Elly and Her Big Family

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All characters are over 18, fictional, and none of it ever happened. Think of it as a grimm fairytale.

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Kelly is drawn into a new family. She recalls her old family. It makes one big happy family.

Think age-gap, poly, harem, breeding, father, uncle, daughter, anal, incest, free-use.

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"Long term position, live-in nanny, twin 12yo boys, other light duties, only single young women need apply."

The Positions Available advertisement in the classified section of the newspaper was cryptic, but she'd been in the city for two months and hadn't found anything, so she circled it.

Besides, her savings were low and she was intrigued.

The next day Kelly knocked at the front door of a substantial house in a large yard. She could see a side building filled with old furniture, bric-a-brac, a workshop, and an old truck. A tall figure was visible from behind, muscles flexed, lifting something heavy. A glimpse of vitality stamped itself on her mind before the broad shoulders and sandy hair ducked out of sight.

The front door clicked open, and a shortish woman, slightly overweight, possibly a worn forty-something years old, with housecoat and cigarette, stood there. As Kelly turned her gaze from the workshop to the door, she found the woman looking her slowly up and down.

She was taking in Kelly's slim figure, modest-length skirt, and flowery blouse. For a moment she seemed about to send Kelly away, but the young woman's beguiling smile stopped her.

"Yes!"

The middle-aged woman pronounced the single word crisply and with curious emphasis, injecting layers of hidden meaning and portent into the space between them. She stepped aside and swung the door fully open, her energy pulling Kelly in.

"I'm Muriel Manning. Come in! We'll get to know each other, and Peter will have a look at you."

Kelly would later learn Muriel often spoke strangely; alluding more than saying, as if telling Kelly what she already knew. Muriel would confer with her internal train of thought, drop a few hints, and leave Kelly to intuit her meaning and motives.

Over the years, Kelly got good at understanding what Muriel wanted without her having to spell it out; though if she missed the mark the older woman could be cutting and sharp.

But all that would come many years later.

For now, in these first minutes of their first meeting, Kelly followed the strange woman into the living room, where the older woman settled into a well-worn couch beside a full ash tray. She silently watched Kelly hover, then take a seat on an opposite armchair, and look around the room. The silence stretched and stretched.

She smoked two cigarettes while silently observing Kelly. She noted Kelly took the extended silence, awkward for most young girls, with equanimity. The impressive young woman in front of her simply sat--comfortable, observant, present, intrigued, open, hands folded in her lap.

Kelly was quite beautiful, with fine features, a lithe, slim figure, broad hips, small breasts, and a quicksilver air. Her arms and legs appeared slender and long, but only because she was so slim. She was actually short with limbs in proportion.

Finally her hostess stubbed out her second cigarette and spoke.

"Good!"

Again a single terse word carrying layers of hidden meaning, though a keen listener could tell she liked the--and here's that word again--beguiling--the beguiling female before her.

What entranced her was the tantalising energy of the lovely young lady, barely of age, open, willing, game and proffered. Kelly's own female intuition tingled in response. She knew the woman was eyeing her body, and she liked it.

"Now tell me your name and who you are. As a woman, friend and family."

"

What a strange set of questions,

" Kelly thought to herself, even as she began to speak crisply and concisely, in an even tone. Her listener could see that very little would fluster this young tinker-bell.

"My name is Kelly O'Kannagan."

Her voice had a country lilt that betrayed her back-country upbringing. She was a family-girl from a small farm in a rural intertwined, interknit and interbred community, where everyone was related, everyone knew each other's business, and most got along well.

"I grew up on a small farm in the South Island near a village at the end of a dirt road in a valley in the Southern Alps. I have have two younger brothers, now grown. Mum was out of the house a lot because she had a job in town and was often travelling. So I looked after the boys. Mum died three and a half years ago when I turned eighteen.

Muriel's eye's flickered.

"We've been a happy family through the years. Dad, me and my brothers got along well, with the boys growing up and all, and Mum often gone on business.

"Then when I turned twenty-one last year Dad remarried. I didn't get along so well with his new woman. She was from outside the Valley and didn't understand our family ways. She was jealous of us, and Dad didn't defend me. So I left.

