Stanley Steamer Ch. 04: Jeri & Pam

We slid off his legs. He rose in naked splendor and helped me up, then Jeri. Not that we NEEDED help, but why refuse those strong hands? We stood thigh-deep and dripping. We hugged, a hot full-body three-way hug. A cooling breeze raised goosebumps but who cared?

Stan swatted our pretty butts. "Out now. Sandals only. We'll drip dry as we head in."

He climbed out and down the steps first. He offered his hand as we followed. I noticed him, his firm muscles, hiss full tan, the thick black thatch around his thick dark cock. My nipples hardened. Hey, he's your goddam brother! Stop that! Oh, just blame it on the chilly breeze.

He slid into tire-tread sandals, gathered our piled clothes, and walked to the house. Damn, my big little brother's ass looked good! So did my little cousin's. I did not mind following them slowly. And our bodies were almost air-dry when we reached the door.

Stan threw our clothes in a corner. "We'll sort those later. Anyone for a towel? Or a shirt?"

The room was temperate. Two towels materialized. Jeri and I wrapped turbans around the others' head, our boobx bobbing. Good boobs on both of us. Nice body shapes, too.

"I like to go naked," Jeri said. "You like to go naked, too," she told Stan. She looked at me.

I shrugged. My boobs bounced. "Can we get dressed before the black helicopters land?"

"We'll don dashikis as soon as we hear them," Stan reassured me. I THINK I was reassured.

"But I like bare flesh. I like bare female flesh. Your female flesh looks pretty damn good to me. Leave it on, okay? And remember," he sang, "It ain't no sin to take off your skin and dance around in your bones." His voice was okay.

Stan and I and others, but not my [expletive deleted] husband, had visited cousin Larry's pool, he's Jeri's brother, a private place in Palm Springs where clothes were banned. I was not unfamiliar with the bare bodies of my cohort and their friends, although I usually left before the orgies raged. But I had not been there for years. Stan and Jeri looked better now.

So Jeri and I wore turbans and socks - please, no shoes in the house. Stan wore socks and a smile. The smile was directed at our naked flesh. My nipples hardened again.

Dinner was slapped-together sandwiches, spiky gazpacho soup, and cheap wine from a generic box. We stood naked at a high counter. We ate, drank, and jiggled. Cleanup was trivial. Then Stan got serious.

"Jeri, I hate this, but Pam and I need to talk privately. Can you entertain yourself?"

Jeri looked around at the all-encompassing bookshelves and hanging artifacts.

"Yeah, but I wish YOU were entertaining me." She walked to him and bit his nipples, left and right. "Okay, be like that. I'll find a book." She sauntered off, hips and buns waggling.

I looked at Stan. "You guys playing games?"

"Something like that. But we have work to do."

We locked the office door and talked. Stan took only mental notes.

"Safer that way. If you don't write it down, it never happened."

He fired up his computer workstation. Keystrokes built displays of scrolling texts, digital codes, diagrams. He hummed and hit more keys. He slid a disc into a drive slot. The disc was spat out a few minutes later. He hit more keys. The screen cleared. He put the disc in a CD box with a Metallica cover. I hope he does not actually LIKE that shit.

"If NCIS drops by, I'll give them this. It contains exactly what I know and what I linked, nothing else. Nothing at all classified. Fuck, national security has gone apeshit paranoid since that 9-11 crap last year, but this is too much. Some of my corporate contacts will be VERY unhappy about this, and NICS will learn that, too."

"Uhhh, you know that Bill's father is an admiral. There could be pressure."

He waved the CD box. "I've linked-in a few general officers. I'll match their admiral with more admirals." He leaned the box against the computer screen.

We climbed from the director's chairs in his office. I looked at my big little brother, a naked pillar of strength. I hugged him. My lips kissed his. Our naked torsos contacted, rubbed. My bare boobs pressed into his manly chest. I held his head and trapped his eyes.

"Stan, if you can get me clean out of this, totally away from Bill and that cesspool, you'll be my hero forever and ever."

His lips kissed me gently. "Hero for hire." he intoned. "Maidens slain, dragons ravished, or maybe it's the other way around. Cash only." He kissed me again. "Think of a price."

He pushed away and swatted my pretty butt.

"Okay, we're done here. Let's see if Jeri is still awake."

She was. Still naked and without the turban, she sat in a comfy club chair with a coffee-table book covering her lap, viewing vivid pictures of naked people from around the world. Some of their poses and positions seemed most improbable.

