Magnus and His Family

Shortly after the new semester started, a major decision was made at the Larsen house.

The young folks—Paul, Kristen, Adele, and Curt—decided to rent a house of their own. With eight adults in Magnus's house, things really were getting a bit crowded—more for the older people than for the youngsters, since they had a lot of stuff that they had to keep in storage to make room for the essential possessions of everyone else. Of course, the move didn't mean that intimacy of all sorts would be a thing of the past. At least once a week, usually on weekends, the young folks came back to the Larsen house for couplings in various ways. Everyone seemed to be happy with the new arrangement.

With the football season over, Paul and Curt were somewhat at loose ends. Of course there was studying, and the constant delight of two lovely and available women was not to be denied; but the guys did find that they had some time on their hands that they didn't know what to do with. This is what led to the next phase in their love life.

Paul had come up with a plan for a little fun, and proposed it to Curt. Curt, who was by now totally devoted to Adele, wasn't sure this was something for him. In fact, when he explained the plan to Adele, she looked severely at him and said, "I don't think so." And so Curt had to tell Paul, "Sorry, guy, you'll have to go on without me."

Paul had expected such a response from his friend, so he had two backups ready for action: Fred and Andre. Fred was a big white guy from Dorchester, and the team's backup tight end; Andre was an African American of impressive size and stature, and the team's starting right cornerback.

The plan, of course, couldn't work without another person to help them; and this turned out to be a woman named Carla, who lived in the Delta Pi sorority house.

That house had something of a reputation, which is why Paul had chosen it. Carla found the plan delightful, and so one chilly night in late January she put it into action. Letting the three guys in at around 9 p.m., she led them surreptitiously to her room, where they stripped naked.

"Okay, guys," she said, "have at it."

At this point the guys began roaming the corridors of the house, crying out to let their presence be known. The sound of male voices in the place caused a lot of female heads to stick out from their rooms, and when they saw the guys in all their nudity they let out squeals of delight and faux alarm. A lot of the girls were already in their nightgowns, and they rushed out of their rooms and pretended to be in terror of their lives as they fled up and down the stairs, into other girls' rooms, and generally making an enjoyable fuss.

Sometimes a girl would let a guy catch her, whereupon he would whip off her nightgown and paw her all over. Most of the girls were quite well-endowed, so there was a lot to paw over. Pretty soon there was all manner of mayhem everywhere. Fred found himself standing in the main room of the house, on the first floor, with three different girls fighting to suck his cock as they kneeled in front of him. Andre actually lifted up one girl and impaled her on his cock, while another girl bent down and licked both his cock as it went in and out of the girl and the girl's pussy as best she could. Paul found himself lying flat on the floor, with two girls shoving their breasts in his face as he fingered both their pussies with his hands.

And so it went on merrily for quite a while. Whenever one of the guys came, everyone within sight of the event burst into a round of applause. The girls came a lot too, although sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the squeal of an orgasm and a squeal that just signified general enjoyment of the festivities.

The guys started poking their heads into the various bedrooms on the second floor, eliciting more shrieks of fake outrage and alarm. Some girls actually took it into their heads to cry out things like "Omigod! He's naked!" or "We're being invaded!" or "Are you going to have your way with me?" It was all good fun.

Paul found that one bedroom door at the very end of the corridor had remained closed. Was the occupant not there? Maybe she was already out with her guy and wouldn't be home that evening at all. Just to make sure that it wasn't someone who was missing out on the entertainment, he quietly opened the door and peeked in.

What he saw startled him.

There was a bed that was placed against the far wall of the room. In the bed was a girl. Paul could barely tell that, because she was entirely covered with blankets except for her head, which was sticking out with a look of appalling fear on the face. And yet, Paul felt that that face would have been among the most exquisitely beautiful he had ever seen. There was a tenderness, a delicacy to it that he'd rarely found in any girl at the college. The dark brunette hair framed an oval face with strikingly light gray eyes, slender nose, high cheekbones, and a gorgeous Cupid's-bow mouth that Paul immediately wanted to kiss. But right now the girl was so petrified that she might have thought Paul some kind of ogre from a fairy tale.

