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Omake 1 (Nice, France)

"Damn you, Harry," Hermione murmured softly to herself as she glanced around the beach. "Damn you for ruining this for me."

"What's that, sweetie?" her mother, Emma, askes softly, barely audible over the waves and chatter of hundreds of people talking nearby. The older woman was wearing only the tiniest of thongs on her lower half, her breasts and otherwise flawless skin oiled and tanning beautifully on the white beach. Hermione herself wore even less, which was a first for her even on the totally nude beaches they would be visiting later in the vacation, and was laying next to her mother on a towel while her father tried to learn, once again, to surf properly.

"Nothing, Mum," the young witch answered a bit louder, "Just talking to myself."

"Sounded like you were cursing one of your best friends," Emma said, "Not 'nothing'."

Hermione's mother waited, and waited a bit longer. Her daughter was easily as stubborn as she herself, but she also knew how to wear the younger girl down. She would happily research and discuss a problem to death, two traits Hermione had inherited from her father and mother, respectively, but if she was stuck...

It had been a struggle to teach her to ask for help, and sometimes it still was. If the witch was really having an issue, it was best to let her come to her own decision to ask for it rather than prod, though. Pushing too hard would just make her clam up. So she waited, and a bit more.

The older woman, muggle-raised, knew something was wrong, of course, had for days. It was obvious that something had changed in her daughter from the moment she had seen her at King's Cross at the end of her fifth school year. They were nearly half-way through the summer, now, in the middle of the trip they took every other year to the beaches of southern France. But Emma hadn't dared say anything about her suspicions, if only because it could push Hermione from asking for help, and incense the girl's father.

At least, if her suspicions were accurate. Emma Granger simply didn't know if she wanted to be right this time, or not. There were... things that had to be discussed, either way. Hermione was a smart girl, and no doubt had put a great deal of thought into the matter whether she was right or not. Emma would just have to trust her, she knew that.
Trust her, like she trusted her husband at the topless, even nude beaches they frequented while in France. She let him look. A part of Emma encouraged him to look, because that left her able to look, too. And she really did like that part. Men, women, it didn't matter particularly to her. She'd never cheated, and never wanted to, because she loved Daniel with all her heart. But that didn't mean she didn't think about it, or fantasize.

Even a few times about Hermione's own young friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. They were both handsome young men in their own way, and would be stunning as they finished maturing. Not that she would ever do anything about it, of course.

But Hermione didn't need to know that, not just yet. It had been an interesting conversation or twenty the first time they had explained that it was okay, at these beaches, for women to be topless. Not everywhere, of course (because the girl had struggled for years with not even wanting to wear clothes as a child), but here it was acceptable. Then the truly nude beaches! Of course, once the idea had settled in Hermione's head she was able to enjoy it and relax as much as everyone else.

Until, it seemed, this trip.

Emma's own patience was about to break when her daughter's snapped first.

"I'm not a virgin anymore," Hermione blurted out. Not loudly, but far above the quiet murmur she had used before.

Emma cracked an eye to see that Hermione had sat up and pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. How did a mother respond to that...? Well, really there was only one way she could think of, and one follow-up. "Okay. Ron, or Harry?"

As the mother of an extremely intelligent young witch, it wasn't always easy to get Hermione's mind to stall out. Thus, Emma took great pleasure in watching her daughter blink several times, then slowly, almost as if she were possessed, turn her soft brown eyes in her mother's direction. "Um... what?"

"I asked who you lost it to," Emma shrugged, reaching out a hand to tug her daughter's arm down and then hold tightly to her own hand as they fell onto the sand between their towels. "I assume it's one of those two, of course, but if I'm wrong...?"

"N- No... No, you're right," Hermione admitted quietly, "I just... it took me a bit by surprise. It was... Harry. Well, that part."

"Oh?"

She could ask, of course, but Emma knew very well Hermione would tell her more if she just let her talk, occasionally making it sound like she was interested. Which, of course, she was. What mother wouldn't be interested in hearing the gossip of her only daughter's love life? For support, if nothing else.

"I... I'd sort of... done Ron with my mouth. Then, um... a couple days later, I was, with Harry, to keep things, um... fair. And... and then we did more. And then with Ron a day later, and..."

