The Unfulfilled Wife - Chapter 05

I had a blast with this one. My first anal scene! Hope everyone enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Twilight settled over the Burrow, painting the ramshackle house in amber and purple. Harry stood at the kitchen window, watching Molly make her way toward Arthur’s shed. Her silhouette moved with purpose, her flowered dress billowing in the evening breeze, the outline of her voluptuous curves pressing against the fabric.

Their eyes had met across the dinner table earlier—a silent message passing between them. Arthur had left halfway through dinner, having received an emergency owl from the Ministry. Ron and Hermione departed soon after, finally returning to their tiny London flat. The house stood empty save for the two of them.

“I should check on those brooms,” Molly had said as she cleared the plates. “Arthur’s been collecting more Muggle rubbish—the shed’s becoming a hazard.”

Harry had nodded, understanding. “I’ll help. After sunset, when it’s cooler.”

Harry waited several minutes before following. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, and gnomes scurried from his approaching footsteps. The evening air was thick with humidity, clinging to his skin. His t-shirt already felt damp against his back.

The shed door stood ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling through the gap. Harry paused, his hand on the weathered wood. Arthur Weasley had been nothing but kind to him—a surrogate father when he needed one most. And now he was...

The door creaked as he pushed it open.

Molly stood with her back to him, a kerosene lamp casting elongated shadows across the cluttered workspace. Arthur’s collection of Muggle artifacts crowded every surface—dismantled telephones, clock parts, batteries, plugs, and wires. A workbench lined one wall, tools scattered across its battered surface.

She turned at the sound of his entrance, her face half-hidden in shadow. Molly’s expression made Harry’s stomach flop, she seemed as conflicted as he was.

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” she said, setting down an electric kettle.

Harry shut the door behind him, the latch clicking with finality. “I almost did,” he admitted. “This is...complicated.”

Molly nodded, her eyes searching his face. “It is.” She moved toward him, navigating around a stack of old television sets. When she reached him, she placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “We can stop, Harry. Walk away. Pretend none of this happened.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, covering her hand with his own.

Molly’s eyes darkened. “No,” she whispered. “Merlin help me, it’s not.”

The admission washed away their doubts. Harry’s arms encircled her waist, pulling her against him as their lips met for the first time—a strange milestone after everything they’ve done. Her mouth was soft, tasting of honey and tea, parting under his with hunger. Her massive breasts pressed against his chest, molding against his taut muscles, her arms winding around his neck as the kiss deepened.

They had touched, stroked, tasted each other’s skin—but this simple act of kissing felt more intimate. More vulnerable. Harry’s hands spread across her back, sinking into her curves as their tongues tangled. Molly moaned into his mouth, her breath mingling with his.

When they broke apart, her lips were swollen, her eyes bright in the lamplight. “I’ve wanted to do that,” she confessed, her fingers trailing along his jaw. “Since that day in the kitchen. Wanted to know how you taste.”

“And?” Harry asked, his voice rough.

A smile curved her lips. “Even better than I imagined.”

Their mouths met again, more urgent this time. Harry’s hands grew bolder, sliding lower to cup her generous backside. Molly arched against him, her breasts pushing into him, pebbled peaks poking into his chest.

“I’ve been thinking,” she murmured between kisses, “about those books.”

Harry’s pulse quickened. “What about them?”

Molly drew back slightly, her expression heavy with desire. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to try. Something...” She paused, color rising in her cheeks. “Arthur would never entertain. It’s too...taboo for him.”

The admission sent heat pooling low in Harry’s belly. “Tell me,” he urged.

Instead of answering, Molly took his hand and led him deeper into the shed, to where a cleared space held Arthur’s workbench. She released him, turning to face the bench, her hands gripping its edge. She looked back over her shoulder and met his gaze.

“In the books,” she said softly, “the older woman shows her young lover pleasures he’s never experienced. Things he wouldn’t even think to try.”

Harry swallowed. “Like what we’ve been doing.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And there’s a way for us to...” She hesitated, “maintain certain boundaries. And not cross that final line.”

