NOVEL NEXT Chapter 11: Harley Quinn
As the sun hits his face, Harry lets out a soft groan, slowly beginning to wake up. It takes him a moment to remember where he is and why he’s there, but when he does he tries to sit up, only to place a hand to his forehead as a wave of… condensed ‘Don’t’ strikes him. Opening his eyes slowly, he looks around to find that he’s the first to awaken.
Zatanna, Tea, and Kara are all there as well, but the three blissed-out women are completely unconscious even now. He’s left wondering if they’re all going to be as sore as he is when they do finally wake up. For the time being though, Harry just wants to conjure up some clothes, both for himself and for the girls. He’s honestly shocked that nobody has stumbled upon them before now, because really… they make for quite the sight.
Reaching out somewhat blindly, Harry fumbles about a bit. In his efforts to find his wand and go about casting some magic on them all, he accidentally hits Zatanna’s beeping communicator instead, going still as it begins to play a prerecorded alert. The alert goes into detail about a missing heroine, namely a ‘Batgirl’, and even goes so far as to let him know her last known location, while asking for any nearby heroes to investigate.
Blinking owlishly for a moment, Harry’s beleaguered mind eventually remembers that Zatanna is a member of the Justice League, so of course she’d be sent such a message. Or maybe it’s even part of her close proximity to the location where Batgirl had gone missing. As he hears the message cycle through again, Harry realizes just how close said location was… frankly, it was basically right beside where he and the three women had gotten up to some serious shenanigans the night before.
They weren’t there anymore, of course. Before passing out, they’d moved things off of the street and onto a nearby rooftop. Still, as the morning sun beats down overhead and Harry finally manages to locate his wand, the young man furrows his brow and comes to a decision. He might as well look for this missing heroine himself, since he’s in the area…
Magicking himself up some clothes, as well as some conjured garments for Zatanna, Galatea, and Kara, Harry ponders what to do next for a moment before grimacing and shrugging his shoulders.
“Sorry Zatanna, but you’re in no state to go looking for trouble…”
Ignoring the fact that he’s not either, the very sore young wizard crouches down beside the practically catatonic magician’s head and presses his wand point into the side of her skull.
“Legilimens…”
He doesn’t try to dig too deep of course, he’s not trying to pry any secrets from Zatanna… well, nothing too bad. All he needs to know is who Batgirl is, so he can properly begin the search for her. Luckily, even unconscious, Zatanna still heard the same alert that he did when he activated her communicator, and so thoughts of Batgirl as well as her real identity are at the forefront of the American witch’s mind.
Apparently, the red-headed crime fighter is named Barbara Gordon, when she’s not clad in a super sexy bat costume that Harry is able to glean from Zatanna’s memories. The daughter of the Police Commissioner, she would certainly make a juicy target for some of Gotham’s nastier villains both in AND out of said sexy costume.
Luckily for Barbara, Harry was here to ‘save the day’, he supposed. More like, he needed to do something, after all, it sounded like he was the closest available support on hand. And besides… magic was bullshit.
Pulling his wand back from Zatanna’s head, he looks down at her and the two Argoan blondes he’d fucked silly the night before. It’d certainly taken a lot out of him, bringing them all to this point, but hopefully… well, hopefully when they all woke up, things could be worked out. Harry truly did love Tea, and he wanted her to be able to change, he wanted his love to be able to change her.
Staring down at the sleeping face of his alien lover, currently cheek-to-cheek with Kara thanks to the Kryptonite collar locking their necks together, Harry can’t help but smile softly. They really are cute together like this. And any future that he has with Tea all but HAS to involve Kara, as well as vice versa, doesn’t it? Otherwise he’s just torturing one or the other.
… But they could talk about that once everyone had recovered. For the time being, Harry conjures up some pillows and blankets to go along with the clothing he clad their naked bodies in, leaving them in some relative comfort and to their rest as he takes the roof access down to the ground floor. Once he’s out on the street of Gotham’s warehouse district, the young wizard glances both ways… and then sets his wand in the palm of his hand and proceeds to locate Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl.
