She would have been furious any other time, especially as the nearby wizards" gazes shifted from her chest to her hips, then back to her chest. And that was despite her wearing the most modest set of robes from her collection. But her nerves were too frayed to get worked up anymore. Viewed as an eye candy—that was an experience she was all too familiar with. The fierce ogling that had only increased with her age. But none except her husband had been bold enough to touch her inappropriately—except for an eighteen-year-old British goon.
She grimaced just thinking of the audacious wizard—Harry Potter.
And now her daughter… She shook her head, scattering her long, flowing hair like streams of springwater.
One quick glance at Fleur and the sight of her daughter's flushed cheeks and wide-eyed excitement told Appoline all she needed to know. The tall scoundrel had captured her daughter's heart. In the past, Appoline's fiercely independent daughter had been unfazed by the persistent advances of countless wizards. But now, with the way Fleur's eyes fluttered and her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, Appoline sensed a different kind of interest in her daughter. It was more than just a passing curiosity. Appoline was willing to bet her Maeve-preserved dignity that Fleur's fascination with this wizard would only grow stronger with time.
A fascination that would have to be curtailed before it had the chance to hook its claws into her impressionable daughter.
As a young witch, Fleur should have known better than to judge a book by its cover. Alas, all her teachings had barely penetrated her daughter's stubborn skull, it seemed.
Hadn't she taught her the perils of being a veela? Of being always under scrutiny by the male and female population. Treated like an object of desire or derision. Scorned by one bunch and coveted by the other.
And to turn out so superficial… Appoline Delacour sidestepped an inebriated wizard who was trying to appear drunker and unstable, stumbling in her way.
Bastards…
At least she had nipped that bud and steered her daughter away from the amoral young wizard. She flushed, remembering Fleur grilling her about her low opinion of the young Potter. As if she could regale the dastardly actions of that day. She pointed Fleur in her next opponent's direction, knowing Fleur would be less enthusiastic about the advances of an under-confident Boy-who-lived. Though she would rather allow Fleur's eyes to wander to The Longbottom heir than the Black-haired menace.
And speaking of…
She caught the striking physique of the young wizard sneaking out of the ballroom, looking over his shoulder as if on his way to another amoral activity. Her eyes narrowed. Appoline searched around the mass of wizards and witches. Knowledge of the curly-haired Bellatrix Black's location became a necessity for her. After all, the boy could be on his old tricks, trying to seduce the famous, unattached witch. She wished she had previous acquaintances with the Lady Black as her accusations would have been more convincing coming from a known face. Even though she could be laughed at, it was her moral duty to help another lady.
Luck seemed to be on her side as she saw the said witch sitting beside the drinking parlor. Appoline hurried to the other side of the ballroom, cutting across various couples and inadvertently dragging some unwanted eyes her way.
"There's not so much time, is there?" Appoline's high heels screeched to a halt as the mumbling witch's words floated into her ears. "It would have to be."
She hesitated, standing a dozen feet behind the brunette who seemed to be fiddling with her dress. She watched Lady Black's hands moving in front of her before she straightened up, shoulders shaking with an air of satisfied shudder.
What's going on?
Maybe she should go back and make sure Fleur didn't get bored there. After all, a powerful witch like Bellatrix Black could handle herself. Especially when the danger came from a wizard younger than her daughter.
No! Let me do my duty and then I will be on my way.
"You! What the hell was that, Bellatrix? Have you got no shame?"
Appoline jerked back. Her eyes went toward the fuming mother of the boy-who-lived who stalked toward the sitting witch. The anger was palpable and it would seem to rob the British auror's awareness, as she didn't even glance her way.
"Alice… fancy meeting here, huh?"
Is she taunting her? Appoline was pretty sure the duelist's expression must have been gloating as a red splotch spread across the Longbottom Matriarch's face.
"You do know there are photographers here, don't you? What do you think Lily will do after seeing you accosting her son in front of so many prominent people?"
"C'mon Alice, we were just waltzing there. Don't sound like we're doing anything scandalous."
Appoline could imagine hearing the gnashing of the blond lady's teeth.
"I doubt Lily will see it that way. And as it is my duty as his godmother—"
"I wonder what will be Lily's reaction after knowing Harry's living quarters."
Appoline turned around and pretended to wait for someone as the Longbottom Matriarch fidgeted.
"W…What? I don't understand."
Yeah, sure. The French beauty barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes as she had heard more convincing lies from her youngest.
"Really? From when did they start handing out shared bedrooms? Certainly not something that I have ever encountered."
Appoline's brows furrowed. She cursed herself for having no context about what the other two witches were speaking about. The panicked gasp that escaped from the Lady Longbottom—this seemed something truly interesting.
"Wait, Alice…What—"
Appoline peeked around as Bellatrix sputtered aloud. She watched in fascination as the blond witch jerked Lady Black off her stool and dragged the protesting brunette to who knows where.
"Where did you learn that?" She heard Alice's voice getting weaker as they hurried away from the parlor.
"Bloody hell, Alice. I have to meet with Harry. Stop dragging me."
Appoline Delacour shook her head, a sigh escaping her. There went her plan. She stared at the place where Bellatrix was sitting against the counter, eyebrows raising as a crystal flute gleamed against the enchanted lights of the parlor.
Maybe it was her drink? No wonder Lady Black was so disgruntled. She would have been the same if someone had interrupted while she indulged.
"Anything for you, miss?" A squeaking voice came from the other side of the parlor.
A smartly dressed elf smiled at her toothlessly, eagerness dripping from the way the elf fidgeted to serve her. Is that Minister's elf? Surely, he could have hired a human bartender? She was about to shake her head in a polite no when the liquid in the flute dragged her attention.
What the?
She could confidently declare herself the best wine connoisseur in the ballroom. Well, except maybe her husband. Appoline's eyes were fixed on the crystal as she observed the velvety red liquid swirling within it, the intoxicating scent wafting towards her, leaving no doubt about the specimen before her.
A freaking Romanée-Conti! A vintage one, no less!
On second thought, she should get a drink. She flagged the elf down who was puttering among the shelves.
"Can I get the same?" She asked, pointing at the stationary flute and trying not to project the desperation in her voice. After all, it wasn't just the kind nature of her husband that had made her so enthusiastic about becoming his wife. His family business was also a big factor.
The elf took one look at the flute before a sorrowful expression dawned on its face. "Sorry, madame. That was the last pint. Minister wanted it to be for the special guests only."
Appoline tried to not glare at the insinuation that she wasn't as special as any other. "Then… Then how did she—forget it!" She shooed away the elf, cursing herself for being late. But then she remembered the way she had snubbed the minister's overenthusiastic greeting. He probably reserved it only for the people he wanted to butter up.
She snorted at the thought of the minister getting a chance with the vivacious Lady Black.
Her eyes, though, kept looking at the static flute, of the red liquid glinting innocuously inside the crystal container, beckoning her with the promise of satiating her thirst. She wondered if this was how the muggles all over Europe felt standing in front of the image of the Mythical Holy Grail. After all, even magicals had sought that thing, hoping it possessed some hitherto magical properties.
Magic… she could do but produce a super rare and expensive bottle of wine… No such sorcery existed in the world.
