Family Game Night
Lubrican
Family Game Night
By Robert Lubrican
Free Sample
Copyright 2023 Robert Lubrican
License Notes
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Rights to cover art purchased at freepic.com
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* * * * * *
I read a very short story written by a Brit, based on some of the language in it. It ended abruptly and left me wondering what might have happened after that. Lots of people write to me and ask me what happened after the end of this or that story and I always answer them the same way. "What happened is in your imagination. You have some idea of how you wish it would have gone on, so think about that and imagine that's how it was written." So I took my own advice and imagined what might have happened if this story had gone on.
The original story was called "Family Morals" by "unk" and I have no idea where I downloaded it from, so I can't give credit for the beginning, which I edited and reused. I changed a bit in the first fifty lines, to set things up for my own vision, and after that, it's all mine. It is, in theory, a stroke story, but my record of starting with a stroke story and turning it into something else is well known. I'm writing this foreword at the beginning of the writing process, so we'll see how it turns out.
Updated Foreword
Okay, after finishing it up I decided there (can be) a lot to think about in looking at the relationships that developed as the story played out in my mind. Yes, this can just be for fun and entertainment. But there are also some things to reflect on because real people are experiencing real issues in the kinds of relationships they want to have. There's an extensive afterword in which I talk about that a little bit. The afterword is what some of my less than happy readers like to call "pontification" or "philosophy" and it isn't an epilogue, so you don't have to read it. I think you should, though. If the theme of this story is what you like, then you should read that afterword.
* * * * * *
It was game night in the Cunningham household. Every Friday night had been game night for roughly thirteen years, ever since the twins had been old enough to understand what a game was.
Bob Cunningham smiled good-naturedly up at his twin daughters. He had lost again and he knew what his punishment would be. Beth and Emma pulled off their socks and pushed their feet in his face.
"Trick or treat; smell our feet!" they yelled. It wasn't Halloween but they liked the phrase, he supposed. They always yelled it.
"Oh, phew!" he said. "Cheesy!"
Both girls giggled with delight. They loved sticking their feet in their father's face. It always got a good reaction.
"No more, no more!" he moaned, but remained on the floor as their feet battled to get in front of his nostrils. His wife laughed as the girls punished him this way. This was a fairly normal happening in their house. They would play a family game of cards and whoever lost had a forfeit. Bob seemed to lose quite often and his girls always chose their favorite; making him lie on the floor while they stuck their bare feet in his face.
"C'mon dear, get up now and let's continue," Julie said good-naturedly.
"Oh, alright dear!" he said, smiling. "C'mon, that's enough you two!"
The girls reluctantly let their father rise to continue the game.
A little while later Julie lost. It was her turn for a forfeit.
"Smelly feet! Smelly feet!" chanted the girls in unison.
Julie smiled. "No way – I'm not as crazy as your father. You're not sticking your smelly feet in my face."
She always said this. Julie could not be persuaded to do anything she didn't want to.
"Oh Mom!" said Beth. "You're such a spoil sport."
"Yes, c'mon Mom!" said Bob.
"No!" said Julie Cunningham, sternly.
The girls turned to their father. "Daddy?" said Emma.
"Alright girls!" said Bob. He stood up, walked behind his wife then grabbed her and pulled her from her chair.
"Bob! What on earth are you doing?" shrieked Julie. Bob was laughing and his daughters looked on with delight. Shrieking and whooping themselves they jumped on their helpless mother.
"No! No!" cried Julie Cunningham crossly, struggling against her husband's strong grip.
"Come on girls!" he shouted. "Here's your chance to stick your smelly feet in your mother's face!"
The girls did just that, though it wasn't easy as their mother kept turning her face from side to side as her daughters' feet got near her.
"Stop it Bob!" she kept saying. As she thrashed and squirmed under her husband her skirt rode up above her knees.
"Won't behave, eh?" said Bob. "We're just going to have to tickle you!"
The girls giggled.
"No! stop this now!" shrieked Julie Cunningham for all she was worth.
The girls dropped to their knees beside their prostrate mother and began tickling her in earnest. They went for obvious targets, like her armpits and ribs, and then Beth slid down, grabbed a foot, and began to tickle her sock-covered sole.
Julie Cunningham was almost hyperventilating now as the two girls went to work on her. She pleaded with them one last time and then, in fight or flight mode, swung her hand and slapped Bob soundly on the face.
Everybody froze and then let go of her. Mortified, she jumped up and ran, heading for the master bedroom.
"You wait here," their father told them, and followed his wife's dramatic exit.
