The Education And Corruption Of Joseph Potter Chapter 2
- 3 years ago
- 24
- 0
“How much did David Hamilton know of your affair with his wife?” I heard the question as soon as the last word of the statement had been completed. It pierced the silence like a gunshot. The female reporter sat on the end of a row about halfway up in this crowded press room.
Her question proved to be a catalyst, setting off a frenzy of barely comprehensible noise from her colleagues. Of the few questions that I understood above the free-for-all, none paid even the slightest reference to anything my lawyer had just said with all of them asking for details about either the time I spent with Sally or David Hamilton’s involvement.
The statement had concentrated solely on my affair with my teacher, Mrs Hamilton, staying well clear of what had become the hot topic in the press over the last few weeks, the alleged involvement of various high-profile figures in wild sex and drug parties. God knows how, but many of these accusations were true with some of the detail frighteningly so.
My lawyer John Robinson's strong grip on my forearm, provided a constant reminder of his earlier instruction for me not to rise to their bait, and feel tempted to answer any questions.
“As I informed you all earlier at our briefing,” he said, with a barely contained annoyance, “Mr Potter will not be available to answer any questions.” With that, we shuffled out of our seats and headed for the exit amid a hail of questions, accusations and flashbulbs. That night, I knew that the story was going to be the main headline on the news yet again, and on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers.
Every day since the story broke, it had been like that. The front-room curtains of our house have remained permanently closed, shutting out the reporters who have camped outside, hoping for a scoop. It felt as if I had been abandoned; Sally hadn’t responded to any of my calls, and I suppose I couldn’t blame her. If I had done as she had asked in the first place and deleted the photos and video, none of this would have happened. The police must have had a field day when they opened the locked photo vault on my phone. It was all there: dates, times, and of course the incontrovertible evidence.
I was just about to pass with the others through the open door into the crowded corridor when I heard her voice. What she said cut through the din making me turn my head towards her. It was unmistakable and she must have known in an instant that I had heard and understood what she was saying.
“Do you have any comment on the death of Katarina Vaskova?” The question came out of nowhere. At no time during all of this had her name been mentioned. Immediately I felt a hand on my shoulder and shaken, I turned to be confronted by the bulky figure of Sir Gerald Kingsley QC.
“Everything alright Joseph?” he murmured, grabbing my arm and pulling me to one side into a small alcove, a space for which two normal-sized people, and Kingsley was anything but, would be considered tight. “Nice performance in there; not quite as spectacular as the last time I saw you perform, but passable.” I pulled my arm away, struggling to breathe.
“How’s Sally?” I asked.
“Nasty business my boy, and so unnecessary.” He never once looked me in the face while his gaze roved over my shoulder, continually scanning for eavesdroppers as he spoke. “It’s horrifying to see how lives can be ruined by carelessness. A photograph or a piece of film in the wrong hands can cause so much damage to a person’s reputation.” I knew exactly what he was alluding to; it was a quiet reminder for me to continue playing the game.
The last time I saw him was late one afternoon at Bishop’s Gate police station. It was about two weeks after I was questioned in the headmaster’s office at school, and they were in possession of all the evidence.
I sat alone in the claustrophobic interrogation room, waiting for a solicitor to arrive. Just to the left-hand side of the door was a CCTV camera pointing menacingly from the ceiling at the table. The camera’s lens with its glowing red light was unsettlingly capturing my movements when suddenly it clicked off.
A moment later the door opened, and Kingsley wheezed into the room, sat down in front of me, and placed an open white envelope on the table. Without uttering a word, he opened the envelope and fanned six colour photographs across the surface of the table facing me. Four of them showing my face, my eyes closed sucking on an anonymous man’s cock. The fifth and sixth were taken from outside the room, I assumed by David. Sally lay naked beside me, as an equally naked man crouched over the bottom of the bed at my feet, his genitalia clearly hanging down between his legs. The act was obvious.
Kingsley judged my reaction, scooped the photographs up, and placed them back in the envelope, before speaking for the first and only time.
“Think very carefully about your next move, Joseph. The next few hours may very well influence the direction of the rest of your life. Modern technology, one click of a computer mouse, that’s all it takes. People are so capricious, willing to believe what they are told, and too lazy to seek the truth.”
With those words, he pulled back the chair, walked across the room, knocked on the door, and left. A second later, the red light clicked back on. So that was it, the warning had been delivered: one step out of line and those photographs would be made public. I couldn’t let that happen; I knew the people around here and how they would react. It would destroy me and, more importantly, it would also destroy my family.
“So, what will happen to her?” I asked as Kingsley went to step back out into the crowded corridor of the police headquarters.
“I don’t know, Joseph,” he replied, his mouth leaning in so close to my ear that I could almost taste the bacon and egg that he’d had for breakfast, “a custodial sentence is possible, if not probable. She will also be placed on the sex offenders’ register. As for the fellowship, I fear she may be thrown to the dogs.”
“Who?”
“There are partners who are far less compassionate than me. Shall we say licentious? I envisage her receiving a punishment if she isn’t behind bars, that is. Some will relish the opportunity.”
“What will they do?”
“Use your imagination and then add some. I understand they are quite imaginative.” He slapped me on the face with a full hand, then crossed the corridor to join a group of colleagues. I watched the backslapping and laughing, and I could see the sly, secret handshakes and imagine the deals done behind closed doors. Sally, a commoner like me, never stood a chance when pitted against the might of Eton, Harrow, Oxford, and Cambridge. ‘Thrown to the dogs’ he had said, and I shuddered to think what that entailed. There had to be a fall guy or girl from all this, and despite all that I knew or assumed, Sally was the easy target.
The journey home was relativity uneventful. Dad talked at a hundred miles an hour about anything and everything. They were relieved that it was over, and I could see that, and it felt good. The last few weeks had been a strain on everyone, and I wasn’t going to ruin it by bringing up my own concerns.
There were three messages and one missed call on my phone but disappointingly none of them from Sally. The phone call was from Max. We had talked a number of times about his proposal, and I have to say it sounded good. He was becoming a little impatient with me, but I was in and had decided to give it a go. Who knows where it will lead, and if it doesn’t work out it’s not the end of the world? The text from Tracy Burrows was predictably cryptic.
Tracy: So, I was right all along.
I ignored it for the time being and scrolled on to the next one.
Robert: Bet you’re glad that’s all over.
Robert: Any chance you can help out tonight?
Robert ran the Hope and Anchor pub on Liberty Street, and I occasionally helped out at the weekend collecting glasses and clearing tables. I really didn’t fancy the thought of going in there that night, facing all the questions and the piss-taking, but on the other hand, staying in and moping around the house didn’t sound like much fun either.
Me: What time?
