Dickins Family Fun

Warnings: Despite the name, this story does not contain any incest. There is a pretty fair amount of fucking the in-laws.

This story is copyright 2018 by TheElderWyrm and 2025 by NaughteeDragon. I am the author in both cases. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Names of places or things are covered under fair usage.

All characters engaging in sexual acts or behaviors are at least 18 years of age.

A/N: A huge thank you to Fatdog25 for his beta and editing work.

This story is set in the early to mid-2000's, before the first iPhone, before 50 Shades of Grey brought BDSM into the general zeitgeist, and before polyamory was a broadly understood concept.

Bill gets to know Kvet and learns there's magic in the air.

Dickins Family FunChapter 14- An Interlude for Flowersby NaughteeDragon

Dickins Family FunChapter 14- An Interlude for Flowersby NaughteeDragon

Bill was surprised to see there was no one in the den as he walked in. From what Melina had told him earlier, the den was thede factogathering place to pass time during parties like this. That had led him to ask how many parties like this there had been here. Melina's answer had been evasive and nonspecific, but it was more than one and less than a hundred; one hundred would have been very impressive since the family had only come into possession of the house three-and-a-half years earlier.

He walked over to the upright shelf that held the stereo and started flipping through the rack of CDs. He had never really paid much attention to what was in it. His tastes skewed a little different from most of the family. The Beatles were okay, Black Sabbath was better. The first time he heard Rage Against the Machine, it was like a revelation; and System of a Down was still the coolest thing he'd ever heard. He didn't have an extensive music collection, maybe forty discs that he rotated through, but it was enough for him.

This stuff looked to have mostly come from the twins' house, though. He recognized Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin; he vaguely knew who Run-D.M.C. was, and John Lee Hooker sounded vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure that Jane could tell him who Rihanna was, and probably The Police. He had no idea who Bob Marley or Sean Paul were, and a couple of the CDs had names in a language that looked like Japanese. He was about to give up and turn on the radio when he found one marked Party Mix- OBHWF; he opened the case and found it empty. He checked the CD player and found the missing disc, so he popped it back in and hit 'play.'

The opening guitar chord bent and slid, he smiled in memory as he recognized the song Leticia had played for him last night. He flopped down on the long, squashy couch and picked up his sandwich from the coffee table. As he finished his sandwich, the second song started, it was the song that Melina had danced to this morning. That made him smile, she had been a lot of fun; but he hadn't worked that hard during sex in a long time. Melina was athletic, which was probably why she still had such a great body. She made him keep up with her since she knew he worked out with his team on a fairly regular basis; since he was only an assistant, he didn't get to sit on his ass.

"'Allo, Bill." Bill looked up to see Kvet walk into the room, a glass of wine in one hand and a bunch of grapes in the other. Her raven-black hair was wind-blown and there were bits of grass and twigs in it. "Mind if I join you?" He sat up and brushed off the seat where his foot had been. When she sat down, it was far more of a flop than he would have expected from her, she seemed to move with a casual grace.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he picked a stick out of the back of her hair, then leaned back into his corner of the couch.

She huffed and turned to face him. "Iris was right, Reggie is a Neanderthal." Like the other times they'd talked, he quickly adjusted to her accent.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Bill sat up a little straighter. He wondered if any of his reaction was her weird aura that Jane didn't like, or if it was just him being him. He felt normal and little things, like sitting up straight and making eye contact, had paid huge dividends with girls when he was James' wingman.

She gave him a small smile. "No, but 'e ees very much a product of zee wildz 'e works een. The wilds he works in." She stressed each word, trying to make the sounds more American.

"Your accent is nice," Bill said. "It makes you sound foreign and exotic."

She spoke a bit slowly, with precise diction. "No, it makes me sound like an uncultured peasant girl." She smiled at him again as she tossed the bunch of grapes onto the plate his sandwich had been on. "English and American men all think that French girls sound trés sexy. I'm an adult now, I should be able to turn eet, it, off when I want to."