He climbed the stairs, slowly, with a heavy heart. He wasn't hurt, but he knew Julie was upset.
When he got there, though, she seemed to be waiting for him.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Fine," he said. "No harm done."
"Good," she said, moving toward him.
She shed her clothes as she moved.
"I was bad," she said, her voice low. "I need to be punished. I think you should bend me in half and fuck me deep. You know how when you push all the way in I complain it hurts? Well this time I won't complain."
Bob was completely taken aback. He'd never seen his wife of sixteen years like this. She was like… like… like an animal in heat.
She almost dragged him to the bed and lay back on it, knees spread and pulled up to her healthy, still firm breasts.
"I want it rough, Bob," she moaned.
So that's what he did. He mounted her and slammed in hard enough to move her body towards the headboard of the bed. He knew she normally liked him to be gentle but he also knew he could eventually rub the shit out of her clit until she came. He did that and then her milking muscles finished him off and he inundated her pussy with his spend.
Almost as soon as it had begun it was over. Julie achieved the release she needed – both sexual and emotional - and got out of bed to clean herself up, leaving Bob with a limp dick. While his wife went to the bathroom he got dressed again and waited for her. She returned, put clothing on, and then held her hand out to him. All in all, they'd been gone from the game fifteen minutes.
"Thank you," she said. "Now we've got a game to finish."
They went back downstairs to their two children, who were still there, waiting anxiously. When they saw their parents smiling, however, they were greatly relieved, although somewhat mystified. No more was said about the incident and they continued the game as though nothing had happened.
Very soon after they had begun Julie lost again. She put her cards down on the table, beamed at her family and said, "Well girls. It seems I've lost again. It seems that I can't stop you if you want to tickle me, or do anything else to me that you desire."
Bob felt his cock stirring again and the girls just looked at each other with impish grins.
"We don't want to tickle you. Instead, we want you to teach us things we need to know before we start dating," Emma said.
The girls were fifteen and twins. They were beautiful, with full, curvy bodies like their mother, and in three short months they would be sixteen, the age they had been told they could begin dating.
"What do you want to know?" asked their mother.
"Janine says that boys will try to do things … nasty things … and we need to know how to stop them," said Beth and Emma, in unison. They often sounded like they had practiced saying things together.
"Bob?" His wife looked at him.
"You want me to tell them?" he yeeped.
"You're a man. Tell them what men will want from them."
"Well," he said. "Just how in-depth should I go?"
"They think teasing a man involves making him smell their feet," said Julie. "That's pretty unrealistic. We knew this day was coming. Don't hold back."
"No, Daddy!" squealed the twins. "Don't hold back!"
"All right. First they'll want to kiss you."
"Big deal," said Emma. "You've kissed us for years."
"Not like boys will want to," said Bob.
"Show us! Show us!" they chanted.
So Bob pulled Emma into his arms and planted one on her lips. He kissed her like he kissed his wife, and wasn't reluctant about using his tongue. To be honest, he'd had some illicit thoughts about his girls over the last year or so, as their bodies looked more and more like they were eighteen, instead of fifteen or sixteen. Kissing Emma like this was fun.
When he let her go her eyes were glassy and she stumbled backwards to fall on her mother's lap. Julie held her up.
"Wow," she sighed.
"What was it like?" whined Beth.
So he kissed Beth the same way.
She ended up on her mother's other knee.
"What next?" asked Julie, calmly. She knew what these girls were in for, with their long, blond hair, big breasts, and cheery attitude. Every boy who took them out would want to fuck them. She hoped that wouldn't happen but she didn't know how to stop it.
"They'll want to hold you and touch you while they kiss you some more," said their father.
Emma went to find out what that was like. She jerked and yipped, pulling her face away from a kiss.
"Daddy! You touched my boob!"
"Boys will want to do that," he said. "They'll try, and you need to know what that feels like, because you're going to have to decide whether to let them touch you or not. It will be your decision how far to let them go."
"I don't mind if you touch me," said his daughter, "but I don't want boys to touch me like that."
"At some point you'll like a boy so much you will want him to touch you," said Julie. "I know I did. I let some boys touch me on my boobs and other places."
"Mom!" said both girls together, clearly scandalized.
"Where?" asked Beth, curiously. Emma snorted.
"You know where, Beth. Don't play like you're stupid," she said.
"I didn't think we were going to admit we know stuff," said Beth in a huff.
"You two are growing up. You need to tell us the truth about things so we can have honest conversations, like this one," said Julie. "If I don't think I can trust you, I won't let you start dating until I do think I can trust you, even if that's when you're eighteen."