The last thought Emma had before her own brain reset at the information overload her daughter had shoveled in her direction was, "Turnabout's fair play."

Hermione was grinning down at her mother, though she knew her face still burned with embarrassment at the frank discussion (something neither were strangers to, even with each other, but this was different!). "You there, Mum?"

"I... I suppose I am, yes," Emma blinked, then sat up herself to mirror her daughter's position, staring out into the water. In the distance, she could see Dan struggling to get upright as he rode another wave in, while his current mentor- a rather sexy twenty-something blonde that was flirting shamelessly before they had even left to head for the water. "You've... been with both, then?"

"I am with both," Hermione clarified, sending her mother a cautious look.

It seemed she was fully expecting judgment, and if she were honest with herself, Emma thought she should be. But... this was her daughter. At the very least, she would let her... "Explain."

Seeming relieved at the neutral delivery, if only a little, Hermione began, "W- Well, you probably know I've fancied both f- for a while... well, in the end, Harry and Ron together helped me see that... that if I couldn't choose, there was another option. And that if I did choose, I might end up hurting one of the three of us in future."

"So... what? You're in a three-way relationship?"

"N- No, not really," Hermione answered quickly, glad that her mother hadn't yet put any tone of judgment into her question, "At least not an even one. Ron and Harry aren't involved, of course, both as straight as they come, I think. But they're both... with me. And I'm with them. Both."

"I... see. And that's... alright, with you? With all three of you? You aren't going behind each other...?"

"No, no, of course not," Hermione hurried to answer, "No, I'd never! It's just... well, there's a bit more to it. Harry also has... a couple other girls he's sleeping with. I'm the one- well, one of two- he calls his girlfriend. I call Ron and Harry my boyfriend. Not really openly, but... in private, we do. So far as I know, I'm Ron's only girlfriend. But I know he's also sleeping with other people. And Ginny- that's Ron's sister, Harry's other girlfriend- is, um... well... she's occasionally with others, too. With Harry's blessing."

"I see," Emma repeated. She was completely flabbergasted. Her daughter, at sixteen, nearly seventeen, was absolutely a person she could see losing her virginity over the last year. But- but to be in what sounded very much like... "Is... Is this an, well, an open relationship?"

Her daughter was quiet for a while, then Hermione said quietly, "Sort of, I suppose. I'm sorry, it's... not that easy a question to answer. Harry is 'open'. Ron less so, but still is. I've... been with others. Sometimes, but mostly I go to one of them. Um... or Ginny. Or Lilith."

There was another sidelong glance, but if Hermione expected her mother to be shocked that she'd been with a girl or woman, she was disappointed. In fact, Hermione was the surprised one at the teasing, pleased smile on her mother's face. "How did you like it? Being with a woman, I mean."

"M- Mother!"

Emma only shrugged at the horror in her daughter's voice, and sent another grin over at her, "What? We're having a frank, mother-daughter discussion about sex, Hermione. Asking if you liked being with a girl isn't that much compared to being in what very much sounds like an open- or at least semi-open- relationship to me."

"W- Well... When you put it like that, I..."

"Besides, it isn't like you're the first girl to 'experiment' a little in school. I know I did, and your aunts both did, too. Did you know Cassie had her cherry popped by her own sister with a dildo? Marianne did hers with the same one, I heard."

Hermione gaped, now. "Wh- What? Aunt Cass and Aunt Mary?"

Emma nodded, "Yep. I heard them once night, actually. I think I was... fifteen, maybe sixteen? Curious, anyway, so I went to check and saw them going at it. I don't think I've ever mentioned it. Not our parents' business, was it? I kissed my first girl before my first boy."

"O- Oh..."

"And you know I was with others before your father. Two men... two women."

Hermione's eyes widened even further. "I... see..."

Emma only shrugged and laid back down, though she kept Hermione's hand in her own for mutual comfort. "Anyway, I don't see that part as a big deal. Sleeping with lots of people... it can cause problems, but I s'pose you're being... careful. About diseases, pregnancy, and so on...?"

"Of course! I wouldn't... I mean, I'd never want- not yet!"