“Point Me Barbara Gordon.”
He’s intensely relieved when the spell works like it’s supposed to. It’s not like he would have cast it wrong, but there were a couple circumstances where it would have failed. One, if she was dead, the spell would no longer register her name. Instead, she would just be a bunch of meat, a corpse that couldn’t be found under the title ‘Barbara Gordon’ any longer.
Two, if she’d been taken by magic-users such as himself, they could have warded and occluded her against the Point Me spell. It was, after all, one of the simplest finding spells in a wizard’s repertoire, and thus very easy to defend against if one knew magic and knew what they were doing. So yes, that the spell worked was A Good Thing.
Carefully, Harry begins to follow it along, his lips pressed tightly together as he keeps his head on a swivel. Lots of wizards and witches would focus on the wand in their hand and nothing else, but Harry was at least a little smarter than that. Whenever the wand so much as twitches, it has his attention and he adjusts his course accordingly, but ONLY then.
Following the magic of the Point Me spell, Harry soon finds himself coming up to a run down factory. Of course, given this seemed to be Gotham’s half-abandoned industrial district, it was a run down factory amidst many run down factories. This one was just the one where he would apparently find Barbara Gordon. Looking it over, trying to figure out the best way in without making himself too known.
Unfortunately, he’s not seeing a quick and easy entrance. His best bet might just be to blast his way in and damn the consequences, especially if Barbara was in trouble. He would just have to-
“Heya Mistah! Whatcha doin’ on my front lawn, huh?!”
Before Harry can finish that thought, a curious figure pops out of the factory, positively skipping down to the street to face him. As Harry takes her in, he’s immediately put on guard by her… well, her everything. For one, she’s dressed like the jester one would find in the back of a pack of playing cards. Of course, there’s absolutely nothing Two-D about her fairly curvaceous body, and the black and red bodysuit she’s wearing does a great job of showcasing that fact.
On top of that, she’s got white face paint covering her only visible flesh, that of her face, along with a big bright red smile that looks just a little unhinged, especially with the hints of madness Harry can see in her eyes. He’s got good practice with insanity, to be fair, Voldemort had been crazy, but his followers had been even crazier. Bellatrix Lestrange was a good example of that, and the look in this clown woman’s eyes reminded Harry of the look in Bellatrix’s eyes most of all.
Finally though, the thing that put him on guard more than anything else about her whole look, was the massive mallet easily twice her size that she was casually holding aloft behind her back as she slowly walked forward, one foot in front of the other. There was absolutely no way for her to hide said mallet, and as Harry glances between it and her face, he sees the moment her grin widens as she realizes she’s been made.
Lifting up his wand and taking a classic dueler’s stance, Harry gets ready for a fight, even as he opens his mouth to respond.
“Just looking for someone.”
But the jester woman just looks at his little stick… and lets out a guffaw.
“Whatcha gonna do with that, sweetie? Poke someone’s eye out?! Hehe, that’s not a stick… THIS Is a stick!”
And then, without waiting for another response from him, she pulls out her mallet and lunges forward, bringing it down with violent intention in the direction of his head.
“Protego!”
With a massive gong sound, her first blow impacts his shield… but it was a lot closer than it should have been. She was fast, very fast, and Harry is left on the backfoot from the very beginning. One would think that seeing a magic forcefield stop her first blow in its tracks would give the clown bitch SOME pause. But instead, she barely misses a beat, cackling like a demented banshee and continuing to swing away at him with all her might.
“That’s some fancy-smancy bullshit you got there Mistah! Let’s have some FUN!”
Needless to say, for Harry it very quickly stops being anywhere near the definition of the word fun. Actually, it was never fun to begin with. The jester woman is far too fast for him to land even a single spell on her, and Harry is still undeniably sore and spent from last night’s activities. He’s really beginning to regret going off on his own as things progress, with him alternating between casting Protego to block her strikes and casting offensive spells to try and put her down.
“Stupefy!”
