Hermione had always wanted to perform for her husband. She wanted to dance, sing, and strip, and just have him watch her.
And here she is now, standing on a stage, gripping the pole she was meant to grind on as her husband stares below her, sitting with legs crossed, smoking a cigar – looking like the classy man he is. She is wearing a white lacy leotard, her golden legs on display for her husband. Her hair is not brushed, wild and messy just as he likes it. Her lips stained with the red lipstick he'd always wanted her to wear, her eyelids glowing with eyeshadow, her eyelashes darkened by mascara, and her cheeks red with natural blush. She's wearing those six-inch black heels she'd never thought she could pull off, but here she is now, standing confident on a stage to dance for her husband. She memorizes the beat of the song that's currently playing, so she can easily predict it – so she can make any move and have it be synchronized with the beat.
She slowly lets go of the pole she was gripping earlier. She moves her shoulders enticingly, seductively. The beat of the song is becoming faster, and so she wiggles her hips with it. She uses her hands to grip her waist. She soon let go of it to slightly run the fingers over her breasts before dropping it fast, making it land between her legs, she lightly tap the cloth – teasing the heat beneath. She bends her knees, still moving her hips side-to-side, then suddenly moves her legs wide open. Hermione finds that it's hard to sway her hips in that particular position, so she chooses instead to pump her hips forward, humping the air. She watches in amusement as her husband's eyes move to what's hiding between her legs. She thrusts her hips forward until her knees eventually met the floor, forcing her into a kneeling position. She takes advantage of this position and chooses to bend her back until her hands meets the floor. She makes sure to thrust one more time before letting her upper body fall. Then, she immediately flips over, her delectable ass now facing her husband. She smirks in satisfaction when she heard him sigh. She makes a circular motion with her rear, now humping the wooden floor. She turns her body over again, completely lying on the floor now. She spreads her legs as wide as they can go and sits up, ending up with a split. She pulls her legs up to make herself stand up. She makes her way to the pole, wanting it to be her husband's cock as she gets a grip of it again.
She uses it as something to hold on to while she wiggles her way down and back up again. She pulls herself closer to the pole so she can thrust against it, wishing so badly that it was her husband's body and not a fucking pole. She forgets about the point of having a pole and moans as she felt the coldness of the steel brush against her thigh. She wants to feel it again, this time inside her. She goes to thrust against the pole again, but arms from behind grabbed her and pulled her back. She hears herself cry in distress. She feels the hot breath of her husband's whisper in her ear.
"Hush, don't cry now, my love. I am here," he says, and his voice alone causes a warm liquid gush from her cunt. "No need for dancing – I want you and that's all that matters."
Oh right! She was previously dancing for her husband, performing her long-life concert.
She struggles in his arms, wanting to be free so she can dance for him again. "I-I wasn't finish – "
She hears him chuckle. "It's alright now, love. You've proved your point, and now I just want to be inside you."
Hermione, with those words, completely gives up her fight and surrender to the great man holding her. She rests her head on his chest, all the while rubbing her bum against his clothed cock. She grunts in frustration.
"Everything's going to be alright," he sooths, as he finds the zipper on her back and slowly removes her leotard.
She shivers in anticipation as she felt his fingers run gently across her nape when he gets her out of the leotard. She remembers that she did not wear any undergarments when the leotard falls into the floor.
Her husband squeezes her left breast while he put his lips on her neck, sucking hardly on the skin. He plays with her nipple, causing it to harden. He moves his other hand to hold her hip, controlling her grinding on him.
He turns her around to face him and instantly capture her lips with his. She bites his lower lip, knowing how much he loves that. He sucks her tongue, knowing how much she loves it when he does that. Her hands move to unbutton his stupid shirt, she wants to feel his nipples against hers. When she finally manages to remove the damn polo shirt, her hands immediately goes for his belt to unbuckle it. She feels his hand cup her cunt intimately, he runs his middle finger down to her clit and it felt fucking good. She moans to prove it. He inserts two fingers inside of her, and again, it felt good. He pumps the fingers inside her, Hermione's hands weakens and she can't find the will to remove his pants anymore. She whimpers, burying her head on his shoulders. She grips the forearm that was moving to thrust his fingers inside her.
"Please, hurry!" she begs, and he complies by removing his fingers to take off his pants instead. She finds that he did not wear any undergarments as well, and she is forever grateful. She takes his cock in her hand and guides it towards its rightful home. When he is fully seated inside her, Hermione feels her lips form into a smile before she moans again. Her body is tired, sweating, and cannot manage to thrust fast against him. So, she settles for bucking her hips slowly, as if she was still dancing and performing for him. He grabs both of her thighs and wraps them around his hips. Hermione's hands wander to his hair and they run through it, feeling the softness of it. Her husband ends up being the one who controls their ride, thrusting his hips harshly against her and pushing her to meet him. She moans and groans and cries. He growls and grunts and sighs. And then, bliss.
Hermione blinks, coming back to the real world. Her fantasies have been plaguing her for quite a while now, perhaps it is time to confront her husband about them. Hermione smirks and sips her tea, looking at her husband who's reading the Daily Prophet. No, no one must know about her naughty daydreams. She shakes her head, it has been a while since her and Draco had properly fucked. Maybe it's time to make these dreams a reality.