"You and Frank live in France, though, so shouldn't your accent be a carryover from speaking in French at home?"

She slid over closer to him. "It is very nice of you to excuse my poor manners and horrid accent. I have been fluent in English for more than half my life, I should be able to speak it like an Englishwoman by now."

"Alright, if you say so. I still like your accent. It is trés sexy." He smiled at her and winked in a cheeky manner that made her smile fondly at him.

"You are very sweet,Guillome." She laughed and moved a bit closer. "Voulez-vous venir dans ma chambre?" she whispered in his ear.

"I have no idea what you just said," he laughed, "but the answer is 'yes' if you'll say it again." This time, she invited him to her room in English, but her accent was so thick it almost sounded like a foreign language. He pushed himself up off the couch and held out his hand to her. "Oui, it would be my pleasure,mon cher." That exhausted about all the French he knew.

She was three stairs ahead of him now, so her ass was right in front of his face. The swing of her hips was dramatic, despite her small size, and his mind stopped wandering. Her ass was amazing, especially packed into the tight leather pants she was wearing. Her shirt rode up and he saw a small tattoo that saidcarpe noctum.

He had never gotten into the Emo Girl look nor the petite girl look. His wife was lithe and tight, but stood a shade over five-and-a-half feet tall. In her normal heels, she could be downright intimidating when she wanted to be. Kvet's small size, though, made him want to pamper and cradle her.

Another important difference between Kvet and Jane was how they saw their beauty. Whereas his wife was pretty, and somewhat unconscious of it, Kvet was smoking hot and knew it. She radiated an aura of sexuality that could be intimidating to lesser men. Now that he was thinking about sleeping with her, especially in light of what he had learned about her that morning, he suddenly felt his own shortcomings. He was still awkward and gangly, he wasn't nearly as cool as Frank, nor as funny as the twins, he wasn't muscular and tough like Reggie, nor hugely endowed like James and Kai. He could almost taste the excuse he would make to her so that he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of her.

Then he remembered that his wife was also a woman of exacting standards and he was good enough for her. Leticia had wanted him, and wanted him badly. He was a skilled lover, he paid attention to what his lover wanted and needed. As these thoughts crystallized, they tattered and dissipated the fog of doubt that had been growing in his mind. Kvet looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

As she led him into her room, he realized just how much smaller she was than him, she was just a delicate little flower. In that moment he decided how he would handle this, he was too worn out to be athletic, and since she had done porn, she was probably used to being fucked hard. He would take a different approach.

The room she and Frank shared was similar to his own, but looked like the storage room at an art gallery. Original paintings covered the walls and interesting statuary in a dozen styles from around the world stood on whatever flat surface they could find. Instead of a single light that brightened the room, track lights with tightly focused beams illuminated particular pictures and gave the room an indirect light instead.

She crossed to a dark wood vanity and lifted a brush from the gold and glass tray that held brushes and combs. "Allow me," Bill said, stepping up behind her as she sat down. He took the brush from her hand, picked out the few bits of grass and leaves that still marred the glossy black tresses, then he pulled the brush through her long, fine hair. When he encountered a tangle, he took her comb and teased it out instead of trying to pull through it, using a trick his sister had taught him when they were young.

He spent several long minutes running the brush and his fingers through her hair. It cascaded over his hands like heavy silk, and he was surprised by its weight, given how fine it was. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Would you mind if I spent a couple of hours doing nice things for you?" he whispered.

"That would be very nice," she said, leaning into her accent, as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, but only gently, almost chastely. He had seen from the doorway that their bathroom featured a large tub surrounded by tile and looked out on the trees that surrounded the house.

He walked into the bathroom and appraised the tub, noting the depth and size; it was easily large enough for the two of them. He stoppered the drain and began to fill it with water that would initially be just a little too warm, but that they would settle into nicely. He opened a couple of bottles and found one that smelled of lilac, which he thought would be nice on her, so he poured it under the faucet and let it begin to bubble.

