Sex friends - A Harry Potter tale

The apartment was a comfortable, lived-in space, a testament to the life Neville and Susan were building. The scent of the earlier rain had been replaced by the warm aroma of wood polish and the faint, sweet trace of Susan’s perfume. They settled onto the plush sofa, the conversation drifting through the easy channels of shared history and mutual acquaintances. The wine flowed, a rich, dark red that stained their lips and loosened their tongues.

It was Daphne who, with a sly, knowing smile, nudged the conversation toward a more intimate topic. “So,” she began, swirling the wine in her glass, her eyes fixed on Neville. “You two have been together for a while now. When are you going to make it official? Tie the knot?”

Susan’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. Neville, however, beamed, his face lighting up with a joy so pure it was almost painful to watch. “Actually,” he announced, his voice thick with emotion, “we’ve been talking about it. We’re thinking about getting married!”

“Eeehh? You two are thinking about getting married?” Daphne squealed, her surprise genuine and laced with a thread of excited glee. She clapped her hands together lightly. “That’s wonderful!”

Harry was flabbergasted. The news landed like a physical blow, a stark reminder of the chasm between the raw, carnal connection he’d just experienced with Daphne and the wholesome, committed love Neville and Susan shared. He felt a pang of something ugly—jealousy, longing, a bitter sense of loss for something he’d never even had.

“Hahaha, yeah!” Neville laughed, nearly spilling his drink in his enthusiasm. “We’re just about to tell her aunt and my grandmother. It’s happening any day now!” He raised his glass. “Which means it’s going to happen any day now, right? Here, have some more wine!” He held his glass out, and Daphne, smiling, obliged, pouring a generous amount until the dark liquid nearly crested the rim.

Harry watched the exchange, his heart a tangled mess. (To be completely honest, he thought, I would have tried to hit on this girl, if she wasn’t already taken. She is totally my type). He glanced around the apartment—the neat bookshelves, the framed photos of Neville and Susan on vacation, the single, slightly worn armchair that was clearly Neville’s. (He said he lives by himself, but from the looks of it, they might as well already be married. This place is big enough to fit a married couple).

“Hey, Neville, pace yourself,” Susan interjected, her voice soft but firm, her concern evident. “You know you can’t handle your alcohol.”

“Babe, it’s okay,” Neville slurred, his grin unwavering. “We are enjoying ourselves!”

(For a second just now, Harry’s mind raced, I kinda wish they would break up so I might have a chance with her… Damn it, I am such a loser for having such thoughts… )The self-recrimination was swift and brutal. (I had my heart broken twice in a day… Today has been the worst!)

Daphne, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s internal turmoil, chimed in again, her voice bright. “Huh, looks like everything is working out great for you two. I am so jealous!” Her words, meant as a congratulatory tease, landed with a strange weight.

The mood in the room shifted palpably. Neville’s jovial expression dissolved, replaced by a cloud of gloom that seemed to physically darken his features. He set his glass down with a heavy thud.

“Actually…” he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial, miserable whisper. “I have been suffering from erectile dysfunction lately. I don’t know what has been happening, but I don’t seem to be able to get it up.”

Susan gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Hey, w-what are you talking about?” she stammered, her face burning with a mixture of shock and acute embarrassment. “You are already drunk! Shut up!”

Daphne, however, didn’t look shocked. A secretive, almost predatory grin spread across her lips. “Eeh? That means… that your girlfriend Susan must be sexually frustrated, right?!” she asked, her tone dripping with faux innocence.

“Shut up!” Susan snapped, her voice cracking. “Jeez, seriously, Neville! What are you talking about? We are not even sure if you have a condition!”

Neville, however, seemed to be in a trance of his own misery, his gaze fixed on Daphne. “Yeah!” he insisted, his voice growing frantic. “I have been feeling anxious at night… That’s why I wanna get married so I can be with her forever… I don’t want Susan to dump me and go look for another man because I can’t satisfy her in bed.”

