A/N: Thanks to respitechristopher for coming up with the Quidditch/baseball/sex metaphor that figures prominently in this chapter. Thanks to stella8h8chang for the beta-read.

The Dual-Dialogue Charm is a spell of my own creation, mentioned in Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell.

This chapter takes the T out for a bit of a joyride. Rather enthusiastic teenage snogging, slang and, hopefully, a funny reinterpretation of Quidditch. Happy Thanksgiving!


Chapter 29: Clean Slates and Playing Quidditch

"The Forbidden Forest?" Daphne asked for the fifth time.

"Yes, yes," Ginny responded in an exasperated tone. "The Forbidden Forest."

"That's a little weak, innit? I mean, for a detention and all—"

Ginny looked at her, annoyed. "There are still some very nasty, evil things in there!"

Daphne pursed her lips together, sulkily. She couldn't help but think that, for Voldemort's own right-hand man, Snape had chosen a rather normal punishment for the three students who had broken into his office. Ginny, however, seemed thoroughly convinced that Snape was nothing but evil.

"Look, he could've handed you over to the Carrows, right? But he didn't. He gave all of you punishments that you might have gotten had Dumbledore still been running the school."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Are you thinking that this somehow makes up for the fact that Snape is a cold-blooded killer? Because no matter how you cut it, he did kill Dumbledore!"

Daphne gave Ginny a very flat look and kicked at a stone set firmly in the ground.

She and Ginny had met up the following day out behind the Owlery, traveling separately out of the castle of course. The coast had been clear for the most part, with Daphne leaving directly from the Hospital Wing from "checking up" on Pansy Parkinson's well-being while managing to sneak in surreptitious glances at Michael Corner, Parvati Patil, Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot. They were all being kept under the watchful and very observant eyes of Eddie Carmichael, Healing Intern Extraordinaire.

Daphne had left Pansy's bedside, convinced more than ever that the Slytherin girl was very confused about what happened during the course of the fight and Daphne's new and overtly friendly attitude towards her.

It was all for show, of course, as Daphne intended to keep her friends close but Pansy Parkinson slightly closer as the year wore on. However, she turned her attention back towards Ginny Weasley, a girl that she had become very close to over the summer—

A girl that Daphne did, indeed, consider an actual close friend, if not, at this current moment, her second real best friend who was of the same gender.

And she held back a little sigh as she thought about Hermione Granger, wondering whether she was all right. Wondering whether Harry and Ron were safe too.

Ginny looked at Daphne and her face softened. "Neville's blaming himself. Says he should've been more careful and more aware about the office—"

"Ginny, that's all me, though." Daphne spun around and flapped her arms in the air in a gesture of frustration. "I'm in that office every single bloody week, and even I didn't know he was going to use Knock-Out Dust as a trap."

The younger Gryffindor girl exhaled through her nose, causing her to look just a little angry. "No. You wouldn't have known though because you weren't able to move the sword." She shook her head. "Snape rigged things so when Neville crossed the edge of the rug in Dumbledore's office, we'd be dusted with powder." Ginny smiled regretfully. "There was no way for anyone to know, Daphne."

"Are Neville and Seamus all right?"

"Seamus is fine. Neville's really upset about it, though."

"Well, I might talk to him. Let him punch me if he needs to."

Ginny chuckled. "Neville wouldn't hurt a fly, much less a girl." She raised her eyebrow. "Although, I do think if given half a chance, he'd go after any one of the Carrows, Snape or the Lestranges." Ginny sucked in some air. "I'd hate to see what would happen if that was ever the case."

"So, when does the happy detention take place? And what are you three expected to do?"

The sixth year girl's shoulders sank. "I've got no idea what that bastard has in mind. The first detention is set for this Friday, and it's supposed to run weekly for the next two months. Snape also mentioned that the same detentions might be given to Michael, Terry, Parvati and Hannah, but for a shorter amount of time than we got."

Daphne's head popped up. "Y' don't think he'd let Hagrid supervise you?"

"That would be great and all, but, well . . ." Ginny winced, "I doubt Snape'd be that generous."