"I'm twenty-two, I make my own decisions, and can carry two buckets of water, as we say in the Valley."

Muriel raised her left eyebrow. She was taking in the promise of this lively young woman, her nubile female energy unfolding like an aromatic bouquet. She would fit nicely into the Manning family.

"You certainly have the experience we're looking for, and there could be quite a lot of carrying.

"Including the occasional two buckets of water," she added with a dry chuckle.

"Do you have a man? Do you want one?"

Kelly paused while she chose her words.

"No. No man. I had one for a couple of years recently, but not now. I'm picky. I want someone who measures up to Dad. He taught me so much in three years.

"I'm sad he prefers his new bitch to me. I miss him," she spat out with the venom of a scorned woman.

Muriel's expressive eyebrow flagged that she'd caught another important nugget of information. Whether she knew it or not, Kelly was on full display, and now Muriel knew two key tidbits about this feisty tinker-bell.

Both were tucked away in her female soul, marked "For Future Use".

"My dear," seeming to ignore Kelly's self disclosure, "would you mind getting me the boys' photo album? It's on one of the lower shelves in that bookcase. You'll have to search."

Kelly knelt on the carpet, looking closely at the many photo albums with small handwritten titles. Muriel lit another cigarette and watched.

Another pair of eyes also watched, beneath a shock of sandy hair, touched with grey, over a broad, agile face, with tanned, deep laugh lines. The face reflected forty-five years of experience; the thick neck and broad shoulders, strength; the casual lean against the door frame, confidence.

He was watching Kelly from behind; her wide hips, slim waist, slender arms, agile legs, welcoming arse, all wiggling to and fro as she hunted on hands and knees along the lower shelves.

He was Peter, a good man, Muriel's man, the breadwinner of the house, father of the children, a good dad to the kids, a virile man who wanted more kids, with a wife who did not.

We often forget the truism

'Happy wife, happy life

' has its partner,

'Happy man, happy fam'

.

But Peter and Muriel never forgot and had a plan how they would remain happy as man and wife, a plan now wriggling and ripening in front of them.

Peter shot a glance of approval to Muriel, and her eyebrow flickered and caught his signal, then filed it next to her other tidbits about tinker-bell Kelly. She reached forward to the coffee table, picked up a photo album titled, "The boys--early years", and called to Kelly.

"I'm sorry, Kelly. My mistake. Here it is. Come sit beside me, darling," and patted the couch.

As Kelly stood she sensed it.

The "it" was a male gaze drilling squarely into her.

"It" was electrifying, electrified and charged.

"It" was penetrating, possessive and paternal.

"It" was hunting, catching and claiming.

As she had been trained to do, she stood quite still while the male assessed her.

She felt hypnotised and vaguely aware of warming under his intimate gaze. A flush spread across her chest, rose up her neck, and reddened her upturned tinker-bell face.

She was a practical down-to-earth farm girl, and, if she had lived centuries earlier would have been called a comely farm wench. She was rarely flustered and never blushed. Even when she bred the sows to the hog, the fillies to the stallion, or watched any doings "wot come naturally" in field, barn or house.

So this blush was an entirely new feeling, and it knocked her off balance like never before.

"Um...er...I...my name is...Kelly." Her throat was dry. She could barely speak.

"How do you do? I am pleased to meet you, Miss Kelly. I am Mister Manning."

He intentionally spoke formally, making her feel like she was back on the farm again, when her Dad's farming mates would come to the house and sit and drink beer and discuss the breeding of cows, sheep and other things. This big, broad man standing in the door addressed her like those courteous, practical, down-to-earth, plain-spoken, burly neighbour farmers did.

After a pause, he said, "I am very good, Mr Manning...and...", and paused again.

He was gently but firmly prompting her, like an unsure schoolgirl, to answer courteously and correctly.

She got the hint and replied formally, as her Dad had taught her to do, "I am very good, Mister Manning, thank you. I hope I can be of service."

Satisfied, he continued, "I'm Muriel's husband, and father of our two beautiful boys. You will love them and wish you had two of your own. You can call me Pete. "

A gut-feeling fluttered deep in her belly. These two people were to be a big part of her life.

Pete and Muriel locked eyes and chuckled as they shared their private understanding about Kelly.

