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He'd played a number of games with the charmed wizard chess set Hermione had given him for Christmas, but even it was not able to play him on even terms. For the set to stand a chance against him, Ron had to play with the black pieces, and remove at least a pawn."It's all about mobility," said Ron. "All things being equal, an extra pawn will count. But how often is everything equal? So usually who has more pieces on the board is not what matters. What counts is who can apply more force at critical points." There was no doubt that Ron was well-qualified indeed to instruct Hermione, if only in chess. Concerning anything related to relationships or girls, he was a novice.Hermione listened carefully, struggling not to yawn. She'd be feigning interest for at least thirty minutes, and if she'd been honest with herself, since the lesson began. Her mind wandered back to events earlier in the day, when she'd returned to the Burrow after her first attempt at playing Quidditch.It seems Imogen. One that you agreed too. Do you think jail would have been any nicer? Or how about spending the rest of your life writing ‘arrested and convicted of felony theft’ on every job application you filled out?? I replied in a scoffing tone. The weeping continued and I stood there waiting. Finally I made as if to pick up the paddle and she shook her head, once more indicating she wanted an ass fucking. I couldn’t help smiling. Spanking a fresh beautiful bottom belonging to a drop dead gorgeous cutie was certainly something no man would pass up, but given the opportunity to ram something up that same butt no man would settle for just a spanking! May braced herself against the game and I could see she was concentrating on relaxing her bottom, opening herself. Her anus was swollen and huge and I had no doubt that my plastic finger fucker would fit, even if I needed to apply a little force to get it in there. What had previously been a tight squeeze was now a gaping hole. .
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He groggily sat up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. ‘I hope I didn’t take up too much room?’ He questioned. ‘Not at all. Would you like some coffee, Eric?’ He stood up, adjusting his wrinkled shirt. ‘I should get home, but thank you.’ There it was again. That conflicted feeling. Was I mistaken in thinking that what we shared last night was special? Or was I looking too far into this? Either way it didn’t matter. He was putting on his shoes and I wasn’t going to ask any questions. In a matter of minutes he was gone, I don’t think he even noticed the picture. In the passing days I couldn’t help but think about Eric. I wondered what all that meant that night. What was conflicting him so? What made him so warm and affectionate one minute and abrupt and platonic the next? I floated through the next couple days, managing to limit my thoughts of Eric. He hadn’t even crossed my mind on Wednesday as I rushed up the stairs of the community center for my weekly meeting..

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