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The Happy Hotwives of Hogsmeade	By : Wimp36 Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 33578 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of its characters, premises, or related information from either the books or movies. I make no profit from this story.

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Hermione Granger entered service at the Ministry of Magic expecting — and knowing that she deserved — a meteoric rise. Her initial position of Special Junior Aide to the Minister had her in the thick of things from day one, and by the end of six months, she was seen as indispensable, not only by the Minister, but also by most of the high officials of the Ministry of Magic. Less than two years saw her promotion to Special Counsel to the Magical Cabinet and legislative successes in the form a House Elves Bill of Rights, a new set of statutes regarding wizarding relations with muggles, and, her greatest success, a Sentient Species Equality Act, which ensured equal treatment for goblins, vampires, werewolves, and other non-human, but sentient, magical creatures. She wore her success well, maturing in many ways beyond her years, while maintaining a youthful energy.

Hermione had never really considered herself to be beautiful. Only her parents had ever called her that routinely. Ron called her beautiful for the first time on their wedding day, and a cynical part of her brain ascribed that to his following custom. She knew, of course, that he found her attractive, but she hardly considered herself a great beauty. That is until she started to pay attention to how men at the Ministry regarded her.

When she started her job, she had dressed in rather ordinary pantsuits or skirts. But, as her success grew, so too did her paycheck, and she found herself frequenting more fashionable stores in muggle London, amassing a wardrobe of designer labels and couture dresses. She treated these outfits as both armor and weaponry. A subtle hint of cleavage or a small slit in the side of a skirt — never enough to even come close to crossing a line of decency — was enough to distract most men subconsciously, as was a touch of perfume. The men she dealt with would be just slightly distracted by her appearance, which, coupled with their natural inclination to underestimate her, let her slide in the proverbial knife. Other women went in awe of her, seeing in her an image of what they never dared let themselves be.

Oddly, her sex life seemed to move in the opposite direction of her career. Some of this was, undoubtedly, due to her increasing time commitments, but it didn’t seem to be entirely so. Even prior to marriage, she and Ron had fooled around quite a bit, and after marriage they had enjoyed almost daily sex. Ron was an eager and energetic — if not entirely proficient — lover. As Hermione grew more confident at work and in life, however, she’d started to take more control in the bedroom. Ron submitted to this readily, becoming an excellent pussy-licker and a pliant partner. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what Hermione really wanted. She wanted wild passion and competition in the bedroom. She’d come to love the battle of wills that was politics and longed for its mirror image in her sex life. She wouldn’t mind submitting after a protracted struggle, but Ron was never one to give it to her.

The evening of her promotion, the Minister took her out to a celebratory dinner in muggle London. Flush with success, and a little tipsy, she hailed a cab to take her home. She’d insisted on residence in muggle London so that she could stay in touch with that side of her life better. It was also more comfortable to live with muggle amenities. She greeted the night porter with a cheerful wave and got into the lift.

“Hold the lift!” Shouted a giggling voice, and Hermione instinctively reached out to stop the door closing.

Two figures rocketed into the lift with her. The one who had shouted was a petite young woman of around twenty-one or twenty-two, wearing an extremely short sparkling gold dress and carrying impossibly high stiletto heels. The woman had a blonde bob of hair, bright green eyes, a cute button of a nose, and gloriously round and firm-looking breasts.

Hermione recognized the man as her neighbor, Marcus Beckett; a tall and muscular black man who worked in sports journalism. He was a friendly and helpful person who she and Ron had had around for dinner and drinks several times. The pair were clearly quite drunk, and as the lift rose slowly to the twentieth floor, the woman pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Hermione couldn’t help notice that, when she rose on tiptoe to reach his lips, her dress rode up, revealing a lack of knickers. She also groped at Marcus’s crotch, her hand closing around a massive bulge in his trousers.

She blushed and looked away. The pair broke apart and Marcus coughed.

“Sorry about that, Hermione. Little carried away.”

“Hermione?” Asked the woman. “That’s a pretty name. And you’re super hot! Want to join us?”

Hermione was stunned for a moment, and for that same moment a subconscious part of her mind considered the offer. It had been nearly two weeks since she and Ron had made love, and her body was starting to express its neediness, driving her to masturbate more frequently in anticipation for the real thing.