What a waste of keeping a full glass of wine just lying around. Wait! Full glass? Her double take seemed to embolden the elf, who asked if she wanted another drink.
"Did she, I mean, the lady you made this drink for, aware how special this is?"
"Oh no, madame. She wanted a drink for her friend in the garden. Not for her."
A friend in the garden? Appoline's eyes widened as she realized the supposed recipient of the Romanée-Conti. That dastardly brat doesn't deserve a single sip of this.
A plan formed in her mind, her supposition changing by one-eighty degrees.
She forced out a giggle. "Of course. Lady Black told me that. You don't mind if I take the drink to her friend then, do you?" Appoline slowly released a tiny sliver of her tightly coiled allure. Judging by the darkening of the elf's gray skin, she could guess its gender. "He is a friendly acquaintance."
The elf shook so vigorously that his ears flapped around.
A victorious grin forming on her face, Appoline Delacour snatched the flute resting innocently. Her legs followed the same direction as Harry Potter, and she took a sip, almost moaning at the decadence of long, arduous fermentation that drowned her taste buds in their magical aftertaste. However, there was something strange about the taste that her mind registered. Maybe that was the special flavor that made people fork their fortunes for this? Who cares? She was too flushed from victory to mull over it.
Now, where can a shameless wizard invite a lady for a little rendezvous? She searched around the courtyard, eyes flitting from perfectly pruned bushes to the mosaic little figurines interspersed between them. Everything seemed empty—devoid of any wizards or witches. With the wine delighting her senses, she veered away from the granite pathway, eyes stuck to the large mosaic statue of a succubus where water was sprouting from her open mouth. The darkness behind that portion of the courtyard seemed like a perfect place that would appeal to an immoral pervert.
Her steps measured, she prowled toward her target, a restless anticipation building inside her chest. Yards of mown grass flitted past her heels as she finally reached her destination, putting her now empty flute on the fountain's foot. A peek behind the obstacle and there he was, resting on a delicate swing while staring at the moon above.
Her high heels dug into the grass as she sneaked past the fountain. Her wand spun in her hand as she layered ward after ward of privacy and silencing charms around the vicinity, grinning as the thought of ambushing the young wizard filled her mind.
She had, of course, allowed him to escape from her claws that day with minimal punishment, as she was too worried about Gabi's safety. Now that her eldest could be led astray by the same wizard, Appoline had in her mind to properly impress upon the young Potter to stay the hell away from Fleur. Even if it was her daughter who instigated any kind of initiative.
Normally, she would have stayed away from her daughter's love life. She should stay away from Fleur's love life. But not after all the effort she had put forth for all these years. Not with her struggles and the vow she had taken in her early teenage days.
Even though Appoline had implied that she would die rather than betray her wedding vows, she knew her declaration would be more of an outlier than normal. After all, she had seen her mother and her aunts" behaviors in her childhood and the pained smile on her papa's face whenever her mother never returned from one of her night's out.
The promise that she had taken of never being like every other veela, of forever cherishing the one she would swear herself to, had been the one pillar on which she had built her life. She couldn't let her daughter fall into the temptation of debauchery. Especially at her age. And Harry Potter seemed like just the kind of guy she would have to look out for if she wanted her daughter to follow her principles.
She took a deep breath, adrenaline filling her veins like liquid fire. Done with her wandwork, she stomped toward the sitting form of the Potter heir. Her silent footsteps finally roused the black-haired wizard from his inspection of the moon. She relished the way his emerald eyes widened after seeing her, almost falling out of the swing that he was resting on.
"Harry Potter!" She hoped the boy realized the distaste she had for him. "Thinking of stealing another witch's virtue?"
"Mrs. Delacour!" he sprang up on his feet. "You…what—"
She felt vindictive as the wizard kept his eyes above her neckline. Huh! Would you look at that? Even the most unruly of the dogs could be taught to behave, it seemed. As she had no intention of giving any treat to this dog, punishments would have to be meted out for correcting his behavior.
"I'm surprised to see you sitting alone," Appoline wished the wizard was still sitting. Now towering over her form, her effort to sound intimidating was difficult when she had to look upwards. "There were a lot of gullible witches you could have prayed upon."
"Look, Mrs. Delacour, I'm sorry for that day…" The wizard raised his hand. "It was wrong of me to… you know…"
She just grinned as the wizard kept stammering.
"I won't do any such thing again." He finished lamely. He tried to shuffle back but as the wooden seat of the swing was pushing against his hips; it lifted behind with his shuffling.
"Damn right!" Appoline eyes spat fire as she marched forward until she was standing just a couple of feet away from the wizard. "Let me remind you, again…Don't even look at a veela funnily. And that includes my daughter. Am I clear?"
"Your daughter?" the bastard furrowed his brows like the thought hadn't even crossed his mind.
"I know the kind of wizard you are," she stabbed her fingers in his chest, trying not to notice the bulging muscles underneath his shirt that pushed against her nail. "Just because my daughter is young and innocent, don't think for a second that you can take advantage of that. If you…you… even try—I will make sure those slaps look like love-taps the next time."
Her tongue felt heavy as the words coiled inside her mouth. Her brain felt sluggish, and for the first time that night, she could feel the slight chill that spread across her exposed skin.
Then why was she sweating? The fabric of her robes clung uncomfortably to her, especially in areas that weren't covered by her lingerie. Her breathing escalated rapidly, reaching a crescendo that surpassed its usual boundaries. Her every inhalation brought in the scent of freshly mown grass and the musty, earthy aroma. A cocktail that she adored while toiling in her husband's vineyard. She sniffed, and the smell became intoxicating, but something also came with it. A heady musk that her brain quickly connected with the wizard standing in front of her.
What is this overpowering thing? Her legs felt like jelly, her stomach doing flip-flops as she tried to step back but stumbled. Two firm hands steadied her fall, and she could feel how large they were as they rested against her back. She glanced up, breath hitching as young Potter stood too close to her. She had half a mind to give him a thorough beating again for touching her when his eyes arrested her, drawing her in and capturing her in their emerald hypnotizing hue.
His eyes dipped lower for a second before they widened and he sprang back, colliding with the swing and tumbling. Unfortunately, his hands were still around her and she was dragged along with him, falling over his muscular body. Her heart was already beating a tutu against her breastbone and that only sped up as she felt like colliding with a solid brick wall.
Their sudden fall made the swing move and Appoline griped the wizard lying under him tightly, gasping at the sudden movement. The previous musk that was hidden along with the scent of the night was now overpowering and as she lay there with her face pressed into the neck of the muscular wizard and her tits pancaking against his pecks, Appoline felt like her teenage self again—fantasizing about her love life, of a wizard coming along and sweeping her off her feet, her bloodline gifted body encompassed into an embrace of love and protection.
She sniffed like a dog, trying to memorize the scent of masculinity and testosterone. The smell that resonated deep inside her soul. Of protection and …dominance. A smell as alien to her as magic was to the muggles. A thing of legends, but out of your reach, something you hear but never get in your grasp.
"Ungh… Mrs. Delacour… What are you doing?"
Appoline's eyes flew open as the rough grunt from below jolted her awake, filling her veins with ice-cold realization. Oh no! A desperate panic griping her, she bolted upright, unwittingly plopping her robe-clad ass over a solid and thick rod.