Daphne agreed, but as if resigned to some unappealing outcome. "Hey, I've gotta head back, Ginny. Look, d'ya need anything? Anything at all?"

"No. It's okay. We got Parkinson's materials, right? All the stuff that she had been collecting about Dumbledore's Army?"

Daphne smiled. "It looks like it. Luna and Anthony are with the team right now, working on what spells if any Pansy used on them and they're creating our replacements for the documents." She shrugged. "Hopefully, this'll throw the Carrows off our scents for a while."

The Gryffindor clicked her tongue. "You know it won't last, right?"

"Yeah."

"But," Ginny piped up with an optimistic smile, "any little amount of time it can buy us is good enough for now, right?"

Daphne flashed her a sly grin. "I'll buy that."


That following Monday, in the Great Hall, the whole school was treated to a speech courtesy from Snape himself, who was, very clearly, irate about the break-in of his office.

"—That it shows an utter lack of respect for me, for the office of Headmaster, and for the privacy of any teacher's personal and professional space! How dare you, you insufferable braggarts, you arrogant toads!" Snape turned towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes sharpening on Neville, Ginny and Seamus.

"You Gryffindors!"

Ginny had to bite her knuckles to contain her laughter.

"Rest assured, no one else will be coming near the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It now rests in a vault deep in the heart of Gringotts. Indeed," Snape smiled nastily at the students, "in one of the oldest, most well-guarded vaults in the entire wizarding world. Now, I will see to the disobedient riff-raff who vandalized my office. Dumbledore's office," he said with a sneer, "Let this be a warning for all students who think they can get away with petty - little - crimes!"

Daphne sucked in a breath as Snape lifted up his arm and pulled up the sleeve on his robes. It was the first time that she, or indeed, the entire school, had seen his Dark Mark. He held his bare arm over his head, his hand clenched in a fist.

"All of you forget too easily who is in control here." He spoke in clipped tones, his voice echoing in the stunned silence. Daphne chanced a quick glimpse at Draco Malfoy; he averted his eyes and rubbed his own arm.

"I, myself, have a master whom I serve without reservation," the Headmaster continued. "And I know what he will do to those who don't fall in line!" He gritted his yellow teeth together and snapped his arm down. "I hope all of you remember like-wise."

With that, he strode back towards the staff table taking a seat in between the two Carrows who regarded the student body with cold arrogance.

The week was rather calm, with little to no reports of attacks on students. Dumbledore's Army laid low, allowing the "Parchments" group to finish creating their copy of the list of older members. Daphne spent much of the couple of days following the skirmish visiting Pansy Parkinson in the Hospital Wing.

However, anytime she would visit the still-injured Slytherin, the other girl refused to make eye contact.

"Why're you here?" Pansy's voice was sharp, with a tang of bitterness.

"I'm visiting you."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "What . . . you want to be best friends now?" Pansy turned towards Daphne. "Too late for that—"

"Is it?" Daphne kept the tone of her voice cool and centered. "Maybe not best friends, Pansy—"

"I never gave you permission to use my first name!"

"—but," Daphne plowed forward, "we can at least be friendly with each other, can't we?"

The other girl drew her brows together.

"Pansy," Daphne settled into her chair and trained her eyes directly on her, in an imitation of the piercing gaze of Hermione Granger when speaking to someone to convince them about something important, "remember, you tried to come after me at the start of the term, right?"

She nodded.

"I didn't attack you. Millicent and Blaise held you back, sure. But I made no moves against you."

Pansy kept training her eyes on Daphne's face. Daphne let herself grin just a small bit; her expression was softening.

"I didn't, and I don't want to make things worse." Daphne was a bit surprised at the amount of sincerity in her voice. "I don't hate you or anything. And I can't help but think if something went differently in our first year, we would actually be getting along better today." She shook her head. This wasn't what she had planned to say. But the longer she looked at Pansy, the more Daphne couldn't help but think back to that moment in the Slytherin common room last year, when she had found Pansy crying on the couch and Daphne had felt the momentary pang of something.

Sympathy? Compassion? Daphne wasn't sure, but it felt like something had broken through to both girls that moment and she and Pansy had connected, forgetting about the politics of Slytherin House, putting aside their hatred for each other.