Wow, he is pouring his heart out, to a girl he just met! Harry thought, a mix of pity and disgust warring within him. (Huh, so Susan is frustrated, huh… If only I could do her like what I did to Daphne back in the hotel earlier…)

Susan, her face a mask of conflicted emotion, moved from her chair to sit beside Neville on the couch. She took his hand in hers, her touch gentle. “I won’t dislike you just because of such things,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity. “I would be happy to be married to you, so stop worrying so much about it and let’s weather through this together as a couple.”

Neville was overcome. He threw his arms around her, hugging her so tightly she let out a small, surprised squeak. “Susan,” he murmured into her hair.

Harry watched the display of pure, unwavering love, and a profound sense of resignation settled over him. Wow, I don’t see any cracks in their relationship at all, he thought. I guess I will just give up and wish them the best.

But while Harry was surrendering to this bleak acceptance, he completely missed the sharp, calculating glint that had entered Daphne’s eyes. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that cut through the sentimental air.

“I have the feeling he can’t get it up because the sex no longer feels new and exciting…!” she declared, her statement hanging in the air like a lit fuse. “So why don’t we swap partners and have sex? You know, like swinging?”

Susan shot up from the couch as if electrocuted. “Hey! What are you talking about…!” she yelled, her voice shrill with disbelief.

“I AM IN!!!” Neville’s voice boomed, his face suddenly alight with a desperate, manic determination. The gloom was gone, replaced by a fervent hope that was almost frightening to behold.

“Eeeeh! You are kidding right…?” Susan muttered, her eyes wide, looking from Neville to Daphne and back, as if trying to see if this was some elaborate, cruel joke.

“Please, Susan!” Neville pleaded, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Truth is, I have tried everything I could think of behind your back, but none of it worked! Maybe this is what I needed!”

“But, Neville… I can’t imagine us having sex with other people, it just feels… wrong,” Susan replied, her voice trembling.

“Yes, you are right!” Neville agreed, nodding vigorously. “Which is why… we shouldn’t do this after we are married! So now is our only chance to give it a try!” He was practically vibrating with intensity. “Please! This is for our future! I will feel bad if I don’t get my ED cured! I want us to have kids together! So please, I am begging you! Let’s give it a try!” His eyes were wild, possessed by a singular, desperate goal.

Susan was really unsure. It was plain to see on her face—the conflict, the embarrassment, the sheer awkwardness of having this deeply personal, bizarre negotiation happening in front of two people she had met just hours ago. She was uncomfortable, her body language screaming her reluctance. But the combined pressure of Neville’s frantic pleading and Daphne’s smooth, encouraging smiles was immense. After what felt like an eternity, Susan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Daphne was on her feet in an instant. “Great! Come on, Su, let’s get ready,” she said, her voice bright and efficient. She took Susan’s hand and led her toward the bathroom.

“Umm….Can we not…” came Susan’s shy, pleading voice through the closed door a moment later.

“Jeez, take off that towel!” Daphne’s excited voice carried clearly, a stark contrast to Susan’s meekness. “I am showing my naked body to your boyfriend too, you know. Ah, and don’t cover with your hands either! Let’s go!”

In the master bedroom, Harry and Neville had stripped down and were sitting on the edge of the large bed. Neville was practically vibrating with a nervous, eager energy. Harry, on the other hand, felt a strange, detached calm, his mind still processing the surreal turn of events.

The bathroom door opened.

The girls emerged, completely naked. Daphne led the way, her body a masterpiece of confident sensuality. Her B-sized breasts were firm, her nipples a hard, pink contrast against her creamy skin. Her hips curved in a perfect hourglass, and her pussy was completely, smoothly shaved.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys!” she sang, her voice a sultry promise.

Beside her, Susan was a portrait of exquisite, blushing mortification. Her DD-sized breasts were magnificently perky, defying gravity with a lush, heavy fullness that was mesmerizing. Her nipples were a beautiful, deep pink against her pale, freckled skin. Her hips were even more generous than Daphne’s, a lush, womanly curve. A delicate, ginger landing strip adorned the top of her pussy. One arm was crossed under her breasts, the other behind her back, a futile attempt at modesty. Her expression was a clear mix of shame and resignation.