Is that a broom handle? That's what she felt under her and to verify it, she gyrated a few times over the appendage, biting her lips as her tiny g-string and fine silk robe could not stop the delicious friction from traversing to her pleasure center.
"What the hell…" The hands resting on her back traveled to her bum and stopped her motion before the breathy voice continued. "What's going on?"
That's not your husband that you are dry-humping. Her conscience reminded her, as the voice was too rough, too manly… too husky. Not to mention the hands on her bum were too big and the thing she was sitting on too was obscenely large.
She jumped from her comfortable ass rest, a hot flush of shame spreading her entire being as the act she was committing with the young man registered properly.
Unfortunately, she hadn't realized the consequences of jumping from a swing in motion as the earth under her feet gave way the moment her feet touched the ground. A dizzying feeling came along with it before she fell to her knees, wincing as the ground bashed against her delicate joints. Her entire body jarred, rebooting her brains and reminding her of the reason she had come to the place. To show the young Potter his place and remind him to stay away from Fleur. Not sniffing his musk and ground against what she could only deduce an enchanted rod stuffed inside his pants.
No way that was anything natural! Probably a vain attempt at making himself more enticing to some foolish witch.
Then why, in the name of Morgaine, was her pussy getting moist? She could also feel her nipples getting taut, rubbing uncomfortably against the lace.
What was wrong with her? She wasn't some starry-eyed virgin, so why was her face getting hot, her mind arguing for her to take long sniffs and imprint the virile wizard's musk forever in her psyche?
"Are you all right?" The voice of the wizard was hesitant as she forced herself to stare at his face. His stupidly good-looking face, with the masculine structure getting shadowed by the overhead moon. "You are hyperventilating…"
Yes, she was… wasn't she? Thinking dirty thoughts about the wizard. He must have done something to her.
"What did you do to me?" She asked, her voice one octave higher than usual, legs still not responding to her brain. 'You did something, I'm sure.'
She was too overwhelmed to speak a foreign language anymore. She glared, or at least tried to, but all she could think was that this was the kind of wizard her kin would take to their bed…in the absence of their husbands.
'Pardon me?' The handsome wizard spluttered. 'I was sitting here waiting for Bel… someone. You came here out of the blue and accosted me!' The Potter heir stumbled out of the swing and stomped in her way, stalling just outside of her reach.
As much as she wanted to reject the acquisition, the truth glared at her. She was the one searching for the wizard. And she hadn't even come across him for the entire evening. If she hadn't gone to search for Lady Black…
She swallowed nervously, the taste of the wine lingering in her throat before her eyes flew wide open.
Lust Potion!
NO! No! No fucking no! The furious beating of her heart seemed to echo around the clearing, blasting her eardrums with the sound of imminent doom.
Every veela from the moment of their puberty had been warned repeatedly to stay clear of the vile concoction. A normal witch or wizard couldn't think of anything but sex after taking the potion. But the veelas…
She had to get out of there. Had to be far away from a male that titillates the most primal part of her soul. She needed her husband right now. Hopefully, he could at least take the edge of her lust before she went back to her toys.
Why did Bellatrix Black try to seduce the wizard in front of her? That answer, unfortunately, would remain a mystery that she had to solve after getting herself under control.
Appoline Delacour struggled to force her legs to obey, hands falling in front of her as she tried to somehow stand on her own.
"Umm… Let me help you." Panic gripped her as the wizard bent down to help her. The last thing she needed was the Potter heir touching her. She could feel herself on the edge of the precipice and that small contact could tilt her balance and make her fall into the sea of sin that had eluded her for the last two decades.
"No! No need…" Appoline shouted as she tried to escape from his unneeded help. She was halfway raised on the balls of her feet when she tried to backpedal. Her balance was already shot being on the half-couch, but the unexpected change of direction proved too much for her fuzzy mind and she tumbled forward right into the leaning Harry Potter, her nose mashing into his groin.
Oh….oh…OOOOHHHhhooo… The smell that seemed irresistible before assaulted her nose without mercy, the musk overpowering her every thought and action.
A shocked gasp escaped from above, and Appoline feared she had already lost that fight. With every resolve that had made her such a respectable lady and loyal wife, her hands rose from the ground as they tried to find purchase to exert force and help her get on her feet. She held her breath, knowing one more sniff and…
A rough textured leather smacked her palm, and she put every ounce of her strength into hauling herself up. Unfortunately for her, rather than feeling herself rising, she felt her hands lowering something. She put even more force, pulling out her face from the embarrassing position.
It took her all of two seconds to realize what was the thing she was dragging down, but she had exerted too much force already, too late to undo her mistake. Her breath got stuck as she watched her hands wrenching the wizard's belts and trousers down, the boxers joining them in their downward journey.
Thwack! Phloph!
She stared at the thing that had been unveiled at her mistake, blinking owlishly as her life flashed before her eyes. Of rejected dates, of cursing fools in her teenage years to her long, happy marriage. Mostly happy…she corrected.
Her hands rose, and she wiped her mouth, mortified to see them wet with her drool.
She also corrected her notion that the Potter heir had stuffed something unnatural inside his trousers. The half-hard thing rising rapidly was neither an enchanted rod nor a broom's handle.
It was a towering pillar of bestial proportions, with the forearm thick vein-filled stalk topped with the massive reddish-purple head, wafting a virile disgusting scent that assaulted her sensibilities more than a week-old cheese slice. It rose and rose, before dropping slightly and bobbing straight at her eyeline, its large piss-hole dilating, releasing a stingy drop of white liquid.
Her eyes rose, mouth agape as she met the wizard's eyes, and blinked. The stud blinked back.
I'm sorry Jean. I really am…
Sometimes some event occurs that belies your wildest imagination. Harry Potter had a similar epiphany as he stood under the moonlight, his trousers and boxers wrapped around his shins, his rock-solid dick inches from the woman's face whom Harry had sworn to not cross in this lifetime. But as she stared at his cock with drool escaping from her lips, sky-blue pupils dilated so much that the white sclera seemed to have disappeared entirely, chest rising and falling similarly to the quidditch players after an intense training session; Harry admitted that this was his reality, not a dream that his subconscious mind had conjured.
She blinked at him and, not knowing what to do, he blinked back.
Was he supposed to stop a veela if she got down on her knees and fish out his cock? He might have promised not to sniff around these Aphrodite's emissaries, but weren't promises meant to be broken at your convenience?
The woman's uncharacteristic and bipolar behavior niggled some disquiet in his mind, but Harry crushed that with prejudice. It wasn't uncharacteristic of her, was it? She was unpredictable that day as well. Maybe it was a veela thing. Maybe aggression was something that they excelled in, or maybe they were half-mad.
Didn't she come here to threaten him to stay away from her daughter? Harry snorted. Now, look at her, sitting on her haunches, looking mesmerized.
Her nostrils flared, before she tentatively put her tongue ahead, licking his piss slit.
A shudder ran through her body as her tongue tasted his precum. Her hands rose and gripped the base of his cock. The long fingers curled around his thickness, the painted nails unable to encircle them fully. He could feel the median vein pulsing with his heartbeat, and the flow seemed to register into her mind as well as she dragged one finger along the length of it.
