Ginny was in the kitchen making dinner, and through the wall she could hear her husband fucking another woman in their bed.
Ginny wasn’t surprised that the sound reached her. The walls in their new house were thin, and the bedroom was right on the other side of the kitchen. There was hardly anything between them. But even then, Harry and the other woman were being extraordinarily loud. Ginny could hear everything: Harry’s heavy grunting and groaning, her airy moaning and gasping, even the rhythmic creaking of the bed and the sound their skin made as it slapped together. This had been going on for almost fifteen minutes now.
Ginny’s face felt like it was on fire. Her body was burning, flushed from head to toe, trembling and even aching from the sheer strength of her arousal. Her core was a furnace putting out heat so intense Ginny was almost a little dizzy. Her panties were soaked and sticky, and beneath her robes she could feel her own fluid rub against her thighs every time she shifted her legs. Ginny turned away from the cooking to take a quick drink of water, to wet her dry mouth and maybe cool herself down. She finished the glass in what felt like seconds.
“Harry, Harry,” the woman suddenly cried out. “Yes! You’re so good! Please, yes! Harry!”
A shudder ran through Ginny’s body. A second later, she realized that one of her hands had snuck down toward her crotch, and she had to force it away from herself. Carefully, with pointed nonchalance, Ginny resumed her work. She was almost finished mixing the salad, so dinner would be ready to serve in minutes.
Harry and the woman approached their peak. They both began to speed up, and the sound of the bed rocking and their flesh slapping together intensified. Ginny swore she could almost hear the sudden spike in power behind Harry’s thrusts. The woman continued to cry out her pleasure, now wordlessly keening, and Harry’s own husky voice rose to match her own. Ginny gripped the countertop and kept herself still as the two pushed over the edge together. There was more noise, now so loud it felt like the whole neighborhood must be hearing her and Harry fucking, then the two gradually began to settle down. The rhythmic creaking slowed, then stopped. Silence settled over the house.
Ginny couldn’t remember if Harry had told her the other woman’s name. If he had, it hadn’t stuck. She was practically a nameless stranger. Ginny had just listened to a nameless stranger fuck her husband, and from the sound of it she might have fucked him harder than Ginny ever had, all while Ginny was cooking dinner in the kitchen like a good little housewife.
The wave of arousal that washed through her was overwhelming. It had her paralyzed. It took a full minute before Ginny could trust herself to move, to not reach down and touch herself the second her hands were no longer clenching down on the countertop. Ginny felt even more overheated than before, and for a long moment she seriously considered stripping down to cool herself off. She cast a cooling charm on herself instead.
Footsteps approached, and Ginny turned around in time to see Harry enter the room. Ginny froze at the sight: he was naked, utterly bare from head to toe, and she couldn’t stop herself from drinking in the sight of his body. His lean muscular frame, the tight swell of his ass, his broad chest covered with hair perfect for curling her fingers through, the thin stubble across his chin, his messy mop of hair, it was all flawless. Perfect in every way. Harry was the sexiest man alive, Ginny knew. She knew it with the certainty of a woman who had married the man of her dreams.
Harry also sported a semi-erect cock. It was coated with a very familiar sort of white slime, slick from root to tip, and Ginny swore she caught a whiff of another woman’s scent beneath Harry’s own.
His eyebrows rose at the meal behind her. “Oh, you’re making food. Is that dinner? I’m going to be honest, I wasn’t expecting that.” He flashed a smile that had Ginny go weak at the knees. “It looks good. Thanks, Ginny.”
“Um, yeah.” Ginny focused. “I’m got pork chops, mashed potatoes, fresh squash, and a salad. Don’t worry about finishing everything off, I’ve made a lot extra for leftovers. It’ll be good for packed lunches.”
“There’s enough for three, then?”
Ginny felt her face burn. The heat inside her spiked at the sudden mental image that flashed through her head: Harry enthusiastically fucking another woman, and just minutes later bringing her out to be served dinner by his loving wife. Ginny bit her lip, unable to speak for a moment, and then gave Harry a silent nod. She picked up her wand and magicked three sets of plates and cutlery from the cupboards, then waved them down onto the table. She stared at the plates and tried to calm herself down.
