He could hear it above him, moving. The boards on the ceiling creaked with every footstep. It wasn't long before it found the pipes to the chimney, which he knew by the clanking and clatter that followed. It loved shaking the pipes. The noise continued for too long, followed by more footsteps as the creature shambled to a corner where a loud thwomp shook dust from the ceiling. There was a minute of beautiful quiet before the snoring began. The wretched thing had fallen asleep.
Harry didn't envy Ron in the least living beneath a ghoul-infested attic all these years. He wondered how he kept from murdering the thing. "You get used to it," Ron would say. Harry found that hard to believe, as right now he was considering with perfect seriousness climbing up there and using one or two unforgivable curses.
He tried to picture the ghoul. Ron had told him he was green, greasy, bigger than you thought, hairy, ugly, kind of like an ape. A thoroughly disgusting creature. Appalling in every way. Harry checked these thoughts, though, as they were taking a serious toll on his wood.
He was sitting on the edge of Ron's bed on the fifth floor of the Burrow, the Weasley family home situated in the Devonshire countryside. All he was wearing was a white tee. His dick was in his hand and slickened with a glistening liquid a jar on the nightstand called: "Vitreous of the Beholder! Slick, odorless, washes easily!" Harry remembered studying beholders in third year Defense Against the Dark Arts, horrible monsters little more than giant, floating eyes.
Sun poured in through the windows, one in front of Harry and one behind him. It wasn't noon yet. The Weasleys were away except for the Mr and Mrs., Arthur in the garage tinkering with his muggle shyt and Molly bustling around the lower levels cleaning. As Harry took matters into his own hands with loud, unctuous noises, he heard occasional sounds of her presence, a loud clunk here, rapid footsteps there. Was there no quiet in this house?
Ron wouldn't be back from his trip to Diagon Alley for another hour, so Harry had plenty of time for a solid session with the vitreous. He leaned back on the bed and relaxed, trying to picture the raunchiest scenarios. He fantasized about Luna and her soft raspy voice, how it would sound if he took her. He thought about the crying ghost who'd gotten him off a few times, his load firing through the back of her transparent head as she sucked. He thought about the centaur he'd encountered a month ago shortly after his eighteenth birthday. Oh, they'd had some quality fucking when he'd stumbled across her meadow to find her prancing in the buff, lovely breasts rising and falling with her gait. It hadn't been an hour of chatting before Harry was shoulder-deep in her pussy. Centaurs loved being fisted, and after she'd had her satisfaction, Harry'd transfigured his legs into stilts, walked up behind that huge horse ass and taken some satisfaction himself. It was a little big in there, but he managed.
He grinned at the memory, and involuntarily his mind drifted to Ginny and her fiery red muff, her perky, pink nipples, but he quickly dismissed the thoughts. He couldn't picture Ginny now; their breakup still was sore. They'd probably get back together in the end, but for right now she wasn't a part of his life.
Harry thought back to the centaur and her huge, winking pussy with a big, stupid grin on his face. It wouldn't be long now, then he'd clean up and read a bit before Ron got back.
Knock, Knock, Knock
It came Harry's left, from the door past the foot of the bed. "Harry!" called Mrs. Weasley as she swung it inward. "I was just wondering if—" She stopped in her tracks in the doorway when she realized what she was seeing, Harry sitting on the bed, hand flying with that unmistakable sound, and an almost comical look of astonishment played on her face as a small "Oh!" escaped her lips.
"Molly!" Harry said, sitting with a start, hiding his dick in his hands. He didn't think he'd ever felt so embarrassed. "What are you. . . You don't. . . You can't just barge in!"
She stood in the doorway, quiet like she was stunned, while Harry took in her appearance. He was surprised by how womanly she looked. She had a working frock, snug and hempen, brown and green, that did little to hide her voluptuous curves. Her hips were wide and her breasts large, ripe and teardrop shaped, with freckled cleavage spilling out of a deep neckline loosely tied by laces, and you could tell she'd been working by the sweat on her creamy white skin, her flushed complexion and frazzled red hair.
Finally, she smiled. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, Harry, dear. Perfectly natural what you're doing for a man your age. I should know, having raised six of them!" And to Harry's surprise she entered the room and started around the bed behind him.
"Wait! Molly, what are you—"
"Don't mind me, Harry, dear. You go about your business. Just grabbing Ron's dirty laundry." Harry looked over his shoulder and saw her wand was out and she was flicking it at shirts, socks and underwear littering the floor, which levitated and gathered in a clump following her about.
"Mrs. Weasley, really. I'd appreciate some privacy."
