The green flames of the Floo Network flared in Professor McGonagall's office, spitting Harry out onto the polished stone floor.
He steadied himself, brushing soot from his robes, as his mother, Lily, stepped out behind him.
The early morning light filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows across the cluttered desk and shelves of ancient tomes. Professor McGonagall stood waiting, her lips pursed, her tartan robes immaculate as always.
Harry's stomach twisted, not from the Floo travel but from the vivid memory of the previous afternoon at Serenity Spa. His mother's hands, then her mouth and the forbidden intimacy of the massage that had banished his Quidditch-induced cramps but left a new, restless hunger in their place were still churning in his mind.
"Minerva," Lily greeted, her voice warm but professional, smoothing her emerald-green robes. She had chosen a wizarding outfit today, one of the only few she possessed. This one was considerably less revealing than what she usually wore. "Thank you for letting me take Harry yesterday. His cramps are gone now. He's fit to return to classes."
McGonagall's sharp eyes flicked to Harry, then back to Lily, her expression softening only slightly.
"Lily, I trust your judgment, but I must say, I was concerned. Quidditch injuries can be serious, and Harry's performance yesterday was… intense. Are you certain he's fully recovered?"
"Absolutely," Lily replied, her tone steady. "It was just muscle strain from the match. I worked out the knots myself—nothing a good massage and a potion couldn't fix. He's right as rain now, aren't you, Harry?"
Harry nodded, his throat tight.
"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, avoiding McGonagall's piercing gaze. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the sensation of his mother's mouth taking care of his erection, the sounds she made as she took him deep. He shifted his weight, clutching his bag to hide his unease.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, studying him.
"You do look better, Potter, I'll grant you that. But do tell me if anything's amiss, will you? We can't have our star chaser falling apart before the next match."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said quickly, his face heating. He wanted out of this office, away from the scrutiny and the memories threatening to overwhelm him.
Lily placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch sending a jolt through him.
"He's tough, Minerva. He'll be back on his broom in no time. I've made sure he's well taken care of."
McGonagall's lips twitched, almost a smile.
"You always were thorough, Lily. Very well, Harry, you're free to join your classmates. But I expect you to focus on your studies. No distractions, understood?"
"Yes, Professor." Harry muttered, edging toward the door.
Lily squeezed his shoulder before letting go.
"I'll check in soon, Harry. Take care of yourself." Her voice was soft, but her eyes held a knowing look that made his chest tighten. Did she sense the storm she'd stirred in him? He couldn't tell.
"Thank you, Lily," McGonagall said, her tone brisk as she turned back to her desk. "Safe travels back."
Lily tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, gave Harry one last smile, and vanished in a swirl of green. Harry lingered for a moment, then bolted out of the office, desperate to escape the weight of that conversation.
The Great Hall was a riot of noise as Harry entered, the clatter of plates and chatter of students filling the air. He barely reached the Gryffindor table before his friends pounced.
"Harry! Where've you been?" Ron's voice cut through the din, his mouth stuffed with bacon.
"You alright, mate? You look dead on your feet," Seamus said, leaning over with a grin.
"What happened? McGonagall said you were hurt or something," Hermione added, slamming her book shut, her eyes sharp with concern.
Harry dropped into a seat, his bag hitting the floor with a thud.
"Just cramps. From Quidditch. I'm fine now."
"Cramps?" Ron snorted, grabbing another piece of toast. "You were flying like a maniac yesterday. Didn't look that bad."
"Where'd you go? Hospital Wing?" Dean asked, his fork hovering.
"Nah, my mum… fixed it," Harry said, his voice low. He grabbed a piece of bacon, avoiding their eyes as the memory of Lily's hands flooded back—warm, sure, intimate.
"Your mum?" Hermione's brow furrowed. "What'd she do? Some potion?"
"Something like that," Harry muttered, his face burning. "Can we drop it?"
"You sure you're okay?" Ron squinted at him. "You're acting weird."
"I'm fine!" Harry snapped, louder than he meant. The table went quiet, and he forced a shrug. "Just tired."
Hermione's frown deepened, but she didn't push. Seamus and Dean swapped a glance, and Ron just shoveled more food in his mouth. Harry exhaled, trying to focus on his plate, but his eyes betrayed him, wandering with an intensity he couldn't rein in. The massage had cracked something open in him, and now every female form in the hall was a spark to his kindling.
His gaze landed on Hermione first, across the table, her nose back in her book.
She brushed a curl from her face, the movement making her chest visible behind her robe. As was usual for his friend, her entire attire was proper, and not a single patch of skin was visible. Still, his gaze found itself wandering over her body, trying to discern every detail behind her clothes.
Harry's breath caught, guilt slamming into him. This was Hermione, his best friend, yet the sight sent his mind reeling back to the spa, to the slick warmth of oil and skin. He tore his eyes away, only to find Ginny Weasley a few seats down.
Ginny was laughing with Lavender Brown, her red hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows. She leaned forward to grab a goblet, her jumper riding up to expose her midriff and her small waist. She probably didn't have any classes this morning as she didn't wear her robe. From his place, he could clearly see the tight pants she wore, highlighting her flat and toned stomach.
Harry's pulse raced, his fingers tightening around his fork. The memory of his mother's hands, stroking him with masterful caresses, blurred with the sight of Ginny's body, stirring a heat he couldn't shake.
He forced his gaze to the Hufflepuff table, where Hannah Abbott sat, her blonde hair tied loosely. Her robes were slightly open, revealing a low-cut top that hugged her figure, the top of her generous breasts visible as she reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Harry's mouth went dry, his thoughts a tangle of his mother's soothing touch and Hannah's soft curves.
In Charms, Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice droned on about some new spell and the correct way to pronounce the incantation, but Harry barely registered it.
It was one of the only few classes where all the Houses were together, and the room was full to the brim.
Unfortunately or fortunately for him, depending on the point of view, his seat gave him a clear view of Susan Bones, scribbling notes at the next desk. Her Hufflepuff robes were a touch too tight, and when she leaned over, her blouse gaped, revealing a deep neckline that sent a jolt through him.
Harry couldn't help imagine her body in his mom's attire at the spa. Would Susan's breasts feel as good as they looked ? What did her nipples look like ? His mind was tortured by sexual visions and he now wondered what it would feel like to cup Susan's tits while his mom sucked his cock.
He gripped his quill, trying to focus, but his mind kept slipping back to his mother's whispered reassurances, her way of licking his cum from her fingers after his release.
Harry shook his head and tried to get back to listening to Professor Flitwick's lesson; unfortunately for him, he chose the exact moment when the diminutive professor called a student to the front to demonstrate the spell.
He couldn't restrain the groan that escaped him when he saw the student in question.
Daphne Greengrass has always been an oddity amongst the Slytherins of his year. As a Pureblood that refused to conform to the expectations placed on her by her peers and family, she was a loner in the house of the snake. However, she was very popular among the other houses, especially with the boys, for a very obvious reason. Daphne Greengrass was an absolute bombshell of a girl. Petite, with blond hair, blue eyes and a perfect face, she was also blessed with an absurdly perfect body.
The worst part about all of this was that Daphne knew it and did not hesitate to use it to the maximum.
All the boys at Hogwarts agreed to say that Daphne was the biggest cocktease of the school.
She wore the shortest skirts, sometimes not even covering her full, round ass, and always left her shirts with a few buttons undone, exposing her deep cleavage and her perky breasts.
She was also Harry's crush since first year, and his head hit his desk with a resounding thud as Daphne sashayed to the front of the classroom, attracting every pair of eyes to the swing of her hips.
Harry felt his pants tightening as his cock hardened from the view and he idly wondered about what kind of underwear Daphne wore. He imagined her in the slutty lingerie his mom was in yesterday and found it fitting.