After a deep breath, Ginny looked back up at Harry, but then blinked at the concern on his face. Quietly, Harry asked, “Are you alright, Ginny? Is this, uh… getting too much?”
Surprised, Ginny couldn’t stop herself from letting out a short bark of laughter. Harry gave her an odd look, and Ginny swore her sudden bright flash of embarrassment somehow deepened her already blazing blush. “No, Harry, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just being a little silly, that’s all.”
The concern faded, but didn’t disappear. “Are you sure? You seem a little off-balance.”
Ginny bit her lip and looked down. Silence reigned for a short moment. Ginny took a deep breath, slowly let it out, then reached out to grab Harry’s hand and gently guide it toward her sex. She slipped him through her robe and onto her panties, pressing him firmly against the whole wet mess.
Harry didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He was still, at first, but then a smile quietly quirked in the corner of his mouth, and Ginny felt his fingers begin to lightly trace her entrance through the thin cotton. Her body shivered at his gentle touch. Harry didn’t appear to notice her trembling.
“You’re soaking wet,” Harry said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pair of panties this bad. They’re practically waterlogged.”
Ginny nodded again. She was close enough to really smell him now. Sweat and body wash mixed together into something earthy and male, a subtle scent that was powerful enough to leave her momentarily speechless. Ginny found her voice and managed to put out a quiet, “Yeah.”
“I don’t need to stop, then?”
Ginny shook her head.
The concern in Harry’s eyes finally went away. His confidence returned, and with it came the quiet swagger that Ginny always loved to see. Harry, quite resolute, said, “Alright. I see how it is. You’ve been enjoying yourself, haven’t you? Having fun while I’ve been gone?”
The heat in Ginny’s chest bloomed. Muscles unconsciously tightened, especially the muscles near Harry’s hand. “Um,” she squeaked.
“No need to act surprised, Ginny. It’s pretty obvious now that I’ve got my finger on the problem.”
Ginny snorted. She smacked the side of Harry’s arm, and he pulled away grinning. “Hey, let’s not get violent Ginny! I’m just saying what’s already obvious.”
“Of course,” Ginny muttered. She hid her smile beneath her palm.
Harry was smart enough to understand that Ginny needed a moment. He let the silence linger, and he didn’t say anything while she had collected her thoughts. Her body still thrummed with unresolved pressure, and the heat inside her was still just a few hard touches away from flaring into an uncontrolled bonfire, but that didn’t mean Ginny had to let herself get in the way of things. She could keep herself under control.
When Harry did finally speak, it was in a low voice. “So, just to be clear, you’re fine with having Leanne over for dinner?”
Ginny finally had a name. She recognized it, too. Leanne was a Hufflepuff from Harry’s year. “I don’t mind at all,” she said.
“I just want to make sure, Ginny. I don’t want to do anything insensitive.”
“Harry, please, you don’t have to act like you’re walking on eggshells. I’m fine. I don’t mind the situation.”
Harry gave her a smile, and then leaned over to kiss the top of her forehead. “Alright, Ginny. But can you give us a little bit more time? We’re not ready to eat quite yet.”
“What? Why not?”
“Well, Leanne’s still eager for another go. I am too, but I need to give myself some time to recharge. I just stepped out to take a little break. Steady myself before the next big push, I suppose.” Harry laughed. “Leanne is really energetic. I guess she’s a little starstuck? A bit silly when we’ve known each other since our First Year. Still, I guess I can’t complain too much. It why she’s so determined to show me a good time. I can’t say I mind a little celebrity worship so long as we’re both having fun with it, I think. She knows me too well to get any odd ideas.”
The more Harry talked, the hotter the fire inside her flared. Ginny had to take a moment to center herself, to slow her breathing and still her sudden fidgeting. She felt ready to burst, like she was one wrong move away from losing control. Once again, she had to concentrate at keeping her hands away from her lower body.
“No,” Ginny said faintly. “It’s no problem. Take as long as you want. I don’t mind.”
“I’d say another fifteen minutes, but the second round tends to last longer, right? So who knows? I’ll try not to take too much time. The food looks really good.”
Ginny bit her lip. It took a moment to banish the mental image Harry had brought up, so a few seconds passed before she spoke. “Do whatever makes you the happiest, Harry. I’ll keep the food warm and wait for you here. I really don’t mind.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
Ginny nodded wordlessly.