The blond leaned back, eyes closed, and Harry could see her swan-like neck bobbing, lips smacking as she tasted him with relish. His hands curled onto themselves, itching to grip those silky-looking silver tresses, but he resisted the impulse, quite happy to see what she had in store for him.
He wasn't disappointed as the woman seemed to lose herself in the appreciation before suddenly leaning ahead and taking the head of his dick inside her mouth, lips stretched into an "O" as she gulped the massive helmet of his.
'MMMMPHHHH….'
A truly depraved sound escaped from her throat and Harry's cock gave an angry jerk. The gravity of the situation properly dawning on him.
She is sucking my dick! A merlin-damned Veela… sucking his dick! The same Veela who had smacked him around for coming onto her.
Now look what had gotten into her…
'GAAAKKKKHHHH!'
Harry winced as a wretched gag reached his ears, eyebrows raising when the blond stared at him helplessly. Just a couple of inches of cock inside her mouth. The mascara from her eyes started flowing, and the blue eyes begged at him with an expression that he could not decipher.
"That's it?" Harry asked incredulously after seeing her struggle to take any more of his length, her throat convulsing but falling to deepthroat him. "Girls my age could do better than this!'
She averted her eyes, face getting redder. Harry felt bad for a second before the phantom pain in his cheeks forced him to harden his heart.
"What's all this shit about Veela being a goddess in bed?" If there was more vitriol than what her lack of skill warranted, then tough luck for her. She shouldn't have chosen violence then. "You can't even suck a cock properly!"
That might have been a bit too far as she withdrew from his dick, glaring at him. "Bâtard! I 'ould've taken zis if it was not so beeg!"
Fucking hell! Harry hadn't thought of ever enjoying listening to someone butcher a language.
"I guess normal witches are better, then. They have never complained about my dick."
Harry could hear some grumbling and cursing in French. He could have interpreted her anger differently, but her hands remained on his pulsing dick, fondling it with such vigor that he just knew no amount of insult would stop the horny Veela from debasing herself.
"Bâtard!" she chanted that like a mantra, hands flying across his dick. "Beeg-dicked bâtard!"
Even though her soft hands felt incredible dragging over his skin but he was not some fucking virgin that would blow his load at a beautiful female's touch. Harry had half a mind to fire some derogatory comment when the unknown expression in her eyes registered in his mind.
Fear. Apprehension. Arousal?
What could a witch of her beauty have to fear? Harry couldn't fathom that. His dick was probably a lot bigger than normal. That was what he had understood from his previous experiences, but no woman had been afraid of it. It was more like the opposite of afraid.
His impatience might have shown in his expression as a steady determination formed in her eyes before she puckered her lips again, going for a second taste.
"HHHHNNNNGGGHHHH!" Harry grunted, voice tight as she quickly eclipsed her previous best. Another grunt almost escaped from his lips as his cock-head entered an extremely hot crevice, with her throat muscles dilating around the massive dome. "FUCCKKK!"
His encouragement egged her on. One of her hands rose from its ministration of his dick's lower half and rested on her throat. She gave a smug grin with her eyes, tears still flowing from the enchanting beauty, before she started stroking the half of his cock from the outside, her fingers gripping her own windpipe.
"Huh!" Harry watched mesmerized as one hand of hers stroked the lower half of his cock while the other one did his upper half. The half that was already inside her-vice-like throat.
Drool dripped from her pink, splayed lips. Dripping and flowing around the glistening shaft of his. Her lower hand picked up speed, throat vibrating and eyes wild, as if she wanted to devour not only his cum, but his entire soul.
"Not completely useless, are you?" Harry asked, doing everything to not get too excited and bust his nut. "At least your hands can do better things than beat up wizards, huh?"
She didn't raise to the bait. She started bobbing her head faster, not trying to take any more inches, but focusing on the half that had been already conquered.
With her determination to make him cum, Harry's world narrowed down to her gorgeous face, her expressive blue eyes, and the mouthwatering breasts that he was sure, hidden inside her dress. A persistent thought, though, nagged his mind, stopping him from fully immersing himself into the debauchery, but every time Harry tried to remember that it somehow floated away as if he was trying to cup water with his fingers spread apart.
Why did he come to the garden again?
Just as a curly-haired brunette's face swam into his mind, the sudden pressure in his swinging nuts burst through the image.
Fuck! The pain evaporated as quickly as it came and the reason for that became clear as a hand squeezed and juggled his scrotum, toying with his baby-making parts akin to a newborn kitten.
"That almost hurt…" Harry said, trying to glare and failing because of the rising pleasure. The woman worshiping his cock and balls glared back, and Harry had the premonition that she had somehow gotten the whiff of his wandering mind. How could that be?
Finally, breathing became an issue for her as she dislodged his cock from her throat, hands still busy with their respective tasks.
"'Ow…" There was desperation and awe in her voice. "'Ow, are you not coming? My huzband…"
She trailed off, eyes averting and a shameful flush exaggerating her pink cheeks.
"I don't know about your husband…" As much as he tried to contain the gloating from his voice, it was tough to escape the temptation of it, especially if a Veela stared in awe at his stamina. "But me… It takes a lot for me to cum."
She bit her lips, the angered vengeful avatar of her a distant memory in his mind, before she seemed to conclude, nodding and pulling her hands from their fondling. Harry had a moment of panic, wondering if she had changed her mind, again, but his fears were unfounded when she fiddled with something in her back and a moment later, shook her torso, dragging and shimming the conservative blue robe down.
Harry watched, mouth dry as inch after inch of pure, unblemished porcelain skin emerged with the unveiling of her dress, his sodden cock jumping like mad as she dragged the garment past her mountainous breasts that he so wanted to feast upon. The blue lace bra, half cupping her titties, followed her robes.
The subtle darkness of the courtyard, along with the overhead moon, illuminated her milk-white skin; her silvery hair shimmering, nestled over her face like a crown and Harry had a sudden epiphany.
No wonder they were called goddesses, all over the wizarding world. The vision was akin to a divine revelation—of a fertility goddess coming down from the moon, bestowing her blessing upon the mortals, especially him. If only the pink nipples of the goddess weren't erect and hard enough to cut diamonds over the pale, heavy breasts. If only the crystalline eyes weren't focused on his dangling cock with an unholy hunger, as if the only reason for her to come down was to gobble and revel in some filthy dick. Harry would have agreed wholeheartedly with the wizarding world about the origin of the blue-eyed, silver-haired goddess, if only the married, supposedly incorruptible Veela wasn't crawling toward him, specifically his dick, drooling and shaking her ass, her vision honed to his bitch-breaker like it was her life's only salvation.
Look at the fucking state of her—Goddess-like looks enveloping a brazen, depraved succubus.
As if to prove him right, she quickly took her former position, now her breasts bared to his eyes, and took hold of his dick with reverence. A soft kiss at his cockhead followed a dozen smooches all around his pillar, with her lips and tongue giving special attention to all the bumps and ridges that adorned his mighty dick. Her nose rubbed along the skin of his cock, nuzzling his musk, snorting it, and making merry in it. She pushed his dick against his abdomen, lavishing attention to the back of his girth and the veins, her cute-little tongue wiggling around, spreading her sweet saliva all over his glans.