"Harry, you have to focus!" Hermione hissed, noticing his reverie.
"Sorry," he mumbled, forcing his eyes to his parchment. But the restlessness only grew and he hoped the day would finish fast so he could have some much needed 'alone time'.
Unfortunately for him, the castle was full of beautiful girls and each one brought him closer to an inevitable explosion.
By lunch, Harry was unraveling. He sat in the courtyard, hoping the cool air would clear his head, but temptation followed. Without wanting to, he found himself watching as Ginny passed by, still wearing the same attire. The hypnotic movements of her tight little backside stopping him from moving his eyes.
He buried his face in his hands, trying to block out the images—Hermione's body, Hannah's curves, Susan's neckline and most of all, Daphne's everything. Each one was a spark, stoking the fire that had started the day before at the hands of his mother.
After lunch, he crossed his teammates of the Gryffindor quidditch team and after saluting everyone, his eyes inevitably fell on Katie Bell as he continued on his way.
Like the other players of the team, Katie had the ambition to play professionally in the years to come and she gave herself the means to achieve her goal. As the only other halfblood apart from him, she regularly went to the Muggle world, and she had access to the gym there.
The results of her work ethic were clearly seen on her body. With a tight, rounded butt and a flat, muscled stomach, Katie was the absolute eye candy of the team. She was the reason Gryffindor had so much support from the other houses, particularly among the boys.
Harry, as a member of the team, was lucky enough to witness the marvelous spectacle that was Katie Bell changing after a match and he knew exactly what kind of lingerie she preferred. Like Lily Potter, Katie wore lacy thongs and G-string that created the exploit of embellishing her butt. Her small, perky breasts were barely contained by the microscopic bras she wore and Harry couldn't help but undress her with his eyes each time he was blessed enough to see her changing.
As his cock hardened again in his pants, the excitation of the moment made his mind go back to the day before. He could still feel himself in his mom's throat, her lips cushioning against his crotch as he fucked her face before draining his balls down her stomach.
Immediately, he wondered about Katie. He knew she had boyfriends in the past but did she suck them off like his mom did for him ? Did she kneel in front of them to suck on their balls before swallowing their cum like a slut ? He hoped she did…
Harry felt restricted in his pants and readjusted himself to appear natural. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts as he went to the next class but the image of Katie on her knees with her throat full of cum never completely left his mind.
By the start of the afternoon, Harry was exhausted, his mind a battlefield of desire and guilt. He sat alone at the end of the Gryffindor table, his book left closed in front of him. The girls—Hermione, Ginny, Hannah, Susan, Daphne, Katie—had become a kaleidoscope of longing, each one a reminder of the line he'd crossed with his mother.
He thought of his mom, of her warm but guarded eyes as they parted that morning. He thought of the way she had taken care of him the day before, first with her hands then with her mouth.
He couldn't deal with it anymore. Harry felt as if his erection was about to tear through his pants. He had to see his mom again.
Harry glanced around the Great Hall, his friends had finally joined him and the chatter of the other houses faded into a dull hum.
It was three in the afternoon and they had a period of free time before astrology in the evening. It was now or never.
Hermione was back in her book, and Ron, Seamus and Dean were arguing about Quidditch. He leaned forward, keeping his voice low but urgent.
"Guys," he said, catching their attention. "I need a favor."
Hermione looked up, her brow furrowing. "What's wrong, Harry?"
"Nothing's wrong," he said quickly, his face heating. "I just… need the rest afternoon off. Got something to do. Can you cover for me? Tell Sinistra I'm not feeling well or something?"
Ron frowned, swallowing a bite.
"What's so important you're skiving off classes?"
"Just… personal stuff," Harry mumbled, avoiding Ron's eyes. His mind flashed to his mother's lips, the wet heat of her mouth, and he shifted in his seat, trying to hide the bulge in his trousers. "Please, mate. Just cover for me."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Harry, you're acting strange. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," he snapped, then softened his tone. "Really. I just need a few hours. I'll be back by dinner."
Seamus grinned, leaning back. "Alright, Potter, we got you. What's the story? Stomach bug? Headache?"
"Er, headache," Harry said, grasping at the excuse. "Yeah, bad headache. Tell 'em I went to the Hospital Wing."
Dean nodded, smirking. "Sure thing, mate. But you owe us one."
"Thanks," Harry said, relief washing over him. He grabbed his bag, standing quickly before Hermione could ask more questions. "I'll see you lot later."
"Be careful, Harry," Hermione called after him, her voice laced with concern, but he was already halfway to the door, his heart pounding with purpose.
Harry slipped out of the Great Hall, his robes swishing as he hurried through the corridors. He knew exactly where to go—the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch statue on the third floor, the one that led to Honeydukes' cellar in Hogsmeade.
He'd used it before, and it was his best shot at getting out without being spotted. His mind raced as he moved, the memory of his mother's hands, her mouth, urging him on. He had to see her, had to feel that release again, to quiet the storm raging inside him.
Reaching the statue, he glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then whispered.
"Dissendium." The statue's hump slid open, revealing the dark, narrow passage. Harry slipped inside, the stone grinding shut behind him.
The air was cool and musty, the faint drip of water echoing as he navigated the familiar tunnel, his wand lit with a soft 'Lumos.' His cock throbbed with every step, the anticipation of seeing his mother driving him forward.
The passage spat him out in the cellar of Honeydukes, surrounded by crates of Chocolate Frogs and Sugar Quills. He crept up the stairs, peering through the trapdoor to ensure the shop was busy enough to cover his exit.
The bell jingled faintly as he slipped out, blending into the Hogsmeade crowd. The Three Broomsticks was just down the street, its warm glow beckoning. Harry pulled his hood up, keeping his head low as he hurried through the bustling village, the cobblestones slick from a recent rain.
Inside the Three Broomsticks, the air was thick with the scent of butterbeer and woodsmoke. Madam Rosmerta was busy behind the counter, serving a group of rowdy seventh-years. He did his best not to stare as she bent over the table to bring their drinks, her tits nearly entirely in view as they bounced in her low cut blouse.
Harry ducked past them, heading for the fireplace in the corner. He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the jar on the mantel, his hands shaking slightly as he tossed it into the flames.
"Potter Estate, Wales," he whispered, stepping into the green blaze.
The world spun, and he stumbled out into the familiar living room of his home, the cozy space lit by soft lamplight. The house was quiet, his mother likely still at the spa.
Harry's heart raced as he hurried to his room, digging through his desk drawer for the place where he kept his muggle money—pounds saved after years of exchanging galleons but never used. He counted out a stack of notes, more than enough for a taxi and whatever else he might need, then headed back to the fireplace.
Yesterday, when he had left the spa with his mother, they had to walk a few blocks to apparate safely. He had immediately noticed that they were walking in the South Kensington area of London, the architectures and the colors of buildings were a clear hint of the location of the spa.
He knew where he had to go.
"Leaky Cauldron," he said, tossing in another pinch of Floo powder.
The flames roared, and he emerged in the dim, crowded pub, the chatter of wizards and witches filling the air.
He pulled his hood tighter, weaving through the tables to the muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron. The London street outside was busy, cars honking and pedestrians bustling under the grey September sky. Harry flagged down a black cab, sliding into the back seat.
"South Kensington, please," he said, his voice rough.
The driver nodded, pulling into traffic. Harry leaned back, his mind a whirl of images—his mother's lips, her hands, the way her freckled breasts had swayed as she knelt before him. His trousers felt tighter by the second, and he shifted, trying to ease the pressure. The cab wound through the city, the familiar landmarks blurring past, but all Harry could think about was getting to the spa, to his mother, to the release only she could give him.
