Dammit, Harry thinks. Damn his ingrained response to lying out on the rock. He grits his teeth and contemplates how he can shift away from Iain without waking him. He had told Iain about his imaginary adventures at the pond and he’d told Iain about the praying, but he hadn’t mentioned all the masturbating. Because that’s not really something you tell your friend. Oh, by the way, Iain, the moss grows so well on the rock because it’s regularly fertilised by my seed.
Yum yum semen moss
