The Great Recession (Ch. 2)

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

The Great Recession

Chapter 2

Hermione’s mouth was full of Harry’s blanket. Her face pressed into the smooth, warm fabric. She could smell the scent of laundry detergent and a hint of his cologne. She was on her knees with her arms stretched out over the pillows, and her body trembled as Harry’s hips crashed into her ass from behind. The sheets bunched under her fists, and her vision blurred from exhaustion. She didn’t dare look at the clock. Instead, she turned her head and looked at the window. The glass was faintly gold. Dawn was approaching. The sun was coming up, and Harry was still fucking her.

She had no idea how long he’d been at it, but it had definitely been going on the whole night. All she knew was the pleasure of the slippery heat where his cock split her open again and again. He was monstrous. It didn’t seem possible that a man could keep going this long. Hermione had lost count of her orgasms. They melted together into one endless, exquisite burn.

“Fuck, Hermione,” Harry grunted, his voice rough. “Are you still with me?” His hands wrapped tight around her hips, his fingers digging into the soft, sensitive flesh above her mound.

She tried to say “Yes,” but it came out as a pitiful moan against the blanket. Her thighs quivered, and she felt every ridge of his cock dragging against her G-spot. Her pussy clenched so hard it hurt. The blanket in her mouth muffled her cries of pleasure. She heard Harry chuckle, then felt him shift his angle. He drove in deeper, then pulled all the way out, just to shove himself back in. Then the bastard had the audacity to smack her jiggly ass. The slight sting made her pussy clench even harder. 

Hermione bucked hard, and her vision went white for a second. She couldn’t breathe. The pressure inside her was way too much. She tried to roll over, but Harry held her right where he wanted her. He leaned in, his weight hot and heavy against her back. His voice was right in her ear. “You’re soaked.” He nipped at her earlobe and kissed the side of her sweaty neck. “You’re drenching the sheets.”

Hermione shook her head, fighting the urge to bite down on the corner of the blanket. Instead, she spat it out, gasping for air. “Harry, please. I can’t …”

He cut her off with another thrust, even deeper. Hermione felt her walls flutter and then spasm. A sudden flood of pussy juice gushed out as she came again, harder than the last time. She squealed, the sound loud and unhinged. Her arms gave out, and she collapsed face-first into the blanket, while Harry kept relentlessly fucking her. He hammered her into the mattress, slamming into her over and over. Hermione could only whimper and shake. The roughness of his hands, the slap of his hips, the obscene wet sounds as her pussy squelched around his cock … it was all too much to handle. Her clit throbbed as it scraped against the soft fabric of Harry’s blanket. Every time he thrust into her from behind, her pussy squeezed and tried to hold him in place, but he forced his way deeper, refusing to let her come down.

“Please, Harry, please,” she begged, barely able to speak. “Just… fuck, please, cum…”

He moaned a deep, primal sound and slammed into her one last time. She felt his cock swell inside her. It twitched, and a second later, her cunt was flooded with his cum. There was so much of it. She could feel it leaking out around his shaft, running down her inner thighs, and soaking into the sheets. Harry groaned, and his whole body shuddered as he finally came, filling her so completely she thought she’d burst. Hermione went limp. She didn’t care that her ass was up in the air or that her body was smeared with sweat and semen. She was spent. She trembled, but she couldn’t move.

Harry finally pulled out. The loss of him made her whimper, but she was too exhausted to care. He collapsed next to her, both of them breathing like they’d just run a marathon. His arm was around her waist instantly, tugging her close. She burrowed her head into his chest, feeling the sticky mess between her thighs.

“You want to get some sleep?” Harry asked in a whisper, kissing her forehead.

Hermione nodded, or maybe she just thought she did. She closed her eyes and drifted off, her whole body tingling with the incredible aftershocks of dozens of orgasms. She was asleep before he finished stroking her hair.

The Great Recession

Hermione woke to the smell of sweat, sex, and something clean and citrusy. She yawned, then squeaked as she realized where she was. She was sprawled over Harry’s body, their skin stuck together by dried cum. His arm was draped over her hip, and his hand was on her bare ass. His hand was so big that he almost palmed her entire cheek. She could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest and hear his steady heartbeat beneath her ear.

