One Big Horny Weasley Family – chapter 2 (reformatted)

This is work of fan fiction, all characters and locations are the property of their respective owners. I own the story line.

Chapter 2- What’s Good for the Goose

Ron wasted no time in complying with his wife’s request. It was very rare that she ever asked to be ‘fucked’; and usually it took an unmerciful amount of teasing. He fastened his lips to hers and slid his hand down the back of her shorts. He began to squeeze and drag his nails over her soft flesh. She broke the kiss and nipped at his bottom lip. “I didn’t say grope me. I didn’t say play with me. I said fuck me.”

Without a second thought Ron rolled over and stood up, dropping his shorts to reveal his erection. She raised her hips and Ron yanked the boxers off her. He climbed back on to the bed and set his hand on the small of her back. He situated himself directly behind her and ran his hand once over her dripping pussy. He placed his hands on her ass and spread her legs slightly. Lining himself up, he lunged forward, all the way in on the first stroke. She let out a moan.

She was like a pot of boiling water, burning hot and very wet. Normally she wasn’t even this wet when they got done; he rode it for all it was worth though. He raked his nails up the back of her legs as he slammed into her again. She let out a stifled scream that just encouraged him. Grabbing her hips, he backed out and slammed forward again. He repeated this several times and each time was again rewarded with a loud and satisfying scream

She looked so good down in front of him like this; her head down on a pillow, her back arched and rump high in the air. He couldn’t resist, he brought his hand up and brought it down on her ass with a loud ‘smack’; this coincided with him slamming forward into her again, causing her to back into him. The impact was like a car crash, he could feel his pubic hairs becoming wet and matted with her juices.

As he looked down at the back of her head, it wasn’t hard to imagine the pillow her face was buried in as another woman’s crotch. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Lavender sitting there; her tanned skin and her huge tits exposed. His hand slid up Hermione’s back and wound itself into the hair at the back of her head. He increased the tempo of his thrusts as he used his grip in her hair for leverage.

*

Hermione drove back against her lover as he entangled his hand in her mop of wild, brown curls. She knew what he was thinking. As he held her head against the pillow, he was imagining her head buried between another woman’s legs. Around the fireworks that were going off in her head with every punishing thrust, she wondered what it would be like to be in that position. Trying to imagine that her hand was Lavender’s, the only woman’s touch she had ever really known, she slid it down underneath her and began to massage her breast.

Ron’s trip hammer movements were getting faster and she realized that he was getting close. She slid her hand down lower, over her stomach and into her tangle of soft hairs. Her finger brushed over her clit and an electric jolt went through her. It wasn’t terribly difficult for her to imagine it was Lavender’s hand, and having a hand down there rubbing her while her husband was driving her like a runaway jackhammer was doing delicious things to her.

Her hand pushed a little lower and she felt her fingers slide along the length of his moving shaft. Her palm came to rest against her swollen clit and she pushed against it, feeling Ron’s balls smack against her fingers and then move away. She was gripped by a wicked thought as Ron growled out something and an inarticulate cry left her own mouth in response. “Oh, Lavender!” she moaned. It was a risk, she knew, but it seemed to have had the desired effect.

He slammed into her with one last stroke and exploded inside of her. Normally, he would twitch here for a minute or so, then fall limp, and back out of her. This time though, he didn’t even stop, he just kept pounding her relentlessly. “Say it again,” she heard him say in a ragged, gravelly voice.

“Oh Lavender, rub me,” she moaned out as she began rocking her hand back and forth over her clit. Ron began to pick up speed, he was swelling inside her, and she realized that he was still stiff as a board. “Yes, Lav, just like that,” she said in breathy voice. Now his thrusts were coming harder, the sound of slapping skin was very loud in the room.

Ron’s groans were just as loud, and his deep voice saying, “Yeah, get down in there!” told her what he was thinking as he slammed in and out of her.

She was having a hard time splitting her concentration between her own building climax and teasing Ron’s fantasy. When his balls began to slap against her clit with every forward stroke she felt it build faster and faster. She kept moaning Lavender’s name, goading her husband on. Then suddenly she was there, and then over the edge. She screamed out and Ron continued to pound away at her, punishing her box exquisitely.

At some point during her orgasm, although she couldn’t say when, Ron had taken his fingers from her hair and now had both hands on her hips, pulling her hard against him. She would be wonderfully sore tomorrow. Now though, it was time for her to communicate her desire to him. She pulled away from him and reached for her bedside drawer.

