Magnus and His Family Ch. 11

The reunion of Magnus and Imogen—physical as well as emotional—took on the atmosphere of a holy event.

As they entered their bedroom, so familiar to Imogen after about a decade of use (they had purchased this house about ten years into their marriage, having lived in smaller quarters before that), they looked upon each other almost as newlyweds. Magnus began undressing calmly in one corner, his back to his ex-wife; but Imogen stood motionless in the middle of the room.

When he was down to his underwear, Magnus at last noticed that Imogen was frozen in place. He gave her a tender look and said, "Um, do you want me to undress in the bathroom?"

Imogen shook her head rapidly. "No, I'm just being silly."

And with that, she carefully unbuttoned her blouse and slipped out of her skirt, tossing the garments onto the easy chair nearby. With Magnus now gazing intently at her, she reached around behind her and unclasped her bra. The revelation of those large, heavy, but exquisitely shapely breasts caused him to gasp audibly: what a wave of reminiscence coursed through his mind!

They had first met when Imogen had commissioned him to build a shed in her backyard—not for anything so mundane as tools or lawn equipment, but for books. Imogen, a voracious reader, had so many books of all different sorts that she could no longer fit them into the house, and she didn't like the idea of renting a storage unit for them. She wanted them right at hand for constant consultation, and so she tasked Magnus with building a shed that had built-in bookshelves.

The job was fairly straightforward but still required a week or more for completion. Throughout the construction, which had happened during early summer, she had repeatedly brought cold drinks for the big man, whose profuse sweating while he worked evoked Imogen's sympathy. They would do a lot of talking during breaks, and it was obvious that the two were peering closely at each other—Imogen at his huge frame and rippling muscles, Magnus at her voluptuous figure, scarcely concealed by the midriff-revealing blouse and shorts she customarily wore.

Once the work was completed, Imogen treated Magnus to a splendid home-cooked dinner. And the inevitable had followed afterwards.

Now, as the couple found themselves in a roughly similar situation, all the memories of their decades of intimacy came flooding back.

After Imogen had peeled off her underwear to exhibit herself in glorious nudity, Magnus did the same, almost ripping off his briefs to expose his engorged member. It was now Imogen's turn to gasp. Her son's organ was robust, no doubt about it; but Magnus's had a thickness that she found inexpressibly compelling.

In spite of her previous complaints that Magnus's mere presence had left her feeling submissive and intimidated, she fell to her knees and abased herself in front of that cock. The familiar feel and heft of it sent a shiver through her, and she engulfed more than half of it in her mouth, using lips and tongue as she had done so many times before to stimulate him. His gruff grunt as she did so delighted her more than she could say—as did his groan of surprise as she craned her neck to put those massive testicles in her mouth and roll them around lasciviously.

But Magnus, duly forewarned about the dangers of seeming too domineering, gently halted Imogen's actions after several moments. He lifted her up to a standing position, pasted a wet kiss on her mouth, and led her to the bed. She quietly lay down on her back, expecting Magnus to plunge into her in the usual fashion; but he had something else in store for her.

The bed was just high enough so that, as she lay with legs spread and knees raised, he could by kneeling down on the floor reach her pussy with his mouth. And he did just that, seizing her hips with his large hands and plunging his face into her delta. As she let out a gasp of delight, he not only relished the oft-recollected scent and taste of her sex, but was struck by how different that scent and taste were from Kristen's, Adele's, and Jenna's. He couldn't say that any one of them was sweeter or nicer than the others; they were just different.

Imogen, for her part, at first gazed down at the spectacle of this man's face buried in her muff, then cast her mind back in memory of that well-trimmed mustache and beard mingling with her own thick tufts of fur and tickling her labia and clitoris with their stiff bristles. Paul and Curt were clean-shaven; and while she found their own ventures into oral sex more than pleasing, Magnus had to take the prize. Her juices flowed as they hadn't for years, and in a surprisingly short time she was shuddering and moaning with an orgasm that seemed to radiate from her sex throughout her entire body—and mind.

