Magnus and His Family

During the first month of her college career, Kristen fell into a pattern, both at school and at home. It was now taken for granted that she would occupy Magnus's bed every night, even if it was unreasonable to expect him to perform every night. She would have been more than happy to have done so, and he made clear that his long sexual drought was now over and she was to be the recipient of his passion; but sometimes, especially after a hard day on a construction site, he was content to cuddle a little and call it a night. Sometimes he took the effort of bringing her to climax, either with fingers or with mouth, but resisted her pleas for reciprocation. She felt a little guilty for being on the receiving end of such ecstasy without providing any to him.

One thing she had to do was to make sure to come home, even if she had a late afternoon class, to cook dinner. It was the least she could do for everything Magnus had done for her in his life. Every so often, however, she had to return to campus in the evening to hole up in the library; but on such occasions Magnus let her use his car, and she was grateful for that. And given how much material is available online these days, she only had to make these library trips once or twice a week.

Meanwhile, both she and Magnus continued to explore their sexual proclivities with tenderness but also with abandon. She quickly became aware that Magnus seemed to get stimulated by the very act of showering—and sometimes, after an afternoon shower, he would come downstairs entirely naked, with his majestic cock already erect, and stand boldly in front of her.

"Daddy!" she would cry. "You're indecent!"

"Can you suck me, please?" he would say in that gentle bass voice of his that always seemed to awaken a thrill in both her mind and her pussy.

She would sigh in faux-irritation, but would then happily fall to her knees and stick his cock in her mouth. She loved this position—him standing and her kneeling—in spite (or perhaps, she naughtily thought to herself, because) of its seeming submissiveness. What she really liked about it was that she not only was able to take in almost two-thirds of his member into her mouth, but could also seize his strong, muscular bottom and give it some good squeezes in the process. That act almost made her come herself—but, after she had duly coaxed an orgasm out of him and let the discharge slide down her throat, he would always raise her up, hold her close, and insert a hand under the hem of her skirt or dress (she never wore slacks or pants, since Magnus always wanted her to "look feminine"), peel down her underwear to her knees, and return the favor by eliciting a powerful climax with his fingers.

At times their copulation was more unorthodox. Sometimes, when he paraded around naked, he wanted more than just a blowjob. At these times he would sit on the sofa and encourage Kristen to squat over him. She made sure to doff her underwear before she did so, and she loved the feel of his cock against her bare thighs, abdomen, and crevice. Sometimes she would slide her pussy back and forth over his cock, making herself thoroughly wet and coating his organ with her juices; only then would she rise up a little and insert it into herself. This position allowed for incredibly deep penetration, and she felt a surge of pride as she found herself able to bear his entry more and more comfortably. Sometimes Magnus peeled off her blouse and bra to have unfettered access to her breasts, whose relatively small size didn't seem to bother him as he rubbed his face and beard against them.

Then there was the time when she had just finished shoving a pot roast into the oven and Magnus came up behind her—naked, of course. By this time she was used to his nudity, but wondered whether he was going to have her right on the spot. Instead, he stood behind her, holding her gently around the midsection as his cock rubbed up against her bottom.

"Daddy," she said mildly, "what would you like?"

He released her, then took her hand. "Can you come with me?"

Perplexed, she let him lead her out of the kitchen to the dining room—and specifically to the big dining table that dominated the room. He just stood there in front of it, as if no further explanation was necessary.

A little irritated, Kristen said, "Daddy, what did you have in mind?"

It was with apparent awkwardness that he said, "Can you bend over the table?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh, you got to be kidding me."

"Please, dear."

He said it with such gentleness—and such pleading—that all she could do was sigh and do as he asked. She came to the edge of the table and, bending at the waist, rested the upper part of her body on it. Magnus, stationing himself behind her, made her part her legs a little, then raised up her skirt. For a time he stood just gazing at the sight revealed to his eyes: her pink cotton panties and her long, tapered legs stretching out in an inverted V-shape below them.

Then he slowly lowered the panties to her knees, revealing her sex, which from this angle looked exactly like a ripe fig.

