This is a work of fan fiction. All characters and locations are the property of their respective owners. I own the story line.
Epilogue
Ron did one final walk-through of the bedroom to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Dropping down to his hands and knees, he peered under the bed. Sure enough, they had missed something. Once he retrieved it, he realized he did not recognize this underwear, and he knew they didn’t belong to his wife. He stuck it in his pocket and figured he’d get it back to whoever needed it.
After checking everything else, he walked down the hall as the others began to gather as well. “Somebody lose something?” He held up the underwear.
“That’s where those went,” Ginny said as she snatched them from his hand.
“Why the hell was your sister’s underwear in your pocket?” Charlie accused.
“Because they were under my bed.”
“That’s not much better.”
“That’s enough, you two!” Ginny’s eyes blazed like fire as she turned on Charlie. “You realize you’re accusing me of the same thing you’re accusing him of. You think your little sister is that much of a slut, or are you just hoping she is?” The slap of her hand on his face rang in the room, and everything was silent. “For your information, they were there because I dropped them while Hermione and I were playing around.” She stepped right into his face, so that there were only inches between her nose and his. “Does that bother you Charlie, does it bother you that your little sister likes to dyke out on her friends. Or are you so much of a pervert that you want to watch me dyke out on my sisters?”
His eyes were wide and his mouth flopped open and closed like a fish. “That’s what I thought, you fucking pervert.” She turned and stomped away down the hall, Hermione took off after her.
Angelina turned a gimlet eye on Charlie. “I love you dearly, brother mine; but you can be a class A prick. I think it might be best if you didn’t stay for the party at Mum’s tonight. Come with us, say goodbye, then tell her you need to head home.”
Charlie’s hands clenched at his sides, the veins in his arms clearly visible. His jaw moved like he was working up spit. Bill very obviously drew his wand, as did Harry. Ron checked to make sure his was handy, but since Charlie wasn’t looking at him, he decided he’d play it low key. They didn’t want Charlie thinking he was backed into a corner.
Ron watched nervously as Charlie slowly, but deliberately drew his own wand. “I don’t need a couple of sluts telling me what to do.” With a sharp cutting movement and a word, Charlie was gone.
No one said anything for a minute that felt like an hour. Finally, Alicia spoke up. “I’m going to go call Penelope, see if she and Percy and the kids can make it. How long should I tell her?”
“Thirty minutes,” Angelina said as she turned and walked down the hall.
“That long?” Fred asked no one in particular.
“Probably,” Ron said, “Ginny’s gonna need a minute.”
—————-
Molly pretended not to hear her husband trying to sneak up behind her as she prepared breakfast, though at this late hour it should actually be lunch. They had enjoyed a leisurely morning, cuddling as they watched the rain outside the window. She straightened up a bit as he wrapped his arms around her and tilted her head to the side. “How’s my Molly-wobbles this fine morning?” She shivered as he bent his head and kissed that spot just behind her earlobe.
“I’m okay.” She placed her arms over his and squeezed. She wasn’t really, but he didn’t really understand.
“Only okay?” He kissed her again. “What’s bothering you dear?”
“My little monsters turn 30 today, and they can’t even be bothered to let me throw them a party.” She let out a long sigh. She knew they were grown men now, with wives, a business to run, and enough other activities to keep them all too busy to worry about her.
“I’m kind of glad they’re not here,” Arthur whispered as he nibbled on her ear lobe. His hands, which had been wrapped around her middle, raised up slightly and his fingers rubbed over her nipples.
“Arthur!” It had been years since the last of the kids had moved out, but old habits died hard and she looked around to make sure no one could see what he was doing to her.
“Just me,” he traced his tongue up the back of her ear, “and you,” he nibbled gently, “on a quiet Sunday morning. What ever shall we do?” She giggled as chills ran from her ear down through her upper body and made her shiver. Twenty, no thirty, no fourty years ago, before Bill was born, she might have just bent over and let him take her right here, but that was a long time ago. Neither of them could be quite so spontaneous any more.
She removed his hands from her breasts but still held them around her as she leaned back into him. “You go take care of the animals while I finish fixing your breakfast. Then we can discuss your plans for the day.” She said it with a smile and a hint of a promise. Her boys might not be here when she wanted them, but her husband was, and he still took good care of her when he could.
