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The Great Recession (Ch. 3)
🕑 Added 2025-11-01 18:15:51 +0000 UTC( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )
The Great Recession
Chapter 3
Harry held Susan by the backs of her thighs and bounced her in the air like she weighed nothing. Her legs were wide, knees cocked, and toes pointed in the air as if she could just fly off if he let go. Her back pressed flush against his chest. She gripped his forearms so tight her knuckles turned white. Every time he slammed up into her, her tits bounced and swayed, slapping together with wet, audible claps. The squish of her pussy around his cock made everything slick, shiny, and loud. She was close, so close, and Harry felt it in the way she shuddered every time his cock bottomed out inside her.
"Fuck, Harry, you’re gonna break me!" Susan howled, her voice raspy and raw.
He grinned and lightly nipped her shoulder. Harry felt her pussy squeeze him just a little bit harder. He kissed her shoulder and then kissed the side of her neck. "That’s the idea."
Susan's head lolled back, her red hair flapping against his face. Her whole body went taut, and her skin flushed from tits to cheeks. Her back suddenly arched, and her big tits flopped around and bounced wildly. Susan gasped and writhed, and her cunt gripped his cock in frantic, wet pulses.
"Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. Fuck!" Susan begged, and Harry was happy to oblige.
Harry didn’t stop. In fact, he sped up, jackhammering into her so fast he could barely hang on to her legs. Her feet kicked wildly, and her toes curled. The slap of his hips against her ass was music to his ears. Susan screamed, her voice high-pitched and warbling. There was a polite knock at the door.
"Harry, are you awake?" Hermione called, voice muffled but unmistakably crisp. "I need to ask about the library."
Susan screamed again. Her pussy clamped down so hard that Harry almost dropped her. She squirted a high-pressure jet that splashed over Harry’s pelvis, then spurted out between Susan’s spasming thighs in a long, clear arc. The door opened, and Hermione stepped into the room holding a stack of parchment and a quill.
The stream of cum shot directly into her face. A fat splash hit her on the cheek, and then a second burst caught her full on the lips, soaking her face and chest. For a second, the only sound in the room was Susan’s banshee wailing and the dripping of fluid onto the hardwood floor. Hermione just stood there, blinking, the juices on her face trickling down onto her shirt.
Harry burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. He was still balls deep inside Susan, who hung limp in his grip, twitching with aftershocks of a spectacular orgasm. But the look on Hermione’s face was priceless. It was confused, indignant, and mortified all at once. He started giggling, then doubled over, accidentally shaking Susan in the process and getting a fresh little spurt of cum down his own thigh. Hermione wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her lips made a little O of shock, then twisted in disgust as she realized what had just hit her.
"Are you … Are you serious?" she said, voice climbing in pitch as she stared at her slimy palm.
Susan groaned, breathless. "Oh god. Hermione, I … I’m sorry …"
"You squirted on me!" Hermione snapped, flinging the liquid off her hand and onto the carpet.
"It’s a… It’s a biological response, Hermione. Some might say it’s a wonderful display of femininity," Harry gasped between fits of laughter.
Hermione turned red. She set the stack of parchment down very calmly on the dresser, then stalked toward Harry, seething.
"Is this what goes on in your house?" she hissed, standing three feet from him and Susan. "You just… You just have sex in the open and shoot people with …"
"This is my room, Hermione,” he reminded her. “And you walked in … without permission, I might add," Harry said, still trying not to laugh.
Hermione threw her hands in the air. "This is a library-related question. I didn’t expect to be squirted on before breakfast! And look what you did to my paperwork! That’s the new rough draft of my resume!" she told them, looking at the soggy parchment.
Susan tried to extricate herself from Harry’s grip, but he still had her impaled on his cock. She managed to twist around, the movement jiggling her tits and spraying more juice from her puffy, swollen pussy. "Hermione, please. I said I’m sorry."
"Sorry? You’re hanging off of Harry like a… like a…" Hermione flapped her hands, unable to finish the sentence.
Harry couldn’t help himself. "Like a piece of succulent meat in a deli window?"
"Shut up, Harry," both women barked in unison, causing Harry to laugh again.
Susan finally pried herself off his cock, landing in a heap on the carpet. A fresh trickle of pussy juice dribbled down her thigh. She crawled toward Hermione, still gasping, her face flushed deep scarlet.
"Hermione, please, it’s just a little… body fluid. It’s not even that gross, honestly."