*

Ron started to protest as she pulled away from him and flopped across the bed. “Lie down,” she said. What he wanted to do was pin her underneath him and really drive her hard, but now was not the time to argue. He still had a raging hard-on and her command to lie down meant one of two things, both of which were good. He stretched out in the middle of the bed.

He looked over when he felt something round and rubbery slap down into his hand. He grinned, knowing what it was: a latex replica of his ‘physical assets’. His work as a trainer for the Cannons sometimes required him to be gone for several days at a time, so he had this made as a joke gift for Hermione for her birthday at the start of the previous season. He was surprised she was able to get it so quickly, because he hadn’t seen it since he had given it to her.

Her knee bumped against his arm, and he looked up to see her hips near his shoulder. Her head was down lower, poised over his skyward pointing penis. She settled her mouth over him, and he groaned. It was so sexy when she did this. They both knew his cock was still coated in her sugary cum, and she began to lick it like a lollipop. He reached over and tried to pull her hips toward his face so that he could reciprocate, but she gave an indignant dip of her hips as she grazed her teeth over his head. He realized that was not what she wanted.

Ron reached down and picked up the dildo off the bed. He hefted it experimentally and rubbed it over her open folds. He felt her agreement vibrate through him. Experimentally, he nudged it against her and watched the tip disappear inside of her. He began to move it up and down, and in circles. She made a couple of small sounds, but nothing earthshaking. Then she leaned back against it and he watched as half of it was swallowed by her cunt. She moaned into his crotch and took about half of his length into her mouth.

Slowly, he pulled it back out and slid it in about halfway again. She moaned and duplicated the movement on his cock. He began to move the replica piece rhythmically in and out of her. She bobbed her head up and down on him. “Faster,” she said in a throaty voice. He began to move the latex object in and out of her faster, each stroke also pushing a little deeper. “Oh yes,” she cried and sank her mouth back down over his cock.

Ron was beginning to understand what she wanted, so he began to push the dildo in and out of her with greater force, letting the heel of his hand push against her pubic bone with every stroke. She was moaning and whimpering into his cock, but she kept up her movement and sucked harder and harder on him. He felt her nails tickle over his sac and rake against his inner legs. He groaned and began to take long sure strokes against her pussy. She was so wet she was beginning to squelch with every stroke. Still she moaned on and on and sucked him harder and deeper.

He knew where this was going now and tried to help it along. He felt his balls tighten up against his body, he was getting close. Based on the tempo of her breathing and the sound of her cries, she wasn’t far behind. Ron angled his thumb so that it would rub roughly over her clit with every stroke of his hand. It worked. She let go of his cock and cried out loud as he rubbed over her. She pushed her mouth back down over him and began a frenzy of sucking and licking.

He couldn’t contain himself much longer. He was about to erupt. He increased the tempo he was stroking her with and within seconds she was screaming into his erection, making his spinal chord vibrate with ecstasy. That was his cue, he shot off into her mouth and she swallowed him in great gulps. Finally, after several long seconds, he fell limp in her mouth and his hand collapsed to the bed. There was movement on the bed that he was vaguely aware of, but he was not inclined to act, as exhaustion was now claiming him for sleep.

He felt her lips on his own and he responded. They weren’t terribly urgent, and the kiss was long and slow. He could taste himself on her tongue, but he didn’t care. As she said to him the first time that she had tasted herself on his lips, “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” After a little while they broke the kiss and she snuggled down into the hollow of his shoulder. He could feel her breasts against him and her leg draped over his own. She murmured something he didn’t quite hear as she ran her hand into the patch of red fur on his chest. He kissed her forehead and surrendered to sleep.

————–

Ron was gradually pulled into consciousness by the feel of tongue and teeth on his nipple and the small hand that was stroking his erect cock. He wasn’t sure if she was stroking him to wake him up, or just because he was ‘awake’. Either way, her warm hand felt heavenly. “Mmmmm,” he moaned. He felt the weight on the bed shift and she settled herself over him. He could feel the goofy grin sliding over his face as his eyes half opened to look up and see Hermione looking down at him with a dreamy expression.