“Alright, dear,” he said as he kissed her ear again, “but I’m going to hold you to that conversation.” He stepped away from her and she heard the back door close as the chickens, ducks, and goats all started to raise a ruckus. Now that he was firmly occupied, she headed down the hall to their room and found the case with little blue potion bottles. He couldn’t use them very often, it was hard on his heart, but she liked the idea of spending some quality time with the love of her life on a lazy Sunday morning. As she picked it up, she noticed the little magazine that she kept stuck in the corner of the drawer.
She had found the magazine years ago while cleaning out the twins’ old room after they moved into the apartment over the shop. Like any good mother, she had been horrified to learn that her boys were looking at pornography, but they were boys and that was what boys did. Once she had gotten over the initial shock, she decided she better find out what kind of perversity her boys were exposing themselves to. The magazine was small, maybe 6 inches by 8, and thin. The cover featured a blonde woman looking through a window, she had a hand under her skirt and her substantial bra-clad chest hung out of her unbuttoned blouse. The word “Confessions” was stenciled across the top of the page in bright red letters.
Molly was surprised to find that the magazine was mostly text. There was only one pictorial in the middle of the book, and she was shocked to see that it featured two men in business suits accosting a young woman in a French maid outfit. When she saw what the pictures were, she had slammed the book down on the bed and walked away from it to get back to her cleaning. A few minutes later though, the pictures preying on her mind, she went back for a second look. The picture of the two men ‘spitting’ her between them made her gasp and put the book down again. A few minutes later she was back and looking at more of the pictures until she came across one where the woman had one man below her as she rode him, and another man was up and behind her with his cock shoved deep in her ass. That had been too much. Molly stood up and marched over to the trash can and threw that filth away.
Yet when Arthur got home that night, dinner was late, because Molly had been distracted for much of the afternoon. The stories had shocked her, but they also excited her. She reckoned they weren’t really that much worse than some of the steamier romance novels she read, though they were considerably more graphic and contained words like ‘cock’ and ‘cunt’ instead of ‘manhood’ and ‘center’ like she was used to. For the first time in many years, she had brought herself to orgasm that afternoon.
It had been a couple of years before she finally told Arthur about her find, and while he hadn’t been shocked the boys had it, he was very surprised that Molly had kept it. He was even more surprised when she asked him to read her one of the stories. While he read, she laid on the bed between his legs, stroking, fondling, and even sucking his cock- which she had recently started doing again after many years. In the years since, Arthur had read every story in the book at least once, many of them two or three times. Neither he nor Molly had any idea how many times she had read them all. Arthur had once mentioned that he could probably pick her up some new ones, there was a shop down on Diagon that carried such things. She had steadfastly refused to allow either one of them to go into any such place. So they had made do with the dog-eared and well worn pages of the familiar stories.
Molly dropped the small magazine into the pocket of her robe along with the little blue vial and went back to the kitchen to stir the potatoes and onions before adding the ham. By the time Arthur was done washing up, she had toasted the muffins and scrambled some fresh eggs to go with the potatoes.
“That is quite the spread,” Arthur said from behind her as she bent over the table to grab the napkins. “Food looks yummy, too.” His hand on her bottom made her stand bolt upright.
“Arthur!” she said, slapping his chest without any conviction. Then she giggled and handed him the vial. “Don’t forget your vitamins,” she said with a devilish smile and leaned up to kiss him quickly before sitting down to brunch. Instead of the empty conversation about chores that filled so many breakfasts, their time was instead filled with casual touches, a bit of footsie under the table, flirting, and even some innuendo about the things they might like to do to each other. “I’m feeling a bit naughty this morning,” Molly said when she got up to clear the plates away. “Why don’t we spend some time with Ben and Trish,” she whispered in his ear.
This was her favorite story in the book, the story of a young, reserved couple that gets invited to a sex party. The intent is that the 4 couples will only have sex within their coupling, but the others will be there to watch. Because the story was in a magazine of sex stories, the party went beyond that and the other guys end up coming all over Trish’s large tits after she gives them each a tit-job. Before she had read that story the first time, such a thing had never even occurred to Molly, but it had quickly become one of Arthur’s favorite diversions.
She laid her robe out on the couch, then dropped her bra and knickers on the floor. After arranging the pillows just so, she stretched out languidly, one leg propped up on a throw pillow, the other foot on the floor. She rapidly thumbed through the book until she got to the pictorial in the middle. There were times she wished she’d found this magazine 20 or 30 years earlier, when she and Arthur might have been young enough to try such things, and before seven children had wrecked her body. The idea still made her frisky though, and she ran her fingers through her damp tangle of hairs as she looked at the hot young blonde riding one man while she sucked another.
