Stanley Steamer Ch. 11: Megan at Xmas

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I was quiet the next morning. Stan insisted on breakfast burritos, turkey and mushrooms and guacamole as he threatened last night, and strong coffee with cocoa and tequila and yes, I had an extra shot. Breakfast chatter was innocent.

I was in my nighty. Mom wore flannel pajamas and looked less tired. Anathea glowed in her caftan. Jeri was ominous in skintight black satin over slight bulges, and the red scarf again.

"Christmas party at the studio today. Ta ta." She kissed everyone, slid into black ankle boots at the door, and left.

Stan wore jeans and a long-sleeved NASA t-shirt. "Got work to do," he said, and took to his office, door open. "Data to massage." He keyboarded.

Mom hugged me. "You didn't pack much in that little bag."

"I thought the washer and drier here worked," I joked.

"We're almost the same size. Let's get you into a comfy track suit. Me too."

We went to her room across the hall from Stan's. She dropped her pajamas and pulled from her closet a black thong and bikini top and a red track suit. She handed me similar items, but red undies and a blue suit. I stripped. We saw our bodies. She did not much show her mid-thirties years, only slight bulges and a tired face, less craggy than her little brother's. She was beautiful. If she was so pretty then I guess I must be too. I hugged her, naked.

"Oh Mom, I'm so glad to be here!"

She hugged me hard, then pushed me back and opened her closet door. A tall mirror lurked inside. Hands around waists, side by side, we saw ourselves. We looked so much alike! Dark hair, long faces, lanky with good tits and figures and well-defined legs. Except I was neither pregnant nor tired. Only confused.

Did I really want to know? But I had to ask.

"Mom, last night, I got up to pee, and I came up the hall, and I saw..."

Mom sat me beside her on her bed. Our clothes for the day still lay beside us. She faced me. She put her hand on my thigh and held my hand on hers.

"You saw love. Jeri has loved her cousin since they were little and they went sexual a few months ago after he got her and her friends out of a fix. Stan saved me from disaster and I love him more than anything. We love each other deeply. Anny is just a good friend, our willing and hormone-crazed fuck-buddy. Stan has other fuck-buddies and we all play together. Yes, in groups. Stan rescued a few from bad situations -- that's why they adore him. But Stan and Jeri and I are the team. Think of us as married, with friends. And with children coming soon. We are family."

"But this incest thing. And the kids... are they all Stan's?"

"Nobody knows. Nobody cares. We all had fuckfest sessions so there are a few suspects. We've had screening for defects -- all good -- but no DNA tests for paternity. That doesn't matter. And don't blame that magic horny music. This started before then. The music is just a sweetener."

"All of you? Fuckfests? Suspects? Can you tell me anything?"

"Not yet, baby. You just arrived. See what happens these next two weeks."

Mom held my head and kissed my mouth. She kissed my breasts. I looked into her eyes and saw love. I kissed her breasts too. Then we dressed for the day.

Ah, the day. Anathea wore her skimpy leathers into her barn to work her metallic art. She invited us into her lair. What the fuck? A goddam railroad tank car! The tank part anyway, with lines drawn around it.

"Those are where I'll cut. A ten-meter-wide blossom takes a lot of steel."

Welding gear. Workbenches. A hoist. Bins and scraps and stuff. Tool cabinets. Coiled wire cables. Stacks of worn framing lumber. And two cars -- a blue original Mustang and a... what the fuck? A black 1930's gangster car! Dignified; not wild like ZZ Top's. But gleaming.

"Those are MY steam buggies. I couldn't let Stanley be the only steamer after I came into some money. The 1965 'Stang runs on another of those Volkswagen ZEE Zero Emission Engines. Stan's guy in Stuttgart came through again, and so did the wizard builder in Barstow who made Angela and Tilly. But my steam Doble is real special, even with seven-decades-old technology. The best-built car of its era was horribly expensive, and fast, and silent. Howard Hughes was ticketed in the 1930s for driving 140 mph down a Texas farm road with three whores in back. The sheriff only heard tires and wind."

She brushed her long red hair back from a freckled shoulder.

"Stan has girl cars. Heidi and Matilda and Angela. I have guy cars. Otis..." (she waved at the Mustang) "...and Howie. I know who and what I'm riding."

I visualized her riding my uncle. I shivered. Damn, I was wet again!

More of the day. Mom and I jogged several loops on the rough trail blazed around and through the Rancho Relaxo compound. Past yuccas and nolinas, creosote bushes (Larrea tridentata), Joshua trees, some cholla cacti, with views of the mountains above and the desert spread out far below.