Harry moved behind her, his hands settling on her hips. “Show me,” he whispered against her ear.

Molly’s breath hitched. She reached back, finding his hands and guiding them to the hem of her dress. Harry understood, slowly gathering the fabric upward, revealing her legs—stockings, garters, the soft pale flesh of her thighs above them. The sight made his throat tighten, his cock hardening as more of her was revealed.

When the dress reached her waist, Harry drew a sharp breath. Molly wore nothing underneath—her round, freckled backside exposed fully to his gaze. Through the gap between her thighs, he glimpsed a neatly trimmed line of auburn hair, damp with arousal. His hands trembled as he caressed her dimpled ass.

“Molly,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

She looked back at him, vulnerability on her face. “I’m not young anymore, Harry. After seven children...” She gestured vaguely to her body, the bountiful curves and silvery stretch marks.

Harry shook his head, his hands sliding over her exposed flesh. “Perfect,” he insisted, meaning it.

His fingertips traced the slope where her ass met her thighs, then higher, exploring the warm cleft. She shivered at his touch, spreading her legs to grant him better access.

“In the books,” she said, her voice husky, “there’s a way for couples to be together that don’t...that some don’t consider...” She faltered.

Understanding dawned on Harry. “You mean...?” His finger traced higher, finding the puckered opening between her cheeks. Molly moaned as he circled it.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It isn’t really cheating, is it? My pussy is only for Arthur. This...would be something just for you.”

His cock throbbed at her offer.

“Have you ever...?” he asked, his finger still tracing circles.

Molly shook her head. “No. Arthur would never. Too proper.” She pressed back against his touch. “But I’ve thought about it. When reading those books.”

The confession sent a surge of heat through Harry. The image of Molly, reading those erotic novels in secret, fantasizing about this act—it was almost too much.

“I want to,” he assured her, pressing a kiss on her shoulder. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Molly reached beneath the workbench, producing a small glass vial. “I brought this,” she said, offering it to him. “Healing balm. It has...multiple uses.” A blush colored her cheeks.

Harry took the vial, uncorking it to find a slick, fragrant oil inside. Understanding its purpose, he poured some onto his fingers, coating them with the lubricant. With his clean hand, he unfastened his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers to free his erection.

His cock stood proudly, the full eight inches jutting outward, thick veins snaking along the substantial shaft. The head was swollen and flushed, already primed with precum. Molly glanced back, her eyes widening as she took in his size.

“Merlin,” she whispered, genuine awe in her voice. “You’re even bigger than I remembered.”

“We’ll go slow,” he promised. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

She nodded, turning back to brace herself against the workbench, her feet spreading wider. Her ass was fully exposed now, pale freckled skin contrasting with the dark wood of the bench. Sweat glistened in the small of her back, trailing down the valley of her cheeks.

Harry rubbed his fingers together, watching the oil drip down his hand as he warmed it. He returned to her entrance and slowly traced his finger around her puckered hole. Molly tensed, then relaxed as he coated her opening with the oil.

“That’s nice,” she murmured, her voice deeper than normal. She arched her back, pushing insistently. “More, Harry. Please.”

Encouraged, Harry pressed into her. The tight ring of muscle resisted for a brief second before yielding. His finger sank to the first knuckle, enveloped in searing heat. Molly gasped, her body stiffening.

“Alright?” he asked quickly, ready to withdraw.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling. Sweat had broken out across her shoulders, visible where her dress had slipped. “Please don’t stop. Just…slowly. I’ve never actually…”

The confession—that this was truly her first time experiencing this—sent fresh blood to Harry’s cock. He was breaking new ground, claiming territory even Arthur had never explored.

Harry worked patiently, easing his finger deeper, watching it disappear inside her. Her back muscles tensed and relaxed as she accommodated him. When she began rocking back to take him deeper, he added a second finger, stretching her carefully. The oil made his movements slick, the excess dripping down her inner thighs.

Molly moaned deeply, her head dropping forward. Her breasts swayed beneath her, nipples straining against the thin fabric of her dress.