"No way, Mom," said Emma. "We're not waiting until we're eighteen."
"Okay, then, be honest with us. What have you two done with boys up to this point?"
"Not much, really," said Emma. "Jeremy Hawkins kissed us at church one time, but it wasn't like how Daddy just kissed us. We've heard stuff, from other girls, but we haven't done any of it because we can't date, yet."
"What have you heard?" asked Julie.
Emma looked at both parents.
"You promise you won't get mad?"
"Why would we get mad about something you heard? I only want to know to find out if you've gotten good information or bad."
"Okay. We heard that guys want to get in our panties."
"That's true," said Bob.
"What does that mean, exactly?" asked Beth.
"Your father will show you that later," said Julie.
"I will?" asked Bob, his voice cracking.
"How else will they be prepared?" she said.
Bob realized something crazy was happening. He knew his wife was prone to suggest odd things, from time to time. She had suggested they go to a swap meet one of her friends had told her about, for instance. He had been unable to imagine letting another man have her … that way … and had refused. She didn't push it or even mention it after that. On another occasion she had brought home some rented movies that were filthy in the extreme. The girls were at a sleepover that night and they had watched the movies and then acted out one of the scenes. It had been great sex, but she hadn't made a habit out of it. When she bought a vibrator she said it wasn't a reflection on him and then invited him to use it on her to give her the first orgasms of many she would have with the toy. She used it to get ready for him while he was at work and then fucked his socks off later.
When Covid hit he had transitioned to working from home, which was no problem because his job was accounting for a major plumbing distributor and he could do his job with information sent to and from him via the internet. After that, Julie used the vibrator less and less, since he was always available to sate her considerable lust.
It was her record of doing things like that which convinced him this was another of her spur-of-the-moment ideas. Except this one didn't seem to have anything to do with her own sexual satisfaction. It could be about the girls' satisfaction, which would be odd, and it could be about his satisfaction, which would be just plain weird. Only time would tell. He just decided to play things by ear and be ready to stop when Julie said to.
The problem would be, eventually, that Julie never told him to stop.
* * * * * *
"There are two reasons a man wants to get in a woman's panties," Bob orated, trying to sound scholastic. "The first is to use his fingers to bring her pleasure."
"You mean rub," said Emma, who was no longer shy about displaying the knowledge she already had.
"Like you two rub," said Julie, guessing that both girls had been masturbating for a while. "Except it will feel different."
"How can it feel different?" asked Beth. "Rubbing is rubbing."
"Your father will show you that, later, too," said their mother.
"If you know about that one, then you know the other reason a man wants to get in a girl's panties," suggested Bob.
"You mean to have sex," said Emma.
"Precisely," said Bob.
Both girls looked at their mother. They were still sitting on her knees, so she couldn't look at both of them at the same time.
"Is Daddy going to show us that, too?" Emma asked, her voice snarky.
"That depends on you," said Julie, calmly. "If you take that attitude I seriously doubt it."
"Wait!" gasped Beth. "You mean he might actually show us?"
"Again, that depends on you. Your bodies are yours. You must never, ever let anyone, man or woman, do anything to you that you object to. That includes your father and me."
"You? What could you do we might object to?" asked Beth, curiously.
"I had a roommate in college," said Julie. "We were friends. We were very good friends. We experimented with things that people march in pride parades about these days."
"No way!" yipped Emma. "You were a lesbian?"
"Had I been a lesbian neither of you would have been born," said Julie. "We experimented. I liked it. I just didn't like it enough to give up men."
"She means she might be willing to do that to us," said Beth. "Unless we objected," she added.
"I do your laundry," said Julie. "I handle your pajamas and sometimes they have evidence in them that the girl wearing them has been very horny. Since both sets of pajama bottoms smell that way, sometimes, I think you're trying to dissemble again."
"We're not disassembling anything," objected Beth.
"I said dissemble, not dis-a-semble. It means trying to conceal something."
"What would we be trying to hide?"
"Are you two lesbians?" asked Julie.
"Oh," said Emma.
"No, we're not," said Beth. "We like boys, too."
"I hope that's the last time I have to tell you something I know about that you should have already told me about."
"C'mon, Mom. How were we supposed to know you did that in college? It sort of happened over time. All of a sudden one night … well … you can't go to your parents the next day and say, 'Guess what we did last night! Does it make us lesbians?' "
"You most certainly can do that," snapped Julie. "That's my whole point. You can ask us anything, talk to us about anything. That's what we're here for. Why do you think we're having this conversation right now? We want you to be prepared to face the world when you leave this house; even before you leave it. We know how hard it is to grow up. We're trying to make it a little easier for you two."