The cab pulled up in a discrete street of South Kensington and Harry stepped out, breathing out the fresh autumn air. He turned around and paid the driver, his hands trembling as he handed over the muggle notes before he began walking up the street, trying to see anything that could hint at the spa.
He had to walk for around ten minutes before he finally recognized the street he had walked with his mother, the memory of her hand holding his as she walked in her scandalous attire making his already hard cock pulse in his trousers.
Harry had finally arrived at Serenity Spa, after those hours of mental torture, he was finally about to feel that relief again.
The spa's sign was subtle, elegant, but Harry's pulse hammered as he pushed open the door, the soft chime announcing his arrival.
The reception area was warm, scented with lavender and sandalwood, the same soothing music from the night before drifting through the air.
Clara, the receptionist, looked up from behind the desk, her scandalous lace attire catching his eye for a moment before he forced his focus to her face.
Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her blue eyes flicking over him. She was wearing the same attire as yesterday except that today, her lacy bra and thong were red. The bathrobe she wore over them was more a decoration than anything else as it only really covered her arms and shoulders.
Hary's eyes were once again attracted to her breasts, way smaller but perkier than his mother's, then they dropped lower to her flat belly. He had not noticed how skinny she was yesterday.
"You like what you see ?" She teased, leaning forward, her cleavage even more pronounced than before as Harry could clearly see her small nipples.
Harry's face burned hotter, his green eyes darting away from Clara's piercing blue gaze, though not before catching another glimpse of her slender frame. From her appearance, he guessed that she was around 25 years old.
He couldn't help but notice that Clara exuded a sly, confident charm, her jet-black hair cascading in glossy waves past her shoulders, framing her pale, angular face.
"S-sorry," Harry stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice rough with embarrassment and the persistent ache in his trousers. "I didn't mean to… stare."
Clara's laugh was light, almost melodic, as she leaned forward, her perky breasts shifting slightly, the red lace straining against them.
"No harm done, love," she purred, her voice smooth and teasing, her black hair falling over one shoulder. "You're not the first to get a bit… distracted. But if you want to see more, you will have to pay." She winked, her small pert arse swaying as she straightened, her bathrobe slipping open to reveal more of her flat, toned stomach.
Harry swallowed hard, his mind a whirl of his mother's mouth, her hands, and now Clara's lithe, provocative figure.
The air in the reception area was thick with the soothing music, but it was punctuated by the unmistakable sounds drifting from behind the closed doors of the session rooms—rhythmic slaps of flesh, low groans, and sharp screams of pleasure that sent a jolt through his already tense body.
His cock throbbed painfully, the memory of his mother's lips, her hands stroking him, the wet heat of her mouth, flooding his senses.
"I, uh… I'm here to see my—to see Lily," he said, catching himself, his voice low, his bag clutched tightly to hide the bulge in his trousers.
Clara's blue eyes flicked over him, her smirk deepening as she tapped a quill against the appointment book.
"Lily, huh? You're a loyal one, aren't you?" she teased, her fingers tracing the edge of the desk, her crimson-painted nails glinting in the soft light. "But I'm afraid she's booked solid all afternoon. Got a string of clients lined up—busy day for her." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her perky breasts nearly brushing the desk, the red lace accentuating their firm shape. "From the names I see, she's in for a rough time."
Harry's throat tightened, his cock throbbing as he shifted his bag to hide the bulge.
"Rough time?" he croaked, his voice rough. "What do you mean?"
Clara's smirk widened, her black hair falling over one shoulder as she tapped the appointment book.
"Oh, love, Lily's got some… demanding clients today. They keep her busy." She tilted her head. "You look like you need her bad, though. What's got you so worked up?"
Harry's face burned, his mind flashing to his mother's lips, her hands, the wet heat of her mouth from last night.
"I just… need to see her," he mumbled, his green eyes darting to the floor. "Can't you get her for a minute?"
Clara shook her head, her crimson nails glinting.
"No can do, darling. She's in a session now, and her schedule's packed till evening." Her voice dropped, teasing. "But you're in a state, aren't you? I can help with that."
Harry swallowed hard, his heart pounding.
"You? How?"
Clara giggled, stepping around the desk, her skinny frame swaying, her bathrobe parting to reveal her red thong on her hips.
"I'm trained like Lily," she purred, her fingers brushing his arm, sending a shiver through him. "Massage, tantric, a bit of… extra care. I can make you feel good, love."
Harry's cock twitched, but guilt surged through him.
"I came for… her," he said, his voice faltering, his eyes flicking to her perky breasts, then back to her face.
Clara's blue eyes softened, but her smirk stayed.
"I get it, she's special. But you're about to burst, and she's… occupied." She leaned closer, her breath warm. "Let me take care of you. Lily'd want you sorted."
Harry hesitated, his mind a tangle of desire and confusion.
"What… would you do?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Clara's smile turned wicked.
"Depends what you want, love." She grabbed a leather-bound booklet from the desk, flipping it open. "One hour, no extras, is a hundred pounds. Extras—hands, mouth, whatever—are twenty pounds each. Or…" She paused, her eyes locking onto his. "Two hours, all extras included, nice and natural, for four hundred pounds. You'll leave feeling like a new man."
Harry frowned, his face heating.
"Natural? What's that mean?"
Clara giggled, her fingers twirling her quill.
"Oh, love, it's just a term we use. Means no barriers, no limits—just pure, raw pleasure. Whatever feels right in the moment. You game?"
Harry's heart raced, his cock throbbing, confusion mixing with arousal. The idea of "natural" was vague, but Clara's sultry voice, her lithe body, made it tempting.
"I… I don't know," he stammered, his hands clenching. "That's a lot of money."
Clara stepped closer, her fingers grazing his chest, her nails sending sparks through him.
"Worth every penny, darling. Two hours, all you can handle. I'll make you forget whatever's got you so tense." Her blue eyes gleamed, her perky breasts brushing his arm.
Harry's breath hitched, his mind torn. The memory of his mother's mouth, her hands, was vivid, but waiting hours while she was with other clients felt unbearable.
"I… I shouldn't," he muttered, his voice lacking conviction.
Clara's smirk softened, her hand lingering on his chest.
"No pressure, love. You can wait for Lily, but it'll be ages. Or you can let me take you to a room now. Your call."
Before he could answer, a piercing scream of pleasure cut through the air—his mother's voice, raw and desperate, followed by a deep male groan and the sharp slap of flesh. Harry's heart lurched, jealousy and arousal crashing over him. His mother was in there, her body eliciting those sounds, her screams echoing in his ears. His cock pulsed, his face burning, and Clara's laugh was soft, wicked.
"Gosh, sounds like Lily's getting it good," she teased, her blue eyes twinkling. "Her client's probably wrecking her. But don't let that bother you, love. Let me make you feel just as good."
Harry's chest heaved, the scream replaying in his mind, his loyalty to his mother crumbling under the weight of his need. Clara's offer—her perky breasts, her small bubble butt, her sultry promise—was a lifeline.
He thought of the four hundred pounds, most of his saved muggle money, but the ache in his trousers was unbearable.
"Alright," he said, his voice low, trembling. "The two hours. All extras."
Clara's smile widened, her blue eyes gleaming with triumph, a predatory glint softening into something warmer.
"Good choice, love," she purred, taking his hand, her fingers cool but firm, her crimson nails brushing his skin with a teasing spark. "But first, let's settle up, yeah? Four hundred pounds, cash upfront, darling."
Harry's breath caught, his face flushing as he nodded quickly.