“I love it when we have time to wake up like this,” she said in a drowsy voice, “even if it is two in the afternoon.” Ron agreed with her. He was still rather tired from the day’s earlier events, but she didn’t seem to be pushing the matter. So he reached up and ran his hands up and down her back. She shivered and giggled as he ran his hands over her flanks. She squeezed some muscles and he could feel her rippling down his length. He groaned pleasantly and she did the same. “I could stay like this for hours,” she said, lying down on his chest. He couldn’t agree more. He was fully sheathed in her, though neither one of them seemed terribly urgent to do anything about it. He took a couple of long slow strokes into her, she replied by milking him. They lay like that for a long time, taking the occasional moment to increase the pleasure.

He finished waking up and could feel his amour rising, he pushed her upright and began to stroke in and out of her slowly. She moaned softly and licked her lips. He reached out and ran his hands over her legs and up her body. Her breasts were beginning to bounce with his motion. He wrapped his hand gently around each one and ran his thumbs over her nipples. She made several contented noises and began to move up and down him with longer strokes, although they were still slow and luxurious.

Ron loved this, being able to watch his wife’s body as he made love to her. The ripple of her breasts, the way she ran her hands through her hair, the dreamy look in her half-lidded eyes. He watched as she began to slide up and down on him. There was nothing hurried about what she was doing. After she was half, maybe three-quarters of the way up, she would slide back down. At the bottom she would rock her hips back and forth. The whole time, Ron’s hands never left their comfortable spots, though he would occasionally move his thumbs and squeeze her nipples. “Touch yourself?” he asked, removing his hands.

Her hands slid seductively down his chest, up her legs and across the plane of her stomach and ribs. He licked his lips as she squeezed her breasts. She pushed them together creating a pleasant amount of cleavage and pulled slightly at her nipples. One hand slipped lower then and snaked through triangle of thick brown hair. A sharp gasp escaped her lips when her finger encountered her clit. Ron watched, mesmerized, as she slipped a finger between them. Her finger glistened as she pushed against it again. Her fingers began move back and forth more seriously now, moving a bit faster.

“Slow down,” Ron said in a deep voice. “Take your time.” She did, moving in long, slow undulations. “That’s it.”

“Why do you like watching me do that so much?” she asked. Then she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it. Ron groaned deeply and she gave him a coy smile.

“You mean other than because it’s fucking sexy as hell?” She replied with a noise around the finger she was sliding in and out of her mouth. Ron gave her a smile of his own. “How magnanimous are you feeling?”

She removed the finger from her mouth and began rubbing it over one of her nipples. “Being as you could probably make me cum with one touch; pretty magnanimous.” Ron rested his hands on her thighs and began to stroke them in long, sure strokes that would relax her and keep her interested at the same time. “Do you have a story for me?”

“I do.” Ron reached up and placed his hands over hers, helping her as she pulled and tweaked her nipples. “There was a very particular incident, and every time you touch yourself it reminds me of it.”

————-

It was a brisk March afternoon, probably too cold for sensible people to be out and about. Certainly it was too cold to be sitting by the lake next to a row of razzleberry bushes. However, Ron and Hermione had a very good reason to be down here. They were looking for a little alone time on a Sunday afternoon. They preferred to be outdoors when they could; there was less chance of getting caught by one of the schools many patrolling ghosts or other inhabitants.
Ron leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hermione’s cheek. She was soft, and her skin was warm, despite the slight breeze that brushed over them. Ron shivered and pulled the blanket she had transfigured from a cloak over them. As he leaned forward to kiss her gently again, she turned into the kiss. He could taste her strawberry lip-gloss as he touched his lips to hers. He held the kiss for several long seconds before pulling away just slightly.

Her cinnamon brown eyes were half-closed, her mouth opened just a bit, and her breathing labored. He leaned forward and affixed his own mouth to hers. He was amazed that their mouths fit so well together, since she was so much smaller than he was. Then again, she had a really big mouth; and used it a lot. He smiled as he kissed her, trying not to laugh. “What?” she asked him, breaking the kiss.

“Nothing,” he smiled down at her. “I was just thinking,” he bent down to kiss her again, stalling for time. “How much I love you.”

“I love you too, you old softie. Now stop messing around and kiss me.” Ron couldn’t help laughing this time.

“This, coming from the same woman who spent the entire morning telling me it was my fault we had detention with Flitwick. I admit, the charms classroom was my idea, but it does take two to tango.”