I chattered about classes, professors, field trips, my boyfriend and his sister the Pulitzer Prize composer [see A Spot Of Music], my excursions to the border, all that routine stuff. Mom did not chatter about her work or life. She mostly listened.

"It's almost Christmas," I said, "and here I am with no presents for anyone."

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I'm off work for awhile, for a change," she said. "Still time for shopping. Let's drive to Yucca Valley after lunch. You'll be amazed at what's available out here in no-wheres-ville." So that was settled.

We quit running around noon. Our track suits were sweaty. We ditched them, showered together, and wore our wet almost-bikinis to lunch on thrown-together sandwiches, crockpot chowder, and cheap wine coolers. Anathea came to the kitchen area in her revealing leathers. Stan emerged from his office in cargo shorts and a SETI t-shirt -- his uniform.

"I feel overdressed," he said. He lost the outerwear and made sandwiches in just his tight blue briefs. My uncle looked fabulous. I was wet again. His music played on my mental soundtrack.

Mom loaned me a dress much like what she wore for our excursion. We did not look like mother and daughter, nor sisters -- cousins maybe. Eyes followed us as we strolled Yucca Valley's purveyors. I found little things for everyone, and more -- Mom warned me about other visitors and guests.

The first were already there when we returned at sunset. Stan's 'dates', Lorna the improbably structured Viking goddess, and Mariana the bouncy Latina. I was introduced with hugs, kisses, and bad jokes about my family.

Dinner for eight, just in case. Mom made paella. I conjured a crisp ensalada. Stan poured wine. Jeri and Anathea critiqued our preparations with Lorna and Mariana. Then to the long table, and dinner chatter. An eighth never came but the portion vanished anyway. Flan and another joint for dessert. Yum.

Tonight was much like the last except Mariana and Lorna cruised into Stan's bedroom. I had expected that. I also expected to get up to pee in the night and to witness another scene.

I peered in the open corner door. Mom and her cousin Jeri 69'd. Anathea sat on Stan's dick, Lorna sat on his mouth, and they kissed and fondled. Mariana frigged herself in the soft chair.

I did not need to see any more. Yes, back in my bed, I fantasized many perversions, and heard sweet music in my mind, and yes, I masturbated. You would have, too.

Clattering noise announced sunrise. Mom had warned me of roadrunners on steel roofs. I dozed until awakened by laughter. I crawled out in my nighty to face varied semi-dressed folks, tequila-laced strong mocha, and great huevos rancheros with trimmings for eight. Our eighth was Sharli, Jeri's sister-in-law, the black wife of a fast-rising federal functionary. She looked stunning in a silver jumpsuit. With slight bulges.

Good-morning hugs and kisses all around, and then we were on to the serious business of eating. And more chattering.

"I have to pick up stuff in Barstow," Sharli said, "and you're on the shortcut from Palm Springs, and I figured somebody would cook so I'd have a better breakfast than yogurt and a granola bar. Pass the salsa verde, hey?"

Cleanup went fast. Sharli scattered small presents around the skeletal tree and received a bag of other small presents for her house's tree.

"Those are just tidbits. We look forward to seeing you all tomorrow, early. Christmas breakfast is at 10:00 am. No swim suits, of course, but let's take the tram up Mount San Jacinto in the afternoon. More swimming after dark."

Sharli and her husband Larry, Jeri's big brother, banned clothes and morals around their private backyard pool. Palm Springs weather and attitude rarely required such anyway. And this Christmas weather was warmer than usual.

"Not quite all of us," Lorna said. "Mari and I have families in Los Angeles."

"Me too," Anathea said. "I'm about off to see my family in San Diego."

"Say hi to Lazlo for me," my mom said. "Sharli, will my quirky aunt Terri bring another boy-toy?"

"This month she has a Croatian handball coach. He has muscles but too many are between his ears. She likes-em big, fierce, dumb, and on an expired visa."

Sharli checked her watch. "Gotta run, kids. Jeri, I'll pick you up on my way back. We'll see the rest you in the morning." Hugs and deep kisses all around, and then her Audi was a dust cloud between boulders.

"We're off now, too," Mariana said. She and Lorna dragged Stan into deep kisses. Anathea, Mom, and I got warm farewells, too. Then they were gone.

"Let's jog again," Mom said. We donned our fresh-laundered track suits and ran a few rounds. Stan, Jeri, and Anathea stayed behind. A goodbye suck-and-fuck, I guessed.