Harry’s breath caught. (Wow, I am really looking at Susan’s naked body…) The thought was a simple, stunned acknowledgment of the breathtaking sight before him.

“This is just too much…” Susan whispered, her voice barely audible, her face a brilliant scarlet.

“God, don’t be shy, Su!” Daphne reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We are all naked and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Neville, his eyes wide and drinking in the sight of his girlfriend’s revealed beauty, turned to Harry as if a sudden, crucial thought had just occurred to him. “Uh… just to be sure,” he asked, his voice thick with a conflicted but eager hope, “you are okay with your girlfriend doing the whole swinging thing right?”

Harry was startled for a second, his mind snapping back to the present. “Eh? Eeeh… sure,” he managed, forcing a reassuring smile. “We are doing this to help you out, man. Don’t worry about it.” The lie was smooth, automatic. (Daphnee is not really my girlfriend), he thought, a thrill of illicit excitement shooting through him, (and I get to have sex with Susan, the girl who is totally my type! This is the best thing ever!)

Harry’s gaze lingered on Susan’s face, tracing the flush that crept from her cheeks down her neck, a visible testament to the turmoil beneath her shy exterior. “And you, Susan,” he pressed, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the humid air of the bedroom. “Are you sure about this?”

She swallowed, the delicate column of her throat working. Her eyes darted from Harry to Neville, then back to the carpet. “Y-yeah,” she breathed, the word barely audible. “Of course.” The conviction in her voice was paper-thin, a fragile shield against the tidal wave of anxiety and illicit thrill washing over her.

“Ooooh! Look, Susan! I am getting hard!” Neville’s voice shattered the tense quiet, a shout of pure, unadulterated joy.

Susan’s head snapped toward him. She dropped to her knees on the plush carpet, her posture stiff, and threw him a look of profound, unimpressed disbelief. It was a look that said, Really? Now? Her gaze, however, was drawn inexorably downward. There, rising slowly but surely from Neville’s thatch of pubic hair, was his cock. It was a respectable five inches, straight and eager, a testament to Daphne’s skill. Susan stared at it, her mind a blank slate of confusion. How was she supposed to react to this? Was she supposed to be flattered? Annoyed? The sight of it, so earnest and small in the grand scheme of the room’s new reality, did nothing for her.

Behind her, Daphne also knelt, her movements fluid and confident. She threw an amused, almost clinical look at Neville’s rising erection, then her expression shifted to one of thoughtful calculation. Her eyes flicked to Harry, then back to Neville.

“I am so touched! I am cured! I can finally get hard again!” Neville declared, his voice thick with emotion.

Daphne’s smile was a sharp, knowing curve. She reached over and, with a single, decisive tug, ripped the towel from Harry’s lap. “Great! Looks like our plan worked!” she announced, her voice singsong. “Now, Susan, check out my boyfriend’s junk… TADAAAAAH!”

The sight that was revealed was not a cock; it was a statement. A thick, ten-inch column of flesh, rigid as steel, stood proudly from Harry’s pelvis. The head was a deep, angry red, swollen and glistening, and the shaft was a roadmap of thick, pulsing veins that seemed to throb with a life of their own. It was, objectively, twice the size of Neville’s, and the comparison was so stark, so unjust, that it felt like a physical blow.

“EEEEEH?!” Susan screamed, the sound a pure, startled reflex. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers. “It is HUGE!” Her thoughts fragmented into static. (What the fuck… He is twice as big as Neville… What’s more, he is so hard it’s bent backwards… Is it even normal to be this big?!)

Harry felt a surge of primal pride, a hot, possessive thrill that went straight to his groin. (Oooh! Susan is staring at my erection). Her shock was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered.

Daphne leaned in close to Susan’s ear, her breath warm. “Just you wait,” she whispered, her voice a velvet promise. “It will feel even better when it’s inside you.”

“I… Inside…” Susan muttered, the words tasting foreign on her tongue.

“Wow… that’s impressive,” Neville said, and the slight, tight note in his voice was unmistakable. A hint of jealousy.