Robert: Seven?
Robert: £50
Me: Ok.
The third was from a number that I didn’t recognise. That, in itself, wasn't unusual as over the last few weeks I have received numerous texts and phone calls from the press. This, though, was more direct and ominous.
07777 321456: I know.
Me: Who’s this?
The message didn’t send, instead, it sat on my screen undelivered. I scrolled back to Tracy’s message.
Me: ???
Tracy: lol
Tracy: Looks like teacher was getting more than just an apple from Joey.
Me: What are people saying.
Tracy: That Joey’s been getting gold stars for extra-curricular activities.
Me: It wasn’t like that.
Tracy: So, you weren’t shagging Mrs Hamilton?
Tracy: Did you make her big titties bounce, Joey?
Tracy: The story is she’s gone a bit mad.
I turned the phone off and put it in my pocket. I knew what the reaction was going to be. People around here don’t miss an opportunity to have a dig. Dad spotted me looking out of the cab window.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll blow over, son. In a couple of days, they’ll be after someone else, mark my words. That Hamilton bloke is making a statement later and the clever money is on him quitting. What do you say we put a tenner on it?” And we did. Dad asked the taxi driver to drop us by the market and we all walked into O’Brian’s, the bookies, and put our money down. Three o’clock that afternoon the Home Secretary David Hamilton stood up before a packed House of Commons, resigned and we all won forty pounds each.
******
It was just before seven o’clock that evening when I pushed open the black door that led to the back entrance of the Hope and Anchor. I was having deep, second thoughts about coming; an evening spent chilling at home didn’t feel like such a bad idea after all.
Dad was the first person I saw or heard, to be perfectly honest, standing at the bar, pint of Guinness in hand. He insisted on coming in for moral support, armed with a lifetime’s worth of cutting retorts up his sleeve if needed. Little did any of us know at the time how the day was going to end and how past misdemeanours were going to come back to haunt me.
The Hope and Anchor is an old-fashioned, no-frills boozer run by a lovely Irishman called Robert, or Bob Collins, who had a thick, lyrical Dublin accent. Forty years ago, this would have been one of a number of pubs in the area, full of dock workers swilling ale after work. I imagine that it hasn’t changed much over the years and certainly hasn’t kept pace with the swankier bars and restaurants that have sprung up in the area recently.
For me, that is part of its charm. Every time I walk through its doors, I’m transported back in time, half expecting the Krays or maybe Bill Sykes to be sitting in a dark corner.
That night, it was Archie Cooke sitting there with his cronies. His eyes were unsettling as they followed me walking past to start work. He had a menacing air about him, which I think he enjoyed. I can’t remember ever seeing him laugh or smile.
I had grown to like the attention that my recent notoriety had given me and freely admit to playing up to it. I think that half the reason Robert employed me was the female clientele that I attracted. A tight white T-shirt and an equally tight pair of black jeans being my uniform of choice as I clear the tables, watching as the inevitable happens and the gaze lowers from my face to my groin.
The place was beginning to fill out, which was great. Time moves fast when you’re busy, and soon I’d been there for over an hour collecting the empty glasses and stacking them in the glasswasher housed in a small room behind the bar.
l had spotted Alison May early on, sitting on her own at a table by the window checking her phone, a half glass of Pinot Grigio in her hand, and three empty glasses on the table. I was aware that she was watching me, and I would catch her with a feigned disinterest in her eyes as they followed me around the room, while her husband Peter chatted with a small group at the bar.
They were only occasional visitors. Peter is a local boy made good; his public face is as a businessman owning a successful fleet of garages selling used cars, but he also has another not-so-secret persona as a fence, recycling getaway cars and using his premises for laundering drug money, of which he takes a nice cut.
As for Alison, although she was born not far from there and certainly not into anything as grand as she purports, she treated the locals with a barely hidden disdain, judging the women who drank too much or laughed too loud as somehow beneath her. I loved the atmosphere that these women created with their bawdy humour. It’s amazing some of the things I’ve heard and seen in here when they’ve had one or two too many.
“How long have you been doing this then, Joey?” Alison asked, as I collected the empty glasses and wiped down her table. I’m always aware that she only speaks to me, or anyone else for that matter, if she is either going to talk about herself or impart unwanted advice.
“Couple of months now Alison, it’s only pin money, but you know, it all helps.”
“On the market with Paddy tomorrow morning as well?”
“Yep.”
“You’ll soon be the richest kid in town,” she sniggered. Do you see what I mean? She has this ability, whether she means it or not, to make every comment sound condescending. She looked me up and down and sizing me up as I waited for her next remark. When it came it, it surprised me a little, not because of what she said, I had been expecting that to come up at some point, but I wasn’t expecting it from her.
“I hear you’ve been a naughty boy.”
“Don’t believe all you hear Alison,” I shot back, making her smile.
“A small piece of advice; never deny or confirm, just keep them guessing. I know what these people say about me; they think I can’t hear them and how they talk, but I can.”
Alison, or Ali as most call her, is fifty. I’m basing that, not on some clever Sherlockian deduction, but purely on the fact that her fiftieth birthday last summer caused quite a stir. She disappeared for six weeks, starting rumours that the pair had split up, only for her to return, much to the amusement of the local females, with a deep tan and a size or two larger in the breast department.
There’s a song that the old man sings when he’s had a couple of pints, “You wear it well,” and she does, if only she could tone it down, curb this unattractive habit that she has of rubbing it in your face and bragging about how much a dress or a pair of shoes had cost, something that is way off the pay scale of most of the people around here.
That night’s apparel was an expensive-looking powder-blue dress with a plunging neckline. As she leaned forward, her breasts spilt into the gap in between. I couldn’t help but look; well, you would, wouldn’t you.
“You like?” she smirked, pushing her tousled black hair behind her ears. There was no denying the fact that they were indeed impressive, and I imagine expensive. A year ago, being caught in this situation with a comment like that would have made me blush, but now I fully understood and even enjoyed it.
“Very nice Alison. And how much did they set him back?”
“No idea. It was a birthday present,” she said, judging my reaction as she took a sip from her drink. I could read her like a book. Her husband may have shelled out for those beauties, but it was on a purely look but don’t touch basis. Her breasts were there for others to admire and envy.
Peter was sitting on the barstool against the wall facing us; he doted on her. Their holiday home in Marbella and her flashy, red Porsche 911 Convertible were all bought, not only to keep up appearances, but to keep her happy, and from what I had noticed, she never was.
Although we were across the other side of the room and he couldn’t possibly hear what was being said, I knew that he was aware of what was happening in front of him. The dilemma for me was, do I walk away, or play along and wait to see how long it takes for him to react. He didn’t.