What followed was a succession of copulations—vaginal and anal—that fully restored the erstwhile couple to the love they had felt early in their marriage. Magnus made sure that Imogen didn't feel overwhelmed. While there were times when he rested on top of her—especially during his penetration of her bottom—he was keen on her going on top to ride him lustily while he gazed alternately on those incredible bouncing breasts and on the sight of his cock disappearing fully into his ex-wife's cleft.

They were left thoroughly satisfied and fell asleep in each other's arms.

*

When Paul stepped into the bedroom Jenna was occupying—it was, in fact, Kristen's bedroom, which she had magnanimously given up for the purpose—he wasn't entirely sure what would happen.

He had let Jenna precede him by several minutes, and so he wasn't surprised that she was already in her nightgown, lying demurely on the bed—about as close to one edge of it as possible, as if to say, There's plenty of room on the other side—no need for us to come into contact in any way! But her look of mingled alarm and anticipation told a different story.

Paul really couldn't expect this woman in her early forties to bed down with a college student she had only met a few hours ago—even if she had been enjoying his father's embraces for several weeks. Old habits of monogamy die hard, and he wasn't sure she was really ready for the kind of polyamorous adventures that the reunion of the two halves of the Larsen family seemed to be suggesting.

"Would it be okay if I—got ready for bed?" Paul said softly.

Even that very mild double entendre caused Jenna to blush hotly, and all she could do was nod. All Paul had meant was that he wanted to strip down to his underwear—his usual nightwear—and slip into the bed.

But, as he began disrobing, he noticed that Jenna's eyes were fixed intently on him.

"Um," he said, "do you want me to undress in the bathroom?"

Jenna just shook her head, her eyes never leaving him.

Paul shrugged and continue to remove his clothing. He had already taken his shirt off, and when he slipped off his jeans he was pretty much down to his underwear, except for his socks. Removing those, he observed an awkward development.

He was getting hard—harder by the second. The effect on his underwear was obtrusively evident.

He couldn't deny that this fine, robust-looking woman was a feast for the eyes. Quite different from his mother, she embodied all the traits of full, ripe womanhood—traits that the clingy nightgown only emphasized. Even if she wasn't sure whether there would be any intimacy tonight, he was certainly looking forward to some.

Giving a quick glance at his burgeoning erection, he gave Jenna a sheepish grin and said, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," she said huskily, proud that she was still able to stimulate young men in this way.

As Paul stood irresolute next to the bed, she went on to say, "That looks pretty uncomfortable. Maybe you should—" Take it off.

Their eyes met for a few seconds. Paul nodded quickly and peeled off his underwear.

Jenna's eyes got big when he exposed himself. True, Magnus's equipment was in some ways more impressive, but Jenna's inveterate devotion to the male organ found nothing wanting in this one. Here again, as with the bed in Magnus and Imogen's room, the bed where Jenna was resting was of the exact height to allow her to slide down onto her side and, as Paul strode stiffly in her direction, place it in her mouth.

The velvety feel of it made her moan, and she wasn't slow in taking hold of Paul's firm, round bottom in her hands. Paul just watched as her head rocked back and forth on his member, the lips holding it fast like a huge lollipop. It became obvious that Jenna would have been happy to have brought him to climax by oral action alone, but that was not what Paul had in mind. And so, in spite of mild protests on her part, he gently pried his cock out of her mouth and, lifting her nightgown over her head and tossing it away, climbed into bed next to her.

The sight of her total nudity stimulated him to action, and he paid due homage to her breasts, stomach, pussy, and bottom with his mouth before placing himself on top of her, between her spread legs, and—with an intense gaze that she matched with one of her own—entered her.

The contours of her body were unlike any of the women—whether it be the random college girl or his beloved mother—he had ever been with before. There was a kind of firmness to it that made him aware of her ability to endure the vigorous attentions of the male organ; and as he thrust and pounded and pummeled her, she received his kisses and caresses with equal passion. And somewhat to his surprise, his own climax was matched almost simultaneously with one of her own, as both groaned while they remained entwined in each other's bodies for minutes on end.

This too was only the first stage of a succession of fusions of body and mind that went on far into the night. Every now and then they could hear cries and gasps from the other bedrooms, but mostly they were focused on the satisfaction of each other's—and their own—desires.