His oiled dick was still in his fist, still hard as he watched her magick an old sweater out of a corner.
"Just pretend I'm not here, dear. You do your thing; get it out of your system. I'll be gone before you know it." Her wand was rotating the floating sweater as she seemed to examine it.
Harry was having a hard time believing what Mrs. Weasley was saying. Was she actually encouraging him to wank while she was in the room, just a few feet away? It was crazy, but as he looked over his shoulder at the thick, full figure silhouetted against the light from the window, every curve distinct, he found himself squeezing his dick tighter, and he thought, what the hell.
She was still examining the floating sweater when she heard it begin, a gradual Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . . She smirked as she sent the sweater into the jumble, continuing her search for laundry.
Harry's handiwork was the only sound other than Mrs. Weasley's footsteps and spellcraft. He watched her move, and whenever she jabbed her wand her lovely, pendulous breasts would sway. But Harry was drying up; he reached into the jar and applied more vitreous, watching her over his shoulder.
She shoved a dresser aside, exclaiming, "Ron, you knob!" as she magicked a pair of mouldy boxers out from behind where it had been.
"So applying to the aurors, then?" she asked, as she fired the shorts into the dustbin.
"Yeah. Right after summer. Interview's in. . ." A tense sigh escaped him. "September."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
Now she was looking through Ron's dresser, opening and closing drawers. "Well I doubt you'll have any trouble getting in. Who's better suited for catching dark wizards than the boy who defeated the darkest wizard?" She left the dresser and bent over a hamper, her wide, womanly ass with its two, plump cheeks delectable in her snug skirt, and pointing straight at Harry.
"I don't plan on getting in on reputation, Molly."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
She fished around inside, and as Harry watched she hopped a little, jiggling her ass. She jiggled her ass! No way that wasn't deliberate, and there! She did it again, bouncing her rump at him.
"Certainly not," she said.
He watched her wriggle and fish around, to what purpose he couldn't imagine, the whole situation extremely surreal to Harry. Part of him couldn't believe he was having a wank while Mrs. Weasley was feet away and knew what he was doing, could plainly hear him doing it, but it made him hard as he'd ever been.
"Do tell my son not to let his laundry build up. Some of this is weeks in the waiting."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
"It'll be falling on deaf ears," he said.
He felt himself getting close, so he slowed down, and Mrs. Weasley turned around, forcing Harry to as well. He looked out the window over the green pastures surrounding the Burrow, and heard her round the bed for the door, afraid she was leaving—fapping with an audience was much more fun—but instead she laid the laundry by the door and said, "Just look at these cobwebs! I swear, that boy never cleans a thing."
Harry turned and looked. She was by the door, facing him but looking at the ceiling, up at the trusses. He had a splendid view of her grand milky cleavage.
"Gonna do a bit more cleaning, dear. Just carry on as you would."
Harry was done complaining. "It's your house, Molly."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
She conjured a dust wand out of thin air and reached it between the trusses, arm flailing, along with her cleavage, to Harry's delight. He didn't even pretend to look away. She was really getting into, putting her whole body into the motions, heaving her tits in the flimsy frock. Half her right areola came free of the neckline, pink, puffy and broad, like a grown-up version of Ginny's. Harry licked his lips.
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
"And there's more here!" She moved closer to Harry, attacking the ceiling, flailing her tits as more areola emerged. Soon she stopped and fanned her face with her hand. "Whew!" she said. "All this work does make a woman sweat."
Harry could see that she was, profusely. Droplets were running down her neck into the valley of her freckled cleavage. "It is hot in here," she said, grabbing the lace connecting her neckline and pulling it free. Now the frock abandoned all pretense of containing her melonous breasts, the right nipple emerging completely, along with most of the left, both pink, perky and inviting the lips. She pretended not to notice. So did Harry.
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
"Almost done, Harry, dear?"
He realized for the first time she was openly watching him work, watching his fist pound his wood. He found this incredibly hot, and he was getting close.
"Not much longer now."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
"And where were you planning on finishing, young man?" she chastised lightheartedly.
The question caught him off guard.
"Hadn't really thought about it. . ."
"Hadn't really thought about it?" She shook her head. "Typical boys, emptying themselves wherever they happen to be. The things I've seen in this house. . . Spunk on the floor! Spunk on the sheets! Spunk on the God-damned ceiling! Well you won't be dropping your seed on any of them, young man, I'll tell you that," she lectured over the sound of his fist.
"No, ma'am."
He was thinking he could run to the window, but she probably wouldn't like that idea either.
She turned to the pile of laundry by the door and summoned Ron's sweater, woolen and red, to her hand. "Here," she said, coming around with it. "Use this. It's going in the wash anyway."