"That's really nice," said Emma, "but I don't think they do this in most families. I mean most dads don't do what we're talking about with their daughters."
"You're right," said Julie. "And if you don't want to do this, then don't. It's up to you. Just remember, this is our family, not someone else's. We may do things differently, but we're only doing what we think is best for you two."
"So … what now?" asked Emma.
"You're either curious and have questions, or you aren't and don't," said Julie. "That's up to you, too."
The twins looked at each other, across their mother's lap. Her arms were around them. Neither looked scared or uncomfortable.
"I'm curious," Beth finally said.
"I have questions," said Emma.
"Maybe we should make a schedule of things to explore," said Julie. "That will give you time to think about things and make changes, should you wish to."
* * * * * *
Bob sat as pen and paper were procured. The girls sat on the floor between their parents and Julie wrote. He didn't expect to be consulted. His wife had come up with this hare-brained idea and he sensed that the women would decide what would happen.
The first thing written down was 'More kissing lessons'.
Beth said, "I'm interested in getting someone else's hands in my panties." She blinked. "Other than Emma's."
That was written down as 'Petting lessons'. The girls got up to look at the list.
"What's petting?" asked Beth.
"It means your father will touch you and, eventually, masturbate you," said Julie, calmly.
"Wow," whispered Emma.
"Unless you object," Julie added.
Neither girl said anything.
"If he's going to touch us, does that mean we get to touch him?" asked Emma.
Julie wrote down 'Male anatomy lessons'.
"Angie Thorp said she has had to jerk guys off on dates," said Beth. "Is that included in male anatomy lessons?"
"Yes," said Julie.
Bob breathed heavier and adjusted the front of his pants.
"What about blow jobs?" asked Emma, whose reticence had vanished.
"If he is willing to let you do that, then that's also included," said Julie.
Emma looked at her father.
"You're not saying anything, Daddy."
"I'm not sure what to say," he said, weakly.
"You get to say, 'No,' too," said Emma. "I mean, that's only fair, right?"
"You asked what boys will be like on dates," he answered. "Some boys will try to do whatever they can get away with. All boys will always be willing to do whatever it is you want them to."
"Anything?" Beth said.
"If he's intelligent he may resist some things," said Bob. "An intelligent boy will understand that there are consequences to his actions and he may refuse to do some things."
"Why? Aren't they all fun?" asked Beth.
"He may refuse to do something that could get you pregnant," said Julie.
"Oh … that," said Beth. "Okay. I get that. I don't want to get pregnant, either. Not now. Some day I want to have a baby, but not now."
"One of the things I hope you learn with your father is that, in the heat of passion, you may forget some of your plans," said Julie. "That's the most important lesson I think he can teach you."
"How can you forget a plan?" asked Emma.
"You'll find out," said Julie. "What else?"
"That's probably enough for now, I think," said Emma. She had been born first and sometimes reveled in being the "big sister". She also tried to bully Beth, once in a while. Beth knew when to ignore her.
"There's two kinds of oral sex," said Beth, looking meaningfully at Emma. "I'm curious about what that might be like."
"With a man, you mean?" said Julie, her face straight. Bob coughed.
"Yes," muttered Beth.
Julie wrote down 'Cunnilingus' on the paper.
"What the heck is that?" asked Emma, as she stared at the paper.
"It means your father will put his mouth on your vulva," said Julie.
"Vulva?"
"Your pussy," said Julie, calmly.
"Oh. It's called a vulva?"
"All that will be covered in petting lessons," said Julie. "Anything else?"
"Not now," said Emma again.
"I guess that's good, for now," Beth said.
"All right. Lessons will be on Friday nights. You can do them in place of game night, or after game night."
"New games to play," breathed Emma.
"Not tonight, though," said Julie. "It's gotten too late to tackle anything on this list. Next Friday night you can choose."
"Awww, Mom," complained the twins, together again, as one voice.
"Kiss your father good night," she ordered.
These kisses were not the pecks they had always given him on the lips since they were little.
Tonight they got hugs and kisses with tongue.
"Wow, I like that," sighed Emma, who had gone first.
"Me, me, me!" squealed Beth. "Don't hog him!"
She got a kiss that left her with wobbly knees, but she recovered quickly.
There was much giggling and squealing as the two girls dashed upstairs to the room they had shared all their lives.