And then, of course, this year had happened. Daphne had got Head Girl. Pansy had got pissed. And they had avoided each other since.

Daphne shut her eyes and held out her hand to Pansy. "I'm offering a truce to you. I won't attack you. I'll not associate with those Dumbledore and Potter-loving, Gryffindor-cheerleading idiot bastards anymore. The boy that cursed you? Michael Corner?" Daphne hoped that she couldn't see her blushing. "I've cut him completely off! No more . . . whatever we were!"

Pansy looked at her, bitterly smirking. "Yeah, I'll bet you did. You love spreading your legs too much—" However, there was no real bite to her voice.

"I'm trying to make things right, and all you can do is bring up this shit about me from my past?" Daphne shook her head. "Why? Why do you do this? Why do you want to cling to those old ways of thinking?"

"I-it's . . . it's just—" She snorted and rolled her eyes. "It's what we do, Greengrass. It's what I know and what I think." Her brow fell. "About you."

Daphne held up three fingers. "Three. I've only ever been with three wizards in my life. It might be a lot for a seventeen-year-old, sure, but, and I know this for a fact, that it's only two more wizards than you've ever been with."

She gave Daphne a stricken look. Clearly, things — whatever those "things" were — were not going well with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

However, Pansy shook it off and she once again regarded Daphne with a derisive expression. "Doesn't matter. You're a slag. You're all up in Potter's arse—"

It took all of Daphne's energy not to smack Pansy right on her stupid mouth, no matter how sorry she felt for her. "And I'm telling you I'm not. Not this year I'm not." She looked at Pansy, never blinking, never wavering in her gaze. The other Slytherin girl stared back, as if searching her face, seeing if she could decipher whether she was telling the truth.

Daphne continued to talk. "I've thought about it and I don't want to fight anymore, Pansy. With you, or with anyone else."

Daphne waited for her to respond, but she didn't.

"Look," she got up and started walking away from Pansy's area. "I'll come back later today and check on you. And I'll keep coming back to check on you. If you don't want me to, say so. Otherwise," Daphne shrugged, "you don't have to say you want me around, but I'll take your silence on the matter as you being okay with it."

To her great surprise, Pansy did not say a word. She may have looked at Daphne like she had gone momentarily insane. But she remained silent.

Choosing not to push her luck, Daphne gave her a quick nod and departed.


Daphne scurried towards the Astronomy Tower, checking over her shoulder and glancing at her Galleon. Michael Corner had sent her a message no more than ten minutes ago while she was with Blaise Zabini, copying several documents of anti-Stallsworth research.

"D.G. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower in fifteen minutes! M.C."

She had threw everything into her book bag. Blaise had merely smirked at her.

"Go on and take my Invisibility Cloak."

Daphne had looked at him incredulously. "You're not going to use it tonight?"

Blaise had flashed her a very cocky grin. "I've got to let Eddie sleep every once in a while. Somebody's got a very hard time with my stamina."

"You're like six months younger than him!"

He had shrugged in an arrogant manner. "But I've got the energy of two wizards!"

Daphne had pulling out his Cloak from his bag and stuffing it into hers.

"Just be careful with it. If you damage, lose or stain that with whatever, I'll have your head!"

She had sneered at him, but had given him a little wave and bolted out of the common room, hoping that her trip to the Astronomy Tower would be uneventful. It was still daylight, so she wouldn't need to use the cloak, but she wanted to bring it in case she and Michael were somehow suddenly interrupted, they needed to be sure that they wouldn't be seen.

It was odd having a secret relationship. Daphne reckoned she actually saw Michael more now than when they were openly dating. In the days following the staged fight and break-in of Snape's office, Daphne and Michael would meet up twice, if not three times a day, and they'd use Daphne's Dual-Dialogue Charm to speak to each other during classes and when they were settling into bed.

And when they were alone, things seemed to be heating up between them. The intensity of snogging and petting seemed to increase more and more, although it was mostly Michael's hand and Daphne's—

(He did warn you he really liked breasts.)