***

A month later Kelly had settled in, and they were learning about each other.

The boys were self-sufficient and Kelly rarely saw them. She was more companion and house-keeper than nanny.

She and Muriel were always together, chattering away nineteen-to-the-dozen. They quickly became friends and intimates, each pleased to have a female confidante, almost a sister.

Kelly learned Muriel and Pete met in high school and had been together for twenty-five years.

She also learned Muriel had a life outside the four walls of her marriage, home and Pete. She had carved a career as business administrator in a local attorney's office. It was flexible work, and sometimes she would leave early, sometimes late, and often returned at all hours; even the next morning, just in time for breakfast.

She loved Pete but was no longer in love with him, content to be his woman, for him to be her provider and protector, father to her twins, and the man she belonged to. But not her only man.

For her part, Muriel drew out Kelly about her interests and dreams; her thoughts of the future; of dads, men, fathers and children; of what made her heart sing and her cunt moisten.

The older woman probed the young female for memories of her Dad; of his strength, gentleness, and generosity; of how he educated her; of how he trained her after his wife died and Kelly turned eighteen.

Muriel could tell Kelly had come to love her father in wifely and physical ways, and wondered how his heart and cock had responded. Did he act on his feelings? Kelly didn't say much about what happened between them. She seemed innocent and virgin, but Muriel's female intuition told her she knew a lot more than she admitted. Life must be very different in what she always called "the Valley", that remote and isolated community she grew up in.

Muriel made sure she and Kelly clicked, but also urged Kelly to spend time with Pete in his workshop. She was seeing to it that all three grew close.

Pete restored and sold antique furniture and was good with his hands. Kelly learned to help, and liked being with him. She would stand beside him, sanding some special piece of wood just like he wanted and like he showed her with his own large hands guiding her small ones. Tinker-bell and master, standing side-by-side, almost touching, hip-to-hip; she sanding, and he cutting, glueing and banging away.

Kelly noticed he was never happier than when he was running one hand through his shaggy mane and his other across the fine curve of a well-padded armchair seat, assessing if it was ready.

His strong fingers followed the silky curve, then gently probed into the crevice between seat and side cushion, and finally thrust deep into the dark interior, where the two curves came tightly together. He was feeling for hidden nubbins, corrugations and tightness.

The scene was quite sensual and always transfixed Kelly, warming her core.

When he saw his tinker-bell watching closely, he would hold her gaze, slowly pull his fingers out of the crack, and hold them to his nose.

"Perfect! Sweet and smooth! Like young cunt! Nothing better!" he'd chortle, keeping her gaze trapped in his.

He was more than twice her age, older than her dad, with the same musky male tang.

He enjoyed flirting and titillating her, deftly reinforcing that he was a virile male and she a nubile female, and it was all harmless fun and "wot comes naturally", as they say in the Valley.

But she was way ahead of him.

As a Valley girl over eighteen, she was already familiar with male attention. In fact she often shut her eyes while working, breathing in Pete's musk and sweat, and remembering her Dad's kisses and uncles hands all over her.

***

Another month went by, and Kelly felt fully at home.

Pete had designed and built a big house to support his big plans for a big family. It was extensive enough for family to stay out of each other's way, and could be extended with extra bedrooms.

The kids' bedrooms and bathroom were downstairs at one end, and the adults' bedrooms and bathroom were upstairs at the other. Both areas could be closed off, making them almost invisible to each other. The common living space was in between.

In the adult wing, Muriel and Pete had one bedroom, and Kelly had the other, with an interconnecting door between them. Muriel often left the door open, for "air circulation" she would say, arching her eyebrow. Kelly's room had a large double bed, wardrobe, and chest of drawers that Pete had made. They matched Muriel's.

On the other side of Kelly was a connecting door to an unused room, empty except for some beautiful new nursery furniture Pete had also made. Muriel said this was "just in case".

There wasn't much privacy in the adult wing. As Kelly lay awake, she might hear Pete going to the bathroom, then hear their bed squeaking rhythmically, as it did most nights. She would listen quietly until the springs and grunting and sighing stopped, and ten minutes later she'd hear Peter snoring and Muriel going to the bathroom.