“Harry,” she whispered urgently. “I need more. I need you.”

Harry withdrew his fingers, leaving her exposed. He poured oil onto his cock, the cool liquid making him hiss as it dripped over the sensitive head. He spread it thoroughly, ensuring every inch was coated.

He positioned himself behind her, one hand guiding his cock, the other gripping her hip. The head pressed against her prepared entrance, impossibly large when against her quivering hole.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice deeper than Molly had ever heard. His hand stroked the small of her back. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Molly nodded, taking deliberate breaths. Her body trembled as she spread her thighs wider.

Harry pushed forward with gentle pressure. The head of his cock probed into her, the tight pucker slowly stretching around his girth. For a fleeting moment, the resistance appeared insurmountable, but then the ring of muscle gave way with an audible pop, allowing Harry to slip inside.

Molly cried out, the sound echoing off the shed walls. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the workbench, her entire body going rigid.

Harry froze, alarmed. “Molly? Should I stop?”

“Wait,” she urged, her voice strained and barely recognizable. “Don’t move. Just...give me a moment. It’s so big...”

Harry remained still despite the intense pressure surrounding him. The tight heat engulfing him was unlike anything he’d experienced—a scalding velvet vice. Sweat ran down his chest, his t-shirt clinging to his torso. He fought the urge to thrust deeper, putting Molly’s comfort first. He stroked the curve of her back, calming the tremors that ran through her.

Gradually, she relaxed around him, the grip on his cock easing. She shifted experimentally, making small circles with her hips.

“Alright,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “More. Slowly. Let me feel every inch.”

With great care, Harry eased forward, watching more of his length disappear inside her impossibly tight passage. The contrast was striking—his cock stretching her delicate opening beyond what seemed possible. The ring of muscle clung to his shaft as he penetrated her inch by inch.

Harry paused frequently, grinding his teeth with restraint. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her back. With each advance, Molly’s breathing changed—gasps giving way to moans as discomfort transformed into pleasure. Finally, he was fully seated, his hips against her backside, his balls resting against her wet heat.

“Oh god,” Molly breathed, trembling around him. “I’ve never felt so...filled. You’re enormous, Harry. So deep inside me.”

“Is it too much? We can stop.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Perfect. Just...different. Overwhelming.” She shifted her hips again, drawing a groan from Harry. “You can move now. Be gentle.”

Harry withdrew slowly, watching his slick shaft emerge, then pushed back with deliberate control. The friction was intense—her passage gripping every ridge and vein as he moved. Molly’s breath caught sharply on each thrust, a cry escaping when he bottomed out.

“Good?” he asked hoarsely, establishing a careful rhythm that made the workbench creak beneath them.

“Yes,” she gasped between thrusts. “So good. Harder, Harry. I need more!”

Encouraged, Harry increased his pace, his fingers digging into her hips. Each thrust became more confident, penetrating deeper with more force. The oil made his passage smooth, creating obscene squelching sounds with each thrust.

Harry found his rhythm, his cock gliding effortlessly as Molly’s body surrendered completely. The visual before him was intoxicating—his thick manhood disappearing between the rippling globes of her freckled ass, her opening stretched wide around his girth.

The workbench swayed beneath them, tools rattling with each impact. Molly’s knuckles were white where she gripped the edge, her breasts swaying beneath her with each thrust.

“Harry,” Molly gasped, her voice unrecognizable. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.”

Harry reached around her hip, his fingers sliding between her thighs. He found her bush and slit drenched with arousal.

His fingers found her swollen clit, circling as he continued to thrust from behind. Molly cried out, her body bucking against him, meeting his thrusts with new intensity.

“Yes! Merlin, yes! Right there!” she cried, abandoning restraint. “Don’t stop, Harry! Harder!”

Her words drove Harry’s wild. His thrusts became powerful, demanding, the pace brutal as he slammed into her with increasing force. Each impact jolted her forward, her cries becoming incoherent.

The shed filled with the sounds of their affair—skin slapping against skin, wet sounds of his cock plunging in and out, their labored breathing and moans reverberating off the walls. The scent of sex hung in the air, mingling with the pungent smell of kerosine and the metallic tang of Arthur’s tools.