Finally, he manages to get off the stunning spell and actually make it land, but to Harry’s shock, surprise, and mild horror… it has no effect on the crazy clown lady. The red of his spell washes over her, and for a moment she jolts, and a full body shiver runs up and down her admittedly voluptuous figure. Then, she’s curling her fingers back around her mallet in a two-handed grip again and giving him a Cheshire-like grin.
“Ooh, tingly~”
In his moment of shock, Harry doesn’t manage to get up another Protego in time to properly defend against her counterattack. The lucky hit she finally lands on him hits him right in the chest and sends him flying back through the factory wall and into the factory itself. The most Harry is able to do is instinctively summon up his magic to act as a sort of cushion, so he doesn’t break his back or skewer himself on a bit of rebar.
It’s the same sort of accidental magic that his good friend Neville Longbottom had done once upon a time when his relatives had seen fit to toss him out a high window in order to make sure he wasn’t a squib. Neville had bounced instead of going splat, and so does Harry. Doesn’t make it any less harrowing however, and when Harry finally manages to struggle his way back to his feet, he felt a bit of a… draft that hadn’t been there before.
A glance downward showed that the blow had done more than just knock him through a wall and across a factory. It’d also dispelled his conjured clothes as he’d lost concentration on keeping them real and in the present. He was utterly naked now, with only his wand in his hand. However, before he can reconjure up his garments, a wolf whistle alerts him to the fact that his current opponent has followed him inside.
Of course the crazy clown bitch has named her mallet ‘Mally’. Harry grits his teeth and opens his mouth to answer, only to be forced to defend himself again instead as she bounces forward once more, that massive hammer of hers swinging straight for his head.
The fight from that point on only gets more and more ridiculous, for all that it’s also still incredibly serious and perilous from Harry’s point of view. The jester woman’s taunts become laced with a lot more innuendo and she makes constant catcalls, clearly attempting to distract him… or perhaps just because she’s that crazy.
“Pretty sure it’s not safe to fight with your dick floppin’ about like that Mistah!”
“You’ve got a big one, don’tcha sweetie?”
“Is that a half-chub I see? Just from lil’ ole me?!”
What was worse was she wasn’t wrong. And it didn’t get better either, because the one upside of all this soon became a downside. Namely, the clown bitch was just as distracted by Harry’s state of nakedness as he was. He knew this, because she was actually slowing down just a bit, and he was actually managing to land a few hits on her.
Of course, after the way Stupefy had completely failed to knock the crazy bitch out for whatever reason, Harry had had to resort to blasting and cutting curses instead, trying to just keep her away from him, and if possible, knock her out the old fashioned way, with concussive force. Unfortunately, she was too fast for anything to land fully… but that didn’t mean he didn’t get a few glancing blows on her.
Her form-fitting jester costume was getting all torn up, revealing more and more of her pale skin underneath. Not the same level of white as her painted face of course, but certainly the paleness of a woman who didn’t get enough sun on the rest of her constantly covered body. All the same, the more Harry managed to strike her, the more damage her outfit accrued, leaving parts of her body tantalizingly and teasingly shown off in a way that has him blushing and growing erect from the display.
“Now THAT’S a cock, Mistah!”
Yes, there’s no denying that she’s distracted by his erection, but so is Harry… and in the end, it’s he who pays the price, as one of her blows with her mallet finally succeeds in knocking his wand from his hand. It goes spinning away into the darkness of the factory, skidding off under some piece of ancient machinery, but before Harry can accio it back to his palm in a panic, she’s put him on his back, and he sees death staring him in the face.
Closing his eyes, expecting the mallet to come down and through his skull any moment, Harry has time to regret… quite a lot of things. Leaving the girls behind this morning without so much as a by your leave to chase after some missing heroine was at the forefront of those things, another product of his ‘Saving People’ complex as Hermione would call it. Not settling things with Tea properly, not telling her how much he loved her, how everything he was doing was FOR her. Not-
… Huh, he was actually pretty sure he’d had TOO much time to regret things at this point. The mallet should definitely have come down by now. Carefully, Harry peeks up with one eye… and then immediately opens both of them in confusion at what he’s seeing. It takes a second for him to realize he’s staring at an athletic booty coming down to smother him.