“Yes it does, which means I can’t tango by myself.” Ron felt her small, cold hands slide around his neck. He gave in to her pull with no resistance. Her lips were soft and wet as he pressed his own to hers. She opened her mouth and he followed blissfully along, his tongue moving forward to graze over her lips and teeth. She sucked on his tongue, drawing him in, causing his body to wake up. He was beginning to wonder if there was a nerve that ran straight from his tongue to his prick.

As their tongues wrestled in each other’s mouths, Ron could feel his desire for her mounting. He had been good so far; he had complied with her wishes to keep his hands under control. Now though, as she lay on the ground half-beneath him with her fingers tangling in his hair and her tongue filling his mouth, he wanted more. He knew her by sound and by sight and scent and even by taste; but he wanted to know her by touch.

His large hand slid down her flank, rising over her hip, and down her long, lean legs sheathed in denim. He knew their shape, just not their feel. His hand drifted back up slowly. He was nervous about this, not because he didn’t know what to do, but rather because he wasn’t sure how she would react. The last time he had done this a month before, she had been furious with him. Slowly, inevitably, his hand drifted back up her thigh, over her hip, and under her sweater.

The smooth skin he had only seen in a picture taken on a beach in Greece, slid under his hand. She tensed, but relaxed again as he continued to move his mouth over hers. His hand stopped on her stomach, awaiting her tacit approval or denial. She said and did nothing. He took this as permission, and moved his hand around her side and up her back.

She shivered against him, and gave a slight gasp. He assumed his hand must be cold, because her skin was like fire to his touch. He pulled her close, feeling the slight swell of her small breasts against him, even though they were both wearing sweaters. His hand ranged over her back and flanks, learning her curves and the softness of her skin. He came to know the smooth hollows and the ridges of her spine. His hand slipped from under the sweater and curved over her arse. He gave a squeeze and pulled her to him. She pulled away slightly, and he knew she had felt the erection in his pants push against her.

He desperately hoped that she wouldn’t fully retreat, so he brought his hand back up to rest on the smooth flare of her hip. She relaxed into him again. He broke their kiss, but trailed his lips across her jaw line and into the hollows of her neck before she got the idea he was done with her. In return she brought her own lips down to his cheek and up to his ear. Her lips and tongue danced over the lobe and outer rim of his ear. He closed his eyes and leaned into what she was doing, a deep groan of satisfaction and longing escaped his throat.

Apparently pleased by his reaction, she intensified her efforts. Her tongue now slithered lower, running over the inner rim and plunging into the depths of his ear. Her tongue was warm and wet, and was setting off fireworks in his mind and his groin. She nibbled and pulled on his ear lobe, and his passion for her was driven to new heights.

He turned his head and grabbed her lips with his own. His tongue shot forward into her mouth, sparring, jabbing, wrestling with hers. His hand rode up again under the hem of her sweater. This time though, he didn’t seek approval. His hand moved up and his fingers brushed over her breast. She let out a sound into his mouth that was not quite a scream, but not quite a whimper; it froze him where he was.

Slowly he withdrew his hand and rested it in on her ribs. He thought for a second he should break the kiss and apologize, or at least make sure she was okay. However, she fisted her fingers in his hair and kissed him harder, rolling her body against his. There was no forgiveness needed, she wanted him to touch her. At least that’s what he hoped she was saying with her body.

Ron lessened the intensity of the kiss. He wanted to slow the whole thing just a bit, if for no other reason than so he could keep control of himself. His lips still moved over hers and his hand extended again. This time when he brushed his fingers over her breast, his fingers caught on the nipple pushing against the satiny material. He ran his finger around and over it, eliciting a profound sigh of pleasure from her.

His fingers moved over just a bit and found the snap clasp in her cleavage. He fumbled with it for a moment, growing mildly frustrated. Then he felt the tingling flow of magic and the bra fell open. Tentatively, he ran his hand over flesh he seldom touched, but still longed for. He cupped her breast in his palm, pinching her nipple between his thumb and knuckle. He couldn’t describe the sound she made into his mouth, but it was like a pleasant scream. He groaned in response as he rotated his hand around and over her breast. He reached between them, doing the same to the other. This was followed by a myriad of pleasant sounds from her.