(My boyfriend is as tall as Harry, but his cock is only half his size… )Susan’s mind raced, her gaze darting between the two erections now framed on either side of her. (This guy is on a completely different league!)

“Okay, Harry, a few rules before we start,” Neville announced, his voice regaining some authority. “No kissing, and you must use condoms. Got it? We have yet to even have bareback sex, and I don’t want you to be the first to do it with Susan.”

“O-of course, no problem,” Harry replied, the lie smooth on his tongue. He had already been inside Daphne, raw and deep, but that was a secret he would keep.

“Let’s begin!” Daphne exclaimed, her voice cutting through the last of the hesitation. She didn’t give anyone a second to think. Her hand shot out and wrapped around Neville’s cock with practiced ease, guiding it to her mouth. She took him in, her lips sealing around his shaft, and immediately began a rhythmic suction, her tongue flicking against his glans. She was a virtuoso, no hesitation, no awkwardness.

“Ohhh! She doesn’t hesitate at all! Susan never does this so willingly!” Neville yelled, his head thrown back.

“Neville,” Susan chastised, her voice sharp with a jealousy she couldn’t hide.

(Damn it… She isn’t my girlfriend, but I still feel a little pissed), Harry thought, a flash of anger hot in his chest. (Okay, then I am going to do the same!)  “Here, grab it,” he commanded, his voice rough. He took Susan’s right hand, his own large and warm, and guided her slender fingers to his massive erection.

Whoa! It is so big, my hands look tiny in comparison! Wait… I am touching another man’s dick, Susan thought, a jolt of reality hitting her. Before she could overthink it, she asked, her voice a small squeak, “Like this?”

“No, you gotta put it in your mouth,” Harry indicated, his patience thinning. “Just like what my precious girlfriend is doing to Neville.” The possessive emphasis on “precious girlfriend” was not lost on her. (Whoa, her fingers are so smooth),  he thought, the sensation of her tentative touch sending sparks up his spine.

In the background, Daphne was a whirlwind of motion. She was deepthroating Neville with an ease that was almost shocking, her throat working around him while she moaned, the sounds muffled and wet. She licked his cockhead like it was a lollipop, savoring the precum that beaded at his slit, and each time she pulled back, she’d dip her head to lick and suckle on his small, tight balls. Neville was a mess, his eyes rolled back, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream of pleasure. He looked like he was having an out-of-body experience, so overwhelmed he couldn’t even form words.

Susan, meanwhile, took Harry’s cock with both hands, her fingers barely able to circle the base. She guided the massive, reddened head to her lips. She started with shy, tentative licks, circling the broad crown, tasting the salt of his skin, the musk of his arousal. Hnn! It is too big, It wont even fit in my mouth… she thought, a wave of panic and desire warring within her. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and took him in, trying to fit as much of his ten-inch length as she could manage. She managed to get the top half in, the head bumping against the back of her throat, and began to suck with a desperate, earnest effort. She was firmly between Harry’s legs, both hands wrapped around the base of this giant cock, her cheeks hollowed as she tried to draw his essence from him.

(Compared to this cock, I am sure I can easily fit Neville’s entire dick in my mouth), Susan pondered, the comparison automatic and devastating.

(Unlike Daphnee, it is obvious she is not used to doing this, but strangely that makes it more arousing!)  Harry thought, watching her struggle, her inexperience a raw, thrilling contrast to Daphne’s polished skill.

“There, you are now finally fully erect,” Daphne announced, pulling off Neville’s cock with a wet pop.

“Oooh! Thanks a bunch, Daphnee! You are way better than my girlfriend at sucking cock!” Neville proclaimed, his voice booming with a laughter that was a little too loud, a little too forced.

Daphne and Susan continued their work, but the dynamic had shifted. Harry noticed the subtle stiffening of Daphne’s shoulders, the flash of irritation in her eyes before it was masked by a smile. Susan, however, reacted more viscerally. Neville’s statement was a slap. Her cheeks flamed, and she doubled down on Harry’s cock, sucking with a new, fierce intensity. She was trying to draw his cum out through his cock like a straw, a desperate, angry suction. (I am sorry, I am sucking another man’s dick, Neville! So… Daphnee gets to enjoy this thing all the time, huh…) The thought was a bitter pill, but it fueled her actions.