“She’s married, Jules,” said Marcus, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts, as the door opened on their floor. The woman tugged him out behind her and he turned his head to mouth “sorry” to Hermione, who managed a shrug and a wink. The couple raced down the hall to Marcus’s flat while Hermione caught her breath.

“Feel free to join!” Called the girl as they hurried away.

Hermione waited until she heard Marcus’s door close before heading down the hall, slightly unsteady, to their own flat. Ron wasn’t home yet, which wasn’t surprising. He managed the London branch of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, while George, Angelina, and Lee were in Paris setting up a third location. The store was open late on Fridays, and he likely wouldn’t be home until nearly midnight.

Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and ran a bath. While the tub filled, she removed her work clothes, stopping when she reached her lingerie to admire her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She’d chosen a deep burgundy set of lingerie for the day: a lacy bra, silk knickers, a lacy garter, and black stockings. She ran a hand from her breasts down to her crotch almost unconsciously, and was somewhat surprised to find that her knickers were damp. She stripped off the rest of her clothes and slid into her bath with a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and letting muscles relax. She had several minutes of bliss before noises reached her through the wall and she realized that her bathroom must share a wall with Marcus’s bedroom.

At first the noises were somewhat vague, but they quickly became louder and more distracting. Suddenly

“Fuck!” Came a loud woman’s voice. “That’s even bigger than I thought it was going to be!”

A deep male voice answered in softer tones. The answer was followed by the sound of bed springs creaking and indistinct vocalizations from the girl.

Hermione’s mind raced. Should she leave? Cast a silencing spell? Surely she couldn’t stay in the bath any longer: it would be an invasion of Marcus’s privacy, wouldn’t it? Then again, the girl had clearly been open to intrusions, so it couldn’t hurt. Besides: she was in her bath in her flat. She had every right to be here.

Almost of its own accord, one of her hands slipped under the water and found her slick folds, one finger slipping inside. At the same time, she let her head rest against the wall beside the tub, listening intently for any hint of what was transpiring. Unfortunately, the gentle thud of musical bass was covering any other sounds. The hand at her vagina was growing more active as her imagination ran wild, but it wasn’t enough.

By now her mind was a tumult of horny thoughts: good sense and propriety were long gone. She grabbed her wand and pointed it at the wall.

“Perlucidia,” she said, turning the wand in a slow circle. As she did, the wall in front of her grew transparent, and the sound level increased. The effect would only be visible on her side of the wall. The spell was perfect for spies or voyeurs, but wasn’t in broad circulation, having been invented by Luna for her NEWT-level Charms exam (the obvious implications of such a spell had resulted in a high-level Ministry order that it not be disseminated further).

Through the somewhat misty barrier Hermione could now see into Marcus’s bedroom. Marcus himself sat on his bed, completely naked, smoking a joint. Hermione gawked at the chiseled onyx perfection of his body. She couldn’t help but imagine running her hands over the hard muscles of his arms and chest; letting his body press her petite frame into the bed as he kissed her… When her eyes settled on his cock, she had to gasp aloud.

She had assumed that he had been hard in the elevator. Even that would have been — to her inexperienced mind — massive, but the truth was something else altogether. At least ten inches of thick, rock hard flesh jutted up from between his legs. Her hand worked furiously below the water.

Now her eyes found the girl, who was standing across the room near the stereo, gyrating seductively. She’d put her heels back on, but wore nothing else save piercings in her nipples and navel. When she turned to show Marcus her toned butt, Hermione could see that her crotch was shaved completely bare, in contrast to her own well-groomed, but still hairy bush. The girl also had a curious tattoo above her mound, which looked like the spades symbol from a deck of cards. The bangle on her belly-button piercing had the same shape, and, on closer examination, Hermione saw a similar tattoo on one ankle. The shape clearly meant something, but at the moment, Hermione didn’t care.

“Get that fine arse over her,” said Marcus, putting his joint down on a nearby ash tray. “I want that mouth on my cock.”