With the arm that was wrapped around behind her, he pulled her closer and then rolled onto his back. She settled on top of him; straddling his hips. Now that both hands were free he ran them up the inside of her sweater and pushed aside her bra. She responded to his touch well. Her small nipples were like beads in his fingers, and her breasts felt full and firm. She ground her pelvis down against him, and he responded by pushing up with his own, though the layers of denim and cotton between them were causing him intense discomfort.

Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed against his chest. She scrambled out of their blanket cocoon like a rat escaping a trap. Ron sat up, confused by the sudden change. Her eyes were manic, filled with fear, and her hair was even wilder than normal. She began to tug at her sweater as though trying to straighten it. “Ron, I,” she stammered as her mouth opened and closed. Ron stood up and held his hands out to her. “I, I have to,” she was stuttering and backing away from him as she gestured vaguely toward the castle. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. “I, I have to, to go.” She turned and scampered up the grassy bank and bolted across the field to the castle.

“Dammit!” Ron stuck his hands down the front of his pants and adjusted the angle of his hard-on. Once it was no longer trying to tear itself through the front of his jeans, he was a lot more comfortable. “I wish she’d figure out what the fuck she wants,” he said to the vast emptiness that was now his companion. He reached down, snatched up his wand and made a violent gesture toward the blanket, which resumed its normal shape as a woman’s heavy cloak. He ran his fingers over the hand-embroidered, silver HG his mother had sewn on to it. He cleaned it off and slung it over his shoulder, then returned to the castle as well.

Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny were all in the common room when he came through. All were occupied though and paid him no mind. He headed up the stairs towards the girls’ dormitories. He stopped at the sixth year girls’ door and took a deep breath. She was probably in there, upset and crying about God only knew what. There was a red scarf draped over the door. “Girls,” Ron chuckled and quietly opened the door.

“Yes, Ron, yes, just like that.” There was no mistaking Hermione’s voice, though it had an unusual, breathy quality to it though. He almost answered when he heard his name, but something told him to keep his mouth shut. He peeked through the opening, but was totally unprepared for he saw. Hermione Granger, Miss straight-laced, Miss perfect prefect and future Head Girl, top student, and the woman so innocent that it had taken him six months to get to first base; was lying on the bed with her hands on her knickers, pressing the white cotton against her mound. The rest of her clothes were strewn across the dormitory floor. “Oh, God, yes,” she grunted as her hips rose off the bed.

Ron slipped into the room and quietly closed the door. This was in-fucking-credible. He hid in the shadow of an armoire and watched. This was way better than the pictures in the dirty magazines that Fred kept in his school trunk. This was his girlfriend, masturbating in real life, with his name on her lips, her hands pretending to be his. The erection that had slowly subsided as he walked back to the castle suddenly returned with a vengeance. “Ron,” she whispered to the bed canopy, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

‘I do now,’ he thought to himself. ‘The same thing you do to me.’ He watched as she lifted her hips from the bed, the white cotton slid down her thighs and fell in a crumple on the floor. Her hands wandered over her body, tweaking and pulling her nipples. He remembered the feel of those hard but yielding points in his hands. He squeezed his fingers and flexed his hands in silent empathy to what she was doing.

As he watched, her knees came up, and then folded out and down. Her pussy was exposed to him now, his eyes feasted on what the rest of his body craved. Her fingers glided over her body, then wove themselves into the hair that he longed to touch. He breathed deeply, inhaling the pungent scent in the air, like baking apples or caramelizing sugar. “Oh, yes! Touch me there. Rub me… harder!”

He couldn’t see every detail, but what he could see was beyond his imagining. She pulled her hands up and out, the hair parted to reveal soft, dark-pink flesh. Her hand began to move in circular motions. Soft whimpering sounds floated on the air as her hand moved more vigorously. Her voice got a little louder, her cries becoming clearer. He realized she was calling his name in among her incomprehensible moans. His hand strayed down and rubbed across where his own cock was trying to push above the waistband of his boxers. “Soon,” he whispered.

Hermione was rocking her hips now, fucking her hand as much as she was rubbing her pussy. Ron couldn’t help himself; he began to rub his cock through his jeans. She was saying ‘yes’ over and over again. Ron began to rub harder, feeling his own climax building to critical levels.