“Oohh, you are being so gentle, it feels so good!” moaned Harry, his head falling back. Susan had begun to lick the side of his shaft, tracing the thick veins with the tip of her tongue, then circling the frenulum, kissing tenderly at the head of his cock while her hands stroked him and massaged his balls. She looked completely out of it, her eyes glazed, lost in the sensation of this massive, living thing in her mouth. (How does it feel to have something this massive inside me, I wonder…) The thought startled her, a forbidden fantasy that bloomed unbidden in her mind. (Wait, what was I thinking?! Let’s just get this over with…. )The internal conflict was tearing her apart.

“Please, Harry, don’t look at me…” Susan muttered, pulling her mouth off his cock for a moment, her voice a plea of pure embarrassment, not just from the act, but from the treacherous, lustful thoughts she couldn’t control.

The sudden shift in position was a masterstroke of awkward, thrilling exposure. Harry’s hands were firm on her hips, his strength undeniable as he spun her like a dancer, her back now pressed against his chest, her head hovering over his lap. The world tilted for Susan. One moment she was kneeling, focused on the impossible task of accommodating Harry’s massive cock in her mouth; the next, she was suspended, her weight resting on his torso, her legs splayed wide over his shoulders.

“B-but I am completely exposed down there!” she squeaked, her voice muffled by the sheer proximity of his erection to her face. The realization hit her like a physical blow. The new 69 position offered Harry a panoramic, unobstructed view of her most private anatomy. Her plump, pale ass was now directly above his face, her thighs framing his vision. He could see everything—the delicate, pink petals of her pussy, the soft, ginger landing strip that adorned her mound, and, most embarrassingly, the tight, winking rose of her asshole.

And she was wet. Soaking wet. A slick, glistening sheen coated her inner thighs, and a fresh bead of her arousal had just dripped from her entrance, landing with a soft, audible pat onto Harry’s chest. She had been turned on by sucking his cock, and now the evidence was undeniable, a humiliating testament to her own arousal.

Harry, however, was not embarrassed. He was enthralled. He had seen Daphne’s shaved, perfect slit just hours ago, and now he was presented with a different, equally beautiful landscape. He didn’t hesitate. His fingers, large and warm, parted her swollen labia, revealing the glistening, pink interior.

“Huh? You are so… wet,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that Susan felt through her entire body. “Are you that turned on from sucking my dick?”

“ I don’t know what you are talking about!” Susan cried out, her voice cracking with shame. She tried to clamp her legs together, but Harry’s broad shoulders prevented it. He held her firm.

He pulled her hips closer, bringing her pussy directly to his mouth. There was no ceremony, no gentle introduction. He licked her with a single, long, flat stroke, from the base of her clitoris all the way down to her asshole.

Susan’s world exploded.

The sensation was electric, a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure that shot from her core straight to her brain. Her hands, which had been gripping Harry’s thighs, flew to her own mouth to stifle a scream. Harry was relentless. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, creating a tight, wet vacuum that made her hips buck involuntarily. Her pussy responded instantly, gushing a fresh wave of juices that coated his nose and chin. He was burying his face in her, his tongue probing, exploring, tasting every inch of her.

He began to penetrate her with his tongue, a slick, invasive heat that felt impossibly good. (His tongue is inside me…) The thought was a revelation. (Neville never ate me out because he was too shy to ask about it… I can’t believe how good it feels!) Susan was losing her mind. Every lick, every suckle, every gentle nip sent her spiraling deeper into a haze of pleasure. Harry was an artist, and her body was his canvas. He lapped at her, his tongue tracing patterns she didn’t know existed, from her throbbing clit to the tight, sensitive ring of her asshole.

In the background, the wet, rhythmic sounds of Daphne sucking Neville continued, a lewd soundtrack to Susan’s private undoing. But Susan was lost to it, her entire universe narrowed to the mouth devouring her.

