The Little Games We Play (Ch. 3)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Little Games We Play

Chapter 3

It was the most blissfully perverse thing Harry had seen in weeks. Ginny Weasley was standing in her bedroom, dancing in nothing but a little black thong and shiny black heels, while he lay spread-eagle on her mattress, entirely nude and hopelessly hard. Ginny wasn’t exactly a world-class stripper, but she didn’t need to be. She radiated mischief and sexiness from every pale inch of her body. Ginny faced away and bent over, grabbing her ankles. She happily showed off her panty-covered pussy while wiggling her ass at him. 

The Burrow was alive and active with its usual late-evening chaos, but Ginny’s room was a cocoon of music and creaky floorboards as she spun on the spot and shook her chest at him. She had put on some old Weird Sisters music and immediately began putting on a show. Ginny worked her hips like she was on stage, giving him a glimpse of her true self, and not the woman she pretended to be during daylight hours. The thong was so tiny it looked like it might disappear between her pussy lips at any moment. The heels were at least five inches, making her legs look long and sexy. Her tits were perfect, perky, and they were on full display, and her nipples were the lightest shade of pink imaginable. The color of them almost blended into the rest of her soft, pale skin. 

Ginny caught him staring and rolled her eyes, laughing, not even remotely embarrassed. “You have no idea how hot you look right now,” she told him, twisting to show off her ass. She reached back and spread her cheeks. The tiny thong couldn’t properly cover her puckered hole. “Touch yourself. I want to see.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Harry had been jerking off since she started her performance, but he ramped it up. He wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and started working it up and down. Ginny stalked toward the foot of the bed and blew a kiss at him. She peeled off the thong with her thumb and index finger, then snapped it like a slingshot at his chest.

The panties hit him square in the face. Ginny burst out laughing. “Bullseye!” she cheered, climbing onto the mattress on all fours. Her round breasts swung under her, the pale nipples so puffy they looked like she was permanently cold. Her thighs were shapely from years of Quidditch, but her mound was perfectly smooth. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of stubble. Her pussy lips were pressed tightly together like a closed coin purse. Only if you looked closely could you see the delicate folds hiding just inside, and there was a hint of coral pink peeking from the slit.

Harry brought the thong to his nose and inhaled her womanly scent. Her taste and smell were slightly different from Fleur or any of the other girls he’d tasted. She was just a tad sweeter. Ginny watched with pride, then slithered up between his knees until she could wedge her face into the cradle of his groin.

“You still smell like Fleur’s perfume,” Ginny murmured, rubbing her cheek on his inner thigh like a housecat. She licked a stripe up the side of his cock, then dragged her nose along the ridge, shivering a little at the heat.

Harry chuckled. “You’re such a pervert.”

Ginny hummed in agreement and licked at the seam between his balls and the base of his cock. “Did you fuck her this morning?”

He let out a snort. “Of course I did. You think I’m going to turn down a chance to pound that pussy?”

Ginny’s hips flexed. She loved the idea. “God. I wish I could taste her on you.”

He stroked her soft, red hair. “Maybe next time.”

Ginny pouted for a second, then laid her tongue flat against the length of his cock and worked her way up, breathing hard and heavy as she did it. She peppered little kisses everywhere, licking up the sweat and whatever was left of Fleur’s perfume. When she reached the tip, she licked it twice, then sucked it between her lips and held it there, refusing to move until he grunted.

“Bloody hell, Gin,” Harry muttered, tightening his grip on the sheets.

She smiled around his cock, then pulled away and started talking to it directly, almost as if she was addressing a teammate. “I’ve missed you, you beautiful bastard,” she said, rubbing her cheek up and down his shaft. Her warm, pink tongue flicked out and tasted him.

She climbed up to his chest and straddled him, her pussy glistening right above his mouth. She paused there, letting him get a good look at her, and ran her fingers over her tits, tweaking the light, puffy nipples until they stood out even more.

“Look at me,” Ginny said, pinching her nipples so hard her face twitched. “Tell me what you see.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Your tits are perfect. Your nipples are the prettiest things I’ve ever seen. I want to see you riding me, and I want to see those tits bouncing all over the place.”

She beamed with pride and leaned down, her hair forming a curtain around his face. She kissed him deeply and then dragged her tongue along his lips. “You’re such an idiot, but you fuck like a superstar. So, I’ll forgive you.” She kissed him again, then worked her way down his torso with little pecks, each one closer to the target.

At his hips, she stopped and shimmied her ass for the invisible audience. Harry would have clapped, but both hands were occupied … one with Ginny’s panties, and the other with his cock.

Ginny took the panties from him, examined the damp patch, and then tied them in a loose knot around the shaft. She laughed when he started jerking off again, the fabric bunching up and squeezing the head every time he pulled down.