"Good. So, go on. Answer my question, then!"

Hermione was quiet for a good while, and Emma watched through slitted eyelids as her daughter went back to looking over the crowd of beach-goers, most of whom wore nothing or very, very little at this particular spot. "It was... good," she finally whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the crowd and waves.

"And just the once...?"

She grinned again as Hermione shook her head. Her long, bushy hair was tied back, baring more of her currently red-brown skin (just as oiled as her front, thankfully), as the tail swung back and forth. "N- No... we're sort of... all together, I guess, in a way. H- Harry and Ron are the ones I... the ones I'm in love with. But the others are... fun."

"It does indeed sound like an open relationship, then."

Hermione shrugged, "Yes, but... only in some ways. I don't want to just sleep with... anyone. Even Harry is a little picky about- about who he's with, and he's the randiest bloke I've ever met."

"I'm sure he'll make a witch- or muggle girl, I s'pose- very happy one day, then," Emma laughed, "if and when he settles down."

Hermione shot her another glare at the insinuation that it would be her he settled with, but chose not to respond verbally aside from a grunt of agreement. "He... is pretty good. Never, um... fails. To do the job, I mean."

"I got it," Emma laughed again, and squeezed her daughter's hand. "And honestly, I'm a bit relieved to hear that. Not a lot of men his age could say that. I suppose Ron, too...?"

Hermione nodded, "He's not quite as good, but he's more than enough. It's just... I feel a bit greedy. And now, here... before, all of this...?"
The mother nodded as her daughter waved out to the beach, where the flesh and skin and bits of more than two thousand people were likely on full display. "Yes...?"

Hermione tucked her head between her knees again for a moment, then looked up and glared, this time at the crowd, "It's just... before, it was just... skin. I mean, nice skin, but I wasn't like... thinking sexual things about every Tom, Dick, and- and Dick's dick! Now, I can't seem to help it!"

That actually made Emma frown despite the humorous statement. "Sex addiction is an addiction like any other, Hermione. If it's really that bad, maybe you should..."

"No, it's not like that," Hermione protested at once, "I... there's more. But it's not addiction, so much as... well, I suppose it must look like that from the outside... but we did something. All of us... at least the main group. We need it more. Want it more. It was a ritual that did it, not... not just having sex. It made us stronger, faster... have more endurance. But it also made us crave it more. It... it fuels us, I think. It definitely fuels Harry and- and Lilith."

"I haven't heard you mention that name too much in your letters, or before," Emma reminded her. "What's her relationship with the rest of you?"

"She's... a new friend," Hermione answered quietly, "And I can't say more, not right now. She taught- taught Harry, taught all of us, a lot, though. She's, um..."
"You said she was another lover."

Hermione nodded.

Emma gave her hand another squeeze, "Honey, you don't have to be worried about that. Maybe be careful about how much you dump on your father, but before we got serious we both shared around a bit even after we started dating. He remembers being young, too. Besides..."

Hermione looked down again. "Besides, what?"

"You know that girl hanging on him?"

"The tart surfer...?"

"That's the one."

"What about her?"

Emma grinned, "Don't need to tell your father this, but if he did want a roll with her, I'd encourage it... as long as I got to join in."

"Mo-ther!"

Emma's laughter did a lot to help diffuse Hermione's tension.

Unfortunately, it did not help to diffuse, deaden, or in any way lessen the need in her loins. It had been two weeks since she'd had a cock in her pussy, and now it was all she could think about.

She was getting increasingly desperate, and she couldn't just bail on her parents to go back home for an orgy. Not even after having explained most of the situation to her mother.
No... she would just have to seek local relief.

That night, preferably... there were plenty of people on the beach well after dark, and she could find a secluded space. Just tell her parents she was going for a walk... yes, that would do.

And if her mother put it together, then... so what? She trusted her to be, well, mum about it.

It wasn't like the aching, burning need in her pussy- which Hermione had curled her legs to hide the fluid dripping from it- would settle down if she didn't do something about it.

