Stanley Steamer Ch. 12: Pam+Talia Xmas

My and Tanya's speculations of meeting our so-young father were 99% totally off-target and 1% giggling lewdness. Getting here now from Kansas was a little hard. Being here... was surprisingly easy. It did not hurt that the naked family -- OUR family! -- all looked good, healthy, and happy.

Nudity was not new to us. We were usually naked at home (when nobody was around) if it was not too cold. We knew summer skinny-dipping holes. But that was for us and friends.

And Stan, our father, promised us new friends.

"It's about time for lunch," Stan said, "and then I'm driving to San Bernardino to pick up Nikki and Kaylee, the singers, so we can prep for tomorrow's show. Tee and Tee, would you like to take a ride?" He did not leer at us.

"You gotta go," Megan said. "I'll come too. Six can squeeze in Heidi, right?"

"Six friends," Stan agreed. "Too bad we have to get dressed." He DID leer at us.

Our naked grandmother and aunt prohibited our naked father from cooking burritos. They made a healthy naked lunch, preceded by saying grace -- each person calling "Grace!" and sucking nipples. Tanya and I graced each other, too, and not for the first time, except for yelling. That took almost a minute.

The stay-behinds stayed naked. We travelers dressed after lunch. Stan drove the car called Heidi silently from the barn and loaded us in. Megan stretched across the back seat. Tanya took the middle of the opulent front bench seat; her denim-clad legs pressed against Stan's and mine.

The convertible top was up. The ride was totally silent once we reached the paved road. I was amazed and delighted. I was more amazed when Stan put Orff's CARMINA BURANA on the sound system -- concert-hall quality.

I was even more amazed, and bothered, by the next music. A simple high bass line. Then two women's voices, soprano and mezzo, came in. And after thirty seconds, my synapses burnt out and my gonads went POP! I felt paralyzed.

No, not quite paralyzed. My hand clenched Tanya's thigh and hers crushed mine. Was her other hand pressed on our father's leg? I moved my head enough to glance and yes, she was.

That piece ended. Another started Megan moaned from the back seat. Was she masturbating? I lacked strength to turn my head to look. I smelled musk.

That piece ended. Stan pressed dashboard keys and Javanese gamelan music relieved us. Our thigh-grips loosened.

Tanya was unnaturally wordless. I had to ask.

"Father, what the great galloping fuck WAS that?"

Having been naked with family, I felt safe saying 'fuck'.

"Those are Kaylee and Nikki, the singers who will soon join us."

"And you have recordings? And you're going to perform in public?"

"Our people are still hassling with the label's people about the exact where and when but yes, we have a show with an audience to put in the can tomorrow. Sony wants what they want but we have artistic control."

Tanya found her voice. "That was you? And two operatic superstar divas?"

"Their families are musical but they're still training as singers. Except when we play together. Then they SING. We impressed people, We got signed. But it's their show -- I'm their sideman."

"How do you decide what to play?" Tanya asked. "How long do you rehearse?"

"No decision, no rehearsals. I start a piece, they know it, they sing, that's it. It's all ad hoc, serendipity, telepathy, whatever. We just do it."

I stared at the man. This was our father?

Congolese electric guitar music took us more dryly down the freeway into San Bernardino and to an anonymous patio apartment complex.

"Jeri had a house on the next block over," Stan said. "Such a coincidence."

We all got out at Stan's request. He rang one of many doorbells. Two Asian girls, not much older than us, carrying small duffels, came out a minute later and fiercely hugged Stan. They shared three-way kisses. This was our father?

"Nikki and Kaylee, meet my daughters Talia and Tanya."

"Daughters? Your daughters?" said Japanese-looking Kaylee.

"Oh wow, Stan -- are they musical?" asked Indian-looking Nikki.

The girls grabbed us. The fourway hug was strong.

We reloaded into the Heidi car. The girls took the front seat. Tanya and I squeezed in back with cousin Megan between. Stan rolled to the freeway. We chatted a bit to introduce us further. Well, Tanya chattered and I agreed.

"But really," Kaylee asked, "are you musical like Stan and Megan?"

"We have no idea how musical anyone is, except what we heard on the speakers in here, stuff that Stan claimed to be in the background. We aren't too bad on guitar and keyboard but we're no hotshots."

