Dances With Twinks

The fifth floor men’s room was a hardly-used, filthy lavatory: the walls were covered in cobwebs and the toilet bowls were crusted with the ejaculate of generations of sexually repressed young wizards. The room had long since seen any sort of cleaning spell- the house elves refused to enter it after the sheer amount of sperm in the pipes had caused an inability to flush even the most powerful of commodes located therein.



Charlie gasped as he added his load to the molding remains of others in one of the broken stalls. He had taken a powerful potion and it was near impossible for him to concentrate due to the effects of the concoction. The illegal brew caused the level of sperm in the gay vessel of his body to rise to the point that it needed to be expelled from his raging pole or face certain death. Despite having just splashed his juice out mere seconds before, his cock sprang to attention when he heard the door open and noted the light footsteps of the Hufflepuff he had met earlier.



“Get in here, quick!” he screamed, the pain in his groin from the pent up sperm causing him to momentarily lose the ability to control himself. He quickly warded the doors to the bathroom and turned his wand on the young man before him. A quick sweep of his wand rendered them both nude.



“Kneel,” he choked out, knowing that if he didn’t find relief soon he would be leaking baby batter out every available orifice in his body.



“Don’t you have a cushion of some sort?” Justin asked, looking at the cold stone floor with distaste. It was bad enough that he had on his Armani pants, but he knew his knees would take a beating if he had to rock back and forth against the wet, rough floor. Before he could make one out of old toilet paper and aged soap, Charlie forced him down, sticking his 7 inch throbbing man meat down the young man’s throat.



Two jerks into Justin’s soft, succulent mouth was all it took, and soon Charlie was cumming enough to sink a battleship. He kept he still hard penis lodged in the back of the young man’s throat, oblivious to his dilemma. Justin had never sucked cock before, and the foreign object activated a gag reflex that he had never known was there. Soon he was vomiting up a heady mixture of Charlie’s jism and the evening meal of shepherd’s pie and creamed corn all over the dick in front of him.



“What the fuck is this?” Charlie screamed, angry both because he still felt the painful throb of pent-up cock juice and because his dick was coated in a frothy mixture that smelled and looked like his mother’s worst home cooking. “Don’t you know anything? The only time it is EVER acceptable to puke on my junk is if we’ve just spent the evening consuming butter beer and PF Chang’s! You need to learn to hold your shit together, bloke!” As if to prove a point, he shoved the vomit covered dick down Justin’s throat and skull fucked the lad to oblivion, unloading yet another steaming helping of cock gravy down his now semi-skilled esophagus.



Next, Charlie made Justin assume the fetal position and mercilessly copulated with the crease formed by the young man’s bent knees. It reminded him of his first gay tryst with Alejandro, a seasoned circus performer who had met Charlie while attending one of the latter’s dragon exhibitions. Alejandro had fucked every part of Charlie’s body and introduced him to the special brand of faggotry that he now reveled in on a daily basis. Charlie held back tears remembering how Alejandro had married a lipstick lesbian for financial security, abandoning both the homosexual agenda and his only true love. Charlie made a solemn vow never to lose strength and desert his gays, no matter how dismal the way of the cocksucker became.



“For Alejandro!” Charlie screamed, unloading yet another gooey shipment of skeet skeet into the crevice between Justin’s thighs.



Feeling that his level of jizz was sufficiently low enough to not threaten his ability to live, Charlie decided to move onto even more perverted enterprises. “All right, where is the Crisco?” he asked the battered Justin.



Seeing the blank look of the young man, Charlie felt rage (and more cum) building up inside of him. He quickly moved over to the cracked marble window-sill and did a line of coke, desperate to maintain control of the situation. He couldn’t believe that Justin would make such an elementary mistake.



“Do you want your little faggot anus to be ripped to indistinguishable shreds, boy?” he spit out. “You NEED lubrication! Have you never done fisting?”



He was met with another look of confused innocence, which threw him over the edge. Looking towards the broken hand-soap dispenser he noted that previous occupants of the bathroom had urinated into it. Hoping there was enough soap content to sufficiently lubricate his enormous fist, he smashed into the plastic container and coated his hand and forearm with the pungent mixture, lining the flesh ram up with Justin’s virgin hole.



“Rosebuds aplenty!” Charlie roared, and without further ado, thrust his entire arm up the young man’s rectum.