She was still sitting at the vanity where he left her, although he had seen her watching him in the mirror. Without a word, he held out his hand to her and she took it and allowed him to lead her across the thick carpet. At the edge of the tile around the tub, she allowed him to undress her with exquisite care. He kissed her often, particularly in areas where an article of clothing had just been removed, but he was careful not to be too hungry or too aggressive.

She understood what he was doing, and she responded in kind as she undressed him with equal care. When at last they were both naked, she took his hand and stepped into the tub. He followed her in and managed to sit without splashing. She silently followed the lead of his hand and rested her back against his chest. He knew she could feel his partial erection beneath her as she sat down. She wiggled a bit to let him know she knew, but she said nothing and waited for him to make the next move.

A sense of peace enveloped him. At first, he thought it had to do with the bath and the relaxed atmosphere, but then realized it was something else. It was almost like a languor had invaded his body and gave him no option but to relax. However, his skin felt tingly where she touched him.

"What is it about you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her tone low and relaxed.

"You make Jane uneasy just walking by her. When I'm near you, it's like nothing else exists beyond us. The first time you kissed my cheeks, I literally forgot I was at a party. When Jane said something, I practically jumped out of my skin."

She made a small sound of understanding as she leaned more fully into him. "Do you believe in magic?"

"You mean like hocus pocus and fireballs, David Copperfield illusions kind of magic, or like earth magic?" He didn't believe in any of them, but he had to admit that watching David Copperfield's Death Saw trick had seemed like magic to his nine-year-old self.

"Nothing as flashy as all that," she replied. "Do you believe that magic exists within us, that we are more than the bodies we inhabit?"

"Never given it much thought." He scooped up water in his hands and poured it over her shoulders.

"I come from a long line ofvědma, what you might call shamans or wise women, maybe even witches. I have been passed down knowledge that no one believes in. In my younger years, even I rejected it." She picked up his hand and began to play with his fingers. "When I went searching for the meaning of life, I started looking to Eastern religions, like a lot of people who are disenchanted with what religion has become in the West."

She pulled his arms around her, lifted herself up, then had him bring his legs together so she could sit on his lap. "I discovered what westerners call tantra, and it connected back to my matriarchal power."

"Tantra?" Bill asked. "You mean like tantric meditation? Sex magic?"

She blew out a long breath. "Westerners," she sighed. "Tantra is much more than that. You Americans have taken something spiritual and universal, and made it base; but, yes, that is one aspect of it."

"Sorry," Bill apologized, feeling bad for cheapening something important to her.

"It is of no moment. I have used it for that purpose. As a matter of fact, my trip here this weekend is something of an experiment in that respect." She rubbed herself against his cock. "Would you like to experience some of it?"

"You aren't, like, going to turn me into a frog or something?" he joked.

"No," she laughed, "but if you aren't nice to me, I might make you my slave."

"How may I serve you, oh mistress of the dark," he said, completely overdoing it.

"You can start by doing what you were already planning to do. I like to be pampered. I also like to be slowly and gently aroused. If you do it right, you will experience magic." She leaned back into him, turned her head, and invited him to kiss her. Their lips met, pressed, and explored one another. He focused on kissing her, but kept his tongue in his own mouth for now.

He caressed her skin, taking care not to linger in any one area. When he stroked her hips, her legs spread slightly, but he moved on to her thighs, then back up to her flanks and across her stomach before moving lower. She was smooth, and opened eagerly to him, but he wanted to feel all of her and he wanted her to burn with desire before he took her.

Their kisses intensified as he continued to rub and stroke her, and she began to grind her ass against his erection. Finally, she took hold of his hands and pushed them down between her legs. When he only teased her, though, she gave him a look and he went from being in complete control of himself to feeling the urgency in his body, as though it was preparing for an orgasm.

"Finish me as I direct you," she breathed into his mouth just before she invaded him with her tongue. She guided his hands over her body. She had one hand rest on her stomach and make small circular patterns. She guided his other hand between her legs. She used him to stroke and prepare herself. Finally, she directed him to invade her.

