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It is camp and we are camping out tonight. I'm camping with Harry and Jack. Jack is a weird boy and is very nerdy. The only reason he is in our tent is cause the instructors chose our groups instead of us. Luckily I got put with Harry. Harry and Jack have been talking about Harry Potter for over an hour now and I'm getting bored as I am not a fan of Harry Potter. I start twirling my finger in a circular motion on a sleeping bag. After a while Harry says. "Is that you" Oh sorry," I say, "Should I stop?" "No, it feels nice." Harry replied. It turns out i was twirling my finger on his knee. I then subtly look over at Harrys crotch and I see a small bulge. I start to feel horny and I slowly move my hand up his thigh. I feel Harrys hand moving it's way to my crotch. By now I have a raging hard on. I move hand into Harrys crotch and feel his dick through the sleeping bag. I grab I and start rubbing it up and down. His dick feels smaller than mine but it is as hard as a rock. Harry. Ripping this off too, I turned her around and finally gazed upon her hidden treasures. They were, to say the least for any rational description would be unheard-of, beyond words. The enormity of them, the large areolas, pink flesh, and most of all, the engorged nipples. Taking one between my thumb and forefinger, I rolled it back and forth, urging more grunts, this of a more pleasurable variety, from her wet mouth. I kept this up, alternating between the two enormous globes, before resigning to simply kneading them in my hands. Before long however, giving in to the urge, I found I had one of the breasts in my mouth, my tongue caressing the soft skin and the hard nipple. As a precaution, or maybe out of an instinct I had previously not known I had, I was forcing her head back against the shut door with the wrist of my arm, and it was at this time that I had noticed something else equally, if not more so, peculiar: she was not struggling. In fact, one hand rested on my shoulder while.
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I had claws and you had claws. We were snatching at each other. Harder and harder now. I could almost feel these imaginary things on my body. This smoke, these scales, those nails. And I’m hinting about bed rooms and blankets. Complaining of the cold just so you can warm me. Touch me, taste me, feel me, desire me, want me, so much that we burn with passion. So much that it aches. Tow drinks later and I’m in a backseat. One back seat later, we are at your front door. Now I’m stumbling to your bedroom, but how I knew were it was, I’ll never know. So I make your bed and lay down. Pretend I have every intention of sleep. But my claws they gently run down your spine. They tickle lightly at your skin. So your eyes open. You stare at me knowingly. I never though of being deaf until I was in your bed that night. I thought about how my eyes would talk to you. How you would stare down into my pupils and read my soul. And how like now, you would see the yearning in my eyes. Maybe I’ve had too.

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