At the same time, a pair of hands falls upon his cock, and the situation he’s found himself in crystallizes as Harry quickly realizes what’s going on.
“It’d be such a shame to kill a fantastic specimen like yourself without at least a little taste, Mistah! Don’t get any ideas though, this is just because it’s been a while since I got any cock! I’m not interested in ya for anything but your cum!”
… This was his life now, wasn’t it? Going from woman to woman, each with odd powers and odder mentalities, who wound up inevitably obsessed with his dick.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
Down below, the crazy clown bitch is taking his cock and smacking it up against her painted face, cooing as she breathes in deeply, no doubt flaring her nostrils.
“Such a nice, big… SMELLY dick. Jeez Mistah, what’d you do, spend the whole night fuckin’?”
Yes, but Harry wasn’t currently in a position to tell her that. He was currently being smothered by the jester’s massive booty, the crotch of her soaked jumpsuit grinding into his face. With a slightly lusty, but mostly exasperated growl, Harry reaches up and grabs her buttocks and thighs with a harsh squeeze, lifting them off enough so that he can at least breathe, though he then has to contend with her immense strength trying to push her booty right back down.
“Oh-ho! Still got some fight in ya I see~ But ya better be ready to take your lumps, because I ain’t lettin’ ya go without paying for your intrudin’!”
Right, apparently this was her ‘home’ or something. Looking around the shitty rundown factory now that he’s inside, Harry isn’t remotely impressed. He doesn’t see a red head around anywhere either. What does that mean, exactly? He’s sure from the Point Me spell that this is where Batgirl was, and he’s sure from fighting this crazy clown lady that she doesn’t have magic or anything like that. Not unless she’s some witch or wizard’s henchwoman, which might explain her magical resistance and the super up strength.
… Alternatively, the clown woman’s lair might be underground. The thought gives Harry some pause, but before he can think on it any further, his current play partner gets impatient with him.
“Don’t just show some spine and then lay there, Mistah! Show me whatcha got… and I’ll do the same, tee-hee~”
A moment later, her tongue is on his cock… and so are her teeth. She doesn’t do much more than graze his member with her chompers, but that alone is enough to send a jolt through Harry. It’s obvious that if he doesn’t do anything, this lewd wackjob is going to have her way with him entirely, and he won’t get any say in how that happens.
Not one to just lie back and think of Britain, Harry narrows his eyes… and digs his fingers into the crotch of her costume. A moment later and he’s pulling, tearing really, and as the fabric gives way, the clown bitch squeals in excitement, wiggling her hips as he ultimately exposes her pussy lips for himself, revealing her crotch in its entirety.
She’s certainly wet, though how much of it is sweat and how much is her arousal… ah no, most of it is arousal Harry finds as he darts out his tongue and works it along her slit, causing her to shiver.
“Oh yeah baby! That’s the stuff! Keep it up! Ommph!”
Making an exaggerated and altogether silly sound, she engulfs the head of his cock with her mouth this time. Thankfully there’s no teeth as she proceeds to bob up and down his dick, gorging herself on his man meat and swallowing him damn near whole. Her enthusiasm is certainly out of this world, and Harry… Harry knows he has to try to give as good as he gets here if he wants to stay in one piece.
Of course, he also knows deep down inside that he’s going to fail. Maybe if he was at full strength, maybe if he still had his wand, he could have turned the tables on this nutcase and possibly fucked her silly. But he’d just spent an entire night plowing two aliens into the ground, and also a horny stage magician for good measure.
It wasn’t inaccurate to say that Zatanna, Tea, and Kara had thoroughly drained Harry dry, and not only was he still very sore from all of that, but he was also still mostly spent as well. And yet, this woman seemed intent on eking out the last dregs of his strength and stamina… and Harry currently had no choice but to go along with it.