“You’re gonna cum before I even get a chance, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, teeth clenched. “I’ll wait. I promise.”

Ginny unwrapped him and set the panties aside. She then removed her heels and tossed them over the side of the bed, leaving her completely nude. She crawled up until her pussy was hovering above his face, then dropped down and pressed herself against his lips. The first drag of his tongue had her moaning like a whore. She ground her hips, painting his mouth with her arousal, then rocked downward so she could smear her juices all over his chin. “Damn! You eat pussy better than anyone,” Ginny moaned. “Did you practice with Hermione or something?”

He snorted. “I’ve never even seen Hermione naked. Unfortunate, I know.”

She made a “hmmph” noise and started riding his tongue in earnest, bracing herself on the headboard and using her heels for leverage. Harry sucked on her clit and twirled his tongue around it until she was panting and dribbling onto his lips. Ginny always came fast. She’d once bragged that she could cum from a single lick if she were horny enough, but she liked to draw it out, so she made a little show of biting her lip and squeezing his head between her thighs.

He waited until she was right on the edge, then pulled away and wiped his mouth. “Nope. You’re not allowed until you ride me.”

Ginny whined and backed her body down, planting her knees on either side of his hips. She grabbed his cock and lined it up, but instead of impaling herself, she just dragged her slit up and down the shaft, using it as a toy. The heat of her pussy was unreal. She rocked her hips back and forth, smearing her juices everywhere, then rolled her hips so the lips split just slightly and caught the tip inside.

“Hurry up and sit on it, Gin,” Harry groaned, but Ginny just kept up the torture, using her hand to guide the head between her folds, sometimes even teasing her asshole with it. 

She bent over at the waist, so her tits hung low and swayed like pendulums. She gave him a good, long look at her body. Her belly was tight, her chest flushed, and her nipples stuck straight out, and then she started backing up onto his cock slowly, inch by inch.

Harry grabbed her hips, squeezing so hard she squeaked, and tried to guide her down, but Ginny was in full control. She took the head, then waited until he started twitching, then dropped another inch. She did it over and over, giggling every time he moaned.

Finally, she bottomed out with a loud, wet squelch, her ass pressed flush against his lower belly. She paused there, letting her pussy stretch, then slowly rolled her hips in a circle, as if winding up for something.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Harry gasped as her silky walls squeezed him like a vice.

“You always say that,” Ginny said, but she was clearly pleased. “I know I’m tight. I want to hear you say how much you love it.”

He obliged. One thing about Ginny was that she loved showing off her body, and she craved attention. Compliments were like a drug to her. “I love your pussy. I wish I could fuck it all day long.” Harry was exaggerating a bit, but he knew that was what she wanted to hear. 

She started fucking him in earnest, bouncing on his cock like she was riding a broomstick, using her thighs and calves for leverage. She twisted her hips at the bottom of every bounce, so her clit rubbed against his pubic area. Ginny then lifted up again and drove her ass down, smacking loud enough to echo.

“Harder,” Ginny gasped, and he dug his fingers into her ass, guiding her down even faster.

She reversed direction suddenly, turning to face away from him so he could see her nude back, her ass, and the graceful curve of her neck as she threw her head back and howled. She reached behind herself and opened her ass cheeks, showing him everything. The puckered hole was pink and perfect, and he had a sudden urge to fuck her there, too, but Ginny was determined to have her pussy filled tonight. 

She set her feet on either side of his hips and rode him like she was determined to break him in half. Her pussy made wet, sloppy noises every time she took him to the base. Sweat rolled down her back, collecting in the small of her spine.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. “I’m gonna cum,” Harry moaned as he massaged her tight asshole with the pad of his thumb.

She squeezed him tight. “Wait. I want to cum on your cock,” Ginny pleaded as her body shuddered. He could feel her slick, silky walls fluttering around him. 

He held back, just barely, as Ginny wildly fucked herself on his pole, grinding her clit down and using both hands to squeeze her own tits. She screamed as she came, her pussy clamping down so hard it almost hurt, and squirted all over his lap. The spray hit his stomach, his chest, and even his chin.

“Holy shit,” Harry muttered, and then he unloaded, flooding her with a rush of heat. Ginny moaned and kept rocking, milking every drop until he was shaking under her.

She stayed on top of him, panting, until he softened and slipped out. Then she slid off, her legs wobbling, and flopped onto his chest.

“That was so good,” Ginny said through her labored breathing, her hair stuck to her forehead. “I always sleep better when you creampie my pussy.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her. “I was happy to oblige,” he joked.

She giggled, then kissed him hard, her tongue darting into his mouth. “Next time,” she whispered, “I want you to fuck my mouth until I can’t talk.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he said, not even a hint of doubt in his voice. Ginny smiled and snuggled up against his chest while her hand gently played with his damp cock. 