Thus, she couldn't help but wonder if there were no classes today, on account of it being a Saturday, would they have time to get into any more hanky-panky? Daphne found herself smiling, lost in a sea of reveries, when suddenly, her thoughts were very unpleasantly interrupted.

"Miss Greengrass," came a drawling voice. "A word. Please."

She stifled a groan and briefly wished she had put on the Cloak before leaving the dungeons. Turning around, Daphne rearranged her face so she could actually give a genuine smile.

"H-hello, Headmaster."

Snape approached her, his arms crossed in front of his chest, regarding her with a very penetrating stare. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, sir." She kept her voice light.

"Very . . . very good. I read your report, Miss Greengrass."

She raised her eyebrow.

"About the fight."

"Oh, uh . . . is there anything wrong? Sir?"

"Nothing appears to be inconsistent or out of the ordinary. I am dealing with the er-rrr-ant students myself. I have already passed out detentions similar to what Miss Weasley, Mister Longbottom, and Mister Finnigan have received to Miss Patil, Miss Abbott, Mister Corner and Mister Boot."

Daphne's brow creased. She was very surprised about this information, given the conversation that she and Ginny had had earlier. "Er . . . thank you. I think."

Snape sucked in a derisive breath. "Why in the name of Salazar are you thanking me?"

"N-no, no, no . . . I was just th-thanking you for telling me. About those, er . . . bad apples."

He studied her for a few moments. "I take it you have severed ties from all the unruly elements here at the school?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him, but kept her tone mild. "As much as I can. Sir!"

Snape nodded. "Good." He nodded at her, in what she thought must be an approving manner. "I do believe you are learning, Miss Greengrass. You seem to have grown a brain since our last conversation."

She refrained from glaring at him for his backhanded compliment.

"Please do note, Miss Greengrass, that I handled the punishments for the attempted absconding of the sword, as well as the fight you were involved in. Rest assure, though, that Amycus and Alecto will, from now until the end of the year, be responsible for any punishments in the future. Do I make myself clear?"

She stifled another urge to yell at him. Instead, Daphne girded herself and stared at Snape with a steely gaze. "Crystal, sir."

She watched as he spun around sharply on his heels and walked down the hall away from her. However, he stopped after a couple of paces.

"I assume that the three Gryffindors who broke into my office with the intent to steal the sword of Gryffindor must've guessed as to its whereabouts, correct? They wouldn't have had any prior knowledge of its location. Am I right in my understanding?"

Daphne swallowed. Even though he was asking a question, it was clear from Snape's tone that he was making a statement. And Daphne was sure that he wanted to see if he could trip her up.

(Heh, heh . . . not today, you bastard!)

"I can only assume. Sir."

Snape looked at her from head to toe and quirked one eyebrow up; otherwise, his face remained impassive. "Very good." With a quick nod, he pivoted and continued down the hall.

Finally letting herself breathe, Daphne reached into her bag and pulled out the cloak, draping it over her body.

From this point on, she was going to go incognito until she reached the Astronomy Tower.


Daphne had barely opened the door to the tower's highest — and emptiest — classroom, when suddenly something jumped on her from behind.

"Shit-a-troll!"

Michael Corner spun her around and she swatted him as she saw his hysterical face.

"S-soh- . . . sorry! Hah hah . . . hah!"

"That is the least sorry face I've ever seen, you total anus!" She pursed her lips together and gave him a very sharp, disapproving look.

"Stop it. You're so wanting to smile."

"No—"

"Yes-sss . . ."

"No, I don—"

That was the end of all verbal conversation, because Michael scooped her up and kissed her. His hand cupped the back of her head to support her and to keep snogging her as long as possible.

Daphne fell into the embrace, as she always did with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned his kiss as deeply and as passionately as she was capable of.

And she found she was surprisingly capable of a lot of passion.

"Whoa!" Michael broke away from her and grinned, kissing her hands. "I had no idea you could snog like that!"

She smirked at him. "You got me all riled up!"

"Oh, did I?"