At the very least, he would give a good showing. Utilizing one of the few bits of silent, wandless magic that he’s capable of, the young wizard elongates his tongue… and proceeds to show the crazy clown bitch HIS version of ‘parseltongue’. His elongating tongue slaps into her cunt lips… and then spears right up into her gushing wet quim itself, pushing deep right off the bat as she in turn arches her back and tosses her head up, before glancing back at him with a wide, wicked grin.
“Oh wow! That’s some good stuff, Mistah! Keep it up, keep it up!”
Punctuating her accented American English dialect by pushing her hips back down into his hands again enthusiastically, the jester woman leans forward once more and re-engulfs his cock in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the head of his member, and it’s obvious that she actually quite enjoys his dirty dick, the little freak. It’s not like Harry has had a chance to shower, and while he COULD have used magic to clean himself up, he’d prioritized searching for the missing damsel in distress over such things.
But this woman, whoever she is, absolutely loves cleaning his cock with her mouth, working what buildup there is from the previous night’s activities out onto her tongue and slurping away at his prick like she’s obsessed with it, like she’s in love with it. All the while, she’s moaning up a storm, her mewling cries sending reverberations up the length of his erect cock as Harry drives her wild down below.
In the end, what else CAN he do? He’s on his back beneath a suped-up powerful bitch in a jester’s costume who’s lavishing significant praise and worship on his dick. She’d already warned him before what might happen if he didn’t give as good as he got. And so, Harry works hard to drive her as wild as possible, his tongue sliding up into her depths and then some as it’s elongated nature allows it to go deeper than any tongue ever before.
At the same time, Harry slips one of his hands down to the bottom of her drooling quim… or rather, to the top of it technically, but it’s currently below his chin thanks to the Sixty-Nine that she has them both in. His fingers find the crazy clown’s clit in short order, and he begins to work at it, frigging her little nub as hard as he can as he works over her cunt with his snake-like tongue.
Needless to say, it does the trick and he’s soon driving her wild. Letting out a muffled squeal around his dick, she cums all over his face, squirting for him in no time at all. For just a brief moment, Harry allows himself to feel a smug sense of satisfaction that he managed to make her cum first… and then she redoubles her pace on his cock and Harry isn’t able to feel anything but pleasure as she shows just how much she’s been holding back.
“Glughk! Glughk! Glughk!”
Enthusiastically deep-throating his dick now, swallowing his entire impressive length down the back of her esophagus, the crazy clown bitch buries her nose in her taint, the feel of her breathing in his musk tickling that spot and leaving Harry shivering and shuddering. She’s not particularly skilled by any estimation, her way of sucking his dick is incredibly heavily handed and more about force and violence than anything else.
Except, more than anything, it’s force and violence she’s using against herself. It’s like some maniac trained her to suck cock by grabbing her by those big bell-ornamented things coming off of her jester hat and just face fucked her on their cock until she was a spluttering, gagging, choking mess of a woman. She had in turn taken this technique and run with it, apparently quite well-versed at doing it to herself now.
It was honestly a little concerning… but also incredibly hot, Harry had to admit. The way she effectively impaled her throat on his dick, forcing herself to take him all the way to the base time and time again, the way she fondled his balls almost lovingly at the same time… the way she swirled her tongue around his cockhead whenever she was pulled back enough to do so, and writhed it across the top of his shaft whenever she was hilting him in her throat…
All of it combined to create one truly phenomenal experience, and Harry can’t deny that he’s a little distracted from his own work at that point, groaning as he is under the onslaught of pleasure that the crazed harlequin is visiting upon him. In no time at all, her technique yields certifiable results, and with a loud groan, Harry ends up cumming right down her throat.
But does she stop there? Does she even stop to sputter and cough and gasp as his cum shoots out of her nostrils and the sides of her mouth? One might expect her to… but nope. As if she was more than used to such abuse, as if she was more than used to being forced to endure in spite of it, the crazy clown bitch just keeps going… and Harry feels like his soul is being damn-near sucked out of his body in the process!