"Right… yeah, I've got it," he mumbled, his voice rough, his hands fumbling as he reached for his bag on the floor. He unzipped it with trembling fingers, digging through the contents—a mix of schoolbooks, a spare quill, and the small bundle of Muggle notes he'd saved over the years, carefully exchanged from Galleons for the moments he thought he would need them.
He pulled out the stack, counting out the crisp notes, the weight of the decision settling in his chest as he handed them over.
Clara took the money with a graceful nod, her fingers brushing his as she tucked the notes into a small velvet pouch on the desk.
"Perfect, love," she said, her voice smooth and reassuring, her blue eyes locking onto his with a playful glint. "Now we're all set to make you forget your troubles." She stepped closer, her bathrobe parting slightly to reveal more of her flat, toned stomach, the red lace of her thong catching the soft light. "Come with me, darling."
She paused for a second and turned to him. "By the way, you never told me your name…"
"Harry…my name is Harry." He answered sheepishly, neck burning from the vision of her body.
"Alright, Harry, then let's go make sure you are relaxed."
Clara led him down the corridor, her black hair swaying, her red thong visible beneath her bathrobe, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. The sounds of pleasure—groans, slaps, muffled cries—faded as they moved, but the memory of his mother's scream lingered, stoking the fire in Harry's chest. Clara pushed open a door to a private room, the warm, candlelit space heavy with lavender and sandalwood, a padded massage table in the center.
"Get comfortable, love," Clara said, her voice sultry, gesturing to the table. "Strip down as much as you like—I'll handle the rest." She shed her bathrobe, revealing her red lace bra and thong, her skinny frame glowing in the candlelight.
Harry's hands shook as he set his bag down, his eyes locked on Clara's body—her perky breasts, her tight arse. He pulled off his shirt, his muscles flexing, and hesitated at his trousers, his cock straining. Clara stepped closer, her fingers trailing down his chest, her nails grazing his skin as she inspected his muscles with lust in her eyes.
"No need to be shy," she murmured, her breath warm. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of, love." She turned to adjust the table, her round arse swaying, the red thong making her white ass cheeks glow in the room.
Harry unfastened his trousers, letting them fall, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. Clara glanced back, her lips parting, her blue eyes darkening.
"Well, well," she purred. "Lily's lucky. But I'm gonna take good care of you."
Harry climbed onto the table, lying face-up, his body tense, his cock pulsing. Clara poured warm oil into her hands, her crimson nails glinting, and started at his shoulders, her fingers deft, working out the knots. Her touch was electric, her perky breasts brushing his chest as she leaned over, her hips swaying.
"Relax, love," she whispered, her voice soothing yet teasing. "We've got two hours. Let me make you feel good."
Harry groaned, his hips twitching, her hands gliding over his chest, her nails grazing his nipples.
"Clara… fuck," he muttered, his voice rough, his cock throbbing against his stomach.
She giggled, her blue eyes glinting. "Patience, darling." Her hands moved to his thighs, teasing close to his cock. "So, what do you want first ? Do you want a complete massage ? Nuru or tantric ? "
Harry swallowed, his cock throbbing. "Hum…could we…can we skip the massage ?" he asked, his voice hoarse, guilt flickering but drowned by need.
Clara raised her eyebrows, looking down at him with a smirk as her hands kept working his legs and around his crotch without touching his cock.
"Oh you are a naughty one, you really want to give it to me, huh ?" She asked, lustfully. "Very well, then what do you want first ? My hands ? My mouth ?"
Harry hesitated, but his desire overwhelmed any hesitation he might have had. "Your….mouth…please," he nearly begged.
"Thought so," Clara teased, as she got on her knees on the massage table, her black hair brushing his thighs, her lips hovering over his cock. Her tongue flicked the tip, lapping at the precum, and Harry moaned, his hands gripping the table.
"Fuck… Clara," he panted.
She took him into her warm, wet mouth, her tongue swirling, her lips stretching around his girth. Harry's head tilted back, a groan escaping as she bobbed her head, her hand stroking the base, her other cupping his balls. Her moans vibrated against him, sending sparks up his spine, her perky breasts bouncing slightly.
"Oh god… so good," he groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, urging her deeper.
Clara obeyed and began to slowly descend on his cock, her lips massaging his organ as her tongue lapped at everything it could touch.
Harry was moaning, the wetness and warmth of her mouth overwhelming him.
"You…are so good at…this" He said, panting.
Clara pulled back and let go of his cock with a pop.
"I know, babe," She answered, smiling cockily as she began to kiss his balls, taking one testicle in her mouth, then the other. She sucked on his ball sack, literally eating his nuts. "I was told more than once that I'm a great cocksucker" She added cockily, her mouth still on his balls as her hand jerked his cock.
"Fuck," Harry looked at her in shock at her words, his eyes wide as she worshipped his crotch, "You are such a slut."
She laughed wantonly, "I'm a whore, Harry and I'm not ashamed of loving to suck cocks."
Clara then lifted her head and took his tip between her lips, sucking on it like a lollipop. After a few seconds of this treatment, she began to energetically move her head up and down on his cock.
Each stroke took him deeper in her mouth, her throat relaxing as the wet, sloppy sounds filled the room. She was fucking her own face on his cock. Harry's hips bucked, his moans growing louder, the pressure building.
"Clara… I'm… close," he stammered, his body tensing.
She pulled back just enough to speak, her voice hoarse.
"Not yet, baby…" Clara then pinched something between his balls and his cock and his orgasm was instantly paused.
He was feeling the intense sensation of his climax coming but nothing happened, leaving him frustrated but very aroused.
Clara kept her fingers like this for a few seconds, biting her lips as she lewdly stared in his eyes before she winked at him.
Then, she slammed her face on his crotch as she literally swallowed his cock to the root while her hands pressed his balls.
Harry saw stars.
He felt like he deposited galleons of cum in her mouth as his orgasm seemed like it would never stop. He felt his balls contracting in her hands as they sent wad after wad of sperm directly down her gullet. Clara moaned, swallowing every drop, her lips milking him dry, her tongue teasing the tip as he shuddered. He slumped back, his breath ragged, his hands slipping from her hair.
Clara pulled back, licking her lips, her blue eyes gleaming. "Mmm, you taste good, love," she purred, her fingers stroking his thighs. "Feeling better?"
Harry nodded, his voice hoarse. "Yeah… fuck, Clara."
He was panting and his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest as he stared at the roof of the parlor.
Clara was patiently waiting for him to come down from his high. She was slowly touching his balls and cock, kissing his thighs and licking the few drops of cum that got away from her.
Harry was sure that so much pleasure was going to kill him, but that would be such a good way to go…
Harry was still panting, slowly coming down from his bliss as he felt Clara's tongue slowly working on his cock and balls.
He had a question to ask but didn't know how to do it without sounding concerned.
He hesitated, the memory of his mother's scream surfacing, his face heating. "Clara … why was my… why was Lily screaming like that?"
Clara's smile turned nonchalant, her blue eyes flicking up as she rose, her perky breasts swaying in the red lace bra.
"Oh, love, she was getting fucked, and hard at that." she said casually, wiping her hands on a towel. "Happens all the time here."
Harry's eyes widened, shock and jealousy hitting him like a hex.
"Fucked?" He choked, his cock twitching despite the release. "You mean…she had sex…with that guy?"
Clara nodded, her round arse shifting as she leaned against the table, her expression surprised.
"Yeah, of course. Wait… you didn't fuck her?" Her blue eyes widened, her mouth parting. "You're telling me you didn't even… what, just her mouth?"
Harry's face burned, his heart pounding.
"Yeah… just… that," he mumbled, his voice trembling, embarrassment mixing with arousal.
Clara's laugh was incredulous, her black hair swaying.