We ran a few more rounds. I love desert jogs and strolls. People drive at high speed on pavement and see nothing but stinking desert, howling wilderness, barren waste. Get out there on foot, especially at dawn or dusk, but any time, and it's all alive and vital. You can see how ecology works, how plants are spaced as they are, what eats what, and what is too troublesome to eat.

Study the ethnobotany and it jumps out even more. Desert resources abound. Indians lived here for millennia without ever needing WalMart or McFood.

We finished running a round just as Anathea pulled her Mustang steamer 'Otis' out of her barn. I guessed that 'Howie' the gangster limo would be too much for her family to absorb. Hugs and kisses, and she was gone.

"We're going to get dunked in warm water," Jeri said. "You are too."

She was stripping as she neared the soaking tank. So was Stan. I looked at Mom and shrugged because she discarded clothes too. I followed and watched my naked mother, her brother, and their cousin climb in and submerge. My naked body followed. Damn, I heard that music in my head again!

Mom sandwiched herself between Jeri and Stan. She kissed each, long and slow, with body stroking. She looked at me.

"Come here, baby. We have a way to say hello in the tank."

I went to her. She kissed my breasts. "Hello, Megan."

I held her and kissed her breasts. "Hello, Mom."

I kissed Jeri's breasts and she kissed mine. "Hello, second cousin or whatever."

I went to Stan. My uncle kissed my breasts and my mouth. I nipped at his nipples. He laughed. "That's the way!"

Mom said, "Here again, please." I faced my mother.

She held me and kissed me, as a lover, not as a mother. I moved to her lap. I wrapped my arms and legs around her, like I when I was little -- but I'm not little any more. We stopped kissing. I laid my head on her shoulder and cried. Mom stroked my head.

"She knows," Mom said. "She saw us. Both nights. She'll see and know more tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of the time she's here. Megan, your grandma Ursula will be here soon, and Sharli will be back. We have rituals now. You are family. You can see how we live, or not. Nobody will force you."

Images ran through my head. Disconnected fragments. What I saw and what I imagined, and what I feared I might imagine and see. I sniffled, and stopped.

"Your rituals. You have sex here in the tank, right? Do it now. Go ahead."

"We're not ready now, hon," Stan said. "Hear that crunching sound? I don't recognize it and it doesn't sound like government so I'll bet it's Ursula. And like with me, don't call her grandma. Or uncle, ha! No, she's just Ursula, and her sister Teresa is just Terri. We'll get to her tomorrow. By the way, Terri is the only person who gets to call her little sister Ursi."

A car clattered up the access track -- obviously a rental. The slightly bulging woman in skintight red leathers who swung out was obviously of our genepool. Grandma Ursula!

Her black ankle boots walked toward us. The smile under her cropped dark hair seemed to linger behind. Whatever her smooth face tried to show, she was not happy, not secure. I saw trepidation. How did I look to her?

"Mom. Hi," my mother and her brother said.

"Umm, hi everyone. Kids. Jeri. Oh god, Megan!"

Yet another car dared the rough track. Sharli was back, to pick up Jeri, she had said. Sure, Jeri would spend Christmas night with her mother and brother.

"Hey kids!" Sharli called as she followed Ursula to the tank. "Tub time!"

Her silver garb joined my grandmother's reds on a bench beside the tank's stumpy steps. Sharli and Ursula both submerged and emerged, dripping, naked. Both had slightly pregnant exquisite figures by genetics and exercise -- decades of focused exercise for Ursula the obsessively competitive swimmer.

"Mom, say hello to my daughter," my mother said.

She stood. Everyone in the tank followed so I did too.

"Hello, Megan," my grandmother said. She kissed my breasts.

I got the idea. "Hello, Ursula." I kissed her fine, firm breasts.

Everyone bent to kiss all our womanly breasts. Ursula slowly sucked Sharli's puffy ebony nipples and stroked her strong body, and then faced her son.

"Hello, Stanley." She knelt before him. She took her son's dick into her mouth. She sucked and swallowed him deeply. I saw her lips on his pubic hair. She stayed there for almost a minute. She slowly pulled her son's thick dripping dick from her throat. She inhaled deeply but did not gasp. She stood and kissed his mouth.

She slapped him lightly. "You son of a bitch," She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. Then she stood back and faced my mother.

"Hello, Pamela." She knelt. My mother spread her legs. Her mother stroked her inner thighs and licked her pussy. Right in front of me.

They sank into the water, wrapped tight, Mom in her mother's lap as I had been in Mom's. The others sat in the water so I did too.