Her legs ached in a good way. Her pussy throbbed, still swollen from the night before. She tried to remember how many times he’d made her cum, but she lost count after the first few hours. Hermione’s face flushed. She wanted to hide from the memory, but it was all over the room. There was no denying it. The smell, the crumpled sheets, and her own dried fluids on the inside of her thighs were all evidence of their marathon lovemaking.

She turned her head, moving as slowly as possible. Harry’s face was slack with sleep, but even now, he looked smug. His lips curled up at the corners, as if he was dreaming of something wicked. She stared at his lashes, his jawline, and the faint scar on his forehead. Up close, he looked even older, harder, and more masculine than she remembered. It made her feel small and delicate in his arms.

She untangled herself from his grip, careful not to wake him. Harry grumbled and rolled onto his back, his cock flopping out from between his legs. Hermione bit her lip, fighting the urge to stare. He was huge even when soft. The head glistened faintly in the morning light, and she could see a little bit of his own cum leaking out the tip.

Hermione padded to the bathroom, still naked. She splashed water on her face and tried to fix her hair, but it was a hopeless mess. She used a wet towel to wipe herself between her legs, wincing at how tender she felt. She took a long look at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips were pink and puffy. There were faint red marks on her ass and thighs. She felt strangely proud of herself.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Harry was awake. He was sitting up in bed, arms folded behind his head, watching her with lazy amusement. “Morning, Hermione,” he said through a yawn.

She blushed and grabbed her crumpled shirt off the floor, holding it in front of her as a shield. “You’re awake early,” she managed.

“Not really,” Harry yawned again. “I just had excellent motivation to get up.” He let his eyes roam up and down her body. Hermione blushed even harder, but she didn’t look away.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pretending to smooth her shirt. Harry swung his legs off and stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. Hermione’s eyes dropped instantly to his cock. It bounced a little when he moved, heavy and pendulous. She remembered the way it felt inside her, the way it filled her up and made her beg. She clenched her legs together and felt a fresh tingle between them. She subtly rubbed her thighs together. 

Harry padded to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Hermione listened to the splash of water, the sounds of him brushing his teeth, and then the rush of the faucet. When he came out, he grinned at her. “Fancy a shower?”

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. She tried to make her voice calm. “That would be nice.”

Harry grabbed her hand and led her to the bathroom. The space was all marble and chrome, lit by a single window high on the wall. Harry stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It was instantly hot and steamy, fogging up the glass. He stepped under the spray, and the water slicked his hair down and ran in rivulets over his body. Hermione’s breath hitched at the sight of him, wet and naked. He reached out and pulled her in after him. She gasped as the hot water hit her skin. The spray made her hair even more unmanageable, but she closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it. It felt wonderful. The heat loosened the tightness in her thighs and hips. She stretched her arms overhead, feeling the muscles unwind.

Harry grabbed the soap and lathered it in his hands. He started with her shoulders, kneading them with strong fingers. The bubbles slid down her chest, pooling around her breasts. His thumbs rubbed along her collarbone, then drifted lower, circling her nipples. He pinched them, rolling them between his fingers until they were stiff and aching.

Hermione moaned. “Harry…”

“Just getting you nice and clean, Hermione,” Harry said with more than a bit of smugness in his voice. 

His hands wandered lower, soaping up her belly, then cupping her hips. He soaped her ass, his fingers slipping between the cheeks and massaging the sore spots. One finger dipped into the crack, running over her tight little hole. He didn’t try to enter. He just circled it, making her shiver. Hermione’s knees buckled. Harry caught her, then slid his soapy hand between her legs. His fingers rubbed up and down her slit, spreading her open under the hot water. She was already wet, and the mix of soap and her own juices made it easy for him to finger her. He pressed two fingers inside, curling them to stroke her G-spot, while his thumb circled her clit.