"Gosh, that's… wow. I thought you two…" She shook her head, her perky breasts bouncing slightly. "You didn't even fuck her arse? Nearly every client buggers Lily at least once. Bet that's what she's doing right now—screaming like that, it's usually her arse getting pounded."
Harry's jaw dropped, his mind reeling with images of his mother—her freckled breasts, her plump arse—under someone else, her screams now taking on a new, shocking meaning.
"Her… arse?" he stammered, his cock stirring again, guilt and arousal clashing.
Clara's smile turned wicked, her blue eyes glinting.
"Oh, yeah, love. It's a favorite around here. Lily's got a knack for it." She stepped closer, her fingers grazing his chest, her nails sending sparks through him. "You want to fuck me too, Harry ? You paid for the extras, might as well try it."
Harry's breath caught, his cock hardening fully, his eyes flicking to her perky breasts and her small tight butt.
"I… can I really?" he stammered, arousal overtaking shock.
Clara giggled, sinking to her hands and knees on the floor, her red thong taut against her hips, her heart shaped arse raised invitingly.
"Course you can, darling," she purred, looking back at him, her blue eyes gleaming. "With the extras you chose, you can even fill me up, completely natural. No limits, just pleasure. Come on, love, choose a hole and fuck me."
Harry's heart raced, his mind a swirl of guilt, desire, and the shocking revelation about his mother. Clara's lithe body, her sultry offer, was too much to resist. He slid off the table, his hands trembling as he positioned himself behind her, his eyes locked on her round backside, the red thong barely covering her anus.
"I… your arse," he said, his voice hoarse, his hands hovering over her hips, the idea of sodomizing her consuming him.
Clara laughed, her black hair swaying.
"I figured you would ask that." She tugged her thong aside, revealing her puckered anus, glistening slightly from earlier use. "Go on, Harry, bugger me."
Harry groaned, his hands gripping her hips, the feel of her smooth skin sending sparks through him. He pressed his cock against her anus, expecting resistance, but it slid in easily, the tight, slick heat of her bowels enveloping him. Clara moaned, pushing back against him, her ring of muscles yielding effortlessly, drawing him deeper into her.
"Fuck… that's… easier than I thought," Harry gasped, his hips moving instinctively, the sensation overwhelming, the warmth of her rectum gripping him tightly.
Clara laughed, her voice raw, her body rocking with his slow thrusts.
"That's normal, love. You're my fifth client today, and you guys all wanted my arse. My butt is well stretched for you, darling."
Harry's eyes widened, arousal spiking at her words, his thrusts growing steadier, the slap of flesh echoing in the room. Clara's tight arse jiggled with each thrust, her red thong bunched to the side, her black hair swaying as she braced herself on her hands.
"Oh god… Clara," he groaned, the pleasure intense, his cock sliding smoothly in and out of her bowels, the slickness making each movement effortless.
"Fuck me harder, love," Clara moaned, her voice thick with need, her perky breasts bouncing as she pushed back, meeting his thrusts. "Bugger me proper."
Harry's grip tightened on her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he picked up the pace, his cock plunging deeper into her anus, the tight heat driving him wild. Clara's moans grew louder, her body trembling, her bowels clenching around him with each thrust. The room was filled with the rhythmic slap of his hips against her arse, her gasps and his groans blending into a primal symphony.
"Fuck… you feel so good," Harry panted, his voice rough, his hips snapping forward, the sensation of her anus gripping him pushing him closer to the edge. Clara's small arse quivered with each impact, her red thong a vivid contrast against her pale skin, her black hair bouncing with the force of his thrusts.
"Fill my arse, love," Clara gasped, her voice desperate, her body arching as she rocked back harder. "Cum in my bowels, give me everything."
Harry's thrusts became erratic, the pressure building, his mind consumed by the heat of her anus, the ease of her stretched bowels, and the shocking image of his mother enduring the same. He leaned forward, his chest brushing her back, his hands sliding up to grip her shoulders, pulling her closer as he pounded into her.
He slowed his thrusts as he penetrated her harder, each one sinking his cock deeper and deeper in her butthole, wrecking her intestines. Clara's moans turned to sharp cries, her perky breasts swaying wildly, her anus clenching tighter as she neared her own climax.
"Oh fuck… Clara… I'm gonna…" Harry groaned, his voice breaking, the pleasure overwhelming. With a final, balls deep thrust, he came, spilling hot and thick sperm into her rectum, his body shuddering as the release tore through him and he drained his balls up her butt, painting her bowels white with his seed.
Clara moaned loudly as she felt herself being filled to the brim, her anus pulsing around him as it milked his cock, her body tensing as she rode out her own orgasm and her cries echoing in the candlelit room.
She collapsed onto the ground and he followed her, unwilling to let her go just yet.
He stayed buried inside her, laying on her back and still twitching, reluctant to pull out. The heat of her stretched bowels kept rippling faintly around his softening cock, little aftershocks squeezing him as though trying to milk the last drops of his cum in her body.
Clara gave a soft, satisfied hum, rocking ever so slightly under his body, letting him feel the slick, used warmth a moment longer.
Harry's breathing was ragged, his forehead between her shoulder blades, the taboo images still swirling behind his closed eyes as he pressed small kisses on her skin.
Clara giggled quietly, low and lazy. "Mmm… still in there, love? You like staying deep in my butt, don't you? Take your time. My arse isn't going anywhere."
They stayed like that for a long, hazy minute, Harry buried to the hilt and Clara gently clenching around him before she finally patted his thigh.
"Fuck, Harry, you really filled me up back there," she purred, still laying on her belly with him on her back and his cock up her butt. "Want me to show you something cool ?" she asked, turning her head to the side to look him in the eyes, with a small smirk.
Harry slowly cooled down from his excitement, his cock shrinking in her arsehole. He cocked his head to the side.
"What ?" he asked, still heavily breathing but curious.
Clara moved a bit under him, and his cock slipped out with a wet pop. She then moved back to her hands and knees before pressing her head to the ground and using her hands to spread her butt cheeks.
"Look at the damage you made, big boy…" She said teasingly, her voice husky and playful as she held her cheeks wide apart.
Harry's breath caught again, fresh heat crawling up his neck despite the exhaustion settling into his limbs.
From this close, the sight was obscene and hypnotic.
Her anus—once a neat, glistening pucker—was now flushed a deep, abused pink, slightly gaping open in a soft, wet O. A slow, thick trickle of his own cum leaked out, milky-white against the flushed skin, sliding down the crease of her arse and dripping in lazy strings onto the floor beneath them. The rim twitched faintly, still loose and relaxed from the pounding, the inner walls visible just enough to show how thoroughly he'd stretched her.
Harry crawled on his knees to get behind her once again, and he pressed his hands on her round ass to observe the scene. He had never seen an anus so close before—didn't even think of it to be honest—but now, he couldn't deny that there was something incredibly attractive about this small hole.
He also noticed how much sperm was leaking out, big drops of white creamy substance continuously trickling from the, now loose, ring of muscles.
"Is it all from me ?" Harry asked, breathless and wide-eyed, his hands still on her ass as she kept spreading it for him.
Clara let out a little laugh from her position on the ground. "Of course, it's all from you, Harry…Gosh, you really drained your balls up my butt, I can feel your warmth in my belly."
"But…the others…" Harry flushed as he stammered his question, thinking of her earlier words.
"Oh you are so cute…" She smiled as she finally stood up and turned to face him. "Don't worry, love, I clean myself after every client."
Harry felt a strange heat at her words. The confirmation that others had taken her before him creating a strange mix of jealousy and excitement that he couldn't fully describe, no matter how many times he heard the words.
Without fully understanding why, he wanted to know more.