“I thought we were reading,” Arthur commented from the door. She looked up guiltily, and saw him leaning against the door jamb, drying his hands. His smile was knowing, and she knew that he knew which picture she was looking at. He peeled off his sweatshirt, and dropped his flannel pants. He was no Adonis, but he was hers, and she loved him as much as he loved her. He was still devilishly handsome in her eyes, even as his red hair thinned and feathered with gray. She turned 3 more pages and began to read, though she could probably quote the first half-dozen paragraphs from memory.
Arthur took a seat on the far end of the couch. She giggled as he began to rub her feet and kiss her toes. As Trish told her husband about the party, Arthur kissed his way up her calf. When they set up the camera to be their audience of one, her husband began to kiss and massage his way up her thighs. When Ben convinced Trish that she would have the best tits in the group, and that she could show them off by giving him a tit-job, Arthur was toying with her nipples as he kissed his way across the triangle of her graying red pubic hair.
She lost her place when she felt his hands on the insides of her thighs, his thumbs pulling lightly as he spread her open. He kissed his way lower, sucking and nibbling gently on the distended lips of her open labia. He nuzzled the sparse hair that surrounded her vulva, then blew across it. She shivered with both ecstasy and anticipation. When he slowed down, she picked up the story again. The middle part of the story lulled a bit, as the author talked about the relative merits of the various characters at the party. Throughout this part, Molly continued to enjoy the soft kisses and licks of her husband.
He was thorough in the attention he showered on her pussy. He pressed his tongue to her taint, then swirled it in circles as he moved up and penetrated her. He had never done this when they were young, but once he had read about it, he had been curious to try it. They found that he liked doing it almost as much as she liked receiving it. She squirmed as he lapped at her opening, occasionally pushing deep inside her and sucking her juices from her. He moved up, and his tongue was replaced by two fingers. She writhed under his touch as he sought out that place that she craved.
“Oh, Gods, yes!” she called out as his tongue pushed aside the folds of her hood and rubbed over her clit. She waited in breathless anticipation for what would come next. When his lips encircled and tugged on her clit, her entire body shuddered. She was getting very close. She closed her eyes and pushed her hips against his hot mouth. “Another finger,” she begged. She felt wanton and dirty, and she wanted more. She was so close.
When the next finger slipped inside her, she felt the pull of it against her opening, then he flattened out his fingers as he stroked them slowly in and out of her. He began to rotate his hand right and left, stretching her opening all the way around. “Oh, fuck me,” she cried out, breathless from panting like a bitch in heat. “Suck it,” she begged him.
She felt the pull of his mouth on her clit as he sucked it in and his tongue rapidly flicked it back and forth. She cried out again and his hand began to move in and out instead of round and round. She could feel his curled pinky and thumb pounding against her, battering the sensitive skin into submission. He bit down ever so gently he sucked in with a great breath.
“YEEESSSS!” Her scream echoed off the windows as his tongue continued to flail at her. She pounded the couch as his hand continued to pound into her. “Oh, Gods. Stop, please,” she begged after several seconds that felt like they lasted forever.
He slid his hand from her and raised up a bit. She watched him suck her juice from his fingers as he grinned lasciviously at her. She smiled back at him and collapsed into the couch with a sigh. Then suddenly she began to squirm again as he wrapped his mouth around her opening and sucked on her while his tongue slid back and forth. She couldn’t take much of this, she was sensitive, and he knew it; but apparently he was feeling a bit ornery this morning as his nose rubbed over her still very sensitive clit. Her entire body jerked in response, he chuckled as she begged him to stop.
She reached down and shoved him away. He gave in, but then proceeded to kiss his way up over her stomach to her breasts. She felt him nudge against her, and she reached down between them. He was stiff as a board this morning. Sometimes the potion worked better than others, today was one of the really good days. She smiled down at him as he looked up at her.
“Let me turn over,” she said with a grin. His eyes went wide, then he scrambled up. She grabbed a couple of the throw pillows and piled them up at the end of the couch where she’d been sitting. She put one knee on the couch and one foot on the floor. She bent over and crossed her arms on the arm of the couch. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Give it to me, stud.”
“Give you what?” he teased her. He lightly slapped her ass.
“Give me,” he ran his hand over her wet pussy and his finger dragged over her clit. “Give me your cock.” She had learned to talk dirty from her stories. She didn’t do it often, but when she did, he liked to hear her use the dirty words, not the euphemisms she was more comfortable with. “Give me all that cock.”