Suddenly, Hermione flung her arm out and grabbed a pillow. She crammed it over her face and screamed into it. Ron could hear the faint edges of the scream that weren’t contained by the improvised mask. Her body shook and trembled. She was twitching now, her scream still being absorbed by the pillow. He had no idea how long she had been screaming and thrashing about on the bed, but it was long enough to trigger him. He gave in to the feeling and his own orgasm tore itself free. He clenched his teeth and willed himself to not even breathe; though he wanted to shout out what she had done to him. He stood for a long moment after his own ecstasy had passed, watching her trace slow, languorous lines over her body. Finally, she sat up, looked at her clock, and sighed heavily.

He sunk deeper behind the large cabinet as Hermione rolled off of the bed and began to gather her clothes. “Ron, look what you’ve reduced me to, kicking my dorm-mates out so that I can frig myself off over you. She dropped the pile of dirty clothes into her hamper and pulled her bathrobe down from its hook and slipped it on. She picked up his picture off her nightstand. “Soon, love, soon; maybe this summer. I only want to do this with one person. I just need to be sure you’re the one.” She placed a kiss on the picture and set it back down.

He watched as she drew shampoo and other toiletries out of the cabinet next to her bed. He waited until she left, then emerged from his hiding place and stole across the room. He hung her cloak on the hook, taking time to smooth the wrinkles out of it. He tiptoed to the door and peered out through a crack, there was no one there. He slipped back out into the hallway, careful not to disturb the scarf. He looked up the stairs towards the girls’ showers. “Take all the time you need, my love. Take all the time you need.” He ran down the stairs and headed for a shower of his own.

————-

“Oh my God,” she was panting as she bounced harder and harder on top of him. Throughout the story, she had used his hands in sympathy for her own. Ron was so close he wasn’t sure he could wait for her any longer.

“Honey, are you getting anywhere near close yet?” his voice was strained with effort.

“Yes!” she yelled in response as she leaned back and began taking a series of short bouncy strokes. Ron began to rub with a bit more enthusiasm as her strokes began to pick up pace. The feeling was incredible. His head was pushing against her front wall as the back of her slit rubbed against the vein running up the bottom of his cock. Instead of just rubbing her now, he began to use his thumb and forefinger to squeeze and gently pull on her clit. The more he did this, the louder and more intensely she reacted.

By now, her short little strokes were coming hard and fast and she hit the religious stage of her orgasm and began talking to God. Ron didn’t hear much of it though, he was doing enough groaning of his own, and anyway he’d never really considered himself a religious man. With a sudden rush, she passed the religious stage and jumped to the affirmation stage. She was very agreeable, shouting “Yes, yes, yes,” to unasked questions. Then her body went tense and she let out one long, loud, monosyllabic scream. Her walls clenched against him and he exploded.

After a couple of very intense minutes, she fell forward on to his chest and he began to run his hands up and down her back, causing her to shiver. “Ohhh,” she sighed and stretched out against him. “You, Mr. Weasley, are a pervert;” Ron heard humor in her voice and knew she was teasing, “sneaking in to girls’ rooms so you can watch them masturbate.”

He chuckled a bit. “Fortunately, I don’t have to do that anymore. I just have to ask really nicely.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “You aren’t mad at me are you?”

“No, dear, I’m not mad.” She kissed him back and crawled up on top of him again and rested her arms across his chest so she could watch him. “You know, if you’d been a little braver you might have gotten lucky that day.”

“It’s more likely that you’d have gotten really mad.”

She gave him an indulgent smile. “You’re probably right.” She lay back against him and tried to squeeze herself into his skin. He put his arms around her and held her tight. “I’m glad we waited. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“It was worth every minute that I waited.” He rubbed his hands along her, trying to touch her everywhere at once. “Admittedly, it was a lot easier to wait once I knew how you felt though.”

“And once you had something to wank over every time I got you hot and bothered.” They both chuckled, then Ron’s stomach growled, loudly. “What time is it?”

Ron looked over at the bedside clock, “Almost four.”

“Good, that Chinese delivery place is open. Call and order me-” she paused to think for a minute.

“Cream of some young guy?” Ron offered.

“No, already had that; but thanks for offering.” She kissed him lightly and then sucked on his neck a bit. “Kung pao, extra peppers, and an order of spice soup.” Ron’s stomach rumbled again.

“Better get something for yourself, too.” Ron chuckled and reluctantly rolled his wife off his chest.

—————

Ron sat back against the front of his wife’s recliner and she draped a bare leg over his shoulder. “Does life get any better than this?” she asked. Ron had to wonder the same thing himself. Here it was, five o’clock on a Sunday evening, he hadn’t even been out of bed for an hour, neither one of them were properly dressed, and he had a bowl of steaming sesame chicken in his hand.

