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Magical Restaurant ch.1

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Help us create more sweet stories, while enjoying exclusive content. Join today! ­čŹş Harry Potter felt a stunning blonde with a rebellious gaze sensually wrap her skilled hands around his cock like a pro, even better than a pro. The lights were dimmed, the restaurant was closed, and she caressed him in a way that would make even the most experienced porn stars blush with envy and arousal.

He had never seen someone so infatuated with a cock before. Her juicy, plump lips, perfect for fucking, glistened with moisture and desire as they gracefully moved up and down his throbbing member. She maintained full eye contact with him the whole time, hypnotizing him with her gaze full of promises of eternal burning love. Her body clung to his as if every tempting centimeter of her feminine curves could not bear the thought of separating from his body.

Her tongue made his body tremble as she firmly and sensually wrapped it around his cock, tasting, licking, and devouring every inch. Her fingers tightly squeezed his balls, gently massaging them as her mouth worked on his member, causing him to feel both pain and unearthly pleasure. With each stroke of her mouth, he felt his excitement grow, reminding him that he was completely at her mercy of her loving grace.

Her breasts were full and firm, bathed in the glow of weak light that penetrated through the closed restaurant windows. Her nipples stood erect with desire, and he couldn't resist grabbing one with his mouth, biting and sucking until he heard her passionate moans. Her hands wandered over his body, exploring every muscle, contour, and crevice, reminding him that he was her object of sensual desire.

Once his coworker, she was now his sexual slave, devoted to fulfilling his deepest fantasies. Her hands, agile and precise, searched for his body, massaging, stroking, and causing shivers on his skin. Her tongue traveled over his body, exploring every crevice and fold, reveling in the taste of his desire. She was a devil in human skin, and he blessed the day when he became her master.

Her buttocks were firm and sensual, while her hips moved in the rhythm of a predator hunting its prey. Her moans filled the room like the melody of a forgotten symphony, awakening his most primal instincts. He got lost in her gaze, in the fire that burned in her eyes as she surrendered to pleasure and submission.

Her body, twisted in erotic poses, showed him all her hidden assets. Her breasts, firm and full, rose to the beat of her passionate breath. Her nipples became hard points that impatiently waited for his mouth to lick, suck, and even lightly bite. Her flat stomach led him towards her shaved slit, which pulsates with excitement, beckoning his cock to her depths.

Harry feels his cock being gripped by moist lips and stroked like it's the last fucking meal on earth. His dick grows harder as her tongue circles around it and her mouth strokes it with desire. He watches as she takes his member deep in her mouth and licks her lips, savoring his taste.

She lifts her hips and touches her curves, breasts, waist, and hips. She grabs his cock and points it at her wet pussy, where her juices drip down her petals. Harry Potter's words are enough as she drops down on his shaft and takes it deep into her core in one smooth motion.

Her fingers dig into his shoulders as they both reach the peak of ecstasy. Their bodies become one in a passionate union as Harry's balls release hot cum deep into her tight, pulsating vagina. She tries to squeeze every last drop of cum out of his cock as waves of pleasure overwhelm her. In that moment, lost in each other, they forget the external world and give in to unimaginable pleasure that overwhelms them both.

Exhausted, they cling to each other, their sweaty bodies intertwined in a hot, sensual embrace that lasts until they begin to catch their breath. They caress each other, reigniting their passion. Her hands move over his body, sending shivers through every muscle and tissue. Their tongues entwine in a hot, wet kiss that leads them to another round of desire.

He slowly enters her, their bodies pulsing together as his cock enters her soft, wet cave. She moves up and down his cock, breathing his name as she reaches another peak of pleasure. Their movements become more rhythmic and decisive, as they lose themselves in the passion that consumes them.

Finally, they reach the last peak together, an explosion of pleasure that fills their bodies and souls. Harry Potter's seed explodes inside her, flooding her with hot, sticky fluid. They collapse onto each other, their hearts beating together, their breaths mixed, as they give in completely to this unforgettable night.

And how the fuck did this happen?