He groaned as he spread her thighs and leaned forward. She felt him catch in her notch, and sighed. He pushed forward a bit to make sure he was in and settled. He spread his hands wide across her butt and spread her a bit. She knew he could see everything this way. She felt so dirty, and it made her hot for him.
“What do you want?” His voice gravelly and demanding, not the normal, kindly voice he used all the time.
“I want your cock,” she panted. He smacked her ass.
“What do you want?”
‘Oh, God,’ she thought to herself. She was in for it today. She couldn’t wait. “I want you to fuck me.” She cried out as he slapped her ass and slammed into her, but held it there. “Fuck your dirty little wife.” She yelped as he stroked back and slammed into her. She could feel the line of hair that ran up to his navel scraping the skin in her spread crack. He rubbed himself against her before pulling back and doing it again. “Fuck me like a whore!” she cried out.
He grabbed her hips and slammed her back against him. She loved this position because he felt so good inside her, and she felt so full. He slammed against her again and again. She cried out as he spanked her, but he didn’t slow down. She could feel the impact of him rippling across her ass and hips, down her thighs. Her nipples drug back and forth over the rough fibers of the pillows with every stroke. She almost wanted to warn him to slow down, but it felt too good to slow down now. Her breath was coming in shorter gasps now as her arousal rose with every punishing stroke. She began to cry out her pleasure.
“I’m going to make you cum on my cock,” he growled as he continued to pound away at her.
“Yes, yes, make me cum, make me. Oh, Gods,” she called out as he picked up the pace. She rested her forehead on her arms, which forced her to arch her back up. When she did, his head began to drag along her front wall and pushed against that magical spot. Within just a couple of strokes she was screaming on every motion. His balls were slapping against her clit.
She clenched her eyes closed and stars exploded in her vision as her body erupted with pleasure. The squelching of her leaking cunt was louder even than her cries and his moans of pleasure. After a long moment she banged on the arm of the couch and begged him to stop. She took several deep, cleansing breaths. “Did you?” she asked, still trying to catch her breath.
“Not yet.” She could hear the grin on his face. She almost laughed, almost. She pushed herself up and shoved the pillows to the floor.
“I know what you need,” she said as she turned to look at him. His turgid cock stuck straight out from his body. She could see the shimmer of the light that streamed through the windows as it reflected off the juices that glazed his proud member. She grabbed another pillow and threw it into the corner of the couch. She sat down and leaned back against it. She grabbed her tits and pushed them together. “Is this what you want.”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” He moved toward her with purpose. It took a bit of moving for both of them to get the position right, they were no spring chickens after all. Once he was settled in place though, she squeezed his cock between her large breasts.
“Give it to me,” she said, raising her face and exposing her neck. His eyes locked on hers as he began to rock back and forth. She looked back down and flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock as he stroked forward. She didn’t much care for the idea of tasting herself, but needs must when the horny husband drives. “That’s it,” she said as she looked back up at him. “Cum all over your dirty little wife.” He groaned and picked up his pace. She could see he was getting close. “Cum on my tits, cum on my face, I want it.” She extended her tongue again and he groaned as his head rolled back.
She was vaguely aware of a popping sound, and wondered idly if they had broken a spring in the couch. Then Arthur groaned and the liquid heat of his first blast painted her chin and throat.
“SURPRISE!!”
Molly looked over in horror to see her living room was suddenly full of family.
Arthur groaned again as another spurt shot up the side of her face.
“OH! MY! GOD!” a woman shrieked. Somewhere in Molly’s brain, she thought it was Ginny.
There was another pop. “Hello. Sweet Mother of God!” Molly’s head whipped around to see Percy, Penny, and the grand-kids just as Penny covered the children’s eyes and turned away.
“Fuuucck” Arthur groaned as a final spurt dribbled out and ran down her breast.
“Everybody outside,” Angelina shouted and began shoving people toward the door.
Molly just wanted to die. She wondered if she could make the couch swallow her whole. She could never face her kids now. What would the grandchildren think? Then her head snapped up at the most unlikely statement she thought she’d ever hear from one of her little monsters.
“So that’s what happened to that magazine.”
The End
Author’s note: Thank you for reading my story. It’s been a long journey to get here. I’ve started and stopped more times than I care to think about. I’ve had to recover this story from websites after multiple computer crashes and deaths that reach clear back to before the publishing of Order of the Phoenix. That’s part of the reason this doesn’t match up to canon, I conceived and started writing the story clear back in 2001, during that interminably long wait between Goblet and Phoenix. I doubt any of the original readers are still around, but if you are, thank you. Sorry it took so long to finish it.