Harry finally fulfilled his desire, putting his hands on her head, marveling at the soft, silk-like texture of her silver hair. Nobody needed to confirm their magical properties by giving the example of their usage in wand-making, as a single caress of them would prove enough of their magical nature.
A delighted hum came from the back of her throat, even as she dragged her tongue below the juncture of his dick and scrotum, swirling her lips and tongue over his wrinkly pouch.
"Damn, Mrs. Delacour… Keep going!" Harry argued, his hands subtly guiding the head of the blond, though he had a feeling that she could have navigated the path on her own.
Her tongue flashed and swiped at his balls before she opened her mouth wide and gobbled one of his nuts inside, making him moan.
"Just like that! Yeah! Keep sucking my nuts."
After feeling her tongue's dexterity, Harry lamented about not getting the chance to kiss her. That could have been an amazing feeling, wresting with her tongue. Hopefully, he could rectify that mistake.
The sharp intake of breaths continued escaping him as the blond munched on his balls, first sucking and lathering one inside her mouth and immediately changing her target to the other one, giving both of his nuts equal attention.
The contrast of her hot mouth and wet saliva and the chill of the night when she was giving his other one the attention made him shiver and Harry was forced to admit he hadn't encountered ball-worshipping to that extent.
"Damn it! I take my words back!" Harry ran his hands through her hair, eyes closing in pleasure. "You Veelas are something else!"
The vibration against his scrotum made him realize the woman was pleased, and as she dragged her ministration back to his shaft, he could also hear the satisfied hum emanating from the back of her throat.
After a thorough tongue bath that culminated with even more snorting his musk and sucking his dickhead like a lollipop for more than a couple of minutes, the Veela mother finally disengaged from the cock-worship. If Harry thought that was the end of zensluttery, then her next actions proved just how wrong he was.
'Just because I'm not a slut like other witches, don't think for a second that I am lesser than them in pleasing a man.' There was a smug pride in her voice. The cagey aggression that he had seen from her was also absent. 'Even an inexperienced Veela is ten times better than a normal witch.'
With the return to her mother language along with that haughty twinkle, Harry could see she had got over whatever hesitation that was holding her back. As if to prove her point and establish her supremacy over his previous partners, she took hold of his dick in her hand and slapped it right between her huge, gravity-defying tits, with the head of his cock thumping against her collarbone and poking her chin.
She gripped her marshmallowy tits in her hands, encasing his dick in their tight embrace, and then started dragging the round globes up and down, her head bending down and taking his helmet inside her mouth, quickly taking the rhythm to a crescendo of movement.
Her nostrils were still flared, lips and tongue were busy and the bonus of getting squeezed by two perfect breasts only enhanced the pleasure. The pink nipples rubbed against his skin, the semi-hard protrusions providing a sharp contrast to her cloudy-soft and exquisite fatty tits.
Harry started thrusting, his hands gripping her hair and forcing her mouth down so that she could gurgle more of his dick inside her mouth.
"GAAKKKH! GAAAKKKHHH!"
The wet choking following her angelic voice drove him nuts in lust. His hips hammered up and down, the friction from his skin dragging against hers escalating the heat of the act to unprecedented heights. He put even more force on her head, reveling in the futile struggles of hers as his dick wreaked havoc inside her pretty mouth.
The heat of her mouth seemed to increase the more he made her choke, the skin of her breasts getting progressively hotter, which Harry only noticed in the back of his mind. The tight sheath of a soft cleavage, and the wet heat of an aroused mouth, slowly eroded his resistance to her charms, and Harry felt he was just a push away from falling into a pit of ecstasy.
"You are going to get your wish, Mrs. Delacour…" Harry panted, thrusting up and choking the blond, not giving a shit about her pleasure. "I am going to drown you in my jizz!"
"Mmmpphhhh! Mmmmpmm!"
Harry took that as her blessing, legs, and hands getting taut, a pleasurable pain coiling inside his abdomen, a pain that he knew only had one respite.
His hands slacked, eyes closed as he was moments away from hosing down his cum down the Veela's throat. The added knowledge of her being married to a rich, old fuzzy only made the situation even hotter than it should have any right to be.
The feeling of his limbs was cut off, all his focus on the pleasure overloading his senses so he was unprepared when the blond on her knees somehow escaped from his grasp, his dick wrenching away from her throat, the lower shaft getting displaced from their place between the titties. He cursed out loud, which suddenly halted as an immense sensation gripped him. He saw from his half-closed eyes the blond had taken his dick in her hand again, with her single hand jerking the cock with such speed that his brain had trouble deciding whether it was painful or pleasurable. Her other hand took hold of her both nipples and mashed them together, which she then pushed right inside his rapidly dilating piss hole.
"UGGHHH!" The bestial roar that escaped from him was alien to his own ears and the odd sensation of his most sensitive part being stimulated churned a ton of pre-cum that he could feel squirting down her torso.
"You witch! Fucking take my cum!" That was his limit as the slow trickle suddenly turned into a geyser-like eruption. His eyes crossed in their sockets, a shocked gasp coming from the blond as the first splatter rained down on her.
He had to bite his lips to stop embarrassing himself as the sensation of his hole getting stimulated was replaced by the throat of the Veela. Even though he had emptied his balls just last day, the amount of semen that he produced would have made a bull proud, and the moaning Veela sat there like a slut, gulping down every single drop of his cum like it was the offering by some virile God.
Harry wasn't aware how long he had imitated a horse by blacking out while upright, but the moment his senses returned, he heard a woman groaning. The substance between the noise took him a few seconds to understand, as it was in French.
'So much cum… so thick, so good…Please I'm sorry, maman, for calling you a whore.' There was a pause in the mumbling. 'I am forever marked. Marked with the seed of my mate. Marked with the musk of a mate, just like I was meant to be.'
Blushing a bit at the filth that was reaching his ears, Harry finally opened his eyes and immediately felt his drooping cock reach its exalted state. The married Veela, who had just shown him heaven with her tits and mouth, had sprawled herself on the grass on her back, with her legs spread wide and the dress bunched around her waist. Both of her hands were around her groin, where Harry saw a tiny g-string torn aside and fingers drumming against a tight-looking-pussy. Her hand rose, and she scooped a healthy amount of congealing cum from her torso and started lathering them all around her groin, groaning and muttering filthy things all the while.
Fucking Shit!
The more he watched, the hotter her acts got, with her fingers now schlicking inside her beautiful petals while another hand stimulated her dirty hole, with two fingers each inside her two sacred entrances.
Her squinting eyes fell on him, and her demeanor changed. The fingers inside her pussy came out wet before she spread her lower lips, giving him the perfect view of an impossibly pink canal that oozed. Mrs. Delacour dragged her thighs toward her torso, her legs raising and framing her face.
The blond squashed her breasts together by her raised thighs, presenting her vulnerable holes to his eyes like a veritable feast.
Her impossible beauty hammered his senses with unseen force, pressing against his magic, physically assaulting him like sharp lances of invisible knives.
Is this Veela's unrestrained allure?
No wonder the wizarding world was cautious against them. With abilities so debilitating, it was bound to raise some hackles. He had to stop himself from reaching the blond and mount her. Such was the compulsion. And it was only increasing.
