Una gran y feliz fiesta navideña de los Weasley

When Harry Potter woke up on Christmas morning, he felt many things: shame for having been unfaithful to his wife, anxiety for having ruined his marriage, uncertainty about whether he could ever look his two best friends in the eye again, guilt for taking advantage of someone so young and innocent, confusion about why one of them would let George Weasley prepare the punch (without supervision, no less!). After the annual Christmas Eve reunion at The Burrow, George's punch prevented Harry from feeling such negative emotions. He couldn't concentrate on much more than the incredible sensation of Rose Weasley's 18-year-old pussy wrapped around him. She pressed him against the bathroom wall while fucking him harder and faster than he had his wife in years. It reminded him when he and Ginny first moved in together, before they got married and there were no kids around to prevent them from fucking a corner of their apartment the next day. The fact that Ron and Hermione's daughter had Weasley's familiar red hair and Ginny's slender body at her age only increased the comparison. If there had been an impartial observer of that taboo encounter, it could have alleviated at least one of Harry's fears. Rose could be young, but he wasn't taking advantage of her. It was evident from the smile on her face, the ecstatic grunts she emitted every time he penetrated her, and the way her heels hit his ass to stimulate him. —Faster, Uncle Harry. Fuck me harder—she whispered in his ear. He emphasized her request by gently biting her lobe. Harry made a face. He was already very close to his limits, but always tried to give his lovers everything they asked for. He squeezed his niece's ass, threw her against the door, and fucked her with such force that even magicians would be ashamed. more virile of Rose's age. In a certain way, she was aware that her body would make her pay for it the next day, but Rose's cries of pleasure were worth it. -- Any other day, if she had heard her daughter screaming at the top of her lungs, she would have rushed in with the wand in hand. However, thanks to George's little joke with the punch, Rose's erotic screams were just background noise for her mother. Even if she had been coherent enough to investigate, she wouldn't have had any moral authority to scold her best friend and daughter, considering that at that moment she was sitting on the face of Harry's eldest son. That night, Hermione's logical mind hadn't seen a reason to separate James Sirius when he approached her in the corridor and kissed her. Instead, she let him put his tongue in her mouth and left her hands to squeeze his muscular buttocks, which refused to look normally. When Albus Severus approached from behind and started caressing her breasts through her sweater, she didn't pull away with a slap. Instead, she took both young Potters by the hand and led them to the bedroom that Bill and Charlie had shared when they were children. The two sons of Harry were happy to let her take the initiative, and it was good for her. She had already ridden Al to a quick climax, and while the shy 18-year-old recovered, she pushed James onto the bed and sat astride his face, demanding that he please her with his mouth. He had done his best, but quickly it became clear that he had little or no experience with cunnilingus. She had tied his hands above his head as punishment and was now taking care of it herself, rubbing her hips back and forth on his face. The physical pleasure she was giving herself by fucking her nephew's face was pleasant. The feeling of dominance It was better. She looked at him and discovered that she wasn't the only one enjoying his treatment with James. Al, who was still sitting in the chair where she rode him, was quickly returning to life. She looked at him, nodded significantly towards his erection, and laughed when he blushed. What a cute young boy, she whispered. But don't touch yourself, Al. If you can sit there and watch me finish with your older brother without touching once, I'll give you a special gift, something your Uncle Ron never received. What is it, Aunt Hermione? Al asked desperately. She smiled while trembling at the sensation of rubbing her clitoris against her brother's nose. Tell me, Al, have you ever wondered how good it would be to give me a good beating? -- Maybe the rest of the extensive Weasley/Potter family had passed a scandalous Christmas Eve, but no one had ever surpassed the sons of Arthur and Molly Weasley in terms of being the life of the party. This was still true even today, even with Fred gone and normally stretched Percy present. When they all lived there, none of the brothers were allowed to enter Ginny's bedroom. On rare occasions when any of them was brave (or foolish) enough to sneak in, their fiery younger sister never failed to make them regret it. She had perfected her bat-moth spell to the point that even the twins dared not enter her room without a very pressing reason. Thanks to George and his punch, Ginny no longer had any problem with her five remaining brothers being in her old bedroom, and at the same time, nothing less. Even she was proving to be a true hostess; none of her brothers stayed unsupervised. Her bed had disappeared years ago, but the floor adapted perfectly to her purposes. Charlie was lying on his back on the carpet, thrusting against Ginny and squeezing her breasts. Bill knelt behind and sodomized her, taking pleasure in taking the only hole Fleur had never let him enter, even after all their years of marriage. Percy and Ron stayed on either side, happy to have her masturbate them. George, who had provided the punch that made the whole night possible, stood directly in front of his sister while she diligently sucked him off. He remained perfectly still, with his hands on his head, allowing him to dictate the rhythm of his suction. Percy was the first to lose control, muttering a series of curses that would have surprised and horrified him if he hadn't been under George's punch influence. It seemed like the first crack from his brother triggered a chain reaction. Ron followed quickly, and almost every inch of Ginny's face was painted white when they finished. Bill and Charlie left shortly after, emptying inside their sister. George was the last to finish, which might not have been surprising considering he was the only one in the room who hadn't had a single sip of punch. As he came inside his sister's mouth, he observed her anxious brown eyes and the sound of her mouth as she swallowed each drop, committing every part of the experience to memory. Maybe it was the best Christmas gift he'd ever received. -- Oh, good morning, George! Merry Christmas! -Merry Christmas, mom. And so it was. Only their parents and Angelina were already awake. The rest of the house guests would get up soon. It was likely they'd be angry with him, or at least pretend to be. He didn't feel a little guilty, of course. All the kids had spent the night at Teddy and Victoire's new house and would come to celebrate Christmas in a few hours, so they hadn't been exposed to anything they weren't prepared for. And the special brew he'd added to Ponche hadn't forced anyone to do anything they didn't want to do. Everything it had done was reduce inhibitions for everyone and let them live the forbidden fantasies that normally were too correct to permit, or even recognize. It had never been one of those who let traditions and morals get in the way of what it wanted, so it hadn't needed any potion to admit that it always had wanted to go after his sister. His wife (and accomplice) Angelina didn't need help either, that's why she was already awake. Judging by the smile of satisfaction on her face, she had passed a great night with her sisters-in-law Fleur and Audrey. —I'm surprised you're one of the first to get up, dear. Percy usually gets up much earlier than the rest —said his mother, unaware of his thoughts. I think he may have had too much, joked Angelina with a serious face. George snorted in his hand. Yes, your punch was all a success, said his father. Sorry I didn't get to try it, but you know my wife and I prefer tea. —Okay, dad. The fact that his parents never liked the punch was one of the main reasons he had chosen that method to share his particular holiday joy. Even he had his limits. You're right that everyone else likes it. Maybe you should bring more for our New Year's party. But you'd need a bigger portion, since besides family, your friends will be there too. —I could do that, mom. —After all, Angelina used to comment on how fit Neville Longbottom was and he wouldn't mind spending a night with Hannah...