“You won’t get bored just waiting around in the kitchen?”
Ginny snorted despite herself. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Harry. I’ll find ways to entertain myself.”
Harry chuckled. “Well, alright then. Thanks Ginny! You’re amazing.”
Harry gave her shoulder a tender squeeze, then turned and walked away. Ginny’s eyes immediately flicked to his ass. His tight backside flexed with every step, almost mesmerizingly entrancing, and as Harry disappeared from view Ginny nearly cried out in frustration. Not for the first time Ginny reflected on how badly it burned to know there was another woman waiting for Harry in Ginny’s own bed. It hurt in a way that left her hungry for more hurt.
Ginny listened to Harry walk down the hall. She heard him open the bedroom door, then close it behind him. She thought she could hear words pass between the two, but they were too muffled to make out. She could only make out their casual tone of voice.
Ginny knew what was about to happen. She had been married to Harry for almost two years now, and she knew him better than he knew himself. He wasn’t tireless. Harry wasn’t some sort of sexual god. She knew that he was only good for two, maybe three rounds a day. After that he’d start to lose interest. And how many times had he fucked Leanne now?
Ginny could see it all play out in her head. After this last round of sex, he wouldn’t be in any mood to pay attention to her urges. He would if she asked, of course, but she’d never do that. It would frame her need as an obligation, a task he had to attend to because Ginny asked him to. Because Ginny nagged him, not because he simply wanted to. Ginny knew that, so long as she didn’t speak up, at the end of the day Harry would kiss her goodnight, snuggle up with her beneath the covers, and fall asleep. If she was quiet, he might not even notice how needy she was. How desperate she was to have him inside her.
The thought burned like a brand. Just the idea of her going to bed untouched and unsatisfied, the mental image of Harry lying next to her with that woman’s scent still thick on the sheets and his cock, it was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. She could almost see it happening in front of her. She could almost taste the quiet humiliation and helpless frustration. Ginny swore she was about ready to melt. Her legs had pressed themselves together, and she could feel her juices leaking through her panties and dripping down her leg. Before she knew it, Ginny was touching herself, a hand on her breast and a hand on her pussy, violently rubbing herself at the thought of Harry being stolen away from her.
But Ginny stopped herself. Her fingers froze in place. She could feel herself lightly pressing down on her hypersensitive body, just a few hard strokes away from pushing herself over the edge. But she forced her hands away. She pushed them both back onto the counter, away from her throbbing, aching sex.
When she and Harry had first worked out this agreement, Ginny had made a silent promise to herself. Only Harry was allowed to make her come. Harry was the one she loved more than anything else in the world, so Harry was the one privileged to her body. It wasn’t for anybody else, not even herself, because Harry was special. Ginny loved him so much she couldn’t put the power of the emotion into words, and she knew Harry loved her just as much. Harry was the reason why this was happening in the first place; she loved him so much it had seemed so unbearably selfish to keep him to herself. He deserved more than that. Ginny wanted him to be happy. Ginny wanted him to have fun.
Ginny couldn’t say she wasn’t also having fun. It was definitely a different sort of fun, the kind that left her feeling helpless and humiliated and so deliciously hurting, but it was still fun nonetheless. It was fun because Ginny knew that, however she felt now, at some point that other woman was going to head home. Sometime later Harry would turn his attention back to Ginny, and she was going to drive herself wild waiting for him. There would be fireworks the second Harry pushed into her, and she’d hold him in her arms and scream how much she loved him while he took her like he always did. It would be just like the first time he’d made love to her, only better. It would be amazing.
Until then, Ginny had to wait. She had to stand by the food, keeping herself silent and still, as she once again began to hear the telltale sounds of Harry and Leanne fucking. The creaking bed, the soft feminine gasps and hard masculine groans, that woman ever-so-eagerly whispering Harry’s name just loud enough for Ginny to hear. Harry may have been a little tired, but Leanne really did sound limitless. There was no telling how long Ginny would have to wait. That was something Ginny found so hot she had to get another glass of water to cool herself off.
For the second time that night, Ginny stood at the kitchen counter and listened to the sound of her husband fucking another woman in their bed.