She was already a little wet, tingling with excitement at the unusual situation she found herself in; but Magnus made sure to enhance her moistness by careful strokes of her labia and clitoris with his fingers. She wondered for a moment whether he was going to invade her bottom—she wasn't lubed, after all—but was reassured when he instead entered her pussy with tenderness and delicacy. But this position too allowed for fairly deep entry, and he slowly but inexorably proceeded inch by inch until he was fully in her.

The sensation of that cock entering her in that slow, deliberate way was so striking that Kristen's mouth fell open and her slender little tongue protruded a bit. Magnus now grabbed her hips with both hands and began thrusting in and out of her. The table shook a little; but it was made of sturdy mahogany, so it could bear both Kristen's body and Magnus's pounding. Slapping sounds could be heard as his thighs rammed against her bottom, and Kristen had a strange feeling that his cock was about to force itself out of her throat. His thrusts became almost frantic, but then slowed down abruptly: he wished to delay his climax as much as he could, but it was a futile endeavor, and he bespattered her pussy with a copious emission just as she herself managed to attain her own climax.

He remained in her for minutes, and she made no protest; it was only prolonging her own orgasm. At last he withdrew, and several thick dollops of come slithered out of her and down her thighs.

As he pulled out of her, she stood up, pulled her panties back up, and said, "Can I get back to cooking dinner now?"

*

One Sunday night, as they were in a warm, genial post-coital snuggle, Magnus whispered into Kristen's ear:

"Can I ask you something, dear?"

"Sure, Daddy," she said dreamily, glorying in his embrace.

But he didn't speak for some moments.

She raised her head up and looked at her father. "What is it, Daddy? Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's fine," he said absently.

"Then what—?"

"You know," he interrupted, "there are some guys on the worksite who are having some . . . difficulties."

"What sort of difficulties?" she said, although she had a vague idea what the situation was.

"They're having trouble finding women," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, Daddy, they must be big, strong men—women must be falling all over them."

"A lot of them are pretty shy. They just don't know how to approach women, how to talk to them."

"And you want me to—?"

"Help them."

"Help them how?"

He looked right at her. "I think you know."

"Yeah, I guess I do." She sighed wearily. "How many are we talking about here?"

"Six or seven, I guess."

"And you want them to . . . come over here sometime?"

"Would that be all right?"

Kristen propped herself on her elbows, resting them on her father's capacious chest. "Daddy," she said in mock severity, "I don't know that I can handle all six or seven of them at once."

"It wouldn't be all at once," he said hastily. "It would be one at a time." Then, even more sheepishly than before, "Maybe two at a time."

"Two at a time, huh?" she said with a broad smile. "That sounds pretty kinky."

"It's not kinky," he said, vaguely offended. "They're all really nice guys. You'll like them."

"When is this supposed to happen? I'm getting pretty busy with my schoolwork."

"How about next weekend? Saturday afternoon, maybe."

"Afternoon?" She had somehow been expecting it to be in the evening, perhaps an all-night affair.

"Well," Magnus said, now truly embarrassed, "some of them are married, and so—"

"Married?"

Kristen exclaimed. "Oh, Daddy, that's not right. I don't want to be a homewrecker."

"That wouldn't happen, dear. It's just—"

"Just what?"

"It's just that their wives don't seem to want to do certain things that the guys want."

"Is that a fact?" she said cynically.

Like rear entry, maybe?

"Yes."

She let out a huge sigh. "All right. But I'm not sure I really like this idea."

"If you have any reservations at all," Magnus assured her, "you can call it off. No one's going to force you."

"Oh, I know that, Daddy. But this is going to take a certain amount of energy on my part. It's not as if all I have to do is stare at the ceiling."

"I know, dear. But I'm confident you can manage it."

"Thank you."

Later, Kristen wondered why she had gone along so readily with this bizarre plan.

After all, it was only a month or so ago that I was a virgin! And now—!

And now she was contemplating the prospect of inviting half a dozen or more "big, strong men" into every aperture of her body. Certainly, there was a certain delicious perversity in the idea: could she really take two guys into herself at once? How would that be done? And even as she thought of it, she wondered obscenely if she could even take a third guy (

I do have

three

orifices, don't I?