“Mmm,” purred the girl, strutting across the room. “I bet it tastes delicious.” She crawled up the bed and kissed him passionately, letting his tongue explore her mouth for a moment, before sliding down his chest, her tongue darting out to lick his abs. When she reached his cock, she took hold of it in one hand and licked its entire length, making eye contact with Marcus the whole time. He closed his eyes in apparent ecstasy and she lowered her head to take one of his balls — each one was the size of a small plum — into her mouth. He grunted and wove a hand into her hair.

“I said I want that mouth on my cock, slut,” he said, suddenly commanding and intense, pulling her head away from his balls and up his shaft.

“Yes, daddy,” said the girl. She opened her mouth wide and took the head of Marcus’s cock into her mouth.

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She’d never given a blowjob before — it wasn’t that she found the act inherently degrading, she’d just never done it, and Ron had never pressed her to do so — and couldn’t quite fathom how something so large could fit in a person’s mouth. Even Ron’s five inch cock struck her as too big for the act. This tiny girl, though, seemed to relish the challenge: each bob of her head took a little more of the giant black shaft into her mouth, and evidence of her arousal was clear on her thighs, which were glistening wetly.

Needing to know at least a little of what the girl was feeling, Hermione grabbed a shampoo bottle and cast a quick transfiguration spell on it, transforming it into a seven-inch pink dildo (she hadn’t wanted to give herself too much of a challenge on her first try, but her mind had pushed her to make something bigger than Ron’s cock). Imitating the girl, she brought the dildo to her lips and opened her mouth. The rubber cock felt unnaturally large in her mouth, and she strained to take more and more of its length, imaging all the while what it must feel like to have a flesh-and-blood cock take its place.

The girl was now bobbing her head up and down with great speed, her eyes fixed on Marcus’s face. Hermione set the dildo on the edge of the tub and cast another spell, which zoomed the image on the wall in so that the two figures were life-size. Trying to look at Marcus’s face in the image, she took the dildo back into her mouth and began to bob her head up and down on it. Marcus suddenly placed his hand back on the girl’s head and pressed her head down, forcing her mouth all the way down his cock. Her throat bulged at the intrusion. Unconsciously, Hermione tried to imitate the girl, and found herself gagging on the dildo, and hurriedly pulled it out. The girl gagged, too, but only slightly, and never so much as tried to pull her head back.

Marcus grunted and pulled the girls mouth off his cock.

“Time for some pussy,” he said, standing. He swatted the girl’s bum as she turned to lie on her back. “Tell me you want this cock.”

“I need your cock, daddy,” said the girl, panting a little. “I need your big black cock in my tiny white pussy! Please fuck me, daddy!” Marcus grinned, grabbed one of her ankles in each hand, spread her legs wide, and sank his entire length into her pussy.

“Oh my god!” Gasped Hermione, bringing her own dildo to her pussy and shoving it in. Even its comparatively small size filled her more than Ron’s cock ever had, but her exclamation was equally based on the sight of Marcus’s cock stretching out the blonde’s tiny pussy. She altered the view of the adjacent room again so that she could see the action from a slightly higher angle. Marcus’s cock — which was easily the thickness of a Pringles can — stretched the girl’s pussy to seemingly inhuman proportions. After almost no time at all, the girl was cumming: shrieking in ecstasy as Marcus thrust his massive bulk against her petite frame.

Between the sounds — Marcus’s grunts, the girl’s cries, the wet sounds of an overstimulated pussy, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the creak of bed springs — the sight, and the urgent thrusting of her dildo into her own pussy (not to mention the pent up tension of weeks of high-pressure work with no sexual relief other than her own fingers) Hermione, too, was nearing her climax. A brief touch to her wand and the dildo in her pussy expanded an inch in every direction and began to thrust on its own, ramming forcefully into her needy quim. She gripped the edge of the tub with both hands as her eyes remained fixed on the sight before her.

Marcus had flipped the girl over and put one leg up on the bed. He gripped her short hair in one hand while the other delivered hard slaps to her upturned ass.

“Harder, daddy!” Cried the girl. “Fuck me harder! Fuck! Harder! Harder!”

He obliged, driving his cock into her with greater and greater force. Hermione’s eyes unfocused for a moment as her first orgasm washed through her, but she remained fixated on the pair in the other room.