Harry didn't think Ron would like that, but he'd never know so he didn't complain. And he figured she was just going to throw it on the floor, but she surprised him by coming in front of him herself and kneeling, holding it out as a target! Her head, her face he knew so well, inches away from him fuck his fist, from his horny, uncut cock and dangling balls plain for her to see! Her eyes were locked on him pump, and his were on her cleavage, so much better this close, the long, milky, freckled line and the hints of her nipples.
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
"My, but you do have a nice one, Harry. Excellent shape." She eyed his purple crown.
Having Mrs. Weasley compliment his cock was a huge turn on. "Thanks, Molly."
And she continued to watch patiently, kneeling there with sweater extended like an offering, as Harry ogled her breasts.
"Hurry it up, young man. I don't have all day!"
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
An idea occurred. He hoped she was game for it.
"There is a way you could speed things along, you know."
She gave him a skeptical glance. "And how's that?"
Harry tried to sound innocent. "Loosen that frock a bit, will you?"
She laughed. "Oh, you are a naughty boy! Very well." She reached into her neckline and pulled out each of her wonderful tits, spilling them over the fabric, plump, ripe and huge with the puffy nipples glowing.
Harry panted, fist and lungs accelerating. He was going to pop any second.
"That's it, dear. Milk it out. Don't stop."
Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .Fap. . .
Harry groaned as he felt it begin. "I'm cumming!" he said, gritting his teeth, groaning as his mind reeled.
"Right on the sweater, dear. Right here. Squirt it out for me."
Harry leaned over the edge of the bed and pointed his dick at the offered sweater, screaming, "EEAAAAYYGHHHHH!" as he erupted. Strand after strand, he painted the sweater, coming brilliantly, releasing all the tension that had built up since she'd entered the room.
"That's it, dear. Get it out of your system. Give me all that spunk." Molly smiled as she watched him spurt, his cock inches from her face, barely missing it with its salvo. She watched the head vomit.
Harry groaned and trembled, half standing up, putting a hand on her shoulder for support as the other jerked furiously. Still it was coming.
"Look at you shoot! Virile as an ox you are!"
With less and less potency, he fired, as the orgasm subsided, his hand squeezing the base as the last of it dribbled out. He shook it off, sighing with a laugh.
"There," Mrs. Weasley said, with her brightest smile. "All done." And she surprised Harry again by reaching up with the sweater and dabbing the head of his cock, wiping off the come and vitreous. "Hold still a moment, dear. I'll clean you up." He sat back down, happy to let her clean as both hands got involved, using the sweater to gently wipe.
"Vitreous, eh?" She looked up at him.
He nodded while he watched hands tenderly wipe his equipment, and his cock, which had started to deflate, was already hard again under her ministrations.
"Yeah."
"Great stuff, that. Arthur and I use it sometimes. And doesn't taste bad, considering it comes from a giant eye." She moved his cock about looking for more to wipe, but seemed satisfied. "There. Clean as can be." But still she moved it, gratuitously he thought, eyeing its shape and veins, but he wasn't about to complain. It was solid and springy again, hard in her hands, but finally she let go, folding the sweater over itself and throwing it onto the pile.
"Thanks for that," he said.
"Oh, don't mention it, dear." She stood and looked down at him over her overflowing breasts, which she seemed to remember were naked as she shoved them back in her frock, smiling.
"Oh, Harry. My Harry." She looked at him proudly. "I've seen you grow into a man before my eyes. Hard to believe, seems like just yesterday you, Ron, Fred and George flew in on that blasted car of Artie's after I'd spent the night worrying. You were so small then." She took a seat beside him, wrapping an arm around his tall, hard back.
"First time I'd ever been here," he said. "Loved the place ever since."
"Oh, you're always welcome, dear. And how I've seen you mature since then, seen you fight terrible battles, and can't help but feel I've been a mother figure to you, although we aren't blood. I wanted to adopt you, you know; save you from those muggles." She put no love in the word. "They weren't a proper family."
Harry couldn't agree more, and was overjoyed to finally be rid of the Dursleys.
"You lot are more family to me than they ever were."
She smiled. "I'm glad you think so. I do feel like a mother figure to you, and mothers take care of their children. But. . ." She hesitated. "There are ways I cannot care for my sons that I can care for you, Harry. If it had been one of them I had walked in on, I probably would have walked right out, as I have a few times! But you're different. You aren't blood."
He nodded. She had said nothing he didn't like, and he liked the direction she was going.
"I know it's hard being a young man. All those. . . drives. I've seen it six times! SIX TIMES! You've got girls on the brain, don't you?" She nudged him with her elbow.