“It could,” he replied as she pointed the remote at the stereo and started the Matchbox 20 CD. “The music could be a little harder.”

“Sorry honey, you’re disturbed enough without making me listen to ‘Down with the Sickness’ for the umpteenth time.”

Ron shrugged, he had tried. He turned his head and kissed her knee, “actually, it could be better. We could have just fulfilled your ultimate fantasy, and then spent the evening sitting around in our underwear and eating Chinese food.”

“Tell me,” she said in a quiet voice. “Who were you imagining in front of me when you were burying my face in the pillow? Was it Lavender?” Ron knew he was blushing, because Hermione giggled and ran her finger over his ear.

“I thought this was about your fantasy, not mine.”

“We’ll get to it. I just want to know if I was right.”

“Tell you the truth, it didn’t really matter. I guess I was imagining it was Lavender, but only because it was the only frame of reference I had. Then you moaned out her name, and she worked as well as anyone else.” He quickly changed tracks. “You’re not upset about it, are you?”

“No.” Then he felt her lips on his ear and then her tongue. He closed his eyes and groaned contentedly.

“But you’re avoiding my question,” he said without opening his eyes.

“You really want to know?” Ron said that he did. “I actually gave you a clue in the bedroom.” Ron stopped and thought back over the day’s activities.

“Before or after you started moaning Lavender’s name?”

“After.”

“Before or after we fell asleep?”

“Before.”

Ron thought carefully, thinking about what he’d been doing to her. “You…want someone to take Polyjuice potion to look like me so you can have me in both ends.” Ron shook his head. “Wait. I’m over thinking this. You want a threesome of your own. Anybody in particular?”

She leaned forward and put her arms around his chest and ran her fingers through his patch of ‘man fur’, as she called it. “I’ll file your first idea away for another time though, it is intriguing. But what I want is to be sandwiched between you and Harry,” she murmured as she kissed his neck.

Ron’s jaw dropped open, and he almost dropped his fork. “How long have you wanted to sleep with Harry?” he heard himself ask. ‘Stupid,’ Ron berated himself; that wasn’t the question he was supposed to ask; now it looked as though he had a double standard. “That wasn’t what I meant-“

“No,” Hermione shushed him with a kiss and kept his silence by placing a finger on his lips. “It may not have been what you meant, but it was what you wanted to ask; even if you won’t admit it.” She took his bowl from him and set it down. She slid out of the chair and into his lap. She kissed him lovingly, not sensually, but in a way that communicated that she loved him.

“I’ve never wanted to be with Harry in the way that I am with you. But I will admit that I’ve always been just a tiny bit curious. I spent three and a half years listening to Parvati and Lavender ask me why it was you and not Harry. They used to go on and on about how they thought he was just the best thing since sliced bread. I never had any doubts though; you were always the one for me.”

She nestled down against his chest. “Once I discovered the joys of being with you, I occasionally wondered how Harry would stack up,” she kissed him again, “but never enough to find out.” She kissed him yet again, this time it was wet and involved her nails grazing lightly over his back. “Besides, you have no idea how badly I want to tell Lavender that I was right all along.”

Ron could feel his apprehension draining away. Physically, he knew how he stacked up against Harry; that wasn’t a concern. “So, it’s just a sex thing?” She murmured a yes into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. He could do this for her. Her fantasies deserved gratification as much as his did. If having Harry’s dick in her mouth would make her happy, he could do that for her, once, maybe twice.

“Do you want to talk to him or do you want me to?” he asked.

“Really?” she said, sitting up to look him in the eyes. She seemed to be searching his face and eyes for some trace of doubt.

“If having Harry inside you once will make you happy, then I can do that. What’s good for the goose, and all that.” That was a saying that had been very prominent in their relationship, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. There were other variations as well, ‘tit for tat’ was his favorite; simply because he thought it was funny when Hermione said ‘tit’. He knew it was juvenile, but it was still funny.

“You talk to him, but first I’ll have to talk to Ginny.” She answered Ron’s curious look with a kiss on his nose. “Property rights and all.”

“Property rights?”