"Come mon amour, 'om 'nd claim your prize," Harry cursed as Mrs. Delacour gave him the raunchiest of bedroom eyes, spreading her pussy lips far apart and leaving no doubt what prize she was talking about. "It eez untouched by anyzing begger zan zis pinky."
She raised her pinky toward him, then beckoned him with the same digit, biting her lips and making obscene moaning sounds.
On top of the visual buffet, the mental compulsion continued hammering his will as if he needed that much convincing to have sex with a woman of such beauty.
His cock, rearing to rearrange a Veela's inside, throbbed, and he followed its desire, unbuttoning his shirt which was clinging to his torso with accumulated sweat. Crossing the few feet of distance and squatting down, Harry thumped his appendage over the slippery folds of the blond.
Her hand took hold of the thickness immediately, and she angled it to her pussy, rubbing the cockhead against her cuntlips. Harry stared at the beautiful face of the blond, twisting into a pleasurable wince as his helmet rubbed against her clit.
He slapped her hand away, smirking at her furrowed brows, and then pushed. His fat head slipped and pushed down, hooking against her dilating arsehole.
"Non! 'rong 'ole!" She shouted and Harry quickly corrected his path, using his hand to change his bitchbreaker's route.
"Oh! I thought every hole of yours was mine for the taking?"
Harry's voice hitched as his angry, purple head slipped inside her, dilating the pink canal and spearing inside with vigor.
"Oui, oui, oui." She nodded frantically, looking down at her cunt gobbling his dick. "But only after my kitty."
Harry grunted, forcing another few inches and marveling at the blond's fascinated face curling into a rictus of pain.
The pain didn't last long as her eyes rolled in their socket, leaving just her white sclera behind.
His dick was almost halfway inside her and he gasped as the heat of the squeezing passage properly registered in his mind.
Every conquering pussy had been scalding hot. Hot and wet, the dichotomy of the feeling that he knew nothing could replicate in this world.
But he was sure none had felt like this. The muscles of the blond's pussy parted just enough to offer minimum resistance but still maintained their elasticity so the griping feeling that sex provided was otherworldly in this instant. But that was nothing compared to the heat scorching his cock.
Burning furnace… Harry had never felt so apt in describing a witch's hole. The heat was spreading from his cock to his abdomen, then his chest, and finally his face. More Harry pushed inside the veela, the more the heat seemed to inflame his mind. The only saving grace was the continuous churning of viscous pussy-juice, splashing against his pillar, and providing succor.
He could feel in his bones the upcoming uphill task of maintaining his stamina, the arousal already forcing his balls into producing his baby batter.
"—der."
Harry shook his head, gritting his teeth. He saw the blond was also looking at his face, mumbling something.
"Please 'arder!"
He realized he had been sawing his cock at a comfortable pace and not his usual breakneck speed. It seemed the slutty whore of a veela wasn't satisfied with that.
Well, he couldn't let a veela's wish to remain unfulfilled, could he?
But squatting over her prone form, it was impossible to provide the kind of dicking that the blond probably coveted.
He let himself fall forward, putting his weight over his forearms as they rested beside the face of the witch. His legs extended in a "V" shape, his body parallel to the ground, cock still halfway inside the blond. The plank was difficult to hold, carrying his entire mass to the four points touching the ground. Thankfully, there was a fifth point of contact that was begging to be relied upon.
There was a dirty squelch, as his weight forced his cock inside the veela roughly, displacing air and creating a particularly lewd sound.
"OOOUUUUIIIIII! Oui! Oui!" His head rested above the screaming witch, watching her face getting atomic red, the toes framing her face curling and uncurling as he shafted her just the way she demanded.
A moment later, his cock reached the zenith of her cunt, bashing against a bony crevice, knocking against what could only be her cervix. His hips crashed against her folded thighs, extra pressuring her folded lower body. Her eyes blew wide open, and spittle suddenly flew from her mouth, splashing against his nose. Harry wrinkled his nose, the sudden wetness dripping down his face.
"Too deep! Pleese! Pleese! Don't stop." Harry raised his hips and then gave another solid downward thrust, ignoring her babbling. "Merci! Merci!"
His hips became uncontrollable, pounding into the gasping witch, nonstop, for the next couple of minutes.
"Mercy?" His voice was shallow, breathing difficult by the tremendous exertion.
"I,"
Thrust!
"Will,"
Flap!
"Show,"
Slap!
"You,"
Clap!
"The,"
Flap!
"Same mercy that you showed me in the bathroom!"
The pistoning of his hips reached a fever pitch, forearms aching, toes stuttering against the ground as Harry determinedly tried to rearrange the insides of a married Veela.
Her insides coiled around his marauding shaft, trying to capture the behemoth by the rings of grainy muscles. But Harry's stamina prevailed even against the veela's every effort, allowing him to keep plundering the juicy, sizzling tunnel. Harry was thankful for the earlier blowjob. He doubted his ability to keep himself from emptying inside otherwise.
The accumulated sweat dripped from his eyebrows, before splashing against the cheek of Mrs. Delacour. Harry could see the wide open mouth of the blond, staring at him with unseen eyes, in the middle of a silent scream.
Those blue eyes looked like an endless expanse of the sea, the pink lips two perfect slices of peach, and Harry, remembering his earlier promise, crashed against the delectables, capturing them and smooching them with wondrous passion.
"Mmmmpphhh…."
His enthusiastic kiss was greeted by a deep moan, her tongue flashing out and coiling around and dragging his tongue inside her mouth.
Harry tasted the sweet saliva of a veela, goosebumps erupting all over his body. His hips pounded again and again, an ache developing in his core that he knew was from the awkward position.
His foothold slipped, torso falling over the prone blond, causing his dick to puncture through her last barrier, now in a place that he was sure of conquering first.
"NNNGGGGNHHHHH! CUMMMMIIIINNNGGG!"
The glove-like sheath of her womb undulated against his cock-head, and he felt renewed wetness splashing against his shaft, some of which splattered out from the point of their joining.
His hips losing the pounding strength, he focused on gyrating on top of her body, his dick corkscrewing inside her hole, spreading the lower lips and canal wide, prolonging her orgasm as long as possible.
Lips still glued together, breasts mashed against his pecks and his hips pressed against her thighs, Harry let the veela loose herself in her pleasure, slowly withdrawing his cock until the round head remained inside, then shoving every single inch in a bruising push.
"Non…Too long….Too much… Can't stop cumminggg…." Appoline Delacour backed out from the tonsil hockey, thudding her head back against the soil as she let out a shudder. "Pleeseeee Stop!"
Harry felt her getting catatonic, body getting taut and unresponsive; except her pussy, which was still coiling and uncoiling, releasing a fresh dose of femcum after his mighty pushes.
Gritting his teeth, Harry decided that the changing of position was the need of the hour, his cock wet, angry and hard and rearing to go, and still far away from breeding a veela.
"Don't tell me that was all a mighty veela can take?" Harry rose to his feet, wincing as the cool breeze blew across the courtyard, creating an odd feeling against his cock, balls, and the better part of his abdomen doused in the veela juice.