“Fuck me, Marcus,” she moaned, imagining that it was his cock buried to the hilt in her pussy. “Fuck me! Fuck me!” Her voice swelled in volume, but she didn’t care if anyone heard her (though it was unlikely, given the volume that Marcus and Jules were giving off).

“Where do you want it?” Grunted Marcus.

“Wherever you want, daddy,” said Jules, who seemed almost incoherent with pleasure.

“On your knees,” ordered Marcus, pulling his cock out of her pussy, which gaped slightly in the absence of his member.

Jules threw herself to her knees beside the bed and stared up at Marcus, eyes and mouth both opened as wide as they could go. Her hand gripped his mammoth thighs as he stroked his cock. His orgasm came at the same moment as Hermione’s second massive, body-shaking climax. Jets of thick white cum shot from the end of his cock, plastering one of Jules’s eyes shut, streaking into her hair, over her cheeks, and into her mouth. She collapsed backwards, trembling, and began to scoop all of the stray semen into her mouth, moaning in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Screamed Hermione, as her dildo brought her to yet another orgasm, and she thrashed, sending sheets of water slopping over the sides of the tub.

“Hermione?” Called a voice from the entrance of the apartment. “Are you all right?”

Ron was home.

“Yes!” She shouted back, trying to control her voice. “Just slipped trying to getting out of the bath! I’m fine!”

Hurriedly, she ended her spying spell and returned the dildo to its previous form just as Ron poked his head through the door.

“Everything okay? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. The wine and hot water went to my head a little. Long day at work.”

“Okay. I knocked off a bit early. Slow night. Want me to order dinner? I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I could eat again. Pizza? I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“All right. Chicken and veg? I’ll call it in.”

Ron left and Hermione sank back fully into the water, noticing for the first time that it had cooled considerably. How long had she been in the tub? She cast a quick tempus charm, revealing that she’d been in the tub nearly an hour. She pulled out the plug and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her body. Curiosity once again getting the better of her, she once again charmed the wall to transparency and could see Marcus lying on his back in bed, his cock already returning to a state of erection. Jules emerged from the bathroom, clearly having gone to clean up, and got into bed, kissing him and then, once again snaking down to engulf his cock in her mouth.

Ending the charm and marveling at their stamina, Hermione left the bathroom, dressed quickly in sweats and a loose tank top, and joined Ron in the living room, where he had sprawled on the sofa with a glass of beer. He had thoughtfully poured a fresh glass of wine for her and set out a bowl of crisps. The television was on, showing an episode of East Enders, a show that both of them enjoyed as a guilty pleasure. She sat down next to him, feet curled up under her.

“Would you rub my feet, Ron?” She asked, after a while, extending her legs to rest her feet in his lap. “I was on my feet all day running back and forth at the Ministry.”

“Sure,” said Ron, who not-so-secretly loved anything to de with Hermione’s feet. He took one foot in both hands and began to knead and rub. As he did, Hermione started to rub her other foot into his lap, at first slowly and subtly. When she felt his cock stiffening, she started to rub more deliberately. He glanced at her, clearly stunned at her deliberately provocative behavior. She smirked back at him and began to rub his cock in earnest, causing him to whimper in anticipation.

Her fun was interrupted by the bell ringing.

“Go get the pizza, Ron?” She said, pulling her feet away from his lap.

“Can’t you get it, Hermione? I’ve got, um…” he pointed at his lap, where his trousers were slightly tented.

“It’s hardly noticeable,” teased Hermione, wickedly. “Just go get the pizza. I’ll fetch another bottle of wine.”

“All right,” said Ron, blushing furiously. Hermione summoned a bottle of wine, keeping her eyes on Ron as he made his way to the door. As she had hoped, the pizza was being delivered by their usual delivery person: a university student named Naomi who lived in the building with her parents and worked at the pizza shop down the road. Ron and Hermione had baby-sat for Naomi’s young son on occasion, and Hermione had tutored the girl a bit for her history classes at university.

“Hi Mr. Weasley,” said the girl, smiling at Ron. She was a tall dark-skinned girl with an impish sense of humor. “Late dinner tonight?”