“Yes honey, didn’t you know? There’s a tattoo on your prick that says ‘Property of Hermione Weasley.’ It’s been there since we were married.” Ron tried to shift around and get her off his lap. He wouldn’t put it past his wife to do something weird like that; women were strange creatures, married women doubly so. “Sit still silly. You wouldn’t be able to see it anyway, unless you can give yourself a blow job.” She laughed and wrapped her legs around him as she trailed several wet kisses over his neck.

He reached around her and pulled the back of her nightgown free so he could run his hands over the smooth skin of her bum. God Almighty, she was wet and hotter than a wood burning stove on a winter day. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her and stroked his fingers over her dewy, silk like hair. He laid her down on the floor and stretched out next to her. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Shh,” he whispered into her ear. He ran his hand down over her stomach, then back up under her nightgown. She spread her legs a little to give him access. He ran his hand over her, pressing against her with his palm as his finger opened her slit. “Imagine,” he said in a low voice, “lying in bed. You hear my voice talking to you; then you feel my hand roving over your naked body.” He removed his hand and slid it up her body, groping and lightly scratching. “Then you feel my other hand.” He reached inside her gown and lightly tweaked her nipple with the hand that was half buried under him.

“I’m groping you and kissing you, giving you pleasant little sensations all over. Then you feel another hand, another man’s hand, caressing your leg. It comes up higher, and is joined by a fourth hand. One of the extra hands cups your pussy, and a finger slides inside you.” Ron slid a finger back into her, pushing it all the way up to the last knuckle. She let out a deep, satisfied moan. He continued to weave a story of images and sensations. By the time the mysterious second man wrapped his mouth around her mound, she had cum all over Ron’s hand. By the time Ron finished his tale, she had screamed and moaned her way through four good, hard orgasms.

When he finished, she fell on his cock with her mouth like she would die if she didn’t suck it dry. When he was just about to blow, she rolled over on her back and squeezed her breasts together. “Here,” she said breathlessly. Ron thought he might actually cum before he could get on top of her. He loved this position, the feeling of her soft tits squeezing around his cock, the sight of her pulling on her nipples as he slid back and forth, the amazing wetness of her tongue on his head with every forward stroke.

He laid himself in her cleavage, and as soon as she was closed around him, he began to stroke. It didn’t take long, less than a couple of dozen and suddenly her throat and upper chest were splattered with his thick white cream. After she had used her mouth to make sure she had milked him dry, she ‘let’ him pull her up off the floor- which is to say that she had held out her hands and expected him to help her up. He led her to a nice hot shower where nothing happened because they were both so exhausted they could barely stand.

A little while later, the two of them were sitting at the dining room table. Each was looking over notes for work the next day when Ron looked up, “Honey?”

“Yes?” she replied without looking up.

“If we do this… with someone else,” He felt awkward talking about it now, maybe because of his discomfort with what he needed to ask. “You know I want to see you, you know… with… another woman… doing… stuff.” She put down her pen and looked up at him. Her eyes were full of laughter and a smirk played about her lips.

“Yes, I know.”

“Are you going to want… me and Harry… to… you know… do… stuff?” He knew he was blushing, the fact that she looked like she was about to go into paroxysms of laughter wasn’t helping. She swallowed and arranged her face in a serious expression.

“You know how I am, dear, tit for tat; literally in this case.” He felt her foot caress the back of his calf as she went back to her work. He picked up his own pen and went back to reading his notes. He had been pretty sure of the answer before he even asked, but he still had to ask. He could always hope she wouldn’t.

“No,” she said out of the blue

“What?” Ron asked, looking up.

“No, you don’t have to do anything with Harry.”

“Why the sudden change, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“It’s selfish on my part, but you’ll get over it. If you don’t do anything with Harry, then you both have to focus all your attention on me.” Ron could live with that answer. That was a fair trade. “Bonus is that then I don’t have to share you with her, who ever she ends up being.”

“So, you get to have two partners- twice, and I can’t even have two once?”

Hermione shrugged, and then moved her fist near her mouth and her tongue against her cheek in a simulation of oral sex. “Point,” Ron admitted and laughed. “So, when are you going to talk to Ginny?”

“Probably next weekend. You have to understand how awkward this is going to be. Ginny and I don’t talk about sex; it’s just too… bizarre. And it’s not like I can just walk up to her and say, ‘hey, you mind if I invite your husband over for a night of wild sex?” Ron agreed with her on that point, and waited for her to make the next move.

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