He picked up the blond in his arms, embracing her tightly. Holding her waist, Harry almost swayed on his feet at the extra weight. His eyes fell on the fountain a few feet away, and then to the sticky feeling of his groin, nodding as he dragged himself to the destination.
His hands slipped from the snoozing blond's waist to her large arse, marveling at the perfect mixture of fat and muscle that pushed against his palm.
Another instance of her supernatural beauty. No bum that large had any right to be that jutting and shapely.
He turned the married veela in his arms around and dumped her on the solid mosaic base of the fountain gently, her knees colliding with the hard surface, hands fishing ahead and holding onto the rising structure, subconsciously.
"Huh?" There was her groggy call, implying that she was still not entirely in the land of living.
Standing behind her, Harry watched her ass judder as she tried to get her equilibrium back.
Droplets of cold water splashed against their bodies from the top of the fountain where there was a heavy expulsion of water coming from the mouth of the lifelike statue. The slight cold bothered him a bit, but the heat and passion flowing through his veins weren't that easily quenched.
Ignoring the nuisance, Harry crouched slightly, pushing his cock against her bubbly ass and parting the flesh, hotdogging his dick-noggin in between them.
Pussy again or a new hole? The question stumped him. He could fuck that pussy for hours, with its tightness and heat, but what about her bumhole? Surely, fucking a veela's arse wasn't something that he could let go of.
He nodded to himself, angling his cock down, brushing her sodden cuntlips, and then pushing against the winking dirty hole. Fuck! A breath followed as the tiny openings denied him entry, his helmet getting stuck.
He put his hips and back into action, shoving only the head into what could only be described as pure pleasure. The heat was like her other hole, but the inexperienced way the hole closed around the invader and repelled further entry left no doubt that the blond had probably taken nothing into her tush.
"Pleeze get me out of 'ere," Harry at first thought she was asking to pull his dick back but the way she shivered…
"What? Couldn't take my cock…Huh?" his hand flashed, and a smack echoed, her asscheeks jiggling. "Already accepting defeat?"
What the…
Harry put his palm on her back, wincing, feeling as if he had touched raw ice. Looking upward, he saw her shaking her head. Her hands had fallen from the statue into the basin, fingers submerged in the water as she convulsed.
The heat around his cockhead also dimmed, stopping his attempt to carry on like nothing had happened.
He had been expecting the burning heat to continue to stimulate him, but now the inner temperature of her bum-hole decreased rapidly, going from uncomfortably warm to frosty at alarming speed.
"Pleeese no more… can't 'andle the cold…" The mumbling from the blond was pained, reaching his ears in halting steps.
Harry stared at the fountain, sprinkling water drops around them to her hands clawing into the basin, eyes widening as comprehension dawned in his mind.
The water was chilly, but surely not cold enough to cause this issue.
Putting his hands under her thighs, Harry reached upward to her mighty boobs. Gripping them in his palms, he heaved.
The weight of her crashed against his chest, head lulling and hair swinging as he hefted the busty woman in his arms, her thighs pushing against his biceps, hands still pawing the fleshy tits, forcing her into a nelson-like hold.
Her hands flopped around for a moment before coming around and coiling around his neck. She tightened her hold for dear life.
In all the jostling, his cock had forcefully made his way into her possibly virgin arse, the incredible heat coming back moments later after she got away from the water.
Harry firmed his stance, and dragged her body down, thrusting up, trying to rouse her from whatever trance she had fallen.
His dick punctured into her colon, and she choked back to consciousness, gulping the garden air.
"Merde!"
"What the fuck was that?" He forced out, mouth just beside her ears. "That thing with water?"
The veins in his arms bulged, muscles screaming in protest as he forced her up and down, his cock now nestled almost two-thirds inside her dirty hole.
"I…I shouldn't…" she gasped out, turning her head toward him, and biting her lips. "It's a secretttt….."
A thunderous upward thrust and she trailed off, head falling back against his collarbone.
"Then how about I stop fucking your slutty hole and you go back to your husband?" He showed her how it would feel for her, stopping his thrust and not allowing her to drop. "Have him do this to you with his tiny dick!"
He felt her moaning in protest, trying to push down her bum. But he remained stoic, having special training in making slutty blonds like her follow his demand.
When all her wiggling didn't bear any fruit, she finally huffed, glaring at him petulantly.
"Hnngg… It's just… veela's become weak against cold… the more freezing the surrounding the quicker our body temperature drops…" she mumbled shamefully. "It's forbidden to tell anyone but your family, but…"
She stared at him with needy eyes, batting her eyelashes.
Harry's eyes narrowed, committing that fact to the memory. Why it was so important didn't register in his mind, but he had this feeling that it was going to be crucial.
The wiggling of the witch in his arms reminded him of his priorities. Alas, when he hefted her to drop on his cock again, the burning in his biceps and forearms almost forced him to drop her to the ground.
Grumbling about insatiable and impatient veelas, he searched around the area, hoping for a sturdy place where he could fuck her so hard that she would curl up and hide her holes the next time they came face to face.
The metallic sound of chains clinking reached his ears and a devious smirk tugged his lips.
She had never been manhandled like this. Her small husband couldn't even think of picking her up, let alone have sex with her in a standing position.
But as she twerked in Harry's arms and felt his cock punching above into her hole, which had only been touched by toys before, she lamented the wasted opportunities for all these years. Surely she could have found someone strong enough to bully and fuck her rotten. Just like she had found the young wizard from Britain.
Probably not. Wizards were generally lazy about physical exertion and she couldn't think of a single wizard from her memory that could heft her like she weighed nothing. Certainly, no one handsome enough to appeal to her sophisticated taste.
Thank Morgana… she had come across the most wonderful wizard this way. The anger she felt at Bellatrix Black was slowly turning into gratitude. If she had missed this opportunity to make love the proper way and by a proper wizard, then…
The thought now seemed horrific, stuck in her determination to differ from other veelas and forever denying herself this kind of pleasure.
The sudden movement from her mate wonderfully rubbed her colon and Appoline opened her eyes that had been closed to memorize the event of her losing her second virginity.
She felt him walk, the movement of his legs and the bouncing of her body making her mind blank for a moment, which she tried to counter.
The sudden feeling of being dumped was enough of a jolt and the successive feeling of her being pushed into a narrow wooden seat made Appoline realize what the young man must be planning.
Her hand searched ahead, gripping the backrest, as she felt her ass being positioned properly, her legs being widened by two rough hands. The movement undulated the seat underneath, and she had a feeling that without the grip of Harry, she would have been pushed ahead.
"I…'arry… I don't zink you could do this 'ere…" Appoline turned and stared at the grunting young man, positioning himself behind her, and angling his cock down to her holes. "What if… What if the swing breaks?"
She cursed herself for sounding so breathy, like she was hoping he would do that with his savagery.
The smirk send her way raised her pulse, blood thudding inside her head as the smug smile of the wizard suddenly made her pussy water. She was disgusted by that look just an hour earlier, but look at her…creaming herself at the thought of being a recipient of that stupid, condescending attitude.
Stupid, condescending, Beeg-dicked bastard!
"Who cares if it breaks?" He replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his dick against her inflamed cunt-lips and then her dilating asshole. "You could just confess to your dear minister you had been plowed through it." His cockhead burst through her abused pussy, making her wince. "I'm sure he would let you go if you give him the memory."