She gasped, clutching his forearm. “Harry, you’re going to make me …”

“That’s the idea,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

Hermione’s body went tight. She came hard in the shower, squeezing his fingers and moaning into his shoulder. He kept fingering her through it, unrelenting in his effort to bring her pleasure. Her legs trembled. When she was finished, she sagged against him, breathing hard. He rinsed her off, then turned her around so her back was to his chest. His cock pressed against her ass, already hard again. He kissed her shoulder, then the side of her neck. He ran his hands up and down her belly, teasing her nipples, and grinding against her until she was moaning again.

Then he bent her forward, one hand bracing her against the tile, the other spreading her ass. He lined up his cock and pushed in slowly, letting her feel every inch. Hermione whimpered at the stretch but pushed back, impaling herself on him. He started slow, letting her adjust to his size. Then he picked up the pace, fucking her in deep, hard strokes. The water pounded down on them, washing away sweat and soap, but it didn’t mute the sounds of wet skin on skin or her gasps. He reached around and played with her clit while he fucked her, never letting up.

Hermione came again, her pussy fluttering around his cock while she dug her nails into the tile. Harry grunted, slammed in even harder, then came inside her with a groan. He didn’t pull out. He held her there, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, letting her feel every pulse of his cock as he emptied himself. Her pussy was so full it overflowed. Cum leaked down her thighs and dripped at their feet. Harry kissed the back of her neck, then her cheek. “A good-morning-fuck is always the best.”

Hermione squealed a high, breathless sound. “You’re a beast,” she said as her pussy continued to milk his cock. 

Harry chuckled and squeezed her tit. “Don’t pretend that you don’t love it.” She did. She loved every second.

They stood under the spray until they were sparkling clean, and then they dried off together. Harry carried her back to bed, and she let him. She curled up against him, warm and sated. It wasn’t long before she dozed off again. 

The Great Recession

Hermione stared at her pathetic excuse for a wardrobe, a cardboard box labeled “CLOTHES” with a suspicious stain on one side. The walls of the rented room seemed even more yellow than before. Morning sunlight cut through the musty air, highlighting a cloud of dust motes above her lumpy mattress. From the next room, a voice shouted over the wireless. “Oi! Hermione, you going to the market or not?” It was Mandy, the loudest of her four roommates.

Hermione rolled her eyes and started cramming her knickers and socks into the box. She’d packed most of her books the night before, but had saved her favorite … a battered copy of Hogwarts: A History for last. The cover was practically falling apart after years of reading, and as she tucked it between folded jumpers, she felt a pang of guilt. She’d always been the rule-follower … the careful planner. Now, she was moving in with Harry, into a den of shameless sexual debauchery, and she was doing it all for what, exactly? Security? A sense of belonging? Maybe it was because she had been feeling so lonely lately. In the end, the reasons really didn’t matter. She had already made her choice. 

She slammed the box shut and dragged it to the door. The living room was already crowded. Parvati was still in a bathrobe, sipping tea, and she looked Hermione up and down with open curiosity. Mandy sat cross-legged on the tiny couch, painting her toenails.

“You moving out?” Mandy asked, as if she didn’t already know. Rumors traveled very quickly when nobody had anything better to do. 

Hermione squared her shoulders. “Yes. I’m staying with Harry.”

Mandy snorted. “At the Playwiz Mansion, right? You know everyone’s talking about you. Half the blokes in Hogsmeade think you’re going to be on next month’s cover, tits out.”

Parvati giggled, then tried to look sympathetic. “We’ll miss you, Hermione. I mean, I’ll miss having someone around who actually cleans up after herself.”

Hermione forced a smile. “I’ll miss you too. Especially your endless piles of dirty dishes.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Go on, then. Go fuck the Boy Who Lived. Just don’t expect us to take you back when you’re pregnant with triplets.” Parvati giggled and waved goodbye. 

Hermione’s cheeks flamed red. She picked up her box and walked straight past them. She went out the door, down the stairs, and onto the street. She felt strangely light, as if she’d left half her emotional baggage behind. She took a deep breath of cool morning air, and she didn’t look back.

The Great Recession

The Playwiz Mansion was perched on a low hill and surrounded by a tall iron fence. It looked more like a resort than a house, with sprawling gardens and a massive swimming pool visible from the driveway. Hermione walked the long path to the entrance, struggling with her overloaded box. Harry’s elf suddenly popped in and offered to take her belongings to her new room. Hermione gratefully accepted the help. 