He didn’t react as her hand lingered just that little bit too long on the back of mine, drawing invisible circles on my skin with her middle finger. He didn’t react as she took out a pen from her handbag and scrawled a message on the back of a beer mat, sliding it towards me across the smooth surface of the tabletop. And he didn’t react as she made direct and unmistakable eye contact with me before standing and heading for the exit.
I watched her slice a passage across the barroom floor as she headed towards the toilets, her hips swaying playfully as I scanned the room for any snooping onlookers. The only person in the room that noticed her leave was Peter, his sorrowful gaze didn’t leave her for an instant. I flipped the beer mat over and read the words written on it in clear bold black type.
FOLLOW ME.
I collected the empty glasses and carried them precariously across the room, making my way back towards the bar, depositing them in the glass washer, then pressed the illuminated green button that set the cleaning cycle in motion. All the time I was weighing up the risk, the available time, and was it worth it.
“Ten minutes!” I hollered, grabbing Robert’s attention, emphasising my point by holding up the ten fingers on my spread hands. He gave me the thumbs-up, and I turned to walk down the narrow passage that leads to the back exit. I took one last glance to where Peter sat staring blankly into his glass of gin and tonic.
I felt nothing for what was about to happen. I felt no sorrow for him and certainly no affection for her. This just was an opportunity, no more and no less, the moment too delicious and way too tempting to pass up.
A chilly breeze hit me as I left the humidity of the pub, making me shiver in my t-shirt as I dodged the empty beer barrels that lined the back alley. I headed towards a private side entrance that led to a small storeroom. On the other side of the room stood a locked door that brought me out into a narrow corridor. Two highly varnished, solid wood doors stood before me; one had a drawing of a man the other a woman. I took a deep breath and entered the latter.
The white-tiled room was empty and quiet. Only the metronomic drip of a faulty ballcock broke the eerie stillness. I guessed that the decor hadn’t changed much in decades and was more functional than elegant.
On my right were two washbasins, while above hung a large oval mirror framed in dark wood. To my left were three toilet cubicles, their scuffed, wooden doors closed. Stepping forward, I began a mini game of Russian roulette by pushing open the nearest door. Empty. This gave me the straight choice of two. I choose the furthest one against the wall, prodding the door open with my foot. Alison sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat, her hands resting on her chin, her dark hair hanging in strands over her eyes.
“I’d almost given up on you,” she said, with a discernible agitation, “I began to wonder whether you had the intelligence to pick up on my advances.” See what I mean? She just can’t help herself.
“I suppose I could have just followed right behind you, passing your husband and attracting the attention of all the pub.”
“You think he doesn’t know?” she said with a pitying grin which annoyed me. It was the kind of expression which said, ‘you poor young thing, you have no idea what is happening here do you?’
“Of course he knows,” she sneered, deriding my confused expression, “and do you really think I care about those Neanderthals’ opinions of me. I gave up caring about them long ago.” She leaned back against the cold steel water pipe that connected the toilet to an old-fashioned style box cistern.
Raising her stockinged leg and rubbing the bulge between my legs with her foot, I watched the hem of her dress ride slowly up her thigh, providing me with a slow-motion reveal, until eventually, I had an unobscured view of fleshy thigh above the dark blue stocking tops. “What have we got here?” she cooed, biting her lower lip while her foot ran a line, up and down the fly of my jeans.
Our silent solitude was abruptly disturbed as the toilet door opened, filling the constricted space with the hum of boozy chatter from the barroom, and then, just as quickly as it had begun, the door slammed shut smothering the din. The sound of shuffling footsteps moved towards us and into the middle cubicle next door. The latch snapped and the person coughed. Showing little concern, Alison continued to press her foot on my now hard and trapped erection, the black pupils of her eyes wide and daring.
“I like an audience, don’t you?” she asked, judging the confused reaction on my face while leaning forward and eagerly popping the buttons of my jeans. “Show me,” she ordered, “show me this cock that I’ve read so much about.” Over the gap between the cubicles thin wall and the paint flaked ceiling, wafted the choking smog of cigar smoke, singeing my nostrils and leaving the penny to eventually drop in my head.
Reaching my hand into the open fly, I exposed myself, letting my cock hang temptingly in front of her face. The ball was now completely in her court and I was amused by her reaction. Gone was the brash bravado of only moments earlier, leaving a worried tension for me to exploit. This wouldn’t be the first time that a woman had got cold feet when confronted with the task ahead.
“Well?” I questioned, waiting for her to make a move. After all, we were both here because of her and I was running out of time; soon my ten-minute break would be up, and they would begin calling my name.
Deep down, I don’t think she expected me to follow her but was secretly hoping and looking forward to the prospect of having this schoolboy as her amusement for the evening, hoping a flash of thigh and a glimpse of exposed cleavage would be enough to keep me on a leash.
“Didn’t you want to see what the fuss has been about?” I asked, taking pleasure from the gloriously overwhelmed expression on her face, while all the time my cock hung barely an inch from her mouth, easily within reach.
I began slowly to rub myself, taking delight in her discomfort as I grew before her eyes, slowly drawing the foreskin back over the dark pink head. I wanted a fuck, a fuck where there would be no feeling and no love; I wanted it to be hard and heartless. And I wanted her to remember it every time she saw me. This was a game for them, I had already figured out that much. I didn’t understand it or even want to, but I was happy to play along.
“How does Peter compare?” I asked, as the burr of a zip being lowered echoed from the space beside us, then the chink of a belt buckle landing sharply on the tiled floor. She looked up, a little lost as I pulled her up from the black plastic seat and turned her to face the wall. Raising the soft blue dress above her waist to reveal her delicate, and I imagine expensive black knickers underneath. The thin waistband of material snapped easily in my fist before gliding, ruined, down her right leg and onto the floor.
“Joseph,” she said, her voice trembling, and for a moment I thought she was going to call for her husband to put an end to it.
“What?” I replied, waiting for a reply that didn’t come, the only sound in the room being her heavy, fervent breathing and the annoying noise of the drip from the cistern above us. “This is what you want isn’t it?” I breathed in her ear, only a whisper, but just loud enough for him to hear it next door, “you want to feel it inside you, don’t you?”
She nodded her head meekly, and with her hands wrapped tightly around the water pipe, I entered her, slowly at first, feeling only the slightest resistance before pushing in my entire length, relishing the deep guttural moan that followed. This was the first time that I felt absolutely nothing for the person with me, I didn’t care for her or her enjoyment of the act; it was animal.
“Say it, say it so your husband can hear.”
“Fuck me.”
“How does it feel.”
“Big.”
“Bigger than your husband?”
“Mmm.”