He shrugged. "Hard to get them out of my head." He neglected to mention it had been her on his mind a few times.
"I thought as much. And young men need an outlet for such desires. It isn't healthy for it to go bottled up without fulfillment!" She looked at him in her kindly manner. "This is a way I cannot care for my sons. But I can be this outlet for you, Harry. If you want me to be."
Harry examined her warm, kindly face, round and wise, looking at him sincerely. She was very beautiful for her age, he thought, full of life with a glowing complexion. His answer came swiftly in the form of palming her cheek, brushing her hair aside and kissing her. She returned the kiss, their lips meeting for the first time as their arms came around in an embrace.
In a while, they came up for air, looking into each other's eyes with faces of relaxed lust. Her eyes drifted to his lap.
"Hasn't gone down, yet, has he?"
Harry reached up and palmed her massive tit. "Nor will he, with these around."
"Naughty!" she said, but didn't stop him squeezing and fondling her breasts hanging in the frock. He took her hand and placed it on his inner thigh, which she started to stroke, fingers over wiry muscle as he kissed and fondled her. He ventured south, down her plump stomach, to the fabric between her thighs, and she inhaled sharply when she felt his fingers on her button. He gave a heated breath of his own when her delicate hand wrapped around his shaft and squeezed, gently starting to pump, and he grew bolder, went lower, down to the hem of her skirt.
"Wait, wait," she said, standing abruptly.
Harry was worried she was having second thoughts, but was reassured when she said, "Lay back on the bed, dear."
He complied happily, turning lengthwise up the bed and propping himself on his elbows as she reached beneath her skirt and dropped lacy, green panties to her slippers, kicking them away as she mounted the bed, coming to kneel over Harry's calves, skirt hiding the sigh of her now-defenseless womanhood. Harry's dick was pointing hornily at the ceiling. Her eyes were burning holes in it, her hand gently stroking it.
"You've been with a woman before?" she asked.
He nodded, stroking her calves.
"Good. I didn't want to be the first woman you make love to. And this is an act of love, Harry, for I do love you, as I love any of my own."
His hands were drifting over her thighs. "And I feel the same, Molly."
That was all the encouragement she needed. She advanced up his body knee by knee. "Give me your hand, dear." She knotted the fingers of her left and his right as the curtain of her skirt approached his cock. When it arrived, she raised it to admit him into the appointed chamber, and before she lowered it over his dick he glimpsed her most private of areas, and what he saw there was beautiful. Whereas Ginny had a cute little ginger muff, neatly trimmed, Molly had a sprawling, tangled forest, bushy, wild red, beneath which drooped her delicious looking, meaty labia stuck together with drops of dew leaking out.
She was poised and in position, knees by his shoulders, when she slipped her free hand beneath her skirt and found Harry's cock. She directed him into her forest while she spread her legs, descending. Hidden behind the veil, Harry didn't know when he would reach his destination, but soon enough felt the tangled fiery hairs on his cock head. Her fingers guided him through it, and after a moment's jabbing around he found her, felt himself part a warm wetness.
"There we go, Harry, love," she sighed as she sank, knotting their other hands as Harry let his head hit the pillow. He felt a blissful, almost relieved feeling as he clove Mrs. Weasley's pussy, not as tight as Ginny and very wet, so the penetration was effortless. Inch by inch she engulfed him until her ass landed in his lap, all her weight on him with their hands interlocked and his cock snug in her sweltering pussy.
Then, her hips started to gyrate, and she rode him, moaning softly as he slid in and out of her. The sight of her wide womanly hips bucking filled Harry with pleasure, along with the noises she made, her coos and ragged breaths as the bed creaked.
She rode him for some minutes this way, both of them gently moaning, then varied the position, letting go of his hands, leaning back and hooking hers under his knees. Then she really came down hard, like she was trying to shove him through the bed, and he loved what this was did to her tits, throwing them about. He raised the skirt and watched her forest grind, catching glimpses of the engorged lips swallowing his cock. She showed great skill at what she did, which only made sense after however many Weasleys she'd made.
She leaned forward, putting her hands on the bed and dropping her tits in his face. He was more than happy to take them in his hands and squeeze, suck, lick and slurp themg. She ground down hard, fucking him hard and fast, sweet agony on her face from the friction this gave her sweet spot, while Harry suckled her tits. Her rasps soon became louder and higher, climbing and climbing.
"Oh, Harry! OH, HARRY!"
She made a few sharp bucks, then unleashed a squealing roar as her whole body shook and trembled. She lost herself, screaming in Harry's face as she came, making noises he hadn't known she was capable of, until she collapsed on top of him, burying his face with her tits, her depths spasming around his cock.