She looked up. "Hey guys, this is great. It even beats most of Larry's videos." She looked down and flipped a page. "Did you have to go to Hong Kong for this?" She wiggled. Her boobs bobbled.

"It was a closeout at Book Barn in a plain brown wrapper. Totally luck. But we can talk freely now. And we need to. Put the book down, wipe your fingers, and come over here. It's conference time."

Questions and maybe answers: Did I still have a job? Call the night supervisor and see. And take a few days off - family emergency. If anything happens, it will be soon. Do I need any supplies? Think on that tomorrow. Should Jeri split, go home, in case NCIS dicks appear soon? No, they would only trace her. Better to hang together as long as needed. What else should we worry about? Meteorite strikes are way down the list. Just stay alert.

My job. I called, talked to Loralei the night boss. Sure, I should handle the crisis. They would call in Chop-n-Flop to spell me.

"Chop and Flop?" Jeri wondered.

"Our EMTs Betty and Liz are pretty hefty women. They had a Smoke Tree ambulance run with a code 5150, a nut case. He jumped out the back of the ambulance at a traffic stop. The gals chased him. Betty knocked him down, CHOP! and Liz sat on him, FLOP! till the sheriff arrived. Since then, they've been Chop-n-Flop."

Note: This is totally true. Just ask around.

Everything else could wait. But we should wear clothes tomorrow, just in case.

Stan said, "I suggest a late cocktail, a puffed joint, and relaxing sleep. Tomorrow might be busy, might not, but we should be rested, just in case. Do you trust me with dosages?"

We drank stuff he mixed. We puffed that joint down to nothing. We got sleepy. We turned in, each to a separate room, Jeri and me in guest cells, Stan in his manly boudoir,

Sleep did not come soon. I fretted. And through my closed door, I thought I heard Jeri's door stealthily open and close, and soft bare footsteps. Were they playing games?

---

Morning arrived at the usual time, with roadrunners as alarm clocks, dancing across the compound sheds' tin roofs at daybreak, the feathered bastards. And then Stan's woody Big Ben clock rang out its fucking seven-o'clock chime. Stan is such a Gothic torturer.

We emerged for coffee and slurpy burritos. Everyone was decently clothed. I was relieved.

NCIS arrived mid-morning, just a day after my frantic call to my big little brother. Two black SUVs emitted several guys and gals in dark glasses and office suits. They wanted to talk.

Two gestapos, one each male and female, questioned me in my room, tape rolling, voices insinuating. I said what I knew and nothing more. We repeated several times. I was more bored than scared.

Jeri was interrogated in her room. She had nothing to spill, no matter how they squeezed.

The NCIS dicks were pleased with Stan's office and with the disc he gave them. They were not so pleased after they learned of its contents and distribution. Whose heads would roll?

They were gone by mid-afternoon. Time for a late lunch of burritos and wine. And expect another visit, so do not have too much fun. No skinny-dipping yet, just in case.

The rerun came the next morning. We were decent but pretty worded-out by then. They left around noon-ish that day. I was pretty frazzled. The afternoon was tense but we did soak it off before sleeping another nervous night.

Both nights, I heard doors and soft footsteps. They WERE playing games! Fucking, I mean.

I felt much better after the next morning's good breakfast of huevos rancheros with all the trimmings, washed down with flagons of Guatemala coffee and Abuela chocolate and Oaxaca mezcal, mixed as the best Mayan mocha ever. And an hour of Stan's computer work made it even better. He emerged from his office with good news.

"My corporate and agency contacts say alarms have been raised. No heads are rolling yet, but expect some brass to be suddenly reassigned or retired, including at USMC Twentynine Palms, and not just the Combat Center staff., and also maybe much higher and elsewhere."

That was a great fucking relief. Maybe I was out of that mess.

"But wait, Pam, there's more! Certain irregularities may have been found in the conduct of your greasy husband Bill, problems that were covered up until I pointed NCIS that way. He may be in a fuckload of trouble. One contact advised that you file California no-fault divorce papers right away and they won't be contested. You want to free of him? Now is the time."

I nearly fainted. So that could be over soon? No more of that toxic crap? I cried.

Wait, I did not merely cry. I threw myself at my big little brother and crushed against him. I cried into his tee-shirted shoulder. His strong arms held me up - necessary, else I would have melted at his feet. My legs were weak. Oh god, oh god, to be out of that!

"We don't need to expect another NCIS visit. We're off the hook. In a week or a month, you may be invited to hear a smarmy liaison officer apologize. But they have a nasty shitpile to clean up. They won't want to hear from or deal with you or me again."