It was the scent, Hermione decided, as much as anything else. The sight of naked bodies during daylight as it had been when she'd had that embarrassing conversation with her mother, and now those of men and women alike in the late evening hours, had been something she had grown accustomed to at least on vacation since she was twelve years old. It might have been a shock to see many of them in her normal life, but she was quite used to coming to the southern coast of France and enjoying at least two weeks where she was barely, or not at all, clothed.
Then there had been the last three months- was that really all it had been? Not even really that long!- of the last school term. She had grown not just accustomed to, but happy to see, naked flesh. Harry and Ron had just been the beginning. Now, the sight of Lilith aroused her, too, because she knew what that meant. Ginny was the same. Her best female friend had gone down on her dozens of times, and Hermione had been happy to return the favor nearly as often.

The strangest part of that was how normal it all seemed, now.
But this, this new situation, this new place- for all its every other summer familiarity- was just different from how it used to be. It had taken her days to find out why. Not just the appearance of the bodies. As a newly-awakened sexual creature herself, Hermione was still able to separate the casual nudity that was the norm here during the summer from her actual sexual thoughts. Mostly, at least.

But the smells, the scents of it all... they were new. They were exciting, in a way she was definitely not used to. Motor exhaust, distant pollution, and the smell of garbage from those who couldn't be bothered to take care of their own trash were an underlying thing, and might have put most off. But there was far more to it than that, a depth of scent that Hermione was simply not used to experiencing. Maybe it had something to do with the Runes she had been granted by Lilith, Hermione simply didn't know and could only speculate. But she was noticing things she had never done before.

Not used to experiencing aside from a few rare instances, that is. The first time she had sucked off Ron, then Hermione, the scent of their scrotums was pungent even though she knew both had (for teenage boys) pretty good personal hygiene habits. Then their semen itself... thinking about it now was making Hermione's bikini bottoms darken, she could tell just by the feel of them against her sensitive, swollen skin.
Salty, a bit briny... she had been disgusted at first, but dutifully either swallowed or let it run down her chest as requested by the boy- the young man- in question. But as she realized how much she truly enjoyed having a cock in her mouth, being able to serve and yet remain in control, Hermione had come to relish the scent of semen and dicks and arousal and sweat, and musk too, far more than she ever thought possible. The feel of it still was a bit gross to her, all slimy and runny, but the flavor, the odor...

Hermione shivered again. That wasn't all of it, either. Women, too, had been turning her on as well. Their breasts swaying or bouncing as they lay in the sun, played, and frolicked in the water. The scent of their cunts, of sweating skin pressed tight to other folds, had become arousing too.

She shivered for a third time, as a particular whiff crossed her sinuses.

A musk she had grown incredibly familiar with.

Pre-cum, sweat, and arousal from a teenage boy.

No... Hermione inhaled again, two of them.

With a glance around the partially-lit boardwalk to make sure no one was paying her too much attention, Hermione put a hand on the wand she still carried for safety after dark, and palmed it. With a tap on her forehead and a whispered word, the Dissillusionment Charm fell over her. More confident now, she stood tall and put the wand away once more.

With her parents enjoying a night of each other's company in their own hotel room, Hermione had elected to go for an after-dinner walk along the boardwalk and beaches to give them some privacy. After all, she might well enjoy the chance herself, though she hadn't mentioned as much to her parents.

It took her a few minutes to find the source of the odor in the darkness. Two young men were, indeed, standing in a shadowed corner, looking over a fence that separated the topless beaches from the fully nude ones, protecting 'innocent eyes' from those who weren't ready for such things, but also to protect beach-goers from paparazzi or random voyeurs.
Voyeurs like the two boys who were watching through a hole they had no doubt made themselves earlier. One boy was actively stroking himself, she thought, while the other only fondled a bulge in his pants, but both were watching avidly. Hermione grinned: These two would make excellent targets for her.

As she moved closer, the sounds of lust, just as familiar as the sights these days, hit her too.
Ah.. not just watching the naked bodies, but a couple actually having sex, then. That was even better, no doubt the boys would be more aroused and easier to convince themselves!

The scent of salt was still overpowering for most people, even though the bustling city of Nice practically came to the water's edge along most of this part of the coast, so everything was tinged with a hint of city and pollution, but as she crept closer to the boys, the odor of their arousal became almost cloying.