In return, she assumed they could hear her when she tossed and turned in bed, particularly in the fortnight before her period, when she felt particularly horny and needed to get herself off each night with fingers and hairbrush. She assumed if she could hear them, they could hear her.

She would try to be quiet, either lying on her back with one hand pressing a pillow across her mouth, or doggy with her face in the mattress. At first, she would keep some control over her practiced fingers as she squeezed her tits, tweaked her nipples, and rubbed her pussy lips. But then she gradually lost control, and soon yielded all her body, mind and fingers to the hairbrush handle, as her sexual river and memories flooded through her.

As she thrust her hairbrush handle as deep as she dared, she would hear her Dad's training instructions, first heard the night of her eighteenth birthday, continuously replaying in a loop in her mind. The words he always whispered in her ear as he fucked her were, "Family always comes first, Kelly, family comes first," punctuated with an occasional, "God you're tight."

She would feel his deep, wilful voice rumbling through her, his big farmer body mounted on her, his cock stretching her arse-hole, humping into her, his hundred-and-twenty kilograms pawing and panting and grunting above her, like a stallion on a mare.

For half an hour she would moan her cries into pillow and mattress, oblivious to the twanging bedsprings.

Trying to stay quiet so Muriel and Peter didn't hear only made it more intense, and when she finally orgasmed it would be a real knee-trembler.

Her whole body tensed and relaxed multiple times, her pussy muscles pulsed, her anal ring gripped the brush handle, and her her torso went rigid, while her mind's eye filled with visions, memories and dreams of what she was missing and wanted.

In those minutes she missed her Dad's hand on her breasts, his belly against her back, him hugging her tightly to his chest, as he spurted his cum inside her, the excess oozing out of her and the stickiness smearing between her back and his belly.

Afterwards she would reinsert her favourite anal plug, and fall asleep imagining her Dad's or a favourite uncle's cock deep inside her.

Family always comes first.

***

They entered the third month, with Kelly a loved member of her new family.

She didn't know it, but Kelly had become a new soul in the home, fitting comfortably with everyone.

She fitted beside Muriel, who fitted beside Pete, who both fitted beside Kelly. Eating, playing, working or sleeping. During the day. In the kitchen, workshop and living room. At night with Muriel in one bed, Kelly in the other, the connecting door open, and Pete's loud snoring keeping both awake.

Kelly was a stand-in for Muriel. She would replace her when she was at her job in the attorney's office, and, when she came home late and smelling of unfamiliar shampoo and falling asleep beside Pete, Kelly would tuck her in and kiss them both good-night.

She liked being Muriel and Pete's handmaid and tinker-bell.

But there was something wrong, and she didn't know what it might be. Something was missing.

She wanted to have children of her own, not just other people's kids like her brothers or Muriel's twins. She wanted to have a place she would belong to her whole life, like she once thought she would have in the Valley with Dad. And--like her new sister--dare she say it--her sister-wife--she wanted the man of this house to have her, wanted to feel his cock in her, and her legs wrapped around him.

This was all subconscious, a hidden stress, an unnamed nagging strain, an un-scratched itch, an un-indulged lech, an un-sneezed sneeze, an impending orgasm so close to climax she could scream.

It was sexual hunger, an emptiness, a wanting in her holes, a hole in the home.

She was the only one in the family who didn't understand it.

But the others did and something had to give.

***

The fourth month arrived, as stealthily as foreplay.

Muriel had taken to sitting close to Kelly on the couch and holding her hand, commiserating over her having to leave her extended Valley family, her Dad and her uncles, and everything they did for her.

The older woman would tantalise Kelly by talking of her own need for family, for a husband and father, for a man's touch, for pregnancies and children, for sex and intimacy, for pleasure beneath the man of the house, and beneath other men outside the house.

Pete was standing ever closer to Kelly at the workbench, surrounded by old brocades and silk, and the smell of sawdust and male musk, his body rubbing against hers as his muscles, mind and fingers worked and kneaded her tinker-bell soul. At the end of the day he would come into the kitchen, sweaty and tired, and kiss Kelly as calmly as he kissed Muriel, both of them full on the lips, both equally, however they happened to be standing, side-by-side, squeezing both arses the same, showing sexual hunger to both.