He held my head in his hands. That is all that kept me from falling.

"It's not over yet. Let's file your papers, get you stabilized at work, and have a drink. In reverse order."

The forms were right online; Stan printed them. A call to my daytime boss Caelia affirmed my position. The drink was not too strong. That was all in reverse order. I was sober then.

Stan went back to his computer workstation, office door open. Jeri, after hugging me in congratulation, went to tend Stan's small garden, mostly cherry tomatoes and jalapeño peppers - bugs ate everything else, she said. She gardened naked but for sandals. I filled my forms and drove to Yucca Valley to file them, and to stop by the ambulance station. No, they did not need me today. Go home, I was told. You look wiped out, I was not told.

I drove quietly on Rancho Relaxo's dirt drive. I parked. Jeri was not in the garden. I quietly entered the 'cabin'. I kicked off my sandals and walked barefoot inside. I followed the sounds I heard to Stan's bedroom door.

They were fucking. Jeri cowgirl-rode her cousin, my brother, my big little brother. Her back was to me but I could see his hands raised to her breasts. Her buns bounced on his thighs.

I backed away quietly. I went to my room and changed my city clothes for a sundress, nothing else. I quietly poured a strong drink in the great room, pulled some illustrated book from a shelf, and sat myself in a club chair. I leafed through the book. I saw nothing.

Voices from the bedroom increased in volume and then stopped. A few minutes of rustling sounds, then water running, then faint voices. Then Jeri and Stan emerged, she leading him by his thick cock. They stopped when they saw me. Our naked cousin dropped his cock and fiercely hugged my naked brother.

"I love him," she said. "He's the best man I know and I love him."

I knew about cousins and sex. In much of the world, cousin-couplings are allowed or encouraged or required. I was only... not stunned. I had guessed this about them. I just was not ready for the proof.

I do not know why I said it. But I said it.

"Next time, I want to watch."

"How about right now?" our cousin asked.

She dropped to her knees. Our cousin took my big little brother's big cock into her mouth. They were at an angle that ensured I saw everything. She sucked She licked along the sides of his shaft, along the cap, and then swallowed him again.

Her eyes looked into me. She looked proud and hungry. His eyes looked into me. He was not smirking or deadpan or angry. His face was alive with... love.

She licked again, stem to top, and then away slightly, a wet strand linking his dripping dickhead to her soggy mouth. She looked frightened and happy.

"Right here, right now, you want to watch Stan cum in my mouth?"

"No," I said, "I want to watch you fuck. In your bed." I stood and peeled off my sundress; underneath was only me. "In the bedroom. Now, or as soon as you can."

"I'm ready," my big little brother said. "Are you?" I waited, and nodded.

He lifted Jeri off her knees, off the floor. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, hard, long. Her breasts pressed against him. His cock pressed against her. She turned to me. Her eyes scoured my soul. I waited, and nodded. She quivered, and nodded in reply. I walked to them. Jeri took my hand, and Stan's, and led us into the bedroom.

Another big comfy club chair occupied a corner near the big bed. I sat as they rolled onto the bed. They knelt together, and kissed, and touched. They fell to their sides and kissed and clutched with full-body contact, legs and arms and souls intertwined.

She whispered, "Yeah?"

He murmured, "Yeah,"

She whispered, "I love you."

He murmured, "Lie back."

She laid back and opened her legs, knees up, thighs inviting, pussy vivid. He accepted the invitation and eased his craggy face into her trim snatch. He pushed down her near knee so I could watch him kiss and nuzzle her inner thighs, part her labia with his tongue, and lick into her.

"Oh yeah," she breathed, "oh yeah."

He licked her quite well. His butt twitched. Her body quivered. She moaned, and fingered and twisted her nipples. He wriggled a finger in her vagina. She thrashed and groaned. He continued. She stiffened and yelled, not a loud yell. I had not heard her climax during their nightly fucks. Maybe she was showing-off now.

I watched and listened. I fingered my pussy and my tits. I breathed hard. I kept watching.

"Oh baby, oh baby," she chanted after the yelling. "Oh baby, oh yeah." She pushed him over on his back and crawled on top of him, her pussy back in his face, his cock at her face. "Oh yeah, baby." His strong hands pulled her pretty butt down. Our cousin's eyes stayed on mine as she swallowed my big little brother's big, bigger, biggest cock.

Her eyes closed when another orgasmic wave took her. She yelled around his fat cock. That sounded like a stifled scream. Maybe such muffling was why I had not heard them before.