The mansion’s front door was solid oak, carved with a leering satyr and a very detailed nymph. She rapped on the door, half expecting a servant to answer. Instead, Harry swung it open, barefoot and shirtless, his hair still wet from a shower. His chest was broad and muscled. He wore only a pair of black shorts, slung dangerously low. The bulge in his shorts looked obscene, like he’d stuffed a Quidditch Snitch down there for a prank.

“Hey,” he said, smirking like a fool. “You made it back. That was pretty quick.” 

After she and Harry had spent all day fucking, she left for home later that night to pack up. She spent one last night in her room before moving on to bigger things. 

She tried to look anywhere but his crotch. “Yes. I hope it’s not too early?”

“Not at all. The girls are already up. Susan’s been waiting for you.”

He pushed the door wide open and led her into the foyer. It was even more ridiculous than she remembered. The floors were covered in very expensive marble, and a massive staircase curled to the upper levels. There were dozens of framed Playwiz covers on the walls, each featuring a witch in various states of undress. Hermione scowled at the October issue, where Cho Chang straddled a broomstick with nothing but a Hogwarts tie around her neck.

Harry caught her eye and smirked. “You’ll get used to it.” He pointed up the stairs. “I put you in the room next to mine. Susan said you’d like it.”

Hermione followed him, trying not to stare at his ass as he climbed the stairs two at a time. At the third-floor landing, a shriek of laughter echoed from the pool outside. Harry led her to his room and then walked one door over. He turned the knob and opened the door. “Make yourself at home,” he said, then wandered off toward the kitchen.

Her new room was gorgeous. There was a four-poster bed, velvet drapes, and a bay window that overlooked the pool and gardens. Hermione sank onto the mattress, half-expecting it to be lumpy and cheap, but it was soft as a cloud. She couldn’t help smiling. She took her time putting away her clothes, lining up her books on the shelf, and stacking her sensible shoes in the closet. She was just unpacking her toothbrush in the en suite bathroom when a light knock sounded at her door.

“Come in!” Hermione called out as she unpacked the rest of her toiletries.

Susan Bones walked in without hesitation. She wore a bikini … if you could even call it that. The “top” was two triangles of stretchy, hot-pink fabric, barely covering her nipples, and the bottoms were so minimal that Hermione could see every curve of Susan’s wide, jutting hips and the smooth, pale skin of her pubic mound. Her red hair was tied up in a messy bun. Her hard nipples showed through the fabric, as if she’d just been in the cold.

“Good, you’re here!” Susan beamed. “You have to come to the pool. Harry got us some fancy imported sunscreen, and I want you to help me put it on my back.”

Hermione tried not to stare, but Susan’s body was impossible to ignore. She was stacked. Her breasts were huge and perfectly round, even bigger than they looked in the tight blouses she usually wore. Her legs were long and smooth, and her stomach was flat but soft, with a hint of roundness at the waist. Hermione blinked and realized she’d been silent for too long.

“Um, I don’t have a bathing suit,” Hermione managed. “Or, er, anything to swim in.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft. Harry keeps the supply room stocked for emergencies. Come on!” She grabbed Hermione’s wrist and tugged her down the hall, past more rooms and more magazine covers.

The supply room was a fever dream of female sexuality. Racks and racks of bikinis, panties, bras, and lingerie hung on the walls, arranged by color and size. The back wall had shelves of high heels in every shade imaginable. Susan pulled a neon-green string bikini from the rack and thrust it into Hermione’s hands.

“This one will look amazing on you. It’s got just enough coverage to protect your delicate modesty, but it’ll show off those tits. Trust me, Harry will drool.”

Hermione sputtered. “I am not interested in …”

“Yes, you are,” Susan said, grinning. “If you weren’t, you’d have never come back from the Three Broomsticks. Now, get dressed.”

Susan stripped off her bikini top right there, not caring in the slightest that she was half-naked in front of Hermione. She pulled on a new black top and adjusted her breasts so they sat perfectly inside the cups. Hermione tried not to stare, but she found it really hard not to. Blushing, Hermione turned her back and changed quickly. The green bikini was tinier than she’d expected, the bottoms little more than a triangle of fabric and two strings. The top squashed her perky breasts, but her nipples poked through anyway. She had to admit, she looked better than she’d thought possible.