“How much?” I could feel her response gathering on my cock as she shivered. I loved this moment; I knew it well, the moment where she crossed over and all logical thoughts were cleared from her mind. At this juncture, I knew that she would do pretty much anything I asked.
“Oh god,” she moaned, “much bigger, so much bigger.” This drew a groan from our neighbour as I imagined him wanking his impotent dick. Alison’s head dropped down as she came. I could feel the contractions as her body shook, clinging desperately onto the steel pipe in case she fell.
“How deep am I inside you?”
“Deep.”
“How does it feel?”
“Good.”
“Do you want me to cum inside you?” I teased.
“Mmm.”
“Or do you want me to cum in your mouth?”
“Mmm.”
“Or over your face and then lead you like a slut through the bar so everyone could see what you’re really like?”
“Mmm,” she gasped, as her cunt contracted for the second time. I wasn’t sure if anyone had ever spoken to her like this before, or maybe I was wrong, maybe this was her thing, perhaps being treated this way turned her on. Either way, her response was clear, and I flaunted it.
“What are you?” I taunted, feeling her body twitch. She was like a fish caught on a line, slowly losing her mind.
“A slut,” she sighed.
“That’s right Alison, a slut. Tell him what you are, tell him what you want me to do to you.”
“I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me with your big hard cock and fill me with your cum.” I was in my element now, enjoying the performance because that is what it was, a show, and I wanted to see how far I could push her.
“What about here?” I said, rubbing my thumb over the tight rosebud of her arse.
“Too big,” she answered shaking her bottom to push me away, but I could sense that there was little conviction in her voice.
“Do you allow him to fuck your arse?”
“No.”
“Has anyone?” I asked, caught up in the moment, savouring the anxiety.
“No.”
“And me?” I asked, placing my engorged tip against her closed orifice, letting a mouthful of spit slide down my tongue, and drip onto the fleshy crevice of her behind, “do you think your husband would approve?”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you think he would enjoy listening to his wife lose her anal virginity?” Her pause was perfect; it couldn’t have been better timed if it had been scripted.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, he would.” This was greeted by a dull thump from our invisible associate, which I took to be his knees landing on the solid floor.
“Well?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, you can fuck me there.”
“Where Alison, tell me what you want me to do.” I knew exactly what I was doing, and also suspected the devastating effect it would have on Peter as she submitted.
“My arse. Do it. Fuck my arse.” I pushed my hips forward, feeling first the stubborn barrier, then hearing her tortured yelp as the head of my cock broke though, helped by the combination of her secretions and my saliva.
“My God, you really are a slut aren’t you,” I spat, “coming in here wearing your Versace dress, or whatever it is, and then fucking the pot-boy in the toilets like a cheap whore. And to make it worse, you’re enjoying it, aren’t you, Ali?”
“It hurts.” I don’t know why, but the thrill of hearing this turned me on. I hadn’t moved and only the head remained buried inside her arse, but it was enough, I had signalled her surrender.
“What hurts?”
“You’re too big, it hurts.”
“What’s too big.”
“Your cock. My god, your fucking big cock.”
“Bigger than you thought?”
“Yes.” I pulled out, slapped her arse, and then reached down between her legs, feeling through the trimmed bush of pubic hair towards her engorged clitoris, flicking the swollen bean with my fingers, Christ she was dripping.
“Do you want everyone to know? Do you want all those women who you look down on to know what you really are?” The head of my cock rested on the soft wet folds of her cunt, waiting for one of her cutting replies. Instead, she backed into me until her bottom was caressing my pelvis.
“You bastard.”
“Pardon?”
“Fuck me you bastard,” she pleaded, urgently pushing herself on to me, “fuck meee.” I grabbed her hips, filling the room with the sound of her soft skin slapping against my thighs. I was close and could feel the tingle under my skin, travelling over my buttocks.
I ploughed into her with an aggression that I didn’t know I had. All of the pent-up negative energy and stress, releasing itself as I fucked her with abandon. In my mind I saw Sally and Kingsley, the house by the river, and Katarina, cursing the way that I had allowed them to manipulate me.
Somewhere in the room I could hear an anguished cry and realised it was Alison. Her body shook like she was having a seizure, her legs buckling from underneath her.
“Where?” I grimaced.
“Inside me, cum inside,” she breathlessly barked, pushing franticly onto me, coating my cock in a white foam, “do it,” she cried, “do it now, do it nooowww.” Again, I felt her climax but this time I joined her, holding her tight and grabbing a hand full of her black hair, pulling her head back so I could glimpse the distorted rapture on her face as I spewed my spunk inside her.
In the cubicle next to us I heard the defeated whine of a man whose wife has succumbed to another. In my mind’s eye, I pictured him leaning over the toilet bowl, his cum dribbling into the pan below and mixing with the cold water. This was a new experience for me; a man getting off on hearing his wife being fucked. A whole new world was opening up, the world of the subservient cuckold.
Outside in the courtyard, I heard my name being called. I had no idea how long I had been in there, but my ten minutes must be well and truly up. I hurriedly pulled my jeans up as Alison bent to retrieve her shredded knickers from the floor, her face a rosy-red glow. I departed just when the realisation that the garment was beyond repair was clear, and she instead began to wipe herself between the legs with them, gathering up the seeping cum that was running down the inside of her thighs, then secreting the ruined black knickers in her handbag.
******
Soon the day was ending, and apart from a few stragglers at the bar, the pub was now empty.
“So did your disappearance earlier have anything to do with Ali May?” Robert asked with a grin, opening the till and handing me two twenty-pound notes and a tenner.
“A gentleman never divulges Robert, you know that,” I replied with a wink. Peter and Alison never did return to the bar. I guess she didn’t want to sully her expensive dress or risk embarrassment by being discovered, sitting in a pub with a leaking vagina.
“A gentleman he says; fuck me, I’ve heard it all now. The boy who’s banging his teacher is now a gentleman. Did you hear that guys?” I took the money and listened to the loiterers’ roar with laughter while I walked out through the back entrance to get my bike.
A fine rain was falling, catching in the orange glow of the streetlights, as I began the five-minute journey from the pub to my home. The streets were quiet and empty, and apart from a few lights shining from the windows as I passed, the world was going to sleep.
What happened next occurred so fast that I didn’t stand a chance. I was cycling under the railway arches when I saw a shadow and then a flash of pipe being rammed through the spokes of my bicycle wheels causing me to somersault over the handlebars and onto the unforgiving concrete.
Dazed, I was pulled to my feet by two men. My hands and knees stung, and I assumed they were muggers and went to reach for my pocket to offer up my wages when a fist caught me square on the jaw.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I lifted my head to see the outline of a man in front of me, I recognised his gruff voice immediately as that of Archie Cooke. “Did you seriously think you’d get away with it?” He grabbed my hair in his fist, pulling my head back. “I guess you’re wondering how I found out, which one of the slags that you’ve been shagging, grassed you up.”