The first words that came out of her mouth confirmed that impression. In a soft, high-pitched voice she said: "Please don't hurt me."

Now Paul took umbrage at that. He had never mistreated any girl or woman in his whole life, and he wasn't about to start now. What he and his friends were doing here at the sorority house was just good-natured high-jinks, clearly appreciated by the sisters themselves. But then Paul tried to look at things from this frightened girl's point of view.

She must be pretty inexperienced. Maybe she's a lesbian. Or maybe she's a—

Paul put that thought out of his mind as he said, in the most reassuring tone he could manage, "I'm not going to hurt you."

He now noticed that she was fixated on his groin. He had somehow forgotten that he was naked, and that the sight of a naked man bursting into a girl's bedroom might indeed be a bit disconcerting for someone who was a—well, you know. The way she was peering intently at his stiff member made Paul come to a simple conclusion.

I don't think she's a lesbian.

Paul himself was now uncertain what to do. Certainly, he didn't want to spook this dear, sweet girl even more than he already was; and in fact there was plenty of commotion outside that led him to believe that his friends and the other sorority sisters were having a grand old time. So should he just forget about this timid creature and go back to the party, or should he—?

He approached her slowly and knelt down beside the bed. At least this way his rampant cock wouldn't be visible, as the girl could now only see him from the chest up. But even this—and his greater proximity—seemed to terrify her, and she cowered back as if she wanted to melt into the wall and disappear.

"Hey, don't worry," Paul said. "I'd never do anything you don't want me to do."

That didn't seem to comfort her very much, for she just gazed at him like a deer in the headlights.

Paul figured it was a lost cause. He stood up, revealing again his erection, and said, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

The girl still remained silent, although once again she just stared at his cock.

Paul sighed. "I'll just go now," he said and turned around, noting that he was now presenting his naked backside to her.

All girls like a guy with a nice butt, don't they?

Sure enough, just as he was about to exit the room, she said, "Um, maybe we can cuddle a little."

Paul stopped short and slowly turned around. Now the girl had turned her head away as if the sight of that frightening hard-on was too much to bear.

"You want me to get into bed with you?" he said.

"Sure," she said with a sudden spasm of courage, even though she blushed furiously at the suggestiveness of his words. "Just be nice to me, okay?"

Paul clearly understood what those words meant, and he was willing to go along.

If you want to have a naked guy in your bed but remain celibate, well, I guess I can go along with that for a little while.

But he was pretty keen on getting back to the noisy festivities going on elsewhere.

Even so, the Dresden-china beauty of this girl—she was probably twenty or twenty-one, although she looked younger—was too much to resist, and he slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately covered both of their bodies with blankets, as if concealing his nudity might make the situation a little less obscene.

Paul could tell that the girl was clothed only in a nightgown—one that came down to about the middle of her thighs. It was pretty sheer—surprisingly so for this chilly winter night—but he figured that the thick blankets of the bed provided sufficient warmth. The girl's figure was just as wonderful as he had thought it would be—slender but curvy, soft but firm in all the right places. He could tell that she had a nice pair of breasts, as he could feel them pressing against his chest through the thin cloth of the nightgown. And, even though she was trying to avoid any contact with his erection, her thighs and calves were strong but shapely.

At first she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, tentatively placing one hand on his bare chest. This was nice, but after a while Paul raised her head up by placing a hand under her chin and brought it up so that he could gaze at her.

She really was extraordinarily beautiful. And so what else could he do but kiss her?

It was a soft, delicate, but firm kiss. At first she protested a little, and he could feel her lips fluttering against his. But pretty soon it became clear she liked the experience, and she began to kiss back. Paul had no idea what her past relationships with guys—if any—were like, but he had gotten the impression that girls somehow have a natural instinct to kiss; at least, when a guy kisses them they unconsciously kiss back, unless the guy is really repulsive or unwelcome. And he certainly wasn't that, was he?