"So, they…all of them…I mean the others….they…" He stammered a bit, still a nervous teen even if he tried to put on the mask of an adult in this place.
Clara smiled, gently amused as she understood what he wanted to know. "Yes, Harry, they all fucked by butt." She slowly walked toward him, still naked and she pressed her chest against his, looking in his eyes. "They buggered me, sodomized me, took my poor little arsehole again and again…"
Each of her words awakened a flame in his chest, which was precisely what she wanted.
"And…after that…they all came in you…like me ?" He asked, his voice choked as excitement coursed through his veins. The feel of her small nipples and perky breasts rubbing against his chest boosting his confidence to speak the words he wanted to ask.
"Yes, love…" She practically moaned as she rubbed her thighs together "They filled me with their cum, exactly like you…Hmm, so much sperm went in my rectum today…Do you like knowing that ?"
Harry didn't have to answer, his cock was back to hardness and pulsing against her stomach as she kept rubbing herself on him.
"Oooh, you do like knowing that…" Clara practically cooed as she took his cock in one hand and his balls in the other. "You are so hard for me, is it the thought of those other men did to me that excites you ? Or are you thinking about Lily experiencing the same treatment ?"
His cock jumped hard in her hands at her words and Harry had to bite his lips to muffle his moans. The image she provoked in his mind too much for him to handle.
He couldn't help but think about his mum, the being he cherished the most in this world, being currently fucked up the arse by random men.
"Fuck, Clara…" Harry groaned as she tugged on his cock.
Her eyes were hazy with lust as she rubbed her thighs together and jerked him off; but when she felt his balls pulsing in her grasp, sign of his impending orgasm, she immediately pinched the same spot as before to stop his climax.
"Oh no, Harry, I'm not wasting that cum on my hands…" Clara said with a naughty smile.
She then pushed him back on the table and made him lay down on his back, his twitching cock in her grasp. Then, she got up on the table and sat on his lap.
Harry could feel the heat of her pussy against his dick and he desperately looked up at her, silently imploring her to let him cum.
Clara looked down on him with a cocky smile. "Don't worry, love. You will cum." Before she lifted herself and aligned his cock with her still gaping arsehole and, without moving her gaze from his, she sat down all the way.
He moaned, his hands on her hips as he held her steady, his entire cock having disappeared in her anus.
She let out a low, throaty moan as she settled on his sex. Her butt was cushioning on his lap as her butthole swallowed him to the hilt. Her bowels were still a bit loose from the poundings him and her previous clients of the day gave her but it was more than tight enough to massage every parts of his cock.
Clara paused there for a moment, impaled to the root on his dick, her blue eyes locked on his green ones and her black hair cascading on her shoulders. She was vision of beauty and sexuality.
"You…are beautiful," Harry said breathily, horny beyond measure as his penis twitched in her butt.
Clare began moving then, with slow, deliberate circles of her hips. She ground against him, stirring his cock in her rectum as he felt the remnant heat of his sperm inside her.
"You're sweet, baby…How do you like being balls deep in my arse again ?" She asked, her cheeks red from excitement, her eyes hazy with lust.
"I…love it…I would like to fuck you every day…" He answered, lost in his desire for her.
Clara changed her movements and began rolling her hips on him, massaging his cock with her anus, before she bent her head toward his and captured his lips in a kiss.
The kiss was slow at first, almost tender, her lips soft and warm against Harry's as she rolled her hips in lazy, teasing circles. The taste of her, faintly sweet, mixed with the lingering musk of their earlier exertions, flooded his senses. Her tongue slipped past his lips, exploring with the same deliberate skill she'd used on every other part of him, while her anus clenched rhythmically around his buried cock, milking him with urgency.
Harry groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding up her back, fingers tracing the delicate knobs of her spine before settling on the small of her waist. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, the slickness of her arousal coating his pelvis where their bodies met. She was still impossibly tight despite the day's use, her inner walls fluttering around him like she was trying to draw him even deeper.
When she finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected their lips for a heartbeat before snapping. Clara's blue eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust.
"I want your cum, baby, give it to me deep," She moaned, rolling her hips faster on him.
Harry's head fell back against the padded table, a low, helpless sound escaping his throat. "Clara… fuck… you're gonna kill me."
"I can feel you throbbing in me…You want to fill my butt with your sperm once again, don't you ?" She said, staring his eyes with a slutty smile.
She began to ride him properly then, with slow, deep strokes that lifted almost all the way off before dropping back down, taking him to the root every time. Each descent forced a fresh trickle of his earlier cum to leak out around his shaft, coating his balls and dripping onto the leather beneath them. The obscene, slippery sounds filled the candlelit room, mingling with their shared breathing.
"You're…so warm…fuck…" Harry cursed, barely holding on as she rode him with abandon.
"Come on, love, cum…Give it to me while you are balls deep in my shitter, cum for me !" Clara nearly begged, impaling herself again and again on his dick.
He felt his dick throbbing and his balls contracting as his orgasm approached, her tight heat finally overwhelming him.
Clara's hips slammed down one final time, burying Harry to the root in her spasming arse. "Cum for me—now!" she cried, voice breaking into a desperate wail.
Harry's world narrowed to the crushing heat around his cock. He thrust up hard, fingers bruising her hips, and exploded. Thick ropes of cum erupted deep in her bowels, flooding the already-overfilled channel. The excess spurted out in messy pulses, slicking his balls and dripping onto the table in creamy strings.
Clara shuddered above him, her anus clenching rhythmically, milking every drop as her own orgasm tore through her. She ground down frantically, cries turning hoarse, her body quaking until she collapsed forward onto his chest.
They lay tangled, breaths ragged, skin slick with sweat. Harry's cock softened inside her, still twitching faintly. Clara gave a breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. "Fuck, love… You really know how to fill a girl. My arse is swimming in you."
Harry could only groan, mind hazy, the taboo thrill of imagining Lily in this exact position still burning behind his eyes. Clara eventually lifted off him with a wet pop, a gush of semen following, pooling beneath her gaping, flushed hole.
She didn't bother hiding it—just smirked, letting him stare at the creamy evidence leaking down her thighs as she eyed him like a predator before a prey.
She was clearly not done with him.
Harry's chest heaved, his body still thrumming from the raw intensity of their encounter. He was still lying on his back onto the padded massage table, the soft leather cool against his sweat-slicked skin.
The candlelit room glowed with a warm, amber haze, the air heavy with lavender and sandalwood, now laced with the musky scent of their exertion.
His heart raced, his mind a storm of questions, desire, and the jarring revelations about Lily's work at Serenity Spa. Clara moved with feline grace in the dim light. Her naked, pale body was still red from exertion, and he could spot his handprints on her hips where he held her as she fucked her own arse on his cock.
She reached for a soft towel on a nearby shelf, her movements fluid, her jet-black hair cascading in glossy waves down her back.
"Gosh, love, you made a proper mess," Clara teased, her voice a sultry purr as she turned to face him, her blue eyes glinting with mischief.
She held the towel in one hand, her crimson nails catching the candlelight as she wiped it gently between her small cheeks, her tight arse still glistening from their earlier act.
"You're the first today to pump that much spunk into my butt. Quite the loads, darling."
Harry's face flushed, a mix of embarrassment and arousal surging through him.
"I… uh, sorry?" he stammered, his voice hoarse, his green eyes flicking to her hips, then back to her face. His cock twitched despite its recent release, the image of his seed spilling into her bowels vivid in his mind.
Clara giggled, her laugh light and wicked, as she tossed the towel into a basket.
"No need to apologize, love. It's a compliment." She stepped closer to the table, her perky breasts jiggling slightly and her flat stomach taut and smooth. "You're a natural, aren't you? Got more in you, I reckon." Her fingers trailed along the edge of the table, her nails grazing the leather, sending a shiver through Harry.