"Holy fuck," Nikki said, "if they're anything like you guys..."

"My melodica and Stan's mandola are back at Rancho Relaxo so we can't play backings here," Megan said. "But Stan, you just chant a continuo line. And they sing. Can you do that now?"

Our father's baritone voice sketched out the low foundation of a Verdi duet. Each girl sang a note in her range. Stan re-started. Their voices embroidered a fantastically beautiful weave of sound. The rest of the world disappeared.

We backseaters reacted. Hands gripped nearby thighs. Megan's hand left my leg for my face. She kissed my cheek. I turned to kiss her mouth. She licked my lips. I licked her tongue and teeth. She turned to kiss Tanya. They kissed a long time. Megan returned to me. My new cousin and I kissed forever.

The singing stopped. Stan looked at us in his mirror.

"Kind of gets to you, don't it?" A fucking rhetorical question!

Tanya asked, "You're going to do this in public, with a live audience, in some sort of formal setting? You're going to be recorded and broadcast? The whole world will hear this?"

"Our agent and producer think they'll get very rich off us," Nikki said.

"Are you insured? Do you have security?" I asked.

Stan laughed. "You're my girl, for sure! Suspicious of everything and everyone. I like that in a daughter."

"What else are you going to do to us, oh daddy dear?" Tanya asked fearfully.

"Nothing you dislike. Like I said, my Rancho Relaxo home is Freedom Hall. Do what you want. Don't do what you don't want, except your own laundry. Do or don't unto others what you do or don't want them doing unto you, yada yada. Just say 'no' or 'yes' or 'huh?' You brought bags in that rent-a-car? If you're staying a few days, let's turn the car in and save you some money."

"Let's do that," I said, "if we get back alive. Are you going to sing again?"

Stan sketched another theme. The girls' voices tore it apart and reassembled it like a Fabergé egg. And it was a long one. Long enough for Megan to kiss me and Tanya again, thoroughly. Tanya and I leaned against Megan's shoulders. We three masturbated ourselves. Megan quietly came. I was close when the voices stopped. A pregnant silence lingered. Stan's eyes tracked us in his mirror again.

"Cumming to music, huh? I like that in a niece."

Megan reached over his shoulder and pressed her wet fingers into his mouth.

"It's all your fault, uncle Satan," she rasped. Kaylee and Nikki giggled.

Holy fuck or whatever. What were we in for?

Megan regained her composure. Well, most of her composure.

"Stop that now, please," she said. "No more singing. Put on some ugly music so I can cool down. Or just talk. Don't you have something to talk about?"

Stan, Nikki, and Kaylee talked about their schedule. Sony had switched their show venue from a nearby TV studio to a fancy Hollywood hangout with an 'intimate' space. Stan vetoed the six-hour round trip by car, so Sony booked a helicopter to take them from a flat patch on Stan's Rancho straight to a back parking lot. Less than an hour there by helicopter! Could we snag a ride?

I doubted that music companies paid to fly musicians around. I suspected that Stan, Nikki, and Kaylee would end up with the bill. They must be confident.

Stan eased Heidi's top and velocity down for the drive out of Yucca Valley. The mid-afternoon air was not too cold and Heidi's heaters worked. Heidi was so quiet! All we heard was wind.

We emptied our car at the Rancho and followed Stan in Heidi to a rental office in Yucca Valley. My twin and I could talk privately.

"What are we getting into?" she asked. "We've been naked with our father, his mother, his sister, and her daughter. We jilled-off with our cousin. We heard music that drove us insane and we just got here a few hours ago. We have no idea what tonight will be like.""

"He hasn't touched us other than brief kisses," I said. "Do we want him to touch us? Do we want to touch him? I think tonight will have naked folks, decent food, strong drink, impossible music -- and I think the girls will insist that we play. After that, I don't know."

She said, "Remember what our uncle Louis said about the parachute class? A student asked what to do if the chutes didn't open. The instructor said, 'You just ride it on out.' How far will we ride this out?"

"What's our limit? What we saw online about our bio-daddy wasn't bad."