It wasn’t. The only thought going through my head at this particular moment was how far this psycho was prepared to go, and how much was it going to hurt. “I got a message from a friend of yours, some lawyer, Henson. He sent me these.” He held his phone up to my face and started scrolling through a small album of photographs of his wife Zoe. I squinted into the phone’s bright light and recognised them immediately. I had taken them and knew I was in trouble.
“I...”
“If I were you,” he scowled, leaning in so his mouth was next to my left ear. I could feel his hot breath pricking the hairs and tiny bullets of his spit landing inside. “I wouldn’t say a fucking word. There is nothing, no excuse, no explanation, nothing, that is going to make this any easier. You’ve been fucking my wife, Joey, end of. Hold him up.”
He shouted to his mates who grabbed me by the shoulders and kicked my legs apart. The first blow lifted me off the ground. He had taken a step back and launched his boot at me, hitting me between the legs. The second doubled me over in pain as the two thugs let me go and I fell in a heap on the floor. Archie leaned over me, his head bowed as he talked.
“You won’t be using that dick of yours for a while, if ever. Oh, while I remember, this one’s from Peter May,” he said kicking me on the back of my head. Then they all laid into me. Boots and fists rained down and all I could do was crawl into a ball on the ground and keep my head tucked in close to my chest.
Blackout. It’s a strange way of describing the sensation. You may think it would be from one single blow, but it’s not., it’s the relentless combination of several. The world goes first yellow, then orange, and red. Pins and needles attack the brain, as everything turns blue, then grey which slides into black.
“Joey?” I hear it, “fuck, Joey!” I opened my eyes. Well, to be exact, one eye, my right. The left one felt pressured and swollen. I moved my head in the direction of the voice, the female voice. It was familiar. I recognised it. I heard her talking to someone.
“Yes. Ambulance. I think he’s dying. Under the railway. Butcher’s Lane. Hurry.” She knelt beside me and I caught a glimpse of a gold crucifix under her blouse, between her breasts, and a dog nuzzling up to my neck.
“Benny, stop it!” she said, and I recognised the voice and the dog’s name.
“Tracy?” I say, but it came out wrong; mumbled.
“Don’t speak, Joey, try and relax. The ambulance is coming.” In the distance, I heard the siren and closed my eyes. “Don’t, Joey, stay awake, they’re coming.” Her voice was panicked and emotional. Her hand gripped mine tight and I knew it was bad. My head hurt and so did my arms, legs, and back. I could taste blood in my mouth and forced my tongue to feel for broken teeth. Flashes of blue light illuminated the underpass, its brilliance slicing through the soft autumn rain.
“What’s your name, son.” the man asked urgently, kneeling in front of me. I heard her answer for me as I begin to slip away, I heard her choking back the tears, her voice breaking as she spoke.
“Joseph Potter.”
SummerLate AfternoonThe girl carefully left her sun lounger, and although the pool’s edge was only a metre or so from where she lay, walked its full length, completely aware of the attention that she attracted, as men and women alike lowered their sunglasses and peered over the top of their books.It wasn’t difficult to read their minds; in fact, it was obvious really; they didn’t hide it. The women wished they were her age again, recalling a time when they too attracted the much sought-after...
Wife LoversA pound of apples and satsumas; half-a-pound of carrots and onions; a cauliflower and a bag of potatoes please, Joey.” Zoe Cooke stood shivering on the pavement in front of me. She was buttoned up against the elements in a huge red duffle coat.It was indeed freezing cold and business was slow. It was one of those days where you could easily pack up and admit defeat. In fact, I think it would have been a relief. But life goes on.I’ve known Zoe for years. She must be in her late twenties and a...
Wife LoversHow did it come to this?I’m sitting between my wide-eyed and frankly startled parents, waiting for my name to be called. My mum keeps saying that I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of and that I have done nothing wrong.“It’s all her fault,” she insists, “she made you do it; her and that twisted husband of hers, they forced you.” That’s what she wants to believe, and I let her.The press, of course, is having a field day. Stories of our relationship have covered the front pages of the nation’s...
First TimeLate eveningThe soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat and the rhythmic putt putt of the motor were failing to be a calming influence as I fought against the waves of claustrophobia. I’m not sure exactly how long we had been on the boat, or how far we had traveled, but I did know that I had spent far too long inside this airless hood.I caught snatches of muffled conversation and laughter, but not enough to know what was being said, where I was, or where I was heading. The...
CuckoldSunday morning My dad always called my mother a witch. You see, she has this sixth sense, ‘a feeling,’ she calls it. She instinctively knows when something, normally bad, is going to happen, and that is what I was experiencing at that moment. It was a knot in the pit of my stomach that sent uneasy signals to my brain. I haven’t a clue what made me feel that way or why this feeling had arrived, but it had. And I didn’t like it.My right eye eased open, scanning the room as my brain slowly woke...
Wife LoversSunday morning My dad always called my mother a witch. You see, she has this sixth sense, ‘a feeling,’ she calls it. She instinctively knows when something, normally bad, is going to happen, and that is what I was experiencing at that moment. It was a knot in the pit of my stomach that sent uneasy signals to my brain. I haven’t a clue what made me feel that way or why this feeling had arrived, but it had. And I didn’t like it.My right eye eased open, scanning the room as my brain slowly woke...
HardcoreI stopped at the corner of Churchill Road and Stirling Avenue. Heavy snow was falling and settling on the ground. The old Seaman’s hall clock strikes eight in the distance, it’s chime carrying on the still of the night, across the town.As I pass the Black Sails pub, a rousing chorus of ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’ spills out into the street. Through the orange glow the of misted-up windows, I can see Archie in the centre of a small mob of people, glass raised, bellowing at the top of his...
Wife LoversExhausted from sparring and dripping with sweat, Joseph and Gina transformed from fierce warriors into lovers. The fighting had teased within the violent moves. Finally they stopped the teasing and expressed their mutual lust fully. Martial robes came off easily. Naked beneath, Gina pulled Joseph between her thighs, guided him in and insisted he fuck her hard. He shoved all the way in, amazed at the slippery path allowing the tightness to give way to his thick cock. They pressed pubic bones...
Chapter 1 *2 months later* ‘Happy Birthday, Harry!’ cheered the occupants of the dining table in the Weasley household, as they all raised their goblets in celebration of Harry’s 18th birthday. ‘Thank-you everybody,’ replied a beaming Harry as he looked around at the various people around the table. Every member of the Weasley family was sat smiling back at him, except for Ron who was still away on his self-imposed exile. ‘Well open up your presents then Harry dear,’ said Mrs Weasley...