He swallowed hard, his body tensing under her gaze.
"That was… intense," he mumbled, his mind still reeling from the ease of her anus, her casual admission of being sodomized by multiple clients that day. He shifted on the table, his muscles tense, his thoughts a tangle of desire and the nagging thoughts about his mom.
"Intense is my specialty," Clara purred, leaning closer, her breath warm against his ear. "But we've still got around an hour left, Harry. How about something special to keep the fire going?" Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Ever tried a Nuru massage?"
Harry frowned, the term sparking a vague memory. His mother had mentioned it once, when she brought him to the parlor, describing it as a Japanese technique, all slippery and intimate, with bodies sliding against bodies. He hadn't paid much attention then, too busy admiring his mom's body, but the idea now sent a jolt through him. Careful not to mention Lily's connection to him, he nodded slightly.
"I… think I've heard of it," he said, his voice rough. "Body-to-body, right? With some kind of gel?"
Clara's smile widened, her fingers brushing his shoulder, sending sparks across his skin.
"Spot on, darling. It's pure sensual bliss—my whole body gliding over yours, every curve, every inch, slick and teasing. No hands, just skin on skin with my body driving you wild. Gets you relaxed… and ready for more." Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes locking onto his. "Fancy giving it a go?"
Harry's breath hitched, his cock stirring at the thought of Clara's lithe form sliding over him, her curves pressed against his skin. For a second, he felt the fatigue take over him, but the ache in his groin drowned it out. He was still horny.
"Yeah… let's do it," he said, his voice hoarse, nodding more firmly.
"Brilliant," Clara chirped, clapping her hands together, her perky breasts bouncing from the movement, making her small nipples move hypnotically. "Lie on your stomach first, love. I'll get everything ready."
She turned to a small table, her tight arse swaying. He could still spot her gaping anus and the white trickle of his cum leaking out of her.
Clara laughed softly as she noticed his staring, her blue eyes gleaming.
"Yes, yes, you naughty boy, you really fucked my butt. Now, get comfy." She poured a clear, viscous gel from a bottle into her hands, warming it between her palms, the scent of aloe and a faint sweetness filling the air
Harry rolled onto his stomach, his face resting in the table's cushioned headrest, his body tense with anticipation. The leather was cool against his chest and thighs, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the table, already half-hard.
He heard Clara's soft hum as she approached, her footsteps light on the wooden floor.
"Ready, darling?" she murmured, her voice soothing yet teasing. He felt the first drizzle of warm gel on his back, the slick liquid pooling along his spine, trickling down his sides.
Then, Clara's body pressed against his, her firm breasts sliding across his shoulder blades, her taut stomach gliding over his lower back, her bare skin warm and impossibly smooth.
"Fuck…" Harry groaned, his voice muffled, his hips twitching involuntarily. Her naked body against his was a revelation, every curve molding to his muscles, the gel creating a seamless glide that sent sparks through him.
Clara giggled, her breath hot against his neck.
"Feels good, doesn't it? Just wait, love." She shifted, her thighs straddling his hips, her weight light but deliberate as she slid forward, her breasts tracing paths down his spine, her nipples grazing his skin with a delicious tease. Her hands braced on the table, her black hair brushing his shoulders as she leaned in, her lips hovering near his ear. "Let go, darling. Let me take you somewhere else."
Harry's fingers curled into fists, the sensation of her body overwhelming. She moved with a slow, rhythmic grace, her hips rolling, her stomach sliding against his arse, her thighs brushing his sides. The gel made every movement frictionless, her skin a constant, teasing caress.
"Clara… this is… so good," he panted, his voice strained, his cock hardening fully beneath him.
"Shh, love," she whispered, her voice a sultry melody. "Just feel me." She slid lower, her breasts pressing into his thighs, her flat stomach gliding over his arse, her bare mound brushing against him. She rocked her hips, her body undulating, the slick gel amplifying every sensation. "You're so tense, darling. Let me melt it all away."
Harry's breath came in short gasps, his body trembling under her touch. "You're… too good at this," he muttered, his voice thick, his mind hazy with pleasure. Her naked body, slick and warm, was driving him wild, every glide stoking the fire in his core.
Clara laughed softly, her lips brushing his ear.
"Years of practice, love. Now, turn over. Time for the real fun." She lifted herself off, her body leaving a cool absence, the gel still warm on his skin.
Harry rolled onto his back, his cock springing upright, throbbing and slick with precum. Clara's eyes darkened, her lips parting as she took in his arousal, her blue gaze hungry.
"Well, look at you," she purred, pouring more gel into her hands, her crimson nails glinting. "Ready for more, aren't you?"
He nodded, his throat tight, his green eyes locked on her naked form—her firm breasts, her taut stomach, her smooth mound glistening with gel. She climbed onto the table, straddling his thighs, her breasts swaying slightly, her skin glowing in the candlelight. She poured the gel over her chest, letting it drip down her cleavage, her fingers spreading it across her skin, her movements slow and deliberate.
"I'm gonna slide all over you, love," she murmured, her voice dripping with promise.
Clara leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest, the slick gel creating a seamless glide as she moved. Harry moaned, his hands instinctively reaching for her hips, but she caught his wrists, pinning them above his head with a playful tsk.
"No touching yet, darling," she teased, her lips hovering over his. "Let me work."
She slid down, her breasts trailing over his stomach, her nipples grazing his skin, the absence of lace making the sensation even more intense. Her hips rocked, her bare mound brushing against his cock, the slick gel making it a torturous tease. Harry's hips bucked, his groan loud in the quiet room.
"Clara… fuck… you're killing me," he panted, his voice hoarse with need.
She giggled, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Patience, Harry. We're just warming up." She slid back up, her breasts pressing into his chest again, her thighs straddling his hips, her mound grinding against his cock. The gel made every movement slick, her body a constant, maddening caress. She rocked her hips, her bare skin brushing his shaft with every roll, the heat of her pussy tantalizingly close.
Harry's hands clenched, his body trembling.
"Clara… please," he begged, his voice raw, his cock throbbing against her. The sensation of her grinding, the slickness, the heat of her naked body, was driving him to the edge.
She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot.
"Want more, love? Want to feel me properly?" Her hips shifted, her bare mound aligning with his cock, the slick gel making her pussy lips glide against him. Harry groaned, his hips bucking, and with a sudden, slick movement, his cock slipped inside her, her tight, wet heat enveloping him.
"Oh fuck!" Harry gasped, his eyes widening, the sensation of her pussy overwhelming. Clara moaned, her head tilting back, her black hair spilling over her shoulders, her firm breasts bouncing as she adjusted to his girth.
"God, love," she panted, her voice thick with pleasure. "You're so hard… it feels so bloody good." She rocked her hips, her pussy clenching around him, the gel making every thrust slick and deep. Harry's hands broke free, gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her smooth skin as he thrust up, matching her rhythm.
"Clara… oh god," he groaned, his voice rough, his hips snapping upward, the pleasure intense.
Her pussy was tight, hot, and impossibly slick, the gel amplifying every sensation. It was very different from her arsehole and her mouth, but just as good.
She leaned forward, her breasts pressing into his chest, her lips hovering over his, her blue eyes locked onto his green ones.
"Fuck me, darling," she whispered, her voice desperate, her hips rolling faster. "Give it to me." Her pussy clenched tighter, her moans growing louder, her body trembling with each thrust. The table creaked beneath them, the candlelight flickering, casting shadows across her glistening, naked skin.
Harry's thrusts grew harder, his grip on her hips bruising, his mind consumed by the heat of her, the slickness, the raw pleasure.