Daphne regarded him with a teasing expression. She looked Michael Corner up and down, head to toe. Tall and slender, graced with broad shoulders but not so much meat on his bones, his shaggy, brown hair fell casually around his face, a couple of centimeters past his chin, barely grazing his shoulders. His skin was light in tone and relatively clear, with just a small smattering of freckles here and there. And he had fantastic eyes. Hazel ones. But ones that had so much energy and joy and she could lose herself for hours just looking into them as he teased her and talked to her about music and played his Muggle guitar—

And suddenly, she didn't want to look anymore.

She wanted him. She really wanted him.

"Daph- . . . mmmrphf!"

She pounced on Michael, causing him to stumble as he caught her and snogged her back. He lowered both of them to the floor, bracing himself with his arm. Michael had already spread out his robes onto the old rug that covered the stone floor of the classroom and he had managed to Transfigure a couple of books into pillows, which helped cushion them further from the far-too-firm surface of the classroom.

Daphne pushed into him, her legs falling to either side of his body. She kissed him ferociously and enthusiastically and, as she did so, she realized that she simply could not get enough of him.

It was as if her brain had shut off and the only thing she was conscious of was Michael's body underneath hers, and their mouths and faces entangled with each others.

"Mmm . . ." both teenagers' murmured simultaneously from the back of their throats. Daphne felt Michael's kissing growing more and more intense, and she found herself going right along with it. Michael's lips left hers and he trailed several small kisses down to her neck, eliciting a small whimper from her, because, Godric! She absolutely loved it when he got her right there.

He pulled up her shirt and his hands began their slow journey up her torso. Daphne grinned; she felt herself filling with hunger and greed, because all she could think was this wizard, this boy--

(No! He's of age now!)

This man was here with her, underneath her body, underneath her hands.

And she was completely in control.

A smile spread across her face. She remembered their conversations, starting from over a year ago, on their first picnic together. Michael Corner had confessed that he was a virgin.

He was still pure.

She needed to fix that.

"I need to fix that." She couldn't believe she said it aloud, but she smirked as Michael gave her an odd look.

"What?"

Daphne shook her head and licked her lips slowly. She heard a shift in Michael's breathing. "Exactly how far, Mister Corner," she whispered, making her voice soft and husky, "have you gone with a girl?"

Michael's brow darkened. "I told you already."

"Well, tell me again."

Michael huffed and sighed very deeply. He held up a hand and counted off with each finger. "Ginny, I sort of . . . er, snogged. A lot. And," he cupped his hands a couple of centimeters from his chest, punctuating the gesture with a single nod.

"You played with her Quaffles?"

Michael snorted. "Yes . . . yes. I played with her Quaffles. But they were, uh, still in their cases, if you get my meaning. And Cho," he coughed a little bit, "was . . . er . . ."

"Quaffle through the center hoop?" she finished.

Michael snapped his fingers. "Quaffle through the center hoop." He squinted a little. "I'd say we grazed the edge of the left hoop too."

"Top? Or bottom?"

Michael glared at her. "This is great. Interrupting our snogging with a conversation all about my sex life . . . actually, make that lack of—"

"Michael, believe me. Trust me." Daphne brought his hand up and clasped it to her chest. "You're going to want to finish this conversation."

He studied her face carefully and his hand that she had brought up to her chest now lay there, flattened on her beating heart. Daphne smiled at him in an enigmatic way, and she watched as Michael's face went from annoyance to curiosity. She knew he was going to humor this odd line of questioning.

He gulped. "T-top. I, um . . . I got to pet the kneazle. Only once, though."

"Hmm . . . did she," Daphne pulled her lips in and gave him a small, subtle wink, "do anything to you?"

That perked him right up.

"No! Er . . . I-I . . . um, mean. . . not, er, no? No. N-nothing to me. Erm, uh . . . why?"

She stifled a laugh; he was excited. Nervous, but definitely excited. She sat back, her skirt fanning out over hers and Michael's thighs, and she positioned herself directly on his—

Her eyes bulged out as she felt a rather . . .

(Oh Salazar!)

Unexpectedly large thing.

"Wow!" She popped off of Michael and looked down at his crotch. She faced him, a look of shock and awe covering her face. "Whoa – whoa – whoa! What's that?"