Appoline turned her head, staring ahead, not denying his conjecture. Knowing the bastard minister, that was exactly what he would demand.
Her head got jerked back, as Harry coiled his hand around her long silvery-blond hair, and tugged them as if he wanted to uproot them from her scalp. Her hair, being the pride of a veela, was a sensitive topic and she would have cursed anyone for treating them like a reign, but did she do that when the culprit was Harry Potter?
No!
"Oui! Yes! 'arder 'arry! 'arder! Fuck moi, 'arder!"
"Look at you, coming so far from the uptight bitch of a week ago." His hips clapped against her arse-cheeks, his dick thundering inside her already conquered pussy.
"Weren't you a proud veela, above of us mere mortals?"
His thrusts jarred her entire body and only the tightly held hair kept her in place as she endured the painful pleasure.
"What was it you said after slapping me? That you will never cheat on your husband!"
His hips seemed intent on breaking her pelvis, raining down thrusts into her squelching pussy, and Appoline was mortified as her love juices started dripping from her clogged-up hole, sprinkling all over the seat of the swing.
"Now, what is it you are doing? Getting a deep pussy massage?"
She shook her head, lips tightly pressed to stop her from answering his derogatory questions. Her denial seemed to spur him even more, as he tugged her hair with even more force, his cock slipping out in his enthusiasm which he forced into her inexperience rectum.
"HAAAANNNHHH!"
"Fuck! Like that? Like taking my cock in your dirty little hole, you veela slut!" A titanic thrust forced all those unending inches straight into her pulsing ass.
"Answer that fucking question!"
The relief she felt when he withdrew his hands from her hair was short-lived. The dick wreaking havoc inside her was already stealing all of her attention, but when she felt him pulling her left hand behind toward him, and seizing her ring finger; a new panic gripped her.
She stayed on her knees, ass out, and presented to the wizard, not making a single sound as the young audacious bastard tugged the ring from her finger and chucked it deep into the bushes.
He really did it?
Her eyes closed, lips biting as her entire body vibrated… her pussy walls clamped around open air and she screamed to the high heavens, the taboo of the act of betraying her dear husband resonating deep inside her.
"CUUUUMMMINNNNGGG!" She thrashed in the confined seat. "Cummminggg on your beeg-dick, you bâtard!"
Her anal cavity gripped the invader in a tight grip, forcing a pleased grunt out of the wizard, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure that raced through her very being. Gasping, moaning, and whining, she kept pushing her ass back against his hips, wishing so much that there was something stuffed inside her orgasming cunt as well.
She kept the cock arrested in her colon the entire time she was cumming, only releasing her vice grip as she came down from her high.
And promptly came all over again as Harry pulled out of her arse and shoved every single inch straight into her pussy.
She lowered her head, resting her cheeks against the backrest. Her hazy eyes saw him gripping the chains in one hand and by the way, another jingle reached from her opposite side; she guessed he had taken hold of both the ends in his grip.
Why though?
The moment the question arose in her mind, she was pushed forward almost a foot, jarring to a stop as the swing came to an abrupt halt. Eyes widening, she saw Harry had stopped the swing with his hands, his dick now barely half an inch inside her cuntlips, spreading the quivering petals deliciously with its girth. The muscles in his forearms bulged at a quick glance and she fearfully made eye contact with him.
There was this manic passion in his eyes that she feared would invoke lust inside her even if her husband was watching her betray him—the dangerous glint promising pleasure that would alter her body, making it suitable for him and him only.
He bared his teeth and dragged the swing back, his dick crashing against her womb as her ass crashed against his hips.
Appoline Delacour saw the backrest shaking with his every pull and push, a vibration dispersing through her every bone along with the swing. She bit into the wood, hoping to get back to her husband with her dignity intact. Her entire body shook, breasts juddering and ass stinging as only fleshy slaps of collision rang through the small portion of the courtyard. She prayed that her earlier cast wards would hold until this madness lasted, especially the silencing charms. Or else…
"Haha…." His mocking laughter mixed with the sound of their body colliding assaulted her ears, along with the jingling metal chains that groaned dangerously with so much tension. "You didn't even protest. If anything, I felt your veela cunt getting tighter. What a shameless whore!"
Appoline was thankful for her long strands of hair that had fallen and hid her face. The laughter reverberated in her head, invoking a feeling in her once chaste heart, which she could only identify as contempt for her husband. For being a pathetic wizard who thought he was good enough for her.
She tried to reject that thought, but it hooked itself in her mind properly, comparing her current muscular mate with her pathetic husband.
"You know what? I should search for your daughter. If she is anything like her whore of a mother, then she would be good enough to warm my cock." Harry taunted, his thrusts stuttering, cock inflating, and vibrating in what Appoline hoped was an onrushing orgasm. She was already at her limits. "Isn't that what you feared? Me seducing your innocent daughter?"
"Non…Pleese no…" She finally shed her shyness, blushing when his lustful green eyes bored at her after she turned around. 'Stay away from my daughter!'
Harry's lips curled at her vehement protest, arms working like oars as he forced the swing in a furious motion. He seemed especially upset at her slipping into her mother language, taking revenge for her mishaps with brutal thrusts.
Appoline used all of her willpower, even though the savagery was dragging her to another enormous orgasm.
'Please…you can come to my vineyard and work on the holidays.' Appoline purred, flaring her allure to the extreme. 'I will also pay you in something other than gold…'
The way Harry's cock flexed inside her pussy, she could imagine he liked her proposal. Now to sweeten the deal…
'Something that both of us will enjoy.'
Their eyes met, passion and lust taking palpable form, before Harry's thrusts started turning haphazard. She wished she was still under the lust potion's thrall, offering her body to a wizard regularly who wasn't her husband, but the effect of the potion had burned out a long time ago.
"Everybody was right." Harry choked out, shelving his entire cock inside her pussy and grunting like an animal. "Veela's are fucking built for sex."
His cock flexed and jerked inside her canal, the immense thickness somehow increasing, turning into a punishable girth. And then came the deluge.
Her mind blanketed, and the immense volume of liquid heat sprouting inside her canal fulfilled her animalistic desires that were hidden beneath layers of denial. Her spasming cunt came alive, squeezing the orgasming shaft and dousing it in her own juices.
He came and came, unloading a full bucket of viscous semen. Their organs remained connected for minutes as they reveled in their illicit lovemaking.
With a wet squelch, Harry withdrew his cock, her wide-open pussy gasping into thin air, hoping for the behemoth to clog it again.
She felt their mixed cum seeping from her messed up hole as if showing the entire world the fruit of her treachery.
Just one thought comforted her—she had secured her daughter's future by diverting his attention to her.
Certainly not by following the right way and certainly not according to her plan. But who cares about that? Her earlier plan to search for Lady Black and demand recompense for lust-potioning her also took a back seat. Maybe she could send her a bouquet instead.
The satisfaction of helping Fleur escape the immoral young wizard thrilled her, even if she had to sacrifice her morals for the cause. After all, it was her duty as a mother to help Fleur stay away from dangerous, lustful influences. Certainly not because she wanted that dangerous influence all for herself. Absolutely not!