Her technique is overwhelming brute force, just like what she used in battle. The way she continues to choke herself on his cock after extracting his first load from it… it’s something that no self-respecting woman would do. Something that no sane woman would do either. It’s… completely and utterly wild, crazy behavior.
And yet, she keeps on going, and it’s all Harry can do to try and keep up with his own end of things, his tongue still writhing in her cunt as she bounces her big athletic booty up and down on his face. And yes, he manages to draw a couple more orgasms from her… but in a strange ironic twist, it’s he who’s being completely pushed to his limits by the crazy jester lady, her sucking technique driving HIM absolutely wild and leaving him cumming buckets for her.
She laughs maniacally as she proceeds to bathe her upper body in his cum, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of him. He thought he was damn near spent, but as it turns out, he did have some reserves… and she finds them, this insane clown woman. She finds his reserves and she does her level best to drain him dry.
Finally, around the fourth or so orgasm that he manages to force out of her, she pulls her hips up, dragging her ass out of his grip and her cunt and clit away from his tongue and his fingers. In a startling display of acrobatics, the jester woman down a handstand on his thighs and spins herself around, before coming back down in an incredibly smooth, incredibly flexible motion.
Utilizing the hole HE’D torn in the crotch of her costume, the clown proceeds to do a perfect split right onto his cock, driving herself down onto his dick without a second’s hesitation, impaling herself on his spit-polished length even as it throbs almost painfully from just how much she’s already drawn out of it. Harry is still hard as she rams herself down onto his shaft, but for how much longer, he really couldn’t say. There’s a slight pain in his balls at this point, and definitely not the good kind of pain. He’s feeling distinctly empty in a way that goes beyond merely ‘spent’ and leaves him starting to worry for his very life.
With a lustful cackle, the crazy clown begins to tear at her jumpsuit, ripping it off of herself and even removing her jester’s hat as well to reveal her blonde locks done up in pigtails. She grins down at him quite madly as she rubs his cum into her pale body, moaning all the while. The satisfaction in her grin is not lost on Harry, even as he stares up at her, his own face covered in her pussy juices, his elongated tongue slid back into his mouth and returned to it’s natural size with his lips pursed shut.
“The name’s Harley Quinn by the way, Mistah~ You can call me Harley!”
Well, he supposes it’s good to finally have a name to put to the face. Part of Harry feels somewhat dense for not figuring it out sooner. Though, how could he have possibly suspected that the crazy clown lady’s name would be a literal play on the word ‘harlequin’.
“Harry. You can call me… Harry.”
Cackling madly, Harley runs her hands over his slightly hairy chest and works her hips across his crotch, which has its own fair share of pubic hair.
“That you are, ‘hairy’~”
The joke is too easy, but it reminds Harry of Sirius, just for a moment. It’s the sort of pun his godfather would have loved to make. It leaves him smiling, just for a second. And then Harley is riding him, and it’s all Harry can do to hang on for dear life.
“Oh yeah, baby! That’s it! Give it to me! Give your big fat cock to lil ole Harley!”
Harry can only grunt in response. Frankly, there’s nothing little about Harley. She might be short, but then, he’s pretty short as well, his growth somewhat stunted in his younger years by the Dursleys’ horrendous neglect. As far as the rest of the crazy clown went however, she was anything BUT little. From her gorgeous tits to her wide hips to her thicc powerful thighs and athletic ass… yeah, she wasn’t little, no sir.
But he wasn’t about to say that wasn’t about to contradict the crazy woman who had his life in her hands. At the same time though, he had no intentions of just lying back and taking it now, when he hadn’t done so before. His hands come up to grab Harley by the hips, and he begins to use the last bits of his strength and stamina to thrust up into her from below.
Her mad eyes widen slightly and her red lips curl in excitement as she licks them salaciously.
“That’s the stuff, Harry! Show me what you’re made of!”