The girl broke the kiss—but only to plaster more kisses on his face, neck, and shoulders. This was cuddling, all right! For a while Paul just passively received those smooches, but then he decided to take some bolder action.

With the most gradual motion he slid his right hand from the small of her back to her bottom—over her nightgown, of course, although he could tell she wasn't wearing any underwear beneath it.

The girl momentarily paused in her kissing and let out a little gasp, but then resumed her work. She took Paul's face in both hands and fixed her lips upon his—and after a while, in what must have seemed to her incredible daring, inserted her tongue fractionally into his mouth.

That gave Paul all the incentive he needed. Gently and unhurriedly, he pulled up the hem of her nightgown and exposed her bare bottom to his touch. That's all he did: he just placed his hand on her bare bottom, stroking it delicately.

But that was enough for her to let out a little whimper of pleasure and stick her tongue farther into his mouth. And Paul, after getting a good feel for her firm, round butt, took the next step, remembering what his father had told him when dealing with a reluctant female:

Make her come first.

He slid his hand between their bodies and found his way to her delta. After feeling the surprisingly thick tuft of fur there, he probed her crevice—which, as he had predicted, was already sopping wet. As the girl's moans got louder and more insistent, he stroked her labia, stuck two fingers into her pussy, and then came upon her engorged clitoris, which he fondled—at first delicately, then more vigorously as she opened her legs and pushed her hips against his hand.

All this time their lips were pressed together. They parted only when, as the initial waves of her climax came over her, she cried out almost in pain and once again buried her face in his neck. Paul used all the techniques he had perfected with this girl's predecessors—especially his mom, his sister, and the wonderful Adele—to prolong her orgasm for minutes on end.

After a good many minutes of this, the girl couldn't take it anymore and shoved Paul's hand away from her sex. She was breathing raggedly and clinging to him, both arms encircling his neck. At last she settled down, and as she rolled off of him he saw that there was a kind of glassy-eyed look in her eyes, as she stared unseeingly at the ceiling.

He was pretty proud of himself: this was, he felt, one of the most intense orgasms he had ever incited in a girl. With a faint trace of smugness he said: "Was that nice?"

She looked over at him, and at last her look of fear gave way to a broad smile. "It was fabulous," she whispered.

Paul just gazed benevolently at her.

Pretty soon the girl realized that she would have to give Paul some recompense. With one hand she reached out to grasp his erection, as if scientifically gauging its heft and girth. Paul was thinking she would simply offer to give him a handjob, but she surprised him.

Continuing to stare at the ceiling, she said, "You can go into me if you like."

She's such a brave little girl,

Paul thought. "You, um, haven't done that before, have you?"

"No," she said in a small voice.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

It took her a few seconds to say "Yes."

That worried Paul. "Absolutely sure? You don't have to, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure!" she cried. Then, turning to face him, she said,

"Please!"

"All right," Paul said, although he still had some misgivings. Then another thought struck him. "Do you want to be on top?"

"No!" she said with a frown, as if he had suggested something utterly absurd. "You be on top!"

"Okay."

Paul got into position. He now became aware that she was quite short, maybe only about five foot two. It had been a while since he'd had a girl that small—not that it made all that much difference. He was pretty hard, but even so he wanted to pay some homage to her gorgeous breasts, and so he buried his face in them, pressing them against his face as he nuzzled them and sucked on the nipples. But he couldn't wait much longer. He slowly slid up her body—and mounted her.

At first he only inserted his cock into her an inch or two, but that was enough for her to let out a quick gasp. He couldn't tell if that indicated pain or just surprise at the new sensation; but pretty soon he encountered that familiar obstacle, and he was unsure how to proceed. He really didn't want to hurt this girl, but what choice was there? So he just forged ahead and broke through the barrier.

The sharp cry that emerged from her throat wrung Paul's heart, and as he stared down at her he saw a big tear squeezed out of each of her eyes. He tried to distract her by kissing her firmly on the mouth while also stroking her all over—face, breasts, thighs, bottom. She seemed to be clinging to him for dear life, and she also seemed to realize instinctively that lifting her legs and bending her knees would make it a little easier on her. Maybe she had seen that in films. For Paul, the combination of wetness and tightness in her pussy was almost more than he could endure, and it wasn't long before he was pouring into her his acknowledgment of her seductiveness. His discharge was forceful and prolonged, and even after he had finished he yearned to remain in her as long as she could bear it.