The union of Adele and Curt was also a foregone conclusion.

Like Paul, he had allowed Adele to retreat to the bedroom allotted to them ahead of him; but he knew that there was no need to wonder what would follow upon his entry into the room. All evening, both during dinner and afterward, their gazes had been fixed on each other's; and they didn't need much in the way of conversation with each other to know that a strong bond was already forming between them. It was far more than physical, although that was a big part of it at the outset; both dimly sensed that some strange meeting of mind and spirit had also been triggered by their fortuitous meeting, and they were eager to pursue their intimacy at the earliest possible moment.

When Curt did enter the bedroom, he found Adele standing in the middle of the small room, draped in a fetching nightgown that both hid and accentuated her wondrous features. A little shiver ran through both of them as they contemplated what was to come. Without a word, Curt, his eyes fixed on Adele, began slowly undressing. They both sensed that they were entering upon a kind of holy ritual, and Curt was aware that he needed to expose his own nudity—and vulnerability—before his partner did.

Adele's own eyes were glued to Curt's form as he uncovered, little by little, the exquisite outlines of his body. The wide, muscular shoulders and chest; the strong, firm thighs and calves; and, finally, as he slipped off his underwear, the stiff, rigid cock that seemed to beckon to her in a silent plea.

Curt advanced unhurriedly toward Adele, took hold of the elastic neck of her nightgown, and slid it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor, and Adele now stood magnificently unclothed, revealing her gorgeous figure to his gaze.

At first, they did nothing but hold each other close, gaining a full sense of the contours of each other's bodies. Adele's large, heavy breasts pressed against Curt's chest as he stroked Adele's shoulders, back, and bottom; his member, achingly hard, poked her in the belly as it continued mutely for the ultimate release it knew was imminent.

Adele gently pried herself out of Curt's embrace and fell to her knees. Much as she appreciated Curt's refusal to be a domineering male, she knew that at this time she had to subjugate herself to his cock—but she undertook that subjugation entirely willingly, and that made all the difference. His organ was standing almost straight up, and she had a bit of difficulty bringing it down so that it was within reach of her lips; but when she engulfed more than half of it into her mouth, she was gratified to hear a gasp of pleasure and surprise from her newfound lover.

She made respectful, reverent love to that cock, licking and sucking it and bending down to take his large testicles into her mouth and roll them around. At the same time, she clamped her hands on his muscular bottom and squeezed the cheeks vigorously.

Curt could only take a few minutes of this stimulation. He would have been more than happy to shoot his seed into Adele's mouth, but he took her by the shoulders and raised her up to a standing position, fastening his lips upon hers as if to gain a soupçon of the taste and aroma of his own organ. Then he led Adele to the bed, urged her to lie down on her back, with her legs hanging over the edge, and, prying those legs apart, fell to his knees and plunged his head into her sex.

He too seized her bottom—round and fleshy but not as muscular as his—as he paid due homage to her dripping pussy. Adele grabbed his head with her hands and kept it fastened to her cleft, draping her legs on his back. She had a sense that he wanted to give her release before he took his own, and she was happy to oblige him. Watching him fixedly as he licked and sucked her labia and clitoris, sometimes inserting two or three fingers deep into her vagina, he brought her to a shuddering climax that made her cry out and pound his back with her heels before subsiding into a bleary-eyed daze.

He slowly rose to his feet, keeping her legs apart and dangling over the edge of the bed. With one hand he had to bring his own stiff cock down to a perpendicular position, right at the doorstep of her crevice. Both of them watched in fascination as it entered her at first fractionally, then inch by inch until its entire eight inches had been swallowed up.

The union they had so yearned for from the moment they had set eyes on each other had finally occurred, and they made the most of it. Adele wrapped her legs around Curt's midsection as he thrust, sometimes seizing her breasts with his hands and giving them a good squeeze, at other times stroking her face tenderly, and at still other times holding onto her hips to pound her forcefully but without the least suggestion of violence. Their eyes were locked on each other's as Curt felt that telltale tingle in his balls that signified the onset of his paroxysm—and as he came at last, sending successive bolts of his emission into her, they both felt that this discharge was a sort of glue that would bind them forever.