Michael looked at her, a deep, fiery blush spreading across his face, "It's my . . . y'know—"

Daphne's jaw dropped open. "Your broomstick, eh?"

He nodded.

Daphne stared at his crotch.

"Just one question."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you, by any chance, half-giant?"

Michael fell backwards, his hands covering his face and he groaned. "Yes, yes. It's big, all right?" He puffed out his cheeks with a great breath. "Terry gave me hell for it when he caught me in the showers a couple of years ago."

Daphne gave him a very funny look. "He saw your Firebolt and proceeded to tease you about its massive size? For running around half - cocked?" She could not stop a snicker from escaping her lips.

Michael pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Can we not talk about my area? Or Terry? Or Terry seeing my area? Please?"

"Well," Daphne said, sitting back on the same spot very carefully, "fine by me." She leaned over, but made sure that she remained in full contact with every part of Michael's body. And she rubbed against him, just enough so—

She watched as Michael's jaw clenched and his hands flew up, grasping her top with his fists. He exhaled in a puff, catching Daphne's bangs as she leaned over to kiss him some more.

"Y'know, Michael. I've never seen it."

He stared at her with a sort of aroused horror. "Wh-whaaa'?!"

"Well, we've never ventured so far as to—" She gestured to his lower half.

"D-Daph- . . . y'can't . . . oh Merlin!" He panted and panted some more. "I want . . . er . . ."

"What?" Daphne canted her head left and right. She cupped his cheek with her hands and forced him to look directly at her face. "Tell me. Do you want to let me see it?" She spoke in a very low voice and she smiled with barely suppressed want as Michael slowly nodded.

"Say it, Michael."

"Y'c-can . . . s-see it," he squeaked out.

Daphne grinned into Michael's neck as she kissed the right side, and then moved over to the left side. She placed both her hands on his arms, holding them down as firmly as she could.

She knew she was well-versed in the type of activity she was about to engage in with Michael, but she could feel the difference between this and her rendezvous with Blaise, back in the days when he was a little more straight than he was now, and Theodore Nott, and Wayne Hopkins. Back then, it was just fun. A little something from the young wizards to make her feel good. She got what she wanted and left, with nothing really invested in the experience.

(Just a little "suck and run"!)

But now, being here with Michael, a strange feeling came over her—

She needed to make this as good for him as possible. To give him a great experience, a pleasurable experience, because she knew it would make her feel so very, very . . .

"Good . . ." Daphne kept a firm hold on Michael's arms, keeping them pinned to his sides. Her head moved down . . . and down . . . and further down his still-clothed body. She used her head to nudge the pesky cloth barriers so she could kiss his skin. He got more and more restless with the contact.

As she reached his navel, she heard him make an odd sound, something like a moan and a choke combined. She looked up.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," he whimpered. Daphne grinned, pulling her mouth to the right side of her face. She lifted her right hand and started unbuckling his belt.

Michael's breath sped up.

"Easy there, Corner," she said in a soft and teasing voice, looking at his face, which was now as red as a drop of blood. "I haven't even started yet."

Daphne refrained from acting so surprised at her sudden turn as a seductress. Sure, she was the more experienced party between her and Michael, but she still had no idea where this was coming from.

All she knew was that Michael seemed to like it. As she had released his left hand, he clutched at her head.

"Daphne . . . are you—" He was panting quite hard. "Y'sure?"

"Calm down. Relax. Trust me." She squeezed his right arm and he let out a breath that he had been holding for a very long time. "Now, you might hear a little . . ." and she unzipped his trousers, grinning like a cat who had just eaten the canary.

Michael definitely whimpered.

"By the way." She crawled back up his body. "You made sure to lock the door and cast Privacy Charms, right?"

She had never seen a wizard scramble so quickly for their wand. After catching it as it rolled away from him — twice — Michael cast both a Locking Charm and a Sound-Muffling Charm. As he twisted and lifted his body around to make sure his spell casting was complete, Daphne gave a great tug on his trousers, pulling them down and revealing him in his Y-fronts.

"Oh shite!" Michael, reflexively, brought his hands up and covered his crotch. Daphne grabbed his hands.