Chapter 1 *2 months later* ‘Happy Birthday, Harry!’ came the cheer from around the dining table in the Weasley household as they all raised their goblets in celebration of Harry’s 18th birthday. ‘Thank-you everybody,’ replied a beaming Harry as he looked around the table. Every member of the Weasley family was sat smiling back at him, except for Ron who was still away on his self-imposed exile. ‘Well open...
Chapter 6 On a chilly, clear early spring morning, Hermione and Harry were once again packing up their tent in preparation to leave their camp. Nearly a month had passed since there narrow escape from Godric’s Hollow and thanks to Hermione’s tender love and care, Harry was as fit as a fiddle once more. Ever since Hermione had rejected his advances, Harry had noticed a difference in his relationship with her. Harry loved her even more as a friend and since they had destroyed the locket with...
Introduction: Harry prepares to leave Privet Drive forever. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 1 With a faint pop, that was almost drowned out by a loud clap of thunder, three men appeared before the high, forbidding gates of Malfoy Manor. One of the figures fell immediately to the ground as suddenly, a stroke of lightening illuminated the faces of Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. Help me get him...
Something had happened, but Harry wasn't sure what yet. Mr. Weasley had come and got him from the Dursley's and was just explaining to him about getting the tickets to the Quidditch World Cup when they had entered the Weasley house. As soon as they had entered Harry had heard raised voices followed by a slap then seconds later a groan and a thud as someone had fallen to the floor. As he reached the stairs he was met by Hermione, moving fast and obviously crying. She pushed past Harry and...
Chapter 1 With a faint pop, that was almost drowned out by a loud clap of thunder, three men appeared before the high, forbidding gates of Malfoy Manor. One of the figures fell immediately to the ground as suddenly, a stroke of lightening illuminated the faces of Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. ‘Help me get him up,’ ordered Snape as the harsh wind and rain enveloped them. Quickly, Draco scurried to the fallen figures side and wrapped an arm around his side as he and Snape wrenched the man...
Introduction: Harry and Hermione return to Malfoy Manor to rescue Luna and Dean. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 8 Say that again, said Voldemort dangerously as he sat in the living room of Malfoy Manor. The n-news just came in an hour ago my L-Lord, replied Bellatrix shakily, they s-say Potter broke into Gringotts. Voldemorts nostrils flared in anger as he began to stroke his newly acquired...
Hi, To all Iss reader this is my first story hope U all would like it a complete fiction.my self raj i live in Mumbai this story is about my aunty nandita,let me describe her she is in her 30s,lives with her husband and daughter.She is born beauty with an awesome fig of 36.28.40 ..her assets are her huge melons of 36 d and her ass that will give a hard on to any guy who looks at it So now my story starts this was like 5 years ago when I was appearing for my 12 th HSC examination at that time my...
Chapter 8 ‘Say that again,’ said Voldemort dangerously as he sat in the living room of Malfoy Manor. ‘The n-news just came in an hour ago my L-Lord,’ replied Bellatrix shakily, ‘they s-say Potter broke into Gringott’s.’ Voldemort’s nostrils flared in anger as he began to stroke his newly acquired Elder Wand. ‘Whose vault had he broken into?’ asked Voldemort quickly. ‘R-Ron’s my Lord,’ said Bellatrix quietly. ‘Was anything taken?’ asked Voldemort even quicker. ‘Just one item my L-Lord,’...
Chapter 3 As the usual sound of terrified screaming filled the air around Malfoy Manor, Ron and Draco decided to lounge about on the sofa in the living room. ‘That was a great kill of yours earlier friend,’ said Draco to Ron eagerly, ‘Reducto! Then.....BOOM! That scum of a muggle was obliterated,’ Ron smirked as Draco clapped him on the back. ‘Yeah, that was one of my favourites,’ said Ron as he admired his shining silver arm. As another blood-curdling scream rang through the cold air,...
I first Read this story 3 days ago here on this page but it was not completed, so my OCD kicked in and i looked for the rest. So i am in no way a writer and this is not my story, however i though it would be nice to post it here for those like me who go crazy with unfinished workl can sleep easy. I hope you all enjoy it as much as i did.Thanks you OldWolf who is the first person i see post it and from what i can see is the original writer.Harry awakens with a groan. He feels the back of his...
Introduction: Ron quickly comes up with a plan to hide his failure from the Dark Lord as Harry prepares to raid Gringotts. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 7 part 2 Ron stood in horror as he felt his mask fly away, revealing his face to Harry. Ron saw Harry standing in shock and mouth the word, Ron as he saw Dobby return and take Harrys hand in his own. Seeing Bellatrixs antique silver knife on...
Harry can feel himself smile reassuringly, "How can I help?"Cho's heart skips a beat as she sees Harry's smile, one so loving, so compassionate, so unlike the bastard who had made her publicly humiliate herself. "I was wondering if you would mind me not sleeping with you tonight."Harry chuckles and says, "Tonks talk got through huh?"Surprisingly, Cho doesn't take offence at Harry's laughter nor his question. "To a degree, at the minimum it got me thinking. I need to process this more...
Chapter 7 part 2 Ron stood in horror as he felt his mask fly away, revealing his face to Harry. Ron saw Harry standing in shock and mouth the word, ‘Ron’ as he saw Dobby return and take Harry’s hand in his own. Seeing Bellatrix’s antique silver knife on the ground, Ron quickly picked it up and threw it with all his might at them. As if in slow motion, Ron watched Harry and Dobby begin to fade away in a cloud of light until finally they disappeared with a loud crack. ‘ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!’...
Introduction: Harry finally meets his destiny in the final battle for his life. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 10 Voldemort deeply inhaled the cold, stinging air as he turned to face the thousands of his supporters behind him. A few of the Death Eaters gasped in awe at the impressive sight of him. Voldemort was stood high above them on a giant stone, with the impressive castle of Hogwarts...
Introduction: Harry recovers at Shell Cottage (please read authors note at the end) This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 7 part 1 Hermione began to shake Harry as she tried to wake him from his exhaustion. What? No it cant be Ron, said Hermione hysterically as she shook Harrys arm vigorously. It was Ron, replied Harry as with a groan he sat up on the beach and felt sand-grains fall from his hair....
Introduction: After hearing of Harry and Hermiones exploits, Cho takes matters into her own hands. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 2 A fortnight had passed since Harry and Hermiones session and Harry had thought of nothing else since. With the pressure of losing his virginity lifted, Harry felt a lot more confident around the girls and a lot happier then hed ever been. Both Harry and Hermione...