She paid me no attention then. She focused on the penis in her mouth and on her own aftershocks. She performed pushups, face-fucking herself, up and down on his cock, her body shaking, her boobs bouncing and swinging. Finally she rolled off him, gasping.

"No more tongue, no more," she wheezed. "Fuck me now. Fuck me to death."

She arranged pillows so my visual angle would be good. I closely watched my big little brother's big cock open her labia and slide into our sweet little cousin's snatch. I keenly watched their fucking, clutching, clenching. I heard their animal sounds, and the quickening tempo, and her loud groan and his grunted spasm when my big little brother's hot sperm sluiced into our cousin's womb.

They lay motionless but for breathing. He had collapsed on her after fucking her to death.

He rolled off her. They embraced and kissed and then fell apart, hands stroking, toes crinkling. Stan rolled to slurp her tits. She pushed him back and bit his nipples, like the first time I saw her do that.

I do not know why but I stood and walked to the bed, to our cousin Jeri.

"Sit up," I told her. "I want to feel."

She sat on the edge of the bed. I stood before her and felt her head. I felt her shoulders. I fondled her boobs and rubbed her sides. I dropped to my knees, between hers. I felt her hips, her thighs, her calves, her hips again, her breasts again.

"Lean forward," I told her. "I want to taste."

I licked our cousin's nipples. Stan's saliva lingered. I tasted my brother there.

"Lay back," I ordered. "I want to taste."

She complied. I put my face to her pussy, inhaled deeply, smelled her odor, their mingled scents. I licked our cousin's snatch, licked deep into her semen-filled vagina, gathered their mingled juices on my tongue. I tasted my brother there. I think he tasted familiar.

"Come here," I said. "I want your mouth."

We stood together, boobs to boobs, bush to bush. I put my mouth to hers and gave her their flavors still in my mouth. We shared the seasonings.

Stan watched us in silence. I looked to my big little brother.

"Come here," I said. "I want your mouth."

He stood with his hands at his sides. I pulled his head to mine, his mouth to mine, his tongue to mine, and gave him the flavors remaining. Our tongues touched carefully. I took my mouth away. I did not kiss down his neck and chest. I bent and sucked his nipples. Jeri's saliva lingered. I tasted her there.

I eased back and took his wet, drained, thick cock into my hand. I felt him pulsing. I felt the juices on his flesh. I licked my hand. I tasted my brother and our cousin there.

"I just had to know," I said. I turned and walked to my room. I did not wiggle my hips any more than usual. In my bed, I masturbated, and cried, more than once. And then I dressed,

Stan and Jeri were also dressed when I emerged. They sat and talked together on the wide couch. Their voices drifted as I approached. I held my hands out to them.

"Please," I said.

We hugged. Our faces came together. Our lips touched, like back in the horseless horse tank, oh so long ago. We breathed together. Our tongues did not extend, only our air.

"I have work to do," I said. I drove to the ambulance station. They could always use me.

---

I spent that night in an overnight room at the station where long-shift paramedics and EMTs rested between runs. My boss Caelia threw me out the next morning.

"You are fucking useless, sweetie. Get the fuck away till you're up to snuff. Don't worry, we'll survive without you for a few more days. I don't know if you can survive your own shit that long, but try, huh?"

She hugged me. I like nice bosses who hug me. Not like when Bill hugged me, toward the end. Stop! Do not think about that! Bill is gone!

I drove back to Rancho Relaxo. Stan and Jeri were clothed this morning so we did not need to dash for coverings when we heard a vehicle grinding up the dirt-and-gravel access track.

The unmarked sedan dislodged two men, the driver in a sheriff's uniform with much gold around his collar, the other an obvious plainclothes dick, blue suit and wraparound shades, the stereotype. The dick opened the backdoor on his side.

"Hi, Stan," the sheriff officer said. Not just a road-running deputy - he was county brass.

"What's up, Danny?" Stan asked.

"Is that your sister Pam there with you? We have official business with her. Umm, Mrs Pamela Riley, I have a warrant for your arrest. It is a most unusual warrant. The charges and details are sealed by the court. You are not to speak now, or move, unless directly ordered. Neither are any of those in your immediate presence."

We all gasped. Stan said, "Danny, what-"

The officer drew his service revolver. The plainclothes dick pulled an automatic pistol from an underarm holster. Both were aimed at us.

"We are authorized to use deadly force to execute this warrant," the dick said. "Shut up and don't twitch if you want to stay alive."