Hermione looked down at the sticky trail on her chest and neck, then at the puddle forming on the carpet. "Not gross? I’m not even going to ask how often this happens in your bedroom."
Harry shrugged, wiped his cock on the bedsheet, and tucked it away. "If you must know, it happens a lot. Susan’s very talented."
Susan giggled, feeling slightly manic in her post-orgasmic bliss. "I do try."
Hermione glared at both of them, then stalked to the bathroom. She slammed the door and ran the tap so hard the pipes rattled. The shower started up a second later, as if she needed to wash away the entire incident. Harry sat down on the bed, the laugh lines around his eyes still deepening with every breath. He patted Susan on the head. "Think she’ll ever get used to it?"
Susan wiped her face, then his, with the nearest dry towel. "Give it time. She’s still new to all of this."
Harry smiled and nodded. The bathroom door banged open. Hermione stood there, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, her hair plastered to her forehead. "Next time, I’ll knock louder," she said, teeth gritted. "And I’m going to hex you if you ever laugh at me again, Harry."
He put a hand over his heart and did his best to look remorseful. "Cross my heart and hope to die, Hermione."
She rolled her eyes and slammed the door again. Susan giggled and crawled up beside Harry on the bed. She flopped onto her back, her tits still glistening and her thighs streaked with sticky juice. "You know … I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the Minister of Magic one day … and I just squirted on her."
Harry kissed her shoulder and played with her naked tits. Susan loved having her nipples played with, especially after a really good orgasm. "She should consider herself lucky."
Susan snorted, then yelped as Harry slid a hand between her legs and massaged her still-quivering pussy. She squirmed, already getting wet again. "Don’t you ever get tired?" Susan whispered, voice hoarse.
Harry smirked. "Nope."
Susan laughed, loud and unrepentant, as Harry fucked her again right there on the edge of the bed, both of them ignoring the fact that Hermione was probably plotting their murder from the other side of the door. Outside, in the hallway, the faint sound of teeth grinding was just audible over the slap of skin on skin.
The Great Recession
Hermione had always been a light sleeper. She woke to the creak of her door, not to the morning sun or the chatter of housemates. The clock on her nightstand read 10:05 pm. She squinted as a shadow stretched across the room. It was Harry, and he was naked.
Hermione sat up so fast she almost knocked her desk lamp over. She was confused for a second before realizing that, like so many other times, she had fallen asleep at her desk. Harry ignored her, sauntered in, and shut the door behind him with a casual flick of his wrist. He didn’t even bother to hide himself. His cock hung between his legs, swaying with every step. His body looked to have been cut from marble. He had broad shoulders, taut abs, and thick, muscled legs.
“Hey, Hermione,” he said, and smiled. She turned her head away, but not before catching a full glimpse of him. Her cheeks burned.
He ignored her embarrassment and leaned against her desk, knocking aside a stack of quills with his elbow. “Twiggy says you fell asleep at the desk. Why didn’t you just go to sleep like a normal person?”
She glared at him while smoothing her frazzled hair. “I have things to do. Some people don’t waste away the day in bed.”
He smirked. “That’s the benefit of being the boss. I get to do whatever I want.”
“Well, good for you. I still need to find a proper job,” Hermione stated as she tried to look anywhere other than his cock, which had inflated to half-mast.
Harry folded his arms across his chest. “If you want a job, I might have a position for you.”
Hermione blinked. “If you think for one second that I’m going to pose for your filthy magazine …”
“I don’t,” Harry cut in. “I need a manager.”
She tried to ignore his erection, but it was impossible. “What kind of manager?”
He shrugged. “Someone to keep the girls on schedule. I need someone to make sure nobody skips out on photoshoots, inventory the swimwear, and organize the calendar for the next issue.” He paused. “And maybe fix the payroll system, because I broke it already.”
Hermione looked at him, incredulous. “You want me to run your brothel?”
Harry’s lips twitched. “It’s not a brothel, Hermione. It’s a publishing house. Besides, I don’t need you to run my business. I just need you to keep the girls in line. They can be a bit irresponsible at times.” He didn’t even blink. “Susan said you’d be good at it.”
Hermione imagined herself with a clipboard in hand, barking orders at a gaggle of half-naked witches. It was obscene, humiliating, and it was… weirdly appealing.
“I can offer a good salary,” Harry added. “Your rent will be deducted every month, of course.”
She hesitated. “I’ll think about it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “The offer won’t last forever.”