"Let me put a little Vaseline on the hose tips and we'll get your little poopers all nice and clean," Mommy chirped. "Thanks, Mommy," Kathy and Christi leaned tails up against the side of the bathtub. "This is so cool! Our bottoms will be nice and numb when Mrs. Potter tells us to bend over and spread 'em." Christi looked over her shoulder at Mommy. "Would you mind not putting any Demerol in mine, please. I want to feel every delicious rip and tear." "Why certainly, Christi,"...
Dawn was still some hours away when thirteen students exited the school. With Dumbledore still motionless in the infirmary, and Dolores Umbridge missing and unaccounted for (officially, that is; Harry and his friends knew that at very moment the poor women was being subjected to horrors that were both unspeakable and richly deserved), it was somewhat easier for students to engage in illicit activities without fear of detection. The squib Mr. Filch was long gone, and his animagus mother was...
Harriet Potter and the ring of fire pt 1Harriet Potter was just 19 just like her very best friend Hermione Parker.They were by far the naughtiest girls in Cockington , a small town in the county of Dorset. The entire town seemed to consist of naughty girls and just a few naughty boys . Harriet and Hermoine were by far the naughtiest of them all.Like all “HP’s they were very saucy indeed.The headmaster of their school was at his wits end as to what do with them .He wanted to expel them but...
I wrote this nonsense some time ago. It has no ending at present because I sorta lost the plot. If anyone can help please do.I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.... Harriet Potter and the ringpiece of fire pt 1/5Harriet Potter was just 19 just like her very best friend Hermione Parker.They were by far the naughtiest girls in Cockington , a small town in the county of Dorset. The entire town seemed to consist of naughty girls and just a few...
Part 9 and there was Three Harry woke feeling his wives, wives I have two wives, he smiled, laying next him, his eyes closed. Hermione snuggled up to him, her leg over his, Ginny on his other side pressing into him, their heads on his chest and shoulder, their breasts against him, he could feel their breaths on his skin, their heart beats, Hermiones wetness on his thigh, Ginnys hand gently holding his erect manhood. He laid there thinking of how his life had turned around it the last years. ...
Harriet Potter and the ring of fire pt 1Harriet Potter was just 19 just like her very best friend Hermione Parker.They were by far the naughtiest girls in Cockington , a small town in the county of Dorset. The entire town seemed to consist of naughty girls and just a few naughty boys . Harriet and Hermoine were by far the naughtiest of them all.Like all “HP’s they were very saucy indeed.The headmaster of their school was at his wits end as to what do with...
Harriet Potter and the ring of fire pt 1Harriet Potter was just 19 just like her very best friend Hermione Parker.They were by far the naughtiest girls in Cockington , a small town in the county of Dorset. The entire town seemed to consist of naughty girls and just a few naughty boys . Harriet and Hermoine were by far the naughtiest of them all.Like all “HP’s they were very saucy indeed.The headmaster of their school was at his wits end as to what do with...
Harriet Potter and the ring of fire pt 1Harriet Potter was just 19 just like her very best friend Hermione Parker.They were by far the naughtiest girls in Cockington , a small town in the county of Dorset. The entire town seemed to consist of naughty girls and just a few naughty boys . Harriet and Hermoine were by far the naughtiest of them all.Like all “HP’s they were very saucy indeed.The headmaster of their school was at his wits end as to what do with...
PART III "You are in danger, Harry Potter, but from yourself." Confined inside the Slytherin dungeons, curled up on the black leather couch, dressed in a green and silver coloured uniform was Heather Potter, now a Slytherin, apparently. It was the worst possible thing that the curse of the Emerald Witch could have done to her. To become a member of the house she had resented for so many years was not only sickening but it upset her greatly. She felt as if she was...
Warning Spoilers, If you haven't read all the books. The following story may contain spoilers. The story may also not be suitable for younger readers. You have been warned. Any complaints will be ignored. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I am only playing in the world created by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made. Title: "Harry Potter and How I Became a Unicorn Mare" By: Not Telling. |_| Ever hear the phrase, "Try walking A Mile In My Shoes, and then judge the choices I...
Chapter Thirty – The Twins Come of Age Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, nor does it have any affiliation with its author. Story Codes: mmF, mmf, cream pie, exhib, grope, hp, magic, orgy, preg, spank, voy As March wound down and April approached, the school was abuzz from the latest sex scandal involving Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and nearly half of the school. So prodigious were the circumstances of the abnormally...
Chapter Five – The Train Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, nor does it have any affiliation with its author. Story Codes: mmf, mf, rape, x-gang, first, unif, voy The Spellbook of Desires was once again in Harry Potter’s grasp; having lost it for nearly two weeks, he was relieved to have finally regained it. Harry was so relieved because he knew it would be his single best companion, other than Hermione and Ron, during the...
Chapter 10 Voldemort deeply inhaled the cold, stinging air as he turned to face the thousands of his supporters behind him. A few of the Death Eaters gasped in awe at the impressive sight of him. Voldemort was stood high above them on a giant stone, with the impressive castle of Hogwart’s behind him and the large, full moon casting an angelic glow on him. Draco stood just below Voldemort on his right side on a smaller boulder as Voldemort raised his wand in the air; commanding silence....
Chapter 7 part 1 Hermione began to shake Harry as she tried to wake him from his exhaustion. ‘What? No it can’t be Ron,’ said Hermione hysterically as she shook Harry’s arm vigorously. ‘It was Ron,’ replied Harry as with a groan he sat up on the beach and felt sand-grains fall from his hair. ‘You must have been mistaken Harry,’ said Hermione shakily, her eyes wide in a manic shock. ‘It was Ron,’ repeated Harry weakly. ‘But..,’ ‘Hermione,’ said Harry more forcefully, cutting Hermione...
Chapter 10 If anybody had happened to be passing by the 7th floor corridor, they would have heard a faint cry of joy emanate from within the stone wall itself, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to train trolls for the ballet. The voice seemed to belong to Draco Malfoy. * Long rays of clear morning sunshine shone through the high narrow windows of the 6th year boy’s dormitory as Harry Potter awoke from a nice long lie-in. A yawning Harry stretched out his legs, as he...
Chapter 5 November descended upon Hogwarts and along with it came even rain and even a few flakes of snow. It was the final week of November and there was only a fortnight left before the Christmas holidays started. Ron began to feel his bad mood coming again. A month had passed since his fun with Lavender and they had been dating ever since. Though the sex was incredible, they did not really share much in common and Ron had started to lust after his true love; Hermione once more. ‘If...
Chapter 2 A fortnight had passed since Harry and Hermione’s session and Harry had thought of nothing else since. With the pressure of losing his virginity lifted, Harry felt a lot more confident around the girls and a lot happier then he’d ever been. Both Harry and Hermione were desperate for an opportunity for round 2 to happen but with the immense work-load that was piled on the 6th years, both were too busy to hook up again. Harry’s cock was aching for some more action and little did he...