The thought of Arthur—whose space they were desecrating, whose wife was taking Harry’s cock in ways she’d never offered her husband—intensified Harry’s excitement. This shed was Arthur’s sanctuary—and Harry was claiming Molly in it, marking territory Arthur had never explored.

His thrusts grew savage, driven by instinct to claim what belonged to another man. His cock drove deeper, harder, all pretense of gentleness abandoned. Molly arched her back to take him even deeper, her cries growing wilder with each thrust.

“Yes!” she urged, barely recognizable as the motherly voice he’d known for years. “Like that! Harder! Don’t hold back!”

A growl tore from Harry’s throat as he complied. His thrusts became punishing, his full strength behind each drive. His nails dug into her hips, pulling her back onto his cock even as he slammed forward. The slapping of flesh echoed in the small space, accompanied by Molly’s screams.

The workbench scraped across the floor, sending tools crashing to the ground. Molly’s knees had lifted off the ground, her body supported only by her grip on the bench and Harry’s hold on her hips. Sweat poured from both their bodies.

Harry felt pressure build inside his core, his balls tightening. He circled Molly’s clit faster, determined to make her cum before he lost control.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained. “Can’t hold back.”

“Me too,” Molly gasped, trembling around him. Her inner muscles fluttered around his shaft. “So close. Don’t stop. Make me cum!”

Harry drove into her with renewed fury, each thrust burying him completely. His fingers worked mercilessly against her clit, matching his punishing rhythm.

Molly’s climax hit without warning—her body stiffened, back arched in an impossible manner. A scream tore from her throat, reverberating with the intensity of her pleasure. Her muscles clamped down on Harry’s cock with unforgiving force. Fluid gushed between her legs, soaking his hand and the floor beneath them as she surrendered to her overwhelming orgasm.

The combination proved too much for Harry. With a roar, he drove inside her one final time, his cock erupting deep within her walls. Thick ropes of cum exploded from his cock, filling her as his body convulsed with pleasure. Molly continued to spasm around him, milking every drop, her own orgasm amplified by his powerful release.

When the final pulses subsided, Harry sagged against her, arms wrapped around her waist to keep them both upright. Their hearts hammered in tandem, breath coming in ragged gasps. Neither could speak, lost in the aftermath of their shared ecstasy.

Eventually, Harry withdrew, leaving a trickle of his cum trailing down her thigh—a mark of possession that sent a surge of satisfaction through him.

Molly turned to face him, cheeks flushed, hair wild, skin glistening with sweat. She had never looked more beautiful, her skin radiating from her orgasm.

“That was...” she began, searching for words.

“Incredible,” Harry supplied, adjusting his clothing.

A smile curved her lips. “Yes. Worth the wait.” She winced. “I’ll be feeling that tomorrow.”

Concern crossed Harry’s face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Molly shook her head. “Not in any way I minded,” she assured him, touching his cheek. “You were perfect. Just what I needed.”

Relief flooded through him. He turned to kiss her palm, a tender gesture after their passionate fucking. “What happens now?” he asked.

Molly’s eyes held his, vulnerability flickering in their depths. “Now we go back to the house,” she said softly. “We pretend nothing happened. And tomorrow...”

“Tomorrow?” Harry prompted when she hesitated.

A slow smile spread across her face. “Tomorrow we find another moment. Another place.” Her fingers traced his jaw. “Another fantasy.”

The words made his cock twitch. “I’d like that,” he answered.

Molly nodded, straightening her hair. With a flick of her wand, she restored her dress and removed every drop of their fluids from her body. 

“We should go back,” she suggested. “I’ll go first. Wait ten minutes before following.”

Harry nodded, understanding the need for caution despite the empty house.

Molly moved toward the door, then paused. “Harry,” she said softly. “Thank you. For making me feel young again. Desired. It’s been...a very long time.”

The simple honesty in her words touched Harry’s heart. “Thank you,” he replied, “for showing me things I never knew.”