Magnus and His Family Ch. 11

Kristen didn't fail to notice his condition, as she had been watching him fixedly as he disrobed. She fell into bed next to him. At first they lay there on their backs like two corpses laid out on a bier; then, realizing the absurdity of the situation, Kristen flung herself onto her brother's supine body and let him hold her in a loose embrace.

"God, did you notice how Adele and Curt are just eating each other up?" she cried, as if to shift her brother's attention to a safer subject.

"Yeah, they seem really smitten," Paul said.

"Smitten! Jesus, they're totally infatuated with each other. I never thought something like that really happened—but it has!"

"It may have happened with Mom and Dad, from what Dad once told me."

"Is that right? Well, it'd be great if they really could get back together."

"They've already gotten back together, haven't they?"

"Well, just one roll in the hay doesn't mean they've overcome all their problems. Anyway, there's Jenna to consider."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Paul, you can be so thick-headed at times! Her position is pretty awkward. I've been getting the feeling that she thought she was some kind of replacement for Mom—but now Mom has suddenly come back, and Jenna seems left out in the cold."

"Um, well, she seems to have found some pretty nice shelter in Curt's arms—not to mention mine."

"Oh, you liked her, did you?"

"She's fabulous. Kind of like Mom in some ways, but in other ways not like her at all."

"That's real helpful."

"I can't really put it into words. But I don't think she has anything to worry about. Dad's certainly not going to throw her out of bed, even with Mom here."

"You think Mom's going to be okay with that?"

"Kristen, look at what's gone on these past few nights. It's pretty much everyone hooking up with everyone else. So what's the big deal?"

As Paul said those words, both of them were suddenly brought once more to the realization that they were now "hooking up," even though they hadn't done much of anything yet. Why exactly they should even have such reservations, given the weeks and months of Paul's intimacy with his own mother and Kristen's with her father, they couldn't have said; but there it was.

And yet, as they continued to cuddle, with Kristen nestling in Paul's arms and burying her face in his neck, both of them felt the beginnings of certain feelings. Paul was gently rubbing Kristen's back, and she was acting almost as a cat does when stroked by a loving owner; and she herself, who had initially thrown her arms around Paul's neck, now noticed something happening in his lower regions that impelled her to place a hand in that direction.

"Mmmm," she cooed, "what's going on down here?"

She was lightly tapping the protuberance distorting Paul's underwear, taking careful note of its length and heft.

"Kristen," he said shakily, "you know what that is."

"I guess I do," she remarked pertly. "Did I do that?"

"Take a guess."

She eyed him keenly, then moved the blanket away to expose nearly his entire frame. Paul certainly didn't have a barrel chest like Magnus, but his pectoral muscles were still very nice to look at, and to touch; but right now her focus was elsewhere.

She peeled back the top of Paul's briefs, and her smile broadened. "Look at this!"

"Kristen, please!" Paul begged—but right now he wanted nothing more than for his sister to touch that aching member of his.

She did more than that. Scooting down to get a better look, she pulled off Paul's briefs entirely and gazed admiringly at the cock and balls they had been covering. With another impish look in his direction, she plunged as much of his member into her mouth as she could.

Paul gasped at the sensation. He'd had more than a few women engage in this procedure, whether it be an array of silly college girls or the other female occupants of this house, including his own mother; but the sight and feel of Kristen engulfing his organ was almost more than he could endure, and he peered wide-eyed at her head bobbing up and down. At times she tickled his balls, well aware that nearly all males are driven wild by that.

"Omigod, Kristen!" he breathed.

She didn't want things to get too overheated right away. Abruptly stopping her actions—and ignoring Paul's agonized moan when she did so—she raised herself up on her knees, stripped off her nightgown, and threw it aside.

Paul gasped once more. "Oh, God, Kristen, you're so beautiful!"

"My breasts aren't too small?" she asked. She knew that by being in this position her breasts wouldn't get flattened out as they would if she were lying on her back. For her brother, she wanted to present herself in the most alluring possible way.

"No way!" he cried, his enthusiasm clearly heartfelt. "They're—fabulous!"

And he was paying attention to other parts of her anatomy as well, notably the delicate tuft of hair covering her delta and (so far as he could tell from this angle) the luscious curves of her bottom.

Kristen now squatted on top of Paul, letting him seize those small but exquisitely shaped breasts with his hands. She was already quite wet, and in fact felt a little trickle of her own fluid dripping down her thighs. She knew the time for the ultimate union with her brother had come.

Taking his stiff cock in her hand and prying it up into a vertical position, she eyed it like some kind of scientific specimen, then raised herself up a bit so that her pussy was directly over it. Then, not taking her eyes off Paul, she lowered herself onto his cock.

Paul watched the slow vanishing of his cock into his sister's cleft as if a supernatural event were occurring. When, after what seemed like minutes, it had fully disappeared into her vagina, the momentous significance of the situation overcame him, and he almost wept from the physical and spiritual sensations he was experiencing. He grabbed her bottom with both hands and urged her to bounce up and down on his cock, while he himself thrust his hips up to force his way as deep into his sister's crevice as he could. At times she rested her hands on his chest to steady herself; at other times she placed her hands behind her head or even seized her own breasts to stimulate herself as she relished the fraternal organ inside her.

Paul knew he couldn't last long, and after some minutes his face screwed up into a kind of delicious pain as he began shooting his come into his sister. The first feel of his discharge triggered an unexpected orgasm in Kristen, and she cried out gaspingly as she continued to squeeze every drop of fluid out of him.

Kristen immediately flopped onto Paul's body, their sweat intermingling as they wrapped each other in their arms. The magnitude of what had just happened didn't escape either of them, and they lay deep in thought as they became gradually aware of the expansion of their lifelong love of each other with this new dimension of intimacy. And as Paul stroked and squeezed Kristen's bottom, and as his member revived after a remarkably short time, poking her pleasantly in her abdomen, she eyed him askance and said:

"I know what you want, O brother of mine."

"I can't help it," Paul said plaintively. "You—you're just so tempting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, as she reached over to open the top drawer of the nightstand and take out the little blue jar.

"You want to do the honors?" she said as she offered it to him after taking off the cap.

"Delighted, my dear," he said.

After he had applied the lubricant, the two reversed positions, Kristen lying flat on her back while Paul loomed above her. At first he was merely content to gaze in awe and fascination at her backside, from shoulders to back to bottom to thighs. It was a heavenly sight, and he had to confess that Kristen's svelte figure was succulent in a way that even his mother's form (to say nothing of Adele's) couldn't match.

But looking didn't satisfy him for long, and he aimed his member in the direction of Kristen's orifice as she held her legs tightly together. This was a position he had come to favor for anal sex, and he was struck by how his sister instinctively knew it.

Their second venture into coitus was as thrilling as the first, as Paul pounded and pummeled her, squeezed her small breasts, and gradually slid his hand down to her sex to stimulate her just at the time when he himself felt his emission building inside of himself. He showered her with the benison of his most precious possession as she herself cried out in acknowledgment of his own success as bringing her to orgasm.

Two more climaxes for each followed—a long session of sixty-nine (where Paul was gratified to lap up his own juices along with his sister's) and a final session in the orthodox missionary position, after which Paul collapsed into Kristen in exhaustion. She was happy to feel the weight of him for quite a while, but finally urged him to get off.

But before going to sleep, they assured each other that this was far more than just the satisfaction of carnal lust.

"I love you, Kristen," Paul whispered.

"I love you too, dear," Kristen replied.