He slid first one, then a second finger into her. He stroked her gently, and she led him away from her G-spot. When his fingers were fully inside her, she explained the motion she wanted him to make, which was like the traditional 'come hither' but used his whole finger. As her breathing deepened and steadied, she directed his other hand down.

He started to rub her clit, but she stopped him and directed his hand to move back and over her mound, just above her clitoris. Her breathing was even, but he could hear sounds of pleasure and arousal in it.

Somehow, he wasn't sure how, he hadn't quite gone over yet. He hoped it would be soon, it was becoming almost painful at this point. He knew it wasn't coming from direct stimulation though, she wasn't doing anything to him.

"Patience," she whispered into his mouth, and it felt like the word suffused his body. "Focus on what your fingers are doing to my body." He looked down and saw her drawing her fingers up and down her centerline, tracing the outlines of her breasts, then back down her centerline to her navel. "I am going to orgasm, and so are you," she told him, "but it should be unlike any orgasm you have had before."

"How so?" he asked, a little nervous, he had never hung on the edge of orgasm like this.

"Try not to cum, focus on your hands, not on your balls. Do not distract yourself, just focus on your hands."

He tried to do as she asked, thinking only about what he was doing with his hands. Something like a sheet fell over his awareness and it was as though nothing existed beyond the touch of his skin. She whispered and chanted, he fell into rhythm with her breathing and understood she was saying 'our fingers' over and over. He joined in her mantra.

He felt her clamp down on his fingers. It wasn't the fluttering squeeze and release he had experienced before, nor was it constant. It rolled in waves up and down her body. She said something in a language he didn't recognize and his body clenched. He somehow felt like they were floating in space, her body and his were one. He felt a ripple pass over himself, like a wave when you're lying in the rising tide. With it, every nerve in his body came alive, then went back to rest. The feeling seemed to last forever.

When it finally passed, he was exhausted and energized. He had to take long, deep breaths.

"That was nice," she said as she turned around inside the circle of his arms and straddled him. They kissed for long moments; it was a slow, lingering kiss, as though nothing else mattered in the entire world. "You are very good at the kissing part," she murmured in his ear when they finally broke apart. "Most men are more interested in other things." Her accent rounded off the harsh sounds and her voice felt like liquid in his ears.

"Don't get me wrong," Bill mumbled back. "I am very much looking forward to the other things, but I want to take the time to really enjoy our time together." He bent to kiss her again as he ran his hands from the soles of her feet, up her slender legs, over her narrow hips, across the smooth plane of her stomach until he cradled her slightly pointy breasts in each hand. He circled and rubbed each nipple with his thumb until they were both hard and the areolas were crinkly.

She rocked her hips against him and he realized he was still hard. When he broke their kiss and looked at her, she smiled. "You did it right."

"Did what right?" he asked, confused and still a little shocked.

"You experienced an orgasm,non?" He nodded. "But you did not cum. You did not jerk, you did not spray." She smiled at him like a teacher to a favorite student. "You are full of energy, ready for more,non?" He nodded. "Then let us continue."

She leaned in to kiss him and her hands began to explore his body. She encouraged him to continue to explore hers as well. His fingers slid back down her flanks to the slight flare of her hips and circled around to her back. He lightly dragged his fingernails up and down her back in narrowing strips until he reached her spine. When they met in the middle, it was almost like touching a static ball in science class.

He moved up, ran his fingers through her hair, and cradled her face as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She was all over goose bumps, and he was sure he was too, since her hands had been doing much the same to him.

"Shall we move to the shower so I can wash your hair for you?" he whispered in her ear.

"How could I possibly refuse?" she said with a crooked smile that he had never seen on her before, but was as cute as anything he had ever seen. Once they made it to the shower, Bill continued his slow, deliberate movements. Washing her hair was more like massaging her scalp until the lather piled up and ran down her wet body, and into the drain. The wash cloths were exceptionally soft and he made sure to cover every inch of her skin, including the most intimate areas.