“Yup,” said Ron, clearly trying to hide his erection with the partially opened door. “Here’s twenty…keep the change?”

“Sure,” said Naomi, glancing down briefly, and clearly catching a glimpse of the small tent in Ron’s trousers, though she didn’t linger on it. “Hermione home, or are you a bachelor for the night?”

“Hi, Naomi,” called Hermione, waving. “Do you have time for a glass of wine?”

“Sure, Mrs. Granger,” said the girl, smiling at Ron’s blushing face. “It’s a slow night at the shop, and Mr. Murthy won’t mind.” She pushed past Ron into the flat, kissed Hermione on the cheek, and settled on the armchair. Ron followed her into the living room, still blushing, and set the pizza box on the coffee table.

“Grab some plates, Ron?” Asked Hermione, pouring wine for her and Naomi. “Want a slice, Naomi? We really shouldn’t be splitting a whole pizza between just the two of us.”

“Why not,” said the girl, accepting a large glass of red wine and clinking glasses with Hermione. “It sounds like that sexy Mr. Beckett is having some fun next door,” she added, and, with a sidelong glance at Ron, continued, “are your walls thick enough to block it out, or did you hear?”

“The walls aren’t quite that thick,” admitted Hermione. She and Naomi both giggled as Ron returned with a fresh beer, three plates, and napkins.

“It’s bad,” said Naomi, accepting a slice of pizza from Ron, who’s cock had started to behave, “but I have to say: I’m a little jealous of whoever the girl is.”

“What?” Asked Ron, sitting down with his own pizza.

“Marcus has a friend over,” said Hermione. “Apparently they’re being a bit noisy, and Naomi is curious.” She winked at the younger girl.

“Oh,” said Ron, blushing again, and stared at his food intently.

“Mind if I use the washroom?” Asked Naomi. “I should wash my hands if I’m going to eat.”

“You know where it is,” said Hermione, gesturing with her pizza. Naomi got up and flounced towards the bathroom. Hermione glanced at Ron, who was clearly trying very hard not to admire the round, denim short-clad bottom and long brown legs retreating down the hall.

“Naomi has a little crush on Marcus,” said Hermione, quietly. “Can you imagine?”

Ron blushed again, and Hermione laughed, putting her had on his crotch, feeling his hard cock twitching.

“I guess you can,” she said, and, in a spur of the moment decision (one that was completely contrary to her usual character) slipped her hand under the waistband of Ron’s trousers and grabbed his cock. She started to rapidly stroke his cock, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Honestly, it gets me a little wet thinking about it…Marcus’s big black cock and Naomi’s tiny little body? It’s so hot!”

“Fuck,” groaned Ron, as he exploded into his pants. “Shit! What got into you Hermione? Now I have to…shit!”

Hermione withdrew her hand just in time as Naomi returned from the bathroom, wiping on her napkin as the girl sat down and started to eat her pizza. It didn’t look like she’d noticed anything about Ron and Hermione’s recent actions, but she did look a little flushed. Hermione assumed that Marcus and Jules were still going at it next door and that Naomi had been listening through the wall.

Fortunately for Ron, Naomi ate quickly and let herself be occupied by questions from Hermione about her studies while he shifted, trying not to expose the wet stain on his trousers or his rapidly re-hardening cock. When she had finished her wine and pizza she stood up and stretched, her uniform polo shirt coming untucked from her shorts, exposing an expanse of toned midriff. Ron squirmed uncomfortably.

“I really should get back to work,” said Naomi. “Thanks for the wine, Hermione. Bye, Ron!”

“Have a good night, Naomi,” said Hermione.

“Bye,” said Ron, in a slightly choked voice. He waited for the door to close behind Naomi before turning to Hermione.

“What the hell, Hermione!” He stammered, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. She shoved him backwards onto the sofa and stood up, pulling off her sports bra and kicking off her sweatpants. She peeled off her very damp knickers while Ron struggled to get out his shirt and jeans simultaneously. Hermione leaned down and kissed him forcefully before pushing him flat again and swinging a leg over his head and lowering her pussy onto his face.