Susan gave a wolf whistle. “Dang, Hermione, you’re hot.”

Hermione blushed harder. “Shut up.”

Susan shrugged. “I’m serious. Harry’s going to love how this looks on you.” She wiggled her eyebrows and led Hermione out to the pool.

The poolside was already alive with activity. A couple of bikini-clad girls lounged on chairs, flipping through magazines. At the far end of the pool, a blonde witch Hermione didn’t recognize practiced a handstand, her bikini bottoms wedged deep between her pillowy cheeks. Susan led Hermione to a lounge chair and sprawled on her stomach, arching her back in a way that made her ass look even more enormous. She untied her bikini top and tossed it onto the chair, then handed Hermione a bottle of oil. “Do my back, would you?” she said, as if this was the most normal request in the world.

Hermione knelt beside her and squirted a dollop of oil onto Susan’s lower back. The stuff smelled like coconut. She rubbed it in, trying to be clinical about it, but there was so much skin and so little suit that her hands were constantly skimming the sides of Susan’s breasts, the small of her back, and the very tops of her wide, jiggly ass cheeks.

Susan moaned dramatically. “Oh, god, yes. Right there. Get the sides, too. I’ll burn if you don’t.”

Hermione bit back a laugh and worked the oil into Susan’s soft, pale skin. She let her hands glide up to Susan’s shoulders, then down to the indentations above her hips. Susan had faint tan lines that Hermione hadn’t noticed before. Susan reached back, grabbed Hermione’s hand, and pulled it lower, so Hermione was basically rubbing her ass. “Don’t be shy, Hermione,” Susan purred. “Here at the mansion, we all help each other out.”

Hermione blushed but didn’t stop. She massaged the oil in with steady, slow circles, trying to keep her mind off the fact that she was groping another woman’s bare ass in broad daylight. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Harry’s arrival until he was standing right behind her. He was shirtless and wearing wim trunks, and he’d brought a tray of cold drinks. His eyes did not leave Hermione’s body. “Need any help?” he asked, voice thick with amusement.

Susan wiggled her ass in the air. “Get Hermione’s back for her. She’s too shy to ask.”

Harry set down the drinks and moved behind Hermione. “Turn around,” he said. She did, and he put both hands on her shoulders, massaging the oil in with slow, strong strokes. He didn’t shy away from the sides of her breasts or the small of her back.

Hermione bit her lip. “You’re very good at this.”

“Years of practice,” Harry murmured, his voice right by her ear. “You have really nice skin, Hermione.”

Susan giggled. “Told you.”

Harry slid his hands down to Hermione’s lower back, then up along her sides, fingers grazing the undersides of her bikini top. She could feel her nipples harden instantly, and her whole body buzzed with tension. Suddenly, Susan rolled onto her back, bare tits out for the world to see. They were massive, perfectly round, and topped with large pink nipples already stiff from the morning air.

“Oi, Harry!” Susan called out. “Do my front, would you?”

Harry grinned wickedly. “Of course.” He squirted oil into his hands and leaned over Susan, massaging it into her tits with a slow, sensual care that bordered on worship. He started at the base, kneading the heavy flesh, then moved to the tips, pinching and rolling Susan’s nipples until she moaned loud enough for the whole garden to hear.

Hermione watched, entranced by the erotic sight. Susan’s breasts glistened with oil, and Harry’s hands looked huge on her pale skin. He flicked his tongue over one nipple, then the other, and Susan arched her back, pushing her tits into his face.

“God, I missed this,” Susan groaned.

Harry glanced at Hermione, his face slick with oil and mischief. “Want to join in?”

Hermione hesitated, but Susan reached out, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her onto the lounger. “Come on, Hermione, don’t be a prude. It’s just tits.”