The Little Games We Play

The walls of Ron’s room were so thin that if you listened close enough, you could hear someone sneeze from two floors away. Hermione Granger stared at the warped ceiling and tried to count her own breaths. She was willing to do just about anything to drown out the annoying sound of Ron tossing and turning in bed. If that wasn’t bad enough, the summer heat had her patience at an all-time low. He’d barely said a word all night. After dinner, he’d watched the clock tick for an hour, made a single half-hearted move on her while brushing his teeth, and then collapsed face-down on the mattress, sighing into the pillow. Hermione had to resist the urge to smother him with it.

She rolled to her side, curling up tight against the wall, and listened to the sounds of the Burrow at night. Pipes gurgled, the ghoul rattled, and floorboards creaked with the weight of distant footsteps. From somewhere just below, she could hear Fleur giggling in French as Bill made tea. Farther down the hall, Ginny was listening to the Weird Sisters and possibly rearranging every item in her closet. The racket vibrated up through the floorboards, and Hermione almost smiled.

Still, Ron wasn’t talking. Ron wasn’t even snoring, which meant he was either dead or in deep thought. She recognized the signs. Sometimes, he’d go like this for days. He’d be grumpy and monosyllabic until something snapped him out of it. Usually, it was a joke from George, a letter from Charlie, or, more often, Ginny’s endless parade of boyfriends. Hermione was not in the mood to play therapist tonight. She was tired, horny, and desperate for real sleep. Instead, she just lay there and waited for him to say something … anything, but he didn’t.

She said, “If you’re going to be miserable all night, can you at least try to keep it down? Some of us have early mornings.”

He grunted. That was all.

A minute later, another sound began. It was a rhythmic, high-pitched squealing, broken by grunts and what could only be described as a wet, satisfied slapping. Hermione didn’t need to guess. Ginny was getting dicked by Harry, and neither of them was shy about it. The squeals grew louder, joined by a rapid percussion of fleshy slaps and a low, animalistic moan. For a moment, Hermione wondered if it would ever stop. It kept going and going.

She stared at the ceiling. Ron’s silence became almost menacing. It grew layer by layer, until the only thing in the room was the sound of his shallow breathing and the raw sex noises coming from Ginny’s room. Hermione felt a twinge of sympathy, but mostly she was annoyed. She’d expected him to complain, maybe make a tasteless joke, but instead he just sat with it, refusing to rise to the bait.

The bed shifted as he rolled to his back. She could feel the weight of his eyes.

“You’re not even going to comment?” Hermione asked, unable to let it go.

Ron stared at the ceiling. “They’re not even pretending to hide it.”

“No, they’re not,” she agreed. “At least someone is having fun tonight.”

Ron’s face twisted. “And you wish you were the one having fun?”

Hermione huffed, exasperated. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

She rolled over to face him. His face was half-lit by the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window. He looked old, or maybe just tired. “You’re sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” he snapped, a little too loud. Downstairs, the squealing stopped, replaced by a thump and a stifled laugh. Ron winced, and then lowered his voice. “I’m just tired of it. Every night, it’s the same. Harry, Ginny … Ginny, Harry. Even Bill and Fleur are at it.”

Hermione let out a dry laugh. “You think Bill minds?”

Ron stared at the ceiling again. “I don’t know what Bill thinks. I don’t know what anyone thinks, these days.”

She sighed, feeling as old as the bedframe under her. “Are we really doing this?”

“Doing what?” His voice was defensive, almost pleading.

She searched his face for a flicker of the old Ron, but he was nowhere to be found. “We’re not even trying, are we? We don’t talk, we don’t have sex, we don’t …”

He cut her off, his voice raw and defensive. “We do have sex.”

“The last time was over a month ago, and you finished in less than a minute,” she said, frustrated by their lack of physical compatibility. “And you cried after. I can’t go through that again.”

He flinched. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

Hermione stared at him. “How should I say it? There’s something wrong with us.” She stared at the ceiling. “It’s not good, Ron. It’s not good at all.”

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Hermione thought she could hear Ginny’s moans echoing up the pipes, as if every square inch of the Burrow was saturated with sex except for this room. She felt empty, restless, and a little bit jealous. 

Ron listened to the pair going at it, and all he could picture was Hermione’s beautiful body writhing in pleasure under Harry’s brutal thrusts. His cock instantly hardened. 

Ron shifted again, his legs tangling with the sheets. He edged closer, his face barely a foot from hers. “You’re right, Hermione. Whatever we’re doing, it’s not working, but I have a crazy idea if you’re willing to listen,” he shakily said. 

Hermione turned to him, raised an eyebrow, and listened as he began to talk.