As always, Ron submitted readily to her, and began to enthusiastically eat her out. She was so horny that she only lasted a few short minutes before her body began to shake and she tightened her thighs around Ron’s head.

“Fuck!” She grunted, “Right there! Right fucking there! Don’t you dare fucking stop! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

The last came out as a piercing shriek as she came, fluid gushing out onto Ron’s face. She was still unbelievably horny and rolled off him. She kissed him hard and then engulfed his cock in her mouth, giving the first real blowjob of her life. She could taste the lingering traces of Ron’s cum from his earlier orgasm and was slightly repelled by the acrid salty taste, but ignored it, trying to imagine what a massive cock like Marcus’s would feel like in her mouth. Ron’s own five inches didn’t even fill her as much as the dildo had, but she found herself almost enjoying herself.

“Merlin’s balls,” she heard Ron moan, “who are you and what did you do to Hermione? Fuck!”

Hermione felt Ron tense and her mouth filled with thick salty liquid. She pulled back, letting most of the cum drain out of her mouth and pool around Ron’s cock. She kissed him again, fiercely. He didn’t seem to even register that a not inconsiderable amount of his own semen ended up in his mouth.

“Go get cleaned up. Meet me in the bedroom.”

Ron dashed off the bathroom and Hermione stood, glancing at her reflection in the tall window that looked out on the London skyline. She drained the rest of her wine, poured a fresh glass and headed for the bedroom.

When Ron left the bathroom after a quick shower, he saw his wife sprawled on their bed with her legs spread wide, teasing her clit with a small vibrator.

“Good,” she said, looking up to see Ron. “Come over here. I want you to eat my pussy again, then you’re going to fuck me!”

“No arguments here,” said Ron, though he wasn’t sure he could get it up a third time in such a short period of time. He got to work, lapping and sucking worshipfully at Hermione’s pussy. He loved little in life more than the taste of his wife’s cunt or the sounds of her pleasure. It had been too long since he’d had the pleasure of tasting her, and he relished it.

“Mmmm,” said Hermione, moaning in pleasure. “Are you hard yet? I need your cock in me, Ron.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” whined Ron. “I don’t think it’s going to happen again. I’ve already cum twice! And you gave me a blowjob…I think that’ll wipe me out for ages!”

“For fuck’s sake!” Growled Hermione. She grabbed her wand from the night stand and swished it through the air, conjuring a large, bright red dildo. It was a little bigger than the one she’d used earlier, but still quite a bit smaller than Marcus’s cock.

Hermione shoved Ron onto his back and straddled his face.

“Keep licking while I fuck myself with this!” She snarled, grinding her pussy onto Ron’s shocked face. She rammed the dildo into herself and grabbed her wand, setting the artificial cock to plundering her hole at an incredible pace. After a few stunned moments, Ron began to lick at her clit, increasing the pleasure that was coursing through her body.

Hermione had never felt this way before. She felt completely filled; she felt small; she felt submissive, yet in control at the same time.

She felt powerful.

She could also feel an orgasm rapidly approaching and pressed herself harder into Ron’s face as the dildo picked up its pace.

“Yes!” She screamed. “Fuck me! Fuck me Mar…” she managed to turn what would have been a plea for Marcus’s cock into an incoherent groan at the last second. A small part of her mind actually cared that she’d nearly divulged her fantasy, but the vast majority of her brain wouldn’t have cared if she had screamed Marcus’s name. In fact, even as her orgasm began to fade, she wished she had done so in the hopes that he would have heard and come over to fuck her for real.

At last, her orgasm subsided and she rolled off Ron’s face, exhausted. She lay panting for several long minutes as tiny tremors continued to course through her body. Finally, she felt her body return to normal and she sat up.

She looked at her husband, only to find that he was already asleep. She shook her head and got up to tidy the flat and get ready for bed. As she stood brushing her teeth, she couldn’t help putting her ear to the wall. The sounds from the other flat were fainter, as if they had moved to another room, but still decidedly present. The thought of Marcus’s stamina caused her pussy to gush again and she reluctantly made herself return to her bed, though nearly every fiber of her being longed to go knock on his door.

After considerable tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep, and into dreams filled with throbbing black cocks.
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The Happy Hotwives of Hogsmeade