Introduction: Harry and Hermione journey to Hogwarts, to finally end the war. This story does not reflect the attitudes or characters in the Harry Potter series, or have any affiliation with the author. Chapter 9 Harry and Hermione were sat on Harrys bed in Shell Cottage, in deep discussion about where the final horcrux could be hidden. Over a week had passed since they had rescued Luna and Dean from Malfoy Manor and Harry was starting to become agitated by their lack of progress. Hermione,...
This is a fanfic of 'Charmed' and Harry Potter, the characters are owned by their respective owners. Harry Potter gets 'Charmed' By Eric Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were trapped in Snape's Office after hours. Snape was at the door blocking their escape! "I know you're in there, Potter!" he said happily, gloating. "At last I have you red handed, Mr. Perfect Porter! This time not even Dumbledore will keep me from punishing you all!" He started to open the...
After a few days working for Mrs Potter Amy was enjoying the work. Although there hadn't been anymore sexual action between them there was plenty of signs that there would be some soon. On Wednesday Mrs Potter said to Amy, 'I've got a new client coming in later today and I think it will be good experience if you could assist me.' Amy replied, 'Thanks, I'd like that.' Mrs Potter said, 'The lady is question is called Clare, a 43 year old mother of two. She has blonde shoulder length hair and...
I do not own the rights to any of the characters that appear in my little story. Now I do not claim I can tell a story nearly as well as J.K. Rowling (if I could I?d be a millionaire). The best I can do is all I can offer. I hope that you will be entertained. Before I begin to tell this story I should remind those who may not realize that this is indeed a sequel. If you have not read "Mists of Avalon" then you should stop reading this warning and proceed right away to that story. Oh...
HumorThe following week was rough on everyone as the Dr.'s Granger had to get used to their little girl now being married at the age of fifteen, but also for Harry and Hermione for pretty much the same reason. Dan spent several hours the first couple of days with Emma in the study talking to the portrait of Danielle Granger, who had been the last Lady Granger, painted 300 years earlier, and filling her in on as much family and world history as they could. Dan assured her he would dig through the...
Harry went from his room and into the Library "Hermione What should we do to the ones who Betrayed us?" Harry asks as he enters. Hermione Looks up from the Huge book in front of her. "Well we can get a Piece out in the paper. We can name all names. And we should contact the twins." She says. Harry Replies," Well I already sent Fumbledore a nice tainted box of Lemon Drops. I surpose we can use this Rita Skeeter for our Mud raking." "Harry what do you mean tainted Lemon Drops?" She...
Harry Potter sighed as he contemplated his bleak future. He was sitting on his bed in the boy’s dormitory in Gryffindor tower, hugging his legs against his chest and resting his forehead on his knees. He sighed again, lifted his head and looked at his carved, four-poster bed which was hung with rich, red, velvet curtains. He wondered whether he was seeing it for the last time. Harry was certain that he was going to be expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for engaging in a...
Amy had got back from university and desperately needed to find a summer job. Her mum's best friend Jean Potter owned a ladies shop and she asked whether she might have a job for her for a few weeks. Jean Potter had known Amy ever since she was a baby and asked her to pop into see her and they would have a chat.Jean suggested she called in after the shop had closed the following evening. It was a nice summers evening and Amy was dressed in a t shirt, short skirt and sandals when she tapped on...
Chapter 1 – In the Beginning Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the actual Harry Potter series, its author, characters or book and movie franchises. This story has not been sold or created for profit. Story Codes: mmfff, exhib, grope, magic, unif, voy Harry Potter’s fifth year of education was one of the most difficult times of his young life. Publicly slighted by both the Ministry of Magic and the influential magical media, Harry had been called a liar, attention-seeker and...
PART II "There, look!" "Where?" "Next to Ron Weasley of course!" "Wearing the glasses? It can't be!" "Did you see what he looks like now?" "Yeah I know, creepy isn't it?" Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left the abandoned girls lavatory three weeks before. He is still a girl. People queuing outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring, gaping at the new female Harry. He wished they wouldn't but at...
“Where am I?” Harry thought to himself as he picked up his school uniform and began to get dressed. As Harry continued to think, he realized that his last thoughts were from his 6th period potions with Professor Snape, the greasy-haired head of Slytherine, who hated him more than anyone at Hogwarts. As Harry began to think more, looking very puzzled as he scratched his messy brown hair, “Something had to have happened in potions class…” As Harry thought more and more he reached down to...
After Emma and Donald leave Sasha and Joseph that night, things happen. Well, actually things started happening a bit earlier.Sasha gets to the church early at the request of Karen and Julie. They have got a lot of flowers and candles to decorate the chapel and ask Sasha to help them. She is more than happy to, in just some shorts and a tank top then as she garnishes the church. The candles ready to be lit when Emma and Donald arrive.Midway in the decorating, Joseph arrives, dressed for the...
Love StoriesDaily Prophet HeadlinesNovember 1st, 1981You Know Who Dead! James Potter Killed, wife, son surviveDark Lord’s body found at sceneMultiple Deaths reported throughout Wizarding World December 31st, 1981Albus Dumbledore Announces RetirementWill step down from Headmaster Position effective the end of the School Year September 1st, 1996Harry Potter starts Hogwarts‘Boy Who Survived’ Hopes to Join Gryffindor HouseExclusive Interview!July 31st, 2003Harry Potter Announces His Lady PotterCho Chang will...
"I challenge you to a duel!" The words, shouted in the middle of a Ministry of Magic atrium, could hardly have garnered more attention had they been accompanied by Voldemort resurrecting himself. Far from the quietest place on Earth, the Ministry of Magic was nearly always bustling and hustling with throngs upon throngs of every sort of magical being, almost all of them talking at unreasonable volumes to be heard over everyone else talking over unreasonable volumes. Now, however, it had gone...
I do not own the rights to any of the characters that appear in my little story. Now I do not claim I can tell a story nearly as well as J.K. Rowling (if I could I?d be a millionaire). The best I can do is all I can offer. I hope that you will be entertained. Holly Potter And The Army of Darkness By Kim West Chapter 3: The Making Of Plans And Schemes. They had all gathered at their favorite hangout which was Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley. The four young...
HumorI'm a Harry Potter Fans but i love aslo extreme sexual fantasy about Potter universe. This story contain Character of JK Rowling Book two last thing before you read this first i'm not English Native Speaker so be easy on me... maybe soe part of my text are all wrong grammaticaly but i think it's still easy to understand Second, this story Contains Harcore Porn like Scat for this one chapter and many other sexual deviance so don't read it if you don't like extreme shit Finally This is...