Hermione wanted to rant about how far her life had fallen. She had had dreams of being the next Minister of Magic, and now she was expected to keep a bunch of bimbos in line. Instead of annoying Harry with her rants, she just sat there, staring at the floor and thinking. She imagined going back to her shitty rented room behind the Three Broomsticks. She remembered the sticky yellow walls, the half-dead plant, and the noise from her roommates. It made her want to vomit. She looked up. Harry was still there, still naked, and still smirking like an annoying idiot. She cleared her throat. “Fine. But only on a trial basis.”
Harry’s smile softened. “Good. Now you’re thinking straight.”
He crossed the room in two steps, reached down, and grabbed her by the wrist. He didn’t pull hard, but it was enough to make her stand. The blanket dropped, exposing her clothes. Hermione was wearing her typical outfit. She wore a white button-up blouse and a skirt that ended just past her knees.
“You should wear skirts more often,” he said. “It makes it easier,” he said cheekily.
She sputtered. “Makes what easier?”
But before she could finish, he ran his hand up her thigh and under the hem of her skirt. His touch was electric. She squeaked as Harry pressed closer, and her whole body was pressed between him and the wooden desk. His fingers found her panties, and they curled around the waistband. He yanked them down to her knees in one smooth motion. Hermione gasped as cool air rushed over her hot pussy.
“Step out of them,” Harry said. His voice sounded almost bored, but his cock was already starting to rise. She bit her lip, but the command was impossible to resist. She lifted one foot, then the other, letting her panties fall to the floor. Harry bent to pick them up and tossed them onto the bed.
“Good girl,” he smiled.
He spun her around and gently pushed her down onto the bed. She landed on her back with her legs dangling over the edge, her skirt bunched at her hips. He grabbed her ankles and lifted them so her feet pointed at the ceiling. Her legs split apart, knees bent, and her thighs were wide open. He ran his hands up the backs of her calves, then slid them under her knees and forced them apart until her pussy was fully exposed. Hermione’s whole face was crimson. Her pussy was bare, the skin smooth and unblemished with a faint triangle of brown hair above the pink folds. Harry stared, his eyes dark and hungry. He licked his lips.
“Damn,” he said, almost reverently. “Your pussy’s perfect.”
Hermione couldn’t look at him. She was too embarrassed. She fixed her gaze on the ceiling, trying not to think about how wet she already was, or how badly she wanted him to touch her. He didn’t move. He just kept silently staring at her for a long moment. Her pussy throbbed, and a droplet of arousal slid down her crack.
“Keep your legs right here,” Harry said, and let go of her ankles. She kept her trembling legs up, showing off everything she had to offer. Harry crouched, bringing his face level with her cunt. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I should have hired you ages ago,” he said.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and blushed even harder. Hermione couldn’t breathe. Her knees pressed hard against her own chest, toes pointed straight at the ceiling. Harry gripped her ankles in his fists, spread them wide, and shoved his cock into her in one powerful, merciless thrust. The stretch made her gasp. He didn’t slow down. He fucked her in short, brutal strokes, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. She felt every inch of him. He was thick, hot, and perfectly shaped for ruining her.
Harry’s eyes never left her pussy. He obsessively stared at it as he forced her legs even further apart, folding her tighter. The position was obscene. Hermione could see her own pale and glistening lips as his cock slid in and out of her wet slit. The sight and sound were perverse, and the sensation was beyond comprehension.
Her hands gripped the bedspread so hard her knuckles went white. She couldn’t even close her legs. Harry had her bent and open, completely at his mercy. He used her like a toy, slamming into her until her pussy made lewd, squelching sounds with every thrust. “Bloody hell,” Harry groaned, his voice low and rough. “Look at that, Hermione. You’re dripping all over me.”
She tried to protest against his perverted words, but the only sound she could make was a high-pitched whine. Her entire body trembled. He was relentless, driving her toward some catastrophic breaking point. He let go of her ankles for a second and leaned forward, folding her in half until her knees brushed her ears.
“Don’t stop,” Hermione desperately whispered, not caring how pathetic she sounded.
Harry’s mouth was right next to her ear. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he assured her.
He pounded her harder, making her ass slap against the mattress. Every time he bottomed out, his cock smashed into something deep inside her, and she felt it everywhere. She didn’t just feel it in her pussy but in her toes, spine, and the base of her skull. Her world shrank to the space between her spread thighs, to the spot where Harry’s cock was stretching her wide and making her see stars. Hermione bit her lip, and she felt something ballooning inside her, a pressure that bordered on agony. Her clit was throbbing and swollen from the friction, and the sensation ratcheted higher and higher. She was going to cum, and she couldn’t hold back.