Her accent is certainly interesting. It’s been hard to focus on all this time and is still hard to focus on. It’s decidedly American, but truth be told, Harry doesn’t have enough experience with the States to be able to place it properly. She sounds very different from Zatanna though, that’s for sure. There’s a certain twang to Harley’s accent that’s arousing enough in it’s own right, and as she eggs him on, Harry puts a bit more speed into his rising hips, even if he really doesn’t have much left to give at this point.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily depending on how one looks at it, Harley is mostly in control of the encounter. Specifically, she’s in surprising control of herself. With seriously impressive mastery of her own athletic body, her pussy muscles hold his cock inside of her like a vice as she bounces up and down on him, squealing like an overenthusiastic pig and clearly not caring what she sounds like.
The crazy bitch is, without a doubt, the most intense lay Harry has ever had. Now perhaps that’s simply because of what he spent the previous night doing. After all, that was pretty fucking intense in it’s own right. Two Argoans and an American witch, all vying for his cock. But for that, Harry had held all the cards, or at least most of them. He’d had his magic and his full stamina at his disposal, and he’d fucking used them to completely wreck the three women he’d left behind on that rooftop.
In comparison, he was… at his limit. And Harley was very much not going to stop, even if he told her how exhausted he was. In the end, all Harry could do was try to endure the deranged clown’s excited riding as she bounces on him cowgirl style, riding him to kingdom cum and perhaps the end of his young life. Death by Sex? What a way to go…
As Harley bounces on his dick, as she rides him like a woman possessed, Harry tries to keep up. Really, he does. But more often than not, she’s the one pulling him up by his hips with her insane control over her pussy muscles alone. Then, as if that’s not enough, Harley lunges forward after a moment, and she attacks his mouth with hers, her tongue going absolutely wild as it pushes hungrily past his lips.
At that moment, Harley’s hips and cunt go for the kill as she somehow manages to pick up her tempo AGAIN! In the midst of this, as Harry feels his weak, sore body protesting all of this rough treatment, and his balls churning with what might be one last load, he groans out when Harley comes up for air finally, finding himself outwardly musing on his circumstances.
“I swear to fucking Merlin, this world is filled with crazy women out to jump my bones…”
Cackling madly at that, Harley smacks her hands on either side of his face and goes right back to kissing him as she continues her insane tempo, before finally pulling back as they reach the ultimate crescendo.
“You’re just too much fun, Mistah Harry!”
And then he’s cumming inside of her, filling her womb with his seed and creampieing her on the spot with what might just be his final load of his life. Or maybe Harry is being overly dramatic, because he doesn’t necessarily FEEL like he’s dying. Harley, meanwhile, experiences an explosive orgasm of her own… and manages to make it look incredibly silly and ridiculous as she goes cross-eyed with a big stupid grin on her painted face, cumming so hard that her body twitches and spasms, and her toes curl up as if she was shocked by an electrical current.
The lewd harlequin flops forward onto his chest after a moment, and for a split second Harry allows himself to hope that they’re done. But then she begins to push herself up from his torso, her pussy still refusing to let his softening cock go as she looks him in the eye, clearly more than ready for another round. He might not have died yet… but there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that he’s not going to survive this. His heart will give out at this rate before Harley’s finished with him.
Snorting derisively in the face of his impending demise (after all, he’s never been one to fear death, Harry quirks up the side of his mouth, speaking mostly to himself even as he looks up into Harley’s eyes.
“I suppose I’ll at least die the way most men dream of going…”
Harley begins to pout at that but makes no move to get off of him. In fact, she’s grinding down on his softening cock despite his clear exhaustion. Before she can speak up however, another voice speaks up with a lilting, husky tone.
“Oh now… that would be such a waste, don’t you think?”
Blinking, Harry finds himself looking up from his position on his back, away from Harley’s face where the crazy clown is sat on his cock and up to the woman who’s suddenly standing over his head. A beautiful light-green face framed with red hair hovers over him and smiles wickedly as she gives him a wink… and blows him a kiss.
“Nightie-night.”
Much to his shock and Harley’s happy surprise, he feels his cock hardening up again inside of the clown’s cunt… even as consciousness flees him, and he falls asleep with the distinct smells of roses and sex flaring his nostrils.
-x-X-x-
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