They rested a surprisingly short time before Curt, getting hard again, posed the question that Adele knew he would ask. Ever the respectful man, he knew the protocol: You always have to ask a girl about this—never just do it or take it for granted. She assented graciously, and nodded in the direction of the nightstand, where she had already placed the lubricant of choice among the females of this house.

When he entered her bottom, he did so as she lay flat on her stomach. The contact of their entire bodies that this position allowed was a transcendent moment; and when Curt took hold of Adele's breasts as he ground his hips into her, she gave way to that feeling of utter and delightful helplessness that in some strange way she had come to crave. I'm being totally possessed by a man—and I can't get enough of it. Curt remained in her for ten or fifteen minutes; but, in truth, time pretty much came to an end as both partners entered a state of suspended animation, and both wished the fusion of their bodies and souls would never end. But at last it did end, with another immense infusion of Curt's seed into her orifice.

There were two more couplings—a long session of sixty-nine followed by Adele riding a now exhausted Curt until she coaxed a fourth orgasm out of him. She herself had had five or six by this time, and she felt it was now time for her to do most of the work.

They fell into an exhausted sleep, Curt resting his head on Adele's capacious bosom. But before they did so they both spontaneously uttered the words that had flitted through their minds so intensely during this entire episode that they hardly needed to be said: "I love you."

*

The next day—a Saturday—began with an immense breakfast for all the participants, and nearly everyone lent a hand in its preparation. It was universally agreed upon that classwork could take a back seat to some further "getting-to-know-you" exercises. In spite of the coolness of the weather, it was thought feasible to have a picnic in a nearby park, and this was followed by a light dinner. Then the pairing up began.

This time Kristen was allowed her first choice, and she got Adele's tacit permission to cuddle up with Curt. Adele chuckled to herself, wondering how much more was left in Curt's aching organ for her friend; but Kristen, who was clearly aware of the intense intimacy the two had shared the night before, had a certain pride in her own ability to draw out the young man's homage to her own attractiveness.

Jenna had been eyeing the dark-skinned man herself, but recognized that her turn would come. She was happy to fall into the embraces of Magnus once more. Paul planned to renew his acquaintance with his mother, while Adele took a welcome night off.

It was the night after that that made at least some people a little nervous.

As Kristen and Paul gazed at each other after dinner was over, Imogen cast a worried glance in the direction of her husband.

"Magnus," she whispered, "you're not really going to let them—?"

"Imogen, dear," he said under his breath, "do you really think there's any harm in it? After what's already happened?"

She had to acknowledge that any scruples she had in regard to her son and daughter were a bit absurd at this point.

Kristen, aware of her mother's concern, said, "Oh, Mom, don't worry. I just want to have a long, long chat with my brother. I haven't seen him in ages, you know."

Imogen just shrugged, as if to say: Go ahead and do whatever you want. Who am I to get in the way?

As Jenna paired off with Curt and Adele with Magnus, Imogen slinked away to brood over the situation by herself.

For all that Paul and Kristen had known each other their whole lives, they seemed unwontedly nervous as they settled into Kristen's bedroom. They were both fully dressed, and stood like bashful wallflowers at a dance, too shy to ask the other to step out onto the floor.

"You, um, want me to turn around while you undress?" Paul said.

A little shiver ran through Kristen, but she said, "No, that's silly. I'll just slip on this nightgown."

But she did so in a way she had never done before. Taking off her skirt and blouse readily enough, she turned around so that her back was to her brother. Only then did she remove her bra; then she put the nightgown over her head, and afterward peeled off her underwear.

Paul watched the procedure with a wry smile. Even though I've gotten to know every inch of the other women in this house, I still haven't laid eyes on any of my sister's "private parts."

He shrugged and began undressing. He had no compunction about exposing himself to Kristen, almost ripping off his shirt and pants; but when he came to his underwear, a sudden embarrassment overtook him, and he left them on—in spite of the awkwardness that his swelling member was causing—and slid into bed.