"Don't worry about the noise," she breathed. "I cast an enchantment on the room when I was cleaning. No sound's getting out."
She nuzzled against him as hepumped up into her, for there was still the problem of his satisfaction, which she knew, too, and was soon sitting again, resuming her gyrations with Harry's hands locked on her waist. He felt himself slowly and easily slide the breadth of her creamy cunt. Their sex was slow and unworried as he watched her tits rock and sway. He sat up and planted his face between them, slapping them against it, making her giggle as she took the opportunity to wrap her legs around him, both of them sitting, she in his lap. The new position afforded a greater depth to the penetration, and her expert hips fired, taking him from head to root, rosy lips clinging with every retreat. They fucked in each other's arms, Harry's face nestled in her tits, their perspiration shining as he squeezed her into him. Now it was his turn to sound like he was approaching the end, his breaths coming raggedly.
"Getting close, Harry, love?"
"Yeah. . ." he said. "Very!"
"Good, good, dear." She caressed his hair. "Give me that spunk. Spunk in mommy's pussy."
That was it. Harry lasted a few seconds more, then felt himself tip over the edge. He roared as he exploded inside her, shuddering and gasping, lost in sensation, filling her pussy up as she continued to slam her ass into his lap, smiling down broadly at the ecstasy she imparted.
"That's it, dear. Give me that spunk. Shoot it deep inside me, straight into my pussy."
And he did, for several seconds longer, until the last of it was sent, the overwhelming instant fading as he collapsed into her chest, his breathes leveling off.
He looked up at her. "You really know. . ." he panted. "What you're doing. . ."
"Of course," she said. "Decades of experience."
The bedroom door flew open as Ron barged in. "Harry! Come on, we're going to the—" Pure horror filled his face as the scene before him registered, his mother sitting in Harry's lap, tits spilled over her frock, her hips still rocking slightly, his mother fucking his best friend.
"M-m-m-m-m-m-mum?"
Harry whipped his wand off the nightstand and leveled it at Ron. He bellowed, "Obliviate!" and a beam of light hit him squarely in the face. Ron stood like a deer in headlights for a moment, then shambled out of the room, holding his head.
"Good thinking, Harry, love. Not the first time I've seen a memory charm used for such occasions. Had to myself, once or twice."
He kissed her. "Quick! Let's get dressed. He'll be back in a minute."
She eased off his lap, deflated dick sliding wetly from her pink petals and forest followed by a stream of come. She she tossed on her panties as Harry hopped into his boxers and pants, and she had just finished re-running the lace of her top when Ron barged in.
"Harry, come on, we're going to the—" He noticed his mother standing by the window, looking outside.
"What are you doing in my room?"
She put her hands on her hips, reeling on him. "It's my house, Ronald Weasley, and I'll damned well go where I please. I happen to be collecting your dirty laundry, not that I should be at your age." She tilted her head. "Also having a chat with Harry here."
Harry was lounging on the bed, arms crossed behind his head on the pillow.
"Well. . . Thanks for the laundry. . . But off with yeh! I've got business with scar-face."
"Don't you take that tone with me," she said.
"Don't talk to your mother that way!" Harry said.
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, as Mrs. Weasley did make her way out, striding past him with a glare, summoning the pile with a flick. She paused in the doorway to give Harry a wink, who sat a glob of his deposit drip from under her skirt to splatter on the floorboards. Must have overflowed her panties. And then she was gone.
"That woman. . ." Ron sighed, taking a seat beside him. "You'd think she'd drop the parent act. I'm bloody-well out of school now."
Harry could hear the ghoul snoring.
"I don't think she ever will. Been queen of her coop for too long."
Ron shrugged. "You're probably right." And for some reason, they laughed.
"What were you two talking about, anyway?"
"She was wondering about the aurors. I didn't expect she'd come; I was surprised. Although I was reasonably certain I would."
Ron was nodding but suddenly looked bemused. "What?"
"Huh?" Harry said.
"Nevermind." Ron shook his head, standing with a clap. "Come on! We're off! Got your broomstick?"
"Course!" Harry said, hopping out of bed, and they made their way to the door, Ron massaging his temples. "Got the weirdest headache right now. . . "
In minutes they were flying, up and away from the Burrow, into the boundless blue sky. Following them came the magically magnified voice of Mrs. Weasley, "Don't you two be late for supper!" followed by giggling and a quieter, "Artie! Those hands will get you into trouble."
Ron gulped uncomfortably as he and Harry flew into the clouds.