But it soon became clear that she couldn't bear it much longer. A little push against his chest was a mute indication that she wanted him to withdraw, and he did so. She was looking at him with a strange fusion of emotions—pleasure, pain, amazement, alarm, even perhaps regret. Paul had no idea whether what had just happened was in any way similar to her fantasies of what her "first time" would be like, but he suspected it wasn't anywhere close.

Now the noise from outside the room became vociferous, men's and women's voices mixing incoherently. Much as he would have liked to stay longer and get to know this girl better, he felt an equal pull toward the less guilt-ridden enjoyment that was happening elsewhere. He threw the blankets aside and got up from the bed.

"This was really great," he said with some embarrassment, "but I'd better go."

"I understand," the girl said pensively.

"Um, you'd better get cleaned up." Paul nodded toward her exposed cleft, where some specks of blood were visible.

"You too," she remarked tartly, gesturing toward his cock.

Paul looked down at himself, seeing streaks of blood on his member. "Oh, yeah," he said sheepishly, snatching up some Kleenex to wipe himself off.

Just as he was heading out the door, a thought struck him. "What's your name?"

"Darcy McManus," the girl said.

"I'm Paul Larsen. See you around."

And he left the room.

*

The commotion going on outside Darcy's bedroom had to do with the fact that Fred and Andre were being mobbed by the sorority sisters and tied up on two beds in one of the bedrooms. By this time the girls—numbering about eighteen—were either entirely naked themselves or close to it; and, of course, the two men were happy to be "manhandled" by the girls, and were now lying spreadeagled on their backs, their hands and feet tied up with silk scarves to the headboard and footboard of the beds in question. The only things that weren't lying flat were their erections.

When Paul made his belated appearance, he too was overwhelmed by female flesh and made to lie on the carpeted floor between the two beds. At this point there began an impromptu contest. Each guy was set upon by six girls, each of whom slipped his cock into her pussy for a period of exactly two minutes (the sorority president, Linda, kept strict count with a stopwatch); whichever "team" got the guy to come first would be the winner. There wasn't exactly a prize to go along with the "victory," aside from pride in their collective desirability.

The guys couldn't fully take in the bewildering array of feminine nudity that confronted them. Tall, short, slender, full-figured, pink, brown, and golden yellow all descended upon them, impaling themselves on their cocks and riding them lustily as breasts bounced and bottoms slapped their groins. Each of the guys had already come once from previous activity, so they managed to last several rounds before Fred finally exploded into a girl, causing her to scream shrilly and raise her arms in triumph while the others applauded. But Andre and Paul came only a few minutes later.

The girls knew that, if the guys were going to be available for yet another contest, they would need a little time to recover; but that meant that it was their turn to have a climax or two. Promptly a new contest began, whereby a girl sat on a guy's face for two minutes and got thoroughly licked. That usually wasn't enough time for her to come, and some of the girls were very reluctant to move off a guy's face when their time was up. This resulted in several rounds of pussy-licking, and by the third or fourth round some girls claimed to have spectacular orgasms—but the others had strong doubts whether their squeals and moans, accompanied by squeezing of their own breasts or bottoms, were genuine. Girls do a lot of faking, after all!

By this time the guys had managed to rouse themselves, and so a third contest was ordered by Linda. Bringing out a convenient bottle of hand lotion and setting it on top of a dresser, she said in a commanding voice, "Okay, girls, time for a little anal action."

This was met by a raucous clamor of delight, outrage, alarm, and laughter, and it became clear that some of the girls hadn't indulged in this practice for a while—or ever. Others claimed to be blasé about the matter ("My boyfriend does that to me all the time"), but no one was willing to be left out of the action, lest she be thought a coward or (worse) an "anal virgin."