Susan untied Hermione’s bikini top with a single, practiced tug. Her breasts popped out. They weren’t as big as Susan’s but perfectly shaped, with pink, perky nipples that stood out against her pale skin. Harry’s eyes darkened. He squirted more oil onto his palms and started massaging Hermione’s chest, working slow circles around her breasts, kneading them with gentle pressure. He paid special attention to her nipples, pinching and rolling them until Hermione gasped. The sensation was overwhelming. No one had ever touched her like this before, not even in her wildest dreams. Her pussy throbbed, and she felt a dampness pooling between her legs.

Susan reached over, pinched one of Hermione’s nipples, and grinned. “You like that, don’t you?”

Hermione couldn’t answer. Harry moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso and cupping her breasts from behind. His fingers were slick and warm. He kneaded her tits with increasing intensity, his breath hot against her neck.

“You’re beautiful, Hermione,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with lust.

Susan knelt beside her, took Hermione’s face in her hands, and kissed her. Hermione was too stunned to resist. Susan’s lips were soft and tasted faintly of strawberries. The kiss was urgent and hungry, and Susan pressed her bare tits against Hermione’s chest, skin sliding against skin.

Harry kept massaging, then slid his hand down Hermione’s stomach and over the crotch of her bikini bottom. He turned her head and kissed her deeply, their tongues meeting. Hermione moaned into his mouth. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice Susan’s next move. Susan knelt between Harry’s legs, grinned up at him, and with no warning yanked down his swim trunks. His cock sprang free and smacked into his belly. Susan didn’t hesitate. She took the head into her mouth, sucked hungrily, and then deep-throated half his length on the first try.

Hermione stared in awe, the image seared into her brain. Susan’s lips were stretched wide, and her cheeks were hollowed as she bobbed up and down on Harry’s cock. Her hands squeezed his thighs, her tits jiggling with every movement. Harry moaned, his arms tightening around Hermione.

He turned her, spread her legs, and slid his hand under her bikini bottom. His fingers found her pussy instantly, parted the lips, and stroked her clit with gentle, swirling motions. She was dripping wet … embarrassingly so. Harry slid two fingers inside her, curling them to hit the perfect spot, while his thumb circled her clit.

Hermione gasped, grinding against his hand. She couldn’t help herself. The pleasure was so good. Harry’s fingers were thick, strong, and impossibly skilled. He fingered her with slow, even thrusts, building the tension until Hermione was clawing at his forearm. Susan watched, her blue eyes glittering. She popped Harry’s cock out of her mouth, spat on it for good measure, and said, “Is she close to cumming, Harry?”

“I think so,” Harry said, his tone smug and playful.

Hermione bit her lip, desperate to hold on, but Harry picked up the pace, fucking her harder with his fingers while his other hand squeezed her tit. Susan leaned in, took Hermione’s nipple into her mouth, and sucked hard. It was too much. Hermione’s body locked up, every muscle tensing. She came hard, and her pussy clenched around Harry’s fingers as a hot rush of fluid flooded the crotch of her bikini. She squealed and shuddered with the force of it, her whole body shaking.

Harry kept fingering her until she was a whimpering, twitching mess. Susan let go of her nipple with a wet pop and resumed sucking Harry’s cock, taking him deeper than before. Hermione watched through a haze, unable to look away as Susan expertly deep-throated Harry, her lips working his shaft while her hands massaged his balls. Harry’s breathing went ragged, and his grip on Hermione’s waist tightened.

Susan pulled off, gasped for air, then licked up and down Harry’s shaft. “Cum for me, Harry,” she begged. “Cum in my mouth.”

Harry didn’t need any more encouragement. He shoved his cock down Susan’s throat, groaned, and came in hot, heavy spurts. Susan swallowed every drop, then licked her lips and smiled up at him. Hermione was still panting, her body limp and sated. Susan wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then looked at Hermione with open admiration. “I told you, Harry’s the best.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around Hermione, and kissed her on the cheek. “You did amazing,” he whispered. Hermione blushed, too exhausted to argue.

Susan flopped onto the lounge chair next to them, her bare tits jiggling and glistening with oil. “Welcome to the Mansion, Hermione.”

Hermione giggled, and for the first time in ages, felt absolutely, deliriously happy. She curled into Harry’s arms and watched the sunlight play across Susan’s perfect, oil-slickened body. Maybe, just maybe, she’d made the right choice after all.