"Well, we spun theories of what he would be, everything between monster and saint. I think he's that slim possibility, a magnet who'll suck us into new orbits. He's so sexy! The music is almost beyond sexy! The family is so sexy! I think they're all having sex already."

"I caught that even before I saw them sit together. Our father fucks them all, family and friends alike. They fuck him and each other. They'll be happy if we join in and won't mind if we don't. But we probably will."

"Oh Sis, did you ever think we would fuck our father?"

"Only a little. Same as you." She was driving. I kissed her cheek.

=====

We turned in the rental and rode back in Heidi. I took the middle next to Stan. I did not trust Tanya to sit calmly. I do not know if I could trust myself.

Heidi's top was down as we drove slowly north. Our chatter was almost light.

"If I wanted to impress you, I'd take Heidi on a fast drive," Stan said. "That thick spoiler on the engine hood is the condenser part of the steam system but also works as a stabilizer. Heidi's body is wind-tunnel tuned. Her Porsche racing chassis is rated for 200 mph and I've taken her to 140 and more. But that's a guy thing. I'd be showing off my dick to my long-lost daughters."

"You already showed off your massive manhood, back at the house, and with your goddam fucking music," Tanya said. Yes, she's the talky one of us. "We're already impressed. I don't know how much impression we can stand. Are we in for more goddam fucking music? You know what that music does to people. And you did it to us. Was that deliberate?"

"When we get back," Stan said, "everyone will be soaking in the tank and we'll dunk in, too. Various parts of bodies will be kissed. You know this already."

He eased his hold on the steering wheel. Heidi flew like a ghost.

"We'll have dinner, and I fucking WILL make burritos. We'll have lots of cheap wine, fresh flan, and primo joints. Kaylee and Nikki will demand to sing after dinner. I'll pluck a mandola, Megan will play her melodica, and I'll pass you a guitar and clavichord. The girls love Megan's playing. They think we have a genetic thing that works with them. I can't argue. You're in the genepool, too.

"We'll all eventually go to bed after the music. Some will fuck others because that's what we do here. If it doesn't suit you, we'll go back to the rental office and you can venture on your own. Or you can sleep on cots in the barn. Or take a guestroom and ignore what happens. Or do anything else. Some nights, I lay a bedroll on the roof and watch the stars.

"But excuse me for not being a daddy. I've never been a daddy before. I haven't been around babies and kids although a few will be coming up. You need be in none of this. But if you stay, you should know what to expect."

"Let's see what happens," I said. I had ideas of likely happenings.

We returned. We stripped, dunked, and soaked with our new family and friends. Everyone's nipples were sucked. Folks chatted, or listened, or did not. Sunset backlit the sheer, stony mountains above us.

No alarm sounded but tank-time ended when Pam stood and said, "Ursula is part seal and can stay in water forever. I tend to wrinkle with long immersion. I'm going in for dry warmth and maybe to fix something better than Stan's burritos. Hey little bro, where did you hide the mac-n-cheese boxes?"

We eventually all crawled inside naked. Stan's burritos were not bad. Jeri's ensalada was crisp. The wine could have been worse. The joint was long. The flan was great. Our bellies and brains were sated.

I was impressed, and I know Tanya was, by the explorer's-club greatroom. Rock and brick walls were covered with book- and craft-filled shelves, art, artifacts -- prizes and surprises from many cultures. Soft furniture invited lounging.

After a quick cleanup, Stan led me and Tanya to a corner of the greatroom. Shelves were filled with sheet music, and instruments smaller than guitars hung on a wall. Stan threaded a narrow door and returned with a classical guitar and a... clavichord! Think of a wood box a foot deep and a yard long with strings running crosswise from the keyboard on its side. This one rode spindly legs. It's quiet, for small rooms, not concert halls.

I'm better on keyboards; Tanya plays guitar better. We took Stan's offerings.

Megan produced her melodica. Nikki and Kaylee sat on tall stools from the kitchen island. Stan played a line on what must have been a baritone mandola. Nikki and Kaylee sang. And I nearly fell over. Megan played a bare line on her melodica. The girls sang. And I nearly fell over again.

Stan looked at Tanya and me.

"Play something. Don't be virtuosi. We're only the minimal sidemen."

