was drunk with love.
"So," Hermione said, sitting up finally and rubbing her fingers along the inside of her thigh with a handkerchief. "What is this, Millicent?"
"I don't know," Millicent said, feeling nervous and put on the spot. "I guess... I don't see why this has to be anything more than what it is."
Hermione's beatific face turned pensive and dark with concentration.
"It's... Oh I don't know," Millicent said, "I don't want to say the wrong thing."
Hermione reclined again, and Millicent breathed a sigh of what she imagined was... Relief? Satisfaction? She couldn't tell.
Hermione's fingers slowly trailed through the edges of the curtains, making them fall in rippling waves like a harp's strings. She lay her other hand on her lap, casually obscuring its mass of shadow.
"Do you want this to be more than it is " Hermione asked, not taking her hand away from the gentle swinging curtains, staring off into the distance. Had she been carved of ebony, she could not have made a better statue. She was relaxed, and curious, and yet Millicent saw the strength and courage in her.
Millicent could scarcely contemplate anything other than the beauty that lay before her.
"I think so," Millicent said nervously.
Hermione turned her eyes back to Millicent and she felt them sucking deeply at her soul, drinking in her mind and power, and Millicent reached to pull the warm sheepskin blanket over her naked body.
"All right then," Hermione said, and there was a sense of amusement in her voice. It didn't seem to be directed at Millicent, however - there was the glistening of excitement in Hermione's eyes. "Then let me draw up a reading list."
"Hey," Millicent said in surprise, but didn't argue as Hermione acco'ed a piece of parchment and, eyes glittering, began to write a very, very long list.
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