Hermione let herself revel in it for several seconds, taking deep, quiet breaths in through her nose, and letting them out through her mouth to better enjoy it. The couple on the other side of the fence, in a secluded area she knew from having been there earlier in the day, were probably mostly out of sight from the beach. But from this little alcove hidden from the main walkways, the street above, and between the two sections of the beach, they were at least somewhat vulnerable.
Not as vulnerable as the boys, though.
For a moment, Hermione thought of using magic against them. A Confundus Charm would make them very malleable, if nothing else.

But something felt wrong about that. Not just removing their ability to give informed consent, though there was certainly that. No... Hermione wanted them to want her. She wanted to be desired, so that she could service them properly.

So she let the camouflaging charm fade after applying a whispered spell or three to tighten her clothing a little, touch up her light makeup, and freshen up her breath. She didn't intend to kiss either boy- at least on the mouth- but one might catch her by surprise.
They didn't notice as she appeared, nor even as Hermione lifted a hand to start undoing the top few buttons of her blouse. They were clearly absorbed in watching their own targets, unaware someone far more available and attainable was just behind them. "What are we watching?" she whispered from inches between their two heads.

One boy yelped and jumped up, nearly slamming his shoulder into Hermione's jaw. The other actually screamed, and a moment later the couple were audibly panicked, throwing their things together, the moment ruined by being caught.

Nudity was one thing, after all, but even the relatively relaxed French didn't appreciate people fucking on their beaches. Most of the time, anyway.

"Whoah, easy," she chuckled, then switched to French. She wasn't great at the language, but had been speaking it often enough to get most conversations, at least. "Sorry, sorry. I... didn't mean to ruin your fun. But I was thinking maybe, instead of just spying on someone else, you wanted to... do something a little more direct?"

The one who had squealed and jumped looked to the other, who was a bit taller, "Est-elle sérieuse?"

Hermione snorted, replying in French instead, because the shorter of the two hadn't apparently gotten the memo that she was speaking the same language, "Yes, I'm serious. I'll suck you both off, right now, if you want."

The taller boy, who had shaggy black hair almost to his shoulders, and glasses so that he looked a little like Harry, looked down her body, then back up with a grin. "S'il vous plaît, par tous les moyens!"

More comfortable with the language, hoping they understood anyway, Hermione switched back to English after his agreement. "One rule: No touching. At all. And no names."

"Oui, oui," said the shorter, who looked a bit like Collin Creevey now that she got a better look. It had been he who was wanking, and Hermione didn't bother to do anything else before she sank to her knees.

A moment later, both boys had their pants around their ankles, and Hermione had opened her blouse to let her breasts free once more. Her nipples swelled immediately in the cooling night air, but she was plenty aroused as well. She had missed this. Missed being on her knees, with smelly, delicious cocks in her face!

The one on the left, the blonde, was definitely the smaller of the two. An inch shorter perhaps than the other boy, a finger and a half wide, and cut, he already had a dribble of pre-cum swinging from his tip. Hermione leaned in to him first and took a big whiff. Yes, it had been him she'd scented, even from a dozen feet away. Potent, odiferous... she gave him a quick lick, then wrapped her fingers around him as he moaned, before turning her attention to the taller of the two.

He really did resemble Harry superficially, but his eyes were darker, probably brown. It was hard to tell at night, with only the second-hand lights of the boardwalk and city behind her, but Hermione didn't need more to see his dick. He wasn't huge by any means, but on the larger side of average at the very least. As long as her hand, anyway, from wrist to finger. Perfectly nice, in other words, and two full fingers thick. He was uncut too, with just the head of his cock peeking out through the foreskin. It added even more flavor to the aroma, she decided, and she leaned in to smell as she brought her other hand up and pulled the skin back.

Fuck, that makes me randy, she moaned to herself, then gave him a lick, too.

She saw his hand twitch up as he gasped in pleasure, but a glare and a hissed, "No touching," had him pulling back. "One touch, and I leave. No touch, and I let you both cum harder than you ever have before."

"Oui," the taller boy said, his voice- or at least his accent- a bit strange. But Hermione couldn't focus on the why of it. She had to start sucking, and right now. Her own lust demanded it.