).

But there was something more. For all the apparent submissiveness of some of her sexual behavior toward Magnus (

he is my father, after all—so I can't exactly be the dominant one in the relationship

), it gradually dawned on her that a woman could actually do a good many things that would be impossible for a man. How could a

man

ever enter two women at once, let alone three? It wasn't even conceivable. But a woman could manage it—not easily, perhaps, but she could do it with some effort and practice. Who, then, is the superior species?

But mostly it was the succulent thought of all these rough-hewn blue-collar types slavering all over her that sent shudders all through her. She didn't have any fear that they would rough her up (

Magnus isn't going to allow that—not on your life!

); but they probably weren't going to behave exactly as tea-sipping aristocrats or bespectacled and hollow-chested nerds would have. These guys were

men,

by golly, and she would get the best out of them!

As Saturday afternoon approached, Kristen was almost tingling with excitement and anticipation. She really didn't know exactly what she was in for, but she was confident she could handle the situation in a way that would make her father proud. The guys would be coming over around 1 p.m.; and as the time approached, Magnus came to her with what was for him a very unusual nervousness.

"Are you, um, ready, dear?" he said, as if Kristen was about to swim the English Channel.

"Sure, I am, Daddy!" she cried.

He peered at her intently. "We can call it off, you know. You don't have to do this."

She was aghast. "Not on your life! I've been looking forward to it all week—and so have the guys, I'm sure. I'm ready!"

He gave her a wistful smile. "Okay, dear. I was just checking."

"I'm pretty much open to anything they want to throw at me," she said enthusiastically. Then she covered her mouth as she giggled. "Oops! That was a pun, wasn't it?"

Magnus smiled but didn't laugh. "I guess you'd better get ready. I suppose things will happen in my bedroom."

"You want me to, um, get undressed?"

Magnus blushed a little. "That would be nice." After a pause: "You'd better get yourself lubed up, too."

"Yes, sir," she said with a mocking salute. "You're the boss."

Magnus frowned at her flippancy, but Kristen didn't notice, as she was already tripping happily up the stairs. Entering the master bedroom (her own bedroom was now hardly used, except as a dressing room—or "boudoir," as Kristen liked to think of it), she stripped quickly and then opened the top drawer of the nightstand, where the cold cream had been conveniently placed. After applying the stuff, she lay down on the bed with one elbow propped up, hoping she looked seductive.

The plan was to have each of the seven men come up one at a time, for about fifteen minutes. After that, anyone who wanted "seconds"—especially those who might want to pair up with another guy for a threesome—would be allowed to have access to her again. She wondered how long the whole thing would last. She didn't think many of the guys would be as potent as Magnus (he had once come four times with her, but that session had lasted for hours with lots of cuddling in between the actual bouts of copulation). Magnus had in fact told her that lots of guys couldn't come more than once without a long break, and she was hoping that the onslaught of male flesh would continue for at least two or three hours.

In the end, she was delighted by her ability to get these guys to rise to the occasion (

sorry, another pun!

) several times each. They also proved to be an interesting mix—in age, size, and ethnicity.

First up was a guy named Henry. He seemed to be in his forties, and as he walked into the room he almost froze at the sight of the gorgeous and achingly young girl on the bed. (She later learned that he had a daughter who, like her, had just graduated from high school, although she had chosen not to go to college.) At first his mouth hung open, and then he licked his lips, his eyes remaining wide as saucers. With a kind of frenzy he almost tore off his clothes and flung himself into the bed.

He didn't seem to have any problem with her small breasts, as he seized them with both hands and buried his face in their soft contours. Kristen was wondering if he wanted some foreplay that might involve cocksucking or something of the sort; but after only a few minutes of nuzzling her breasts and stroking her back and bottom with his hands, he just plunged into her, his six-inch cock easily accommodated into her pussy.

It was over all too soon. Henry was clearly overexcited, and he came in less than five minutes. The cry he let out had a bit of both embarrassment and frustration in it, as he was evidently mad at himself for being so quick on the trigger. But he took some solace in the fact that he remained more or less hard even after he had come, remaining in her until his allotted time was up.