"Michael? Do you want this?"

He shut his eyes very tightly. "I do . . . I-I'm just . . . dammit!" He once again exhaled for a long time and very deeply. He flexed his hands out and he placed them palm down on the rug, which was now covered by both of their robes. "I'm nervous is all, Daphne."

She nodded very slowly. "Take off your jumper."

Michael did so very quickly and tossed the article of clothing over to the wall. He was now clad in only his undershirt and underwear.

Daphne kept her eyes on him and brought her hands to his hips. "Do you trust me?"

Slowly, he nodded.

Daphne leaned over and gave him a kiss. She lingered on his face, continuing to kiss him even as she hooked her thumbs into the band of his trunks. Gently, her lips still on his, she watched him as she pulled his trunks down.

Michael breathed against her mouth. She kept her eyes on him and she realized he was watching her. She let her right hand fall down the length of his skinny body, allowing herself to linger on his chest, feeling her way around and loving watching him practically lose it. Biting her lip, she let her hand fall further, past his chest, past his stomach—

She let it fall straight to his crotch. And slowly, very slowly, she started moving her hand.

Michael pushed forward, his face exploding with ecstasy and terror. "Ohhh! Oh-oh-ohmyGodric . . . ohmyGodric . . . !" His eyes were wide and about to pop out of his skull and he clutched at her violently, anywhere that his hands could gain purchase.

But Daphne didn't want it just suddenly be over. She stopped moving before anything could get too far and let him regain his composure. Michael took several deep breaths.

"How was that?"

Michael couldn't speak, either for lack of self-control or for lack of proper brain functioning. He just held up a very shaky thumb and grinned, but equally shaky.

Daphne bit her upper lip in a very coy manner. "Okay. Now, I want you to relax your legs and spread them out on the floor."

Michael nodded very quickly and followed her command.

She sucked in a deep breath and let her eyes fall downward, finally taking in the view.

(Holy Elephant Cock!)

It was, to put it simply, huge.

She could not hold back an appraisal. "Wow! Heh heh . . . w-www-wow!"

Michael's breathing once again sped up.

She placed her hand on his crotch, slowly moving her hand in circles and very much enjoying his reaction. He was literally coming apart at the seams. "Are you still okay?"

"Mmmm," was all Michael could manage.

She moved her head a little lower. "Are you ready?"

"MMMMM!"

Thus, with his permission, she began. . . .

. . . And, approximately two minutes and five seconds later, it was all over.

Daphne had to put a hand over her mouth, because she was about to explode with laughter.

(Poor bloke!)

(He was just so close already—)

Her fingers still pressed against her mouth, she chanced a look over at her half-naked boyfriend. "Michael?"

His lips were partially open and his breath came out in short, steady, heavy gasps. His eyes were wide, blinking once every minute. Slowly, as if tugged by some invisible strings, his mouth pulled up into a trembling, but wholly blissful smile.

"Michael—"

"That - is - amazing!" Michael looked at her, but he could barely move. "That is the greatest thing in the world! Ever invented! Just wow!" Suddenly, he got a look on his face as if he remembered something, and he shot up and looked down at himself. "Uh . . . Daphne. What happened to the um . . . er, stuff?"

Daphne looked at him with a mild smile, pointed at her mouth and made a gulping gesture. She brushed her palms together and swept them apart as if she had just brushed off some dirt.

To top it off, she took a small bow.

Michael looked at her with a shocked expression. "You . . . y-you . . ." He swept his finger down his chest.

"It's okay, Michael. It's all right. And I even cleaned us both up already."

"Y' did?" His voice was still very shaky. "How long was I down for?"

"About two minutes after you," she swirled her hand around, "whiz-banged."

He looked at her, and his face ran the whole gamut of emotions.

"A-are you okay? With what I just did to you?"

To answer her question, Michael grabbed a hold of her face and kissed her forcefully and passionately. He pressed his lips to her forehead and her cheek and her nose and back to her own lips.

"I really don't have any idea how to thank you for that."

Daphne smirked at him, but kept her forehead pressed against his sweaty one. "Oh, I can think of one way."