“Harry,” she gasped, “I can’t …”
He cut her off with another deep thrust, then twisted his hips and ground his pubic bone against her clit. It sent a jolt through her, and she screamed. Her pussy had an iron-clad grip on his cock while it fluttered and massaged his shaft. “Oh, fuck, Hermione,” Harry growled. “You’re so tight. Squeeze it, just like that,” he groaned as her pussy squeezed him even tighter.
She was beyond words, and her brain short-circuited. Her back arched, her toes curled, and suddenly she was cumming harder than ever before. She heard herself howl. She felt her pussy spasm around his cock, milking him in frantic, wet contractions. Then, without warning, a violent spray of liquid shot out of her pussy and splashed over Harry’s balls. Hermione’s eyes flew open. She was mortified. She tried to squeeze her thighs shut, but Harry held her wide open, and she sprayed again, a clear, hot jet splattering his abs and the sheets.
“Holy fuck,” Harry moaned. He slammed in, down to the hilt, and kept her folded. He watched as the second squirt of pussy juice arced out and soaked the bed. Hermione screamed again, lost in a haze of pleasure. Nothing else mattered except for the sensation of her cunt spasming around his cock and the wet mess she was making.
Harry didn’t stop. He rode out her orgasm, fucking her through it until she was limp and twitching. Then he let go of one ankle and pressed his hand down onto her belly, holding her flat against the bed. He started to move again, slower and deeper, and every thrust was a deliberate, torturous stretch of her delicate walls. His cock felt bigger than ever, the tip battering her g-spot with every stroke. Hermione was still shaking, and every time he pulled out, her pussy drooled a fresh flood of arousal.
Harry grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “You know what you just did?” he asked, voice thick with lust. She couldn’t answer. She was too busy gasping, her mind blank. “You squirted,” Harry told her. He looked proud and almost arrogant. Hermione felt her face burn hotter than ever. She wanted to vanish from sight.
Harry pulled all the way out, letting his cock flop against her mound. She could see the shiny, wet mess coating his shaft and the sticky trails running down his thighs. “You owe Susan an apology,” he said.
She tried to cover her face, but Harry caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed above her head. He then straddled her belly and moved further up her body. She could feel his wet, bloated sack dragging against her silky skin. His cock was soaked, glistening, and angry red at the tip. He leaned over and dragged the head of his cock along her lips. “Open up,” he ordered.
Hermione obediently opened her mouth. Harry shoved his cock in, filling her mouth with the taste of her own pussy. She gagged when the tip hit the back of her throat, but he didn’t care. He fucked her mouth in slow, deep thrusts, holding her head with one hand and bracing himself on the bed with the other.
“Yeah,” Harry groaned. “Just like that, Hermione.”
She gagged again, her throat contracting around the thick head. Harry kept going, pistoning in and out, and using her face just as ruthlessly as he’d used her pussy. Hermione felt another rush of humiliation, but also a strange, burning pride. She was good at this. She could take anything he was willing to give, and she could make Harry lose control. Harry started to pant, sweat running down his face. His cock twitched inside her mouth.
“I’m about to cum,” he gasped, “hold still.”
He fucked her mouth faster, and suddenly Hermione felt the first hot spurt hit the back of her throat. She coughed as the thick cum dribbled down her throat. He gripped her hair and forced his cock all the way in, flooding her mouth with thick, salty cum. She tried to swallow, but he suddenly pulled out, and the next spurt splattered her cheek and chin. He let go of her hair, and Hermione collapsed back onto the bed, legs spread, with her face and pussy dripping with fluids. She could barely move. Her body was empty, raw, and perfectly spent.
Harry stroked her hair, and Hermione leaned into his touch. “You can start your new job tomorrow,” Harry told her with a gentle smirk. Hermione laughed, or at least tried to. It came out as a shuddering wheeze.
“Okay … Harry,” she said through labored breathing while she wiped her face with the back of her hand. It wasn’t long before Harry had her on her belly with her ass high in the air. Hermione wondered if she would be getting any sleep that night. The answer was, of course, no.
Comments
Alun Lewis
Well now...since Hermione has joined the Gushes When She Cums Club, maybe Harry can have Susan & Hermione compete for who can gush the most when cumming from Harry fucking them silly 😉