Harry is tired, hungry, and emotionally drained after working a fucking long-ass shift at Lightning's. He's been manipulated by his disgustingly great female crew to work longer hours than he wants to for the seventh fucking time this week. His legs feel like rubber bands holding up the weight of his feet, and he's been asked a million fucking times if he's okay because of the bags under his eyes and the ragged-ass beard he couldn't shave. He's just ready to eat some goddamn ice cream and nap for seventy fucking hours.

He doesn't think he's got a choice. That damn owner, Daphne, is gonna sell this property and if he can't keep it running and making bank, she's gonna give it to someone else. He's been busting his ass off for years to save up and open his own damn restaurant, giving up everything for it - love, education, and friends all went to the backseat while his solo ambition of buying out Daphne and owning this place took the wheel.

It's already ten, and Harry's been working since before noon. Time to say fuck off. There's only the old man in his usual spot by the window - Harry tried moving him a few times to make room for some younger and sexier customers, but no dice - and the chick in the corner who's been waiting to be served for almost an hour.

They got a modest kitchen and wait staff. The restaurant's modest and chic, with tight walkways between tables. In joints like this, people wanna listen in on each other's convos and get into some talks. Chandeliers hang above nearly every table, giving off a dim light, and those high-backed chairs are a pain in the ass to get up from, waiting patiently for Harry to sweep at night.

They got an expensive menu that lures in young adults on dates and old-ass folks who wanna feel young again, and the place was built on the spot of an old caf├ę. There used to be a ton of traffic, and when business was good, they had a waiting list. Not anymore.

Most of their biz now comes from horny dudes who wanna stare at their waitresses - and Harry can't blame 'em; they're all top-notch, like a fleet of Nordic goddesses (fighting against the finger-wagging that they shouldn't be doing their job) - but who haven't figured out that none of 'em put out.

Harry ain't sure if those losers mind that the ladies don't wanna bang 'em. Some folks just like throwing their cash at pretty things.

He walks up to Tracey, their hostess and occasional waitress, probably the most amazing chick he's ever seen in person. She's scrolling through selfies on her phone, admiring her own face from all sorts of angles. Since Voldemort got wrecked and Hermione took up the job of Minister of Magic, Muggle gadgets and culture started to flow into the wizarding world, and now even pure-bloods got their own social media accounts for both magical and Muggle worlds. There's plenty to admire.

She's wearing a tight plaid miniskirt that's way too hot for a waitress or hostess gig and a pale pink shirt that's about to burst from the weight of her massive tits. Her alabaster complexion is flawless as fuck, and she's got thousands of Instagram followers thanks to documenting her skincare routine. Harry's one of 'em; he doesn't use his real name on social media, but he's sure Tracey knows he's seen her in hundreds of bikini pics that make his dick wanna grow.

"What's up with that bitch at the back?" Harry Potter asks, nodding towards her. She hasn't taken her eyes off her phone.

"What bitch?" Tracey doesn't look up from her task.

"That one," Harry says, pointing. "Which one do you think?"

Tracey still doesn't look up, instead she switches on her camera and tilts her chin seductively. She is absolutely stunning.

"She's probably waiting for you to come over," she says.

"You're right. I've been taking care of all the other tables; could you assist?"

Tracey stares at Harry as if he's crazy. "I was a hostess, Harry."

Her perfectly arched eyebrow flashes, asking, "What else am I supposed to do?ÔÇŁ

The bitch isn't lazy; she just knows she has Harry cornered and gets big tips for just standing there looking pretty. He'd praise her hustle if she wasn't so damn unpleasant to work with.

Most of the bitches here hit on Harry for various reasons. Susan, who has long legs, puts on a cheerful face and bright blue eyes whenever she wants time off.

Hannah, who has a butt like 3 Highlighters - so plump and bouncy - pretends to flirt with Harry when she needs extended hours for more tables and tips.

Penelope Clearwater has the tiniest waist Harry's ever seen (and always wears tiny outfits that show off her butt), routinely shows off her cleavage to help him "ignore" her long bathroom breaks.

They're all charming blondes who treat Harry like a battery. Ready to grab something from the drawer and recharge whatever needs to be when they're around.

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