A fragment of a jazz tune came to me. I played it. The voices glorified it. Just note after left-hand note for me, not too many, not too few. And I KNEW what notes to play next. It was mystic and orgasmic.

I stopped. A long moment passed. Tanya played the bass line of a Viennese waltz. The girls sang its wordless counterpoints. My heart and my pussy wept.

The naked singers left their stools. I left the clavichord; Tanya stood from her guitar. Curvy Nikki came before me. Sleek Kaylee faced Tanya.

They held our faces. "You are magicians, too," they said, and kissed us.

Stan abandoned his mandola. "This changes things," he said. He walked to a phone in the kitchen. "Sony needs to book a chopper for six passengers, not three." I heard him speak firmly to people. He hung up for the last time and turned to expectant faces.

"Tanya, Talia, Megan -- you'll have papers to sign in a few minutes, agency and rights contracts, all good stuff. I'll verify they're exactly right and then fax them back. Yes, ladies, you are now in the show. Take clean underwear but don't worry about dressing nice -- Sony will make sure we're in ninja black."

"I'm no performer!" Megan cried. "Us neither," we chorused.

"Ladies, will you perform tomorrow without these three there?"

"NO!" the singers shouted.

"So there you have it. Come, play, and make magic and money. Or stay, don't play, and we cancel the shoot, with a penalty clause biting Nikki and Kaylee."

"You're laying a guilt trip on the girls," Ursula said.

"You noticed, Mom! But it's too late. I won't cancel the pricey chopper rides."

"But how do you know we'll be any good tomorrow night?" Tanya reasonably asked. "We each did just one piece now. How do we know what to play then?"

"How did you know what to play now?" Kaylee asked. She still held Tanya. "We were all there. You four knew just what and how to start and we knew where to sing. You think those four pieces were only quirks? Let's do more."

She kissed Tanya again and Nikki kissed me. I kissed back. We all took our places and instruments. Tanya and I traded the guitar and clavichord.

No one said anything. I thought of a Berlioz aria, and started. The voices gilded my simple pattern. We went on until we ended and paused. Megan piped into a three-part gigue. The voices raised faeries and fauns from cosmic dust. Megan took the line up through the octaves. Her high note and the voices turned to crystal at the top. Stan scatted the low part of a jazz trio, faking the bass with his baritone voice. The singers built an obsidian wall on his sturdy foundation. We stopped.

No one said anything. Ursula, Pam, and Jeri sat naked on the soft sofa, holding each other, crying. I do not know why I did not cry too. What I felt was beyond tears of joy. It was not telepathy, no hive-mind, only merging into one soul.

I think I went there voluntarily. But I knew how I got there. I put down the guitar, walked to my father, and slapped his face, fairly hard. "You son of a bitch." I was very calm.

Ursula disengaged and came to me. "That's my job," she said. She slapped him harder. "You son of a bitch!" Another slap, gentler. "This bitch." Then his other cheek. "My son. Oh fuck." She locked him in her arms. They kissed as lovers.

A bell chimed. Stan squeezed his mother's boobs and moved back.

"Incoming papers," he said. "I'll check them."

He went to a door down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with a sheaf and three pens. He gestured to us three youngest.

"Fame and fortune, ladies. Fortune, anyway. I think we session players should hide in the background. We're in for points -- that's a percentage of the gross take, which can be big. Anyway, sign here and here and here -- and yes, every word and number is exactly right. I'm not selling you into slavery. Not yet."

Could Tanya and I trust our father Stan? After knowing him for twelve hours?

I walked to the table of papers. Tanya and Megan followed. Stan gathered us in his arms. We were naked. He was strong and his cock was not limp. I felt sheltered and safe in my father's embrace. I felt trust. Oh, daddy!

Nobody protested when Jeri lit another long joint. We passed it and joked. Stan hummed something and the girls made it explode. Tanya hummed a trifle and their voices worshiped it. I think Megan and I were afraid to try.

Yawns happened. Naked yawns -- hidden heaters kept us comfortably unclothed. Nikki and Kaylee soundly kissed and fondled everyone before going down the hall to what I saw was a twin-bed room. So they were not bedmates? Ursula and Megan took a king-bed room. Granddaughter and taut grandmother in one bed? The room Tanya and