"Clara… you're… fuck," he panted, his voice breaking, his cock driving deeper, her pussy gripping him like a vice. Her firm breasts bounced with each thrust, her black hair swaying, her naked body a vision of raw sensuality.
"Harder, love," Clara moaned, her voice raw, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Make me feel it… make me cum." Her hips rocked wildly, her pussy clenching, her body arching as she chased her release. Harry's thrusts became erratic, the pressure building, his mind a haze of pleasure and need
"Clara… I'm… gonna…" he groaned, his voice strained, his hips snapping upward, driving deep. She cried out, her pussy pulsing around him, her orgasm crashing through her, her body trembling as she rode him.
The sight of her—her head thrown back, her breasts heaving, her blue eyes half-lidded—pushed Harry over the edge. With a final thrust, he came deep in her pussy. He could feel his balls contracting as he pumped jet after jet of sperm in her body. He let out a shuddering groan as he felt himself filling her for the third time today.
They collapsed together, Clara's naked body draped over his, her breath ragged, her skin slick with gel and sweat. She giggled softly, her lips brushing his neck.
"Fuck, love… you're something else," she purred, her voice hoarse, her blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Harry panted, his hands still on her hips, his mind hazy.
"That… was… so fucking good," he muttered, his voice rough, his body spent but still tingling.
Clara remained impaled atop Harry, her naked body pressed against his, her thighs straddling his hips as their ragged breaths synchronized in the candlelit room.
The slick gel coated their skin, amplifying the warmth of her bare form against his, her firm breasts pressed into his chest, her taut stomach rising and falling with each breath.
Her pussy, still clenching faintly around his softening cock, pulsed with the aftermath of their shared climax, and Harry could feel the heat of her, the slickness of their mingled fluids.
Clara's black hair spilled over her shoulders, tickling his collarbone, her blue eyes half-lidded as she gazed down at him, her lips curled in a satisfied, wicked smile.
"You were great, love," she murmured, her voice hoarse but teasing, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "I can feel you inside me… all that hot spunk you pumped in there." She shifted slightly, her pussy tightening around him, a soft moan escaping her lips as she adjusted, the sensation of his cum stirring within her. "You really filled me up, didn't you, darling?"
Harry's face flushed, his heart still pounding, his green eyes locked on her glistening form. The intimacy of her words, the way her body clung to his, sent a fresh wave of arousal through him despite his exhaustion.
"Yeah… fuck, Clara," he panted, his voice rough, his hands resting on her hips, fingers grazing her smooth skin. "That was… intense."
Clara giggled, her laugh soft and sultry, her body rocking slightly as she stayed seated, her pussy still enveloping him.
"Intense doesn't even cover it, love. You're a bloody force." She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her lips hovering near his ear. "So, now that you've had all my holes—mouth, pussy, arse—and filled them proper with your cum, which one's your favorite?" Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, her voice dripping with playful curiosity as she rocked her hips again, teasing a faint twitch from his softening cock.
Harry swallowed hard, his mind flashing through the whirlwind of sensations—her warm mouth milking him, her tight pussy gripping him, the slick heat of her anus yielding so easily.
The memory of her arse, so welcoming and tight, sent a spark through him, the taboo side of the act making his cock twitch inside her.
"Your… arse," he admitted, his voice low and hoarse, his face heating as he met her gaze.
Clara's laugh was bright and wicked, her head tilting back, her black hair swaying.
"Figures, all men are the same!" she teased, her blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Always about that arse, isn't it? Something about that tight, naughty heat gets you lot every time." She shifted again, her pussy clenching briefly, her body still pressed against his, her skin slick with gel and sweat. "Can't say I blame you, though. Felt bloody good for me too."
Harry's breath hitched, his cock twitching faintly inside her, the aftershocks of their climax still lingering. Her words, her casual confidence, stoked the fire in his core, even as his body felt drained.
"It was… fuck, it was amazing," he muttered, his hands tightening on her hips, his fingers digging into her smooth flesh.
Clara's smile turned sultry, her fingers trailing down his chest, her crimson nails grazing his skin until they reached his balls. She cupped them gently, her touch featherlight but deliberate, her blue eyes locking onto his.
"Mmm, still got some heft here, love," she purred, her voice low and teasing. "I reckon you've got one last load in you. Where do you want me to take it, darling? Mouth? Pussy? My arsehole again?" Her fingers massaged his balls softly, her touch sending sparks through him, her naked body glowing in the candlelight.
Harry groaned, his body responding despite the exhaustion, his cock stirring faintly inside her. The thought of her mouth—those warm, wet lips, her tongue swirling around him—sent a jolt of need through him.
"Your mouth," he said, his voice rough, his green eyes darkening with renewed desire. "I want… your mouth."
Clara's lips curled into a wicked grin, her blue eyes gleaming with triumph as she heard his words.
"Good choice…I will suck you dry, love," she purred, her voice thick with sultry promise.
Slowly, she slid off him, her naked body glistening with the remnants of the Nuru gel, her movements fluid and deliberate as his cock popped out of her sex and a trickle of his cum appeared on her lower lips.
Her lithe form glowed in the candlelit room, the amber light casting soft shadows across her pale skin, her small, firm breasts swaying gently with each step.
The air was heavy with lavender, sandalwood, and the musky scent of their mingled arousal, the padded massage table creaking faintly as she repositioned herself. Harry's heart pounded, his cock twitching in anticipation, his green eyes locked on her every move.
Clara knelt on the plush rug beside the table, her knees sinking into the soft fibers, her black hair spilling over her shoulders like a glossy curtain.
She positioned herself between Harry's thighs, her face inches from his throbbing cock, her breath warm against his sensitive skin. He lay propped up on his elbows, his back arched slightly, the cool leather of the table sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. His legs were spread, his thighs tense, his cock standing upright, slick with precum and the faint sheen of gel. Clara's crimson nails glinted as she rested her hands on his inner thighs, her fingers spreading his legs wider, her touch light but commanding.
"Gonna make this one unforgettable, darling," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, her blue eyes flicking up to meet his. She leaned forward, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to tease the swollen tip of his cock.
Harry gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily, his fingers gripping the table's leather edges. Her tongue swirled around the tip, lapping at the bead of precum with slow, deliberate strokes, her movements teasing and precise. The sensation was electric, her warm, wet tongue sending sparks shooting up his spine.
"Fuck… Clara," he groaned, his voice hoarse, his head tilting back slightly, his green eyes half-lidded with pleasure. His chest heaved, his muscles flexing as he fought to stay propped up, watching her work.
Clara's lips curled into a faint smile around his tip, her tongue flicking faster now, circling the sensitive head, her saliva mixing with the gel to create a maddeningly slick sensation.
"Mmm, so responsive," she teased, her voice muffled, her lips brushing against his tip as she spoke. She sucked gently, her lips sealing around the head, her cheeks hollowing as she drew on him with a soft, teasing pressure.
Harry's moan was loud in the quiet room, his hips twitching, his thighs trembling under her hands. She pulled back slightly, her tongue flicking the slit at the tip, her blue eyes gleaming up at him, her black hair framing her flushed face.
"Patience, love," she purred, her voice dripping with mischief. She shifted lower, her lips trailing down his shaft, her breath hot against his skin. Her hands moved to his balls, her fingers cupping them gently, her crimson nails grazing the sensitive skin. Harry's breath hitched, his body tensing as she pressed a soft kiss to one of his balls, her tongue flicking out to lap at the taut skin.
"These are still heavy, aren't they? You really want to drown me in your sperm, don't you ?" she murmured, her voice teasing, her lips brushing against his balls as she spoke.
Her words ignited a fire in his belly, and only one thought circled in his brain.
'She is worth every single pound'