Next was a guy named André. He was a big, hulking African American in his mid-thirties, probably as tall as Magnus and with a splendid physique that, as he slowly undressed, encompassed a muscular (and entirely hairless) chest, strong thighs, and a thick cock of about eight inches. And yet, his face was very gentle, and when he said to Kristen in a mellow baritone voice, "You're such a pretty little thing," she felt a shiver go all through her, from head to toe—including her sex.

He did want a little foreplay, standing beside the bed and presenting his cock to her lips. She obediently opened her mouth and took in as much as she could manage—she had gotten reasonably good at taking in at least two-thirds of her father's member, and André exhibited satisfaction at what Kristen now managed, holding the back of her head as he gently thrust his cock in and out of her mouth.

But this was only a warm-up, and as he pulled out he said to her, almost as if he was expecting to be turned down, "Can I go into your ass?"

"Of course!" she said brightly, flopping over onto her stomach.

She wondered if he wanted her to be on all fours, but he seemed to understand that this position would work pretty well also. As he climbed into the bed, he said sheepishly, "My wife won't let me do this."

"Well," Kristen said philosophically, "some women don't like it."

He entered her pretty quickly, and she had to warn him both to go slow and not to go in all the way. Even after a lot of practice with her father, she wasn't able to take such a big cock into her nether orifice without a little discomfort. She loved the weight of André as he draped himself onto her whole body, and he was in fact tender as a lamb as he performed anal sex for the first time. Kristen laughed inwardly as she thought,

Well,

he's

the virgin here, isn't he?

André seemed instinctively to realize that he could have access to Kristen's breasts in this position, and he took them in each hand as he continued to grind his hips into her. His climax took about seven minutes, and afterward he pulled out and, as Magnus was accustomed to doing, placed her on top of him as he lay on his back.

She had had a nice time, but something was missing. As she draped herself across this fine specimen of a man, she whispered in her ear, "Um, André, dear, can you make me come?"

"Of course," he said, chiding himself for being so selfish. At once he brought a hand down to her sex (still wet from Henry's emission), and began stroking her. Again he displayed extraordinary gentleness as he slowly coaxed a shuddering orgasm out of her, her cries going directly into his ear as she writhed on top of him. She was reluctant to see him go after his time was up.

Then came Kevin, a small, wiry Asian who couldn't have been more than twenty-five. He too gazed at her with a kind of wonderment, almost a reverence, fixing his eyes on her as he disrobed. Someone had told her that Asian men weren't always very well endowed, but Kevin had nothing to be ashamed of in that department: his organ was at least seven inches and quite thick. Like André, he had a hairless chest, and he looked strangely vulnerable as he approached her.

He too gloried in those smallish breasts of hers, sucking on her nipples as if seeking to draw nourishment from them. She would happily have given it if that were possible! She expected him to enter her in the usual missionary position, but he flopped over onto his back and said, "Will you ride me?"

She had only done that a few times with Magnus, feeling a little shy (absurdly, since no one was watching) at being so exposed. But that very feeling added to her excitement, and she was happy to comply as she squatted over him, pondered his engorged cock for a moment, and then plunged it into herself. He seized her bottom and gave it a good squeeze as she bounced on his cock; sometimes he brought his hands up to take possession of her breasts. Kristen was by this time entirely free of any self-consciousness about her modest endowment in that area.

After Kevin was Frank, a smallish, grizzled man of nearly fifty. He rubbed his unshaven face as he pondered his incredible good fortune in being allowed to enjoy this delicate flower of femininity. Whether he was nervous or (as Kristen thought) somehow unwilling to be truly "unfaithful" to a wife or girlfriend, he contented himself with placing his cock in her mouth, gently thrusting it in and out until, after about ten minutes, he showered her with his emission.

Pedro, a short but stocky Latino, alternated between Kristen's pussy and her anus, finally coming in the latter place at the very end of his fifteen minutes. The sixth guy was another African American, DeShawn, who had the decency to lick her pussy and make her come before entering her in the usual missionary position. The seventh guy, a white man of about forty named Fred, took in her in her bottom again—he too confessed that his wife didn't look with favor upon that position!