I cannot detail the emotions that swept me. I could process a lot. My uncle with many girlfriends, sure. One of those lovers was his cousin. Okay, cousin marriage is common. Check with Darwin and Einstein. Another lover was his sister, my mother. Fuck, this was harder. But their mother giving her children oral sex -- that was overload.

My mind fell back on safe images, on taxonomic diagrams showing relations of biological families. I charted links of my grandmother and her sister and their children and other lovers and it looked... too abstract. No flesh.

My emotions? I was hollow, faint-headed, disoriented. What is next?

Flesh was all around me. Ursula and Mom separated. Mom stood. All stood and dripped so I did too. All this flesh, all physically fit. All around me.

"Megan, we are going inside to fuck for some time because this is what we do when we are together," Mom said. "You can stay here, or go, or not. You can come with us and watch, or not, or whatever you wish. You are an adult."

"Let's get dry and go inside," I said. "Put on that horny music. Get on my uncle's big bed. Everybody fuck. I want to watch." I headed for the steps.

"I must warn you," Ursula said. "If you watch, you'll want to taste. It's genetic."

I stopped and then climbed out to the top step. I turned and faced my family.

"Do not disappoint me," I said.

I turned, wiggled my hips and ass, and stepped down. All followed me inside. Mom switched on the seductive music and retrieved a stack of towels. We rubbed each other dry and went into Stan's big bedroom.

"There's a reason," Mom said. "Ursula was never there for Stan and me as a mother or for you as a grandmother. Now she is going to be a grandmother again and a mother again. So she is trying to be a better person."

"I am atoning," Ursula said, holding Mom in her arms.

"She thought she was on top but now she knows her place in the order of things here," Stan said, pushing them apart. "You're usually last, Sis, but how about we reverse order this time?"

I was confused. "Order?"

"Ursula is low dog," Mom said. "Usually she works her way up. If Anny or Mari or Lorna or Nikki or Kaylee was here, she would eat them first, then us. I think we'll have fun today. Sis?"

"Gotcha," my mom smiled. She lay on the bed and spread her taut thighs, tanned from a bit of Rancho Relaxo's sunshine. Ursula crouched and put her face into Mom's groin. Stan got behind Ursula, slid his dick inside her, and stopped. Ursula moaned and reached for Mom's breasts.

My uncle was fucking his mother who was eating the pussy of her daughter, my mother. I found this hard to process but fuck, it was fun to watch! After I turned off my moral sense, that is.

Sharli put an arm around me and held my breast.

"How your grandmother atones -- she's the sex slave. She does oral pleasure to everyone. She gets no satisfaction till everyone cums. Stan just keeps his cock in her, not moving much, just barely fucking, till the screams fade. That's when he moves. But I think it'll be different today."

Mom's back arched. She groaned, and groaned more, and yelled. "Oh Stan. Oh Mom. Oh fuck. Oh Stan. Ohhhh..." She writhed under her mother's attention.

"Enough, enough!" Mom pushed Ursula's head away. She lay there panting for a minute and rolled away. "Jeri?" she said.

"Oh yeah," Mom's cousin said, and opened her pussy to her aunt's tongue.

Stan's dick slowly moved in and out of his mother's vagina while she brought Jeri to a loud, wet orgasm. Then Sharli laid on the bed and spread her taut ebony thighs. Ursula crouched into the dark delta.

My uncle was fucking his mother who was eating a black pussy. This was somehow easier to process. But I think I knew what was coming next.

Sharli howled most satisfyingly. The action, the music, the smell of sex, all had me terminally aroused. My mind was dazed. I was ready. I was more than ready. I wanted it. I wanted to cum. I wanted my grandmother to lick my clit.

And she did. I've been licked before, by boys and girls. Grandma Ursula was very good at it. I think she had licked many clits in her life. She did me well.

My grandmother was a fierce athlete with immense breath discipline, total physical control, able to flex any desire muscle or tendon. Her tongue, lips, and hands played a masterpiece on me. I howled like a banshee. I tried to pinch off Ursula's head with my knees but fuck, she stayed at it till I melted!

I pushed her head back but did not move away. I looked in Stan's eyes.

"Is this the part where you fuck her to death while her tongue tortures me?"

"No, that would have been last night. Today we do a change-up. On your back, Mom." He rolled Ursula over and hunched over her chest. "Pam, you're up."

My mom crouched on all fours with her pussy over her mother's mouth. Ursula licked Mom's clit from below. Stan savagely fucked into his sister from behind. His balls bounced on his mother's chin. His sister's breasts swung under his impacts; she cried into the pillow under her face. His pace peaked.

And I knew what I had to do.

If I saw, I would want to taste, Ursula said. It's genetic, she said. She was right.