Harry, meanwhile, was in his own heaven. The taste of Susan was different from Daphne—sweeter, more floral, with a unique musk that was intoxicating. He felt her muscles clenching around his tongue, her body trembling. He inserted two fingers, curling them to find that rough, ridged patch on her upper wall. When he pressed it, a sharp, keening cry tore from Susan’s throat.

This must be her G-spot, he observed, feeling the texture change under his fingertips. (It is deeper inside than Daphnee’s….) He began to work it in earnest, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit.

Susan’s hands, which had been gripping his thighs, now moved. They found his cock, still hard and throbbing against her cheek. She wrapped her fingers around the base, her hands looking impossibly small against the thick shaft. She began to stroke him, her movements frantic, desperate. She needed him to cum. She needed this to be over before she completely lost control.

(Oh God!, I can’t take it much longer! I gotta make him cum… before I end up having sex with him!) The thought was a panic, a last-ditch effort to regain some semblance of control. She focused all her energy on her hands and mouth, stroking his cock with a tight, quick rhythm while trying to take as much of him into her mouth as she could.

Harry felt the change in her. The frantic energy of her hands, the way her pussy was suddenly clamping down on his fingers and tongue. He knew she was close. He could feel it in the tremors running through her thighs, in the way her breath hitched and her moans became higher, more desperate.

(Ohhhh! This tightness and this much love juice, I will finish her off!) he contemplated. He doubled his efforts. His tongue became a piston, flicking and lapping at her clit with a speed and precision that made her see stars. His fingers pumped her G-spot, hitting that sensitive ridge with every thrust. He sucked her clit hard, then released it, only to suck it again, alternating the pressure in a maddening rhythm.

Susan was drowning. The pleasure was too much, a tidal wave that threatened to consume her entirely. She could feel the orgasm building, a tight, coiling heat in her belly that was both terrifying and irresistible.

(No way… he is going even faster?! Wait… Noo, ah… ahhh…. I am going to cum!.... I am cumming… I don’t wanna cum… I am cumming…..!)

Her body betrayed her. Her back arched off Harry’s chest, a bow of pure ecstasy. A guttural, wordless scream was ripped from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy spasmed violently around Harry’s tongue and fingers, gushing a hot, clear fluid that coated his face and chest. Her legs shook uncontrollably, her toes curling as wave after wave of pleasure obliterated every coherent thought.

She was still cumming, her body locked in a rigid, trembling arc, when Harry felt his own climax building. The sight of her, so utterly undone by his mouth, the feel of her tight, wet pussy clenching around him, the frantic, desperate strokes of her hands on his cock—it was too much.

With a roar, he pulled her hips down hard, burying his face in her pussy as he came. His cock erupted in her hands, thick ropes of cum shooting out, coating her fingers and his own stomach. He kept licking her, his tongue working her clit through her own powerful orgasm, drawing out the pleasure for both of them until they were both spent, panting, and slick with sweat and release.

The room fell silent, save for the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant, final sighs of Neville and Daphne.

The force of her orgasm was seismic, a tectonic shift within her that she had no power to contain. Despite her frantic, silent pleas to her own body—not now, not with him, this is cheating, this is wrong—the sheer, overwhelming expertise of Harry’s mouth and fingers shattered her resolve. Her back arched violently off the mattress, her fingers tangling in his hair not to push him away, but to hold him there, to grind her trembling hips against his face as the pleasure crested.

A long, guttural moan tore from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated release that echoed in the quiet room. Her pussy, clenching around Harry’s invading tongue, gave a final, powerful spasm and then unleashed a hot, clear gush of fluid. It wasn’t just a trickle; it was a stream, a jet that splashed against Harry’s cheek, soaked into his hair, and ran in rivulets down his neck. She was squirting, her body convulsing through a climax so intense it left her breathless and seeing stars.

Her hands, which had been stroking his cock with desperate, inexperience-fueled determination, went limp. She had tried so hard to make him cum, to bring this to an end before she lost herself completely, but her own pleasure had overwhelmed her before she could finish him. The evidence of her failure was slick on her fingers, and the evidence of her surrender was plastered all over Harry’s face.

For a few seconds, maybe a full minute, the world was a haze of white noise and aftershocks. When her vision cleared and her breathing evened out into ragged gasps, she found herself on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Harry had moved, rolling away slightly, but the phantom sensation of his tongue and fingers remained, a ghostly imprint on her nerves.

(Ahh… aaaah… my whole body went limp! she thought, her mind a blank, stunned canvas. I have never felt like this before… I have never came once when having sex with Neville. But this guy I just met made me cum right away… ) The realization was both terrifying and exhilarating. She had just experienced a pleasure so profound it felt like a betrayal of her entire relationship, yet it was a betrayal she had willingly, eagerly participated in.

Harry, meanwhile, was riding a wave of pure, triumphant adrenaline. Yes, I did it! I made his girlfriend cum really hard! The thought was a savage, satisfying roar in his mind. He looked at Susan, her body flushed and splayed in the aftermath of her climax, and felt his own arousal surge anew, harder than ever. He wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly command. He moved to his knees, positioning himself between Susan’s trembling thighs. His cock, still hard as a rock from the enthusiastic, if clumsy, blowjob, stood to attention, the thick head glistening with pre-cum. He reached for a condom, the crinkle of the wrapper loud in the sudden quiet, and rolled it down his length with practiced ease.

Susan, still dazed, watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. She was gaining her bearings, the world slowly coming back into focus, but her body was still humming with the echoes of her orgasm.

Harry guided his sheathed cock to her entrance, the latex-covered head pressing against her slick, swollen folds. He began to rub it up and down, coating himself in her juices, teasing her clit with the broad tip.

The sensation was immediate and electric. Susan gasped, her body jolting. “Fueee?! No, stop! Don’t rub me there… I am still sensitive!” she cried out, her voice a mixture of protest and desperate plea.

Harry didn’t stop. He continued the maddening, circular motion, his eyes locked on hers. “It is fine. I am wearing a rubber,” he reassured her, his tone calm, almost soothing, but his actions were anything but.

“N-No! I mean… I don’t feel good about this… I would be cheating on my boyfriend!” she yelled, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. The reality of the act, the imminent penetration, was finally crashing through the haze of pleasure.

Harry paused, his cock still resting at her entrance. He tilted his head, a faint, almost amused frown on his face. “Eh? What do you mean? He is already doing my girlfriend, though…” he mumbled, his logic simple and brutal.

Susan’s eyes, wide with panic, darted to the left. Her gaze landed on the couch, and the scene there seared itself into her retinas.

Neville was on all fours behind Daphne, who was bent over the arm of the couch, her back arched, her ass presented perfectly. Neville was fucking her with a frantic, almost desperate energy, his hands gripping her hips so tightly his knuckles were white. He was driving his five-inch cock into her with all his might, his face a mask of concentrated effort and ecstasy.

Daphne, in stark contrast, looked utterly relaxed. Her cheek was pressed against the leather couch, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. She was letting out soft, breathy moans, perfectly timed to spur Neville on, her body moving with him in a fluid, practiced rhythm. The only visible issue, from Susan’s horrified perspective, was the mechanics of it. With each powerful thrust, Neville’s shorter length would sometimes slip out, and he’d have to pause, reposition, and plunge back in with a grunt of frustration.

“Aaaaah! So this is what another girl’s pussy feels like! It feels so great!” Neville yelled, his voice cracking with excitement, completely oblivious to his girlfriend’s stare.

The sight was a cold splash of reality on Susan’s heated skin. Her boyfriend was lost in a world of his own, fucking another woman with a fervor she hadn’t seen in years, while she was here, about to be fucked by his friend. The hypocrisy was staggering, but so was the raw, animalistic pleasure she could see on Neville’s face.

Harry saw the conflict warring in her eyes, the way her body was still trembling, the way her gaze was fixed on her boyfriend’s performance. He saw her lips part, a soft, defeated sigh escaping.

He took that as his answer.