On a 7-9, Susan says "Do me first."

⚂⚁ + 2 = 7.

Susan blinks. Her eyes widen. She straightens her Beavertail Prefect's badge. She nods.

"Do me first, Poesy," Susan insists. She pulls up her skirts, peels off her plain white bottoms, and sits on your bed, spreading herself.

"My pleasure, Quaffle," you say.

You moisten two fingers and work them between her lips. Once you enter, you discover she's hot and slick inside. Perhaps it's just that sort of morning at House Beavertail. Working both hands, with two fingers inside her and your thumb strumming over her swollen pearl, the tall, gawky blonde prefect is soon breathing hard from excitement, the air hissing in and out of her nostrils. You cup your upper hand over her bush, grasp hold and shake her plump mound up and down, left and right with your thumb still on her hot dot.

"Eeehhheeeww!" Susan mewls. "Poe-syy!" Her head strains back, then jolts forward, tossing her great messy mane of blonde hair. Her hips buck back and forth, and you hold on tight, strumming and stroking as best you can. Finally Susan seizes your wrist. "Stop, stop," she pleads.

Susan takes a moment to compose herself and work her underdrawers back on. She's still pink-faced and breathing heavily.

"Now you, and let's be quick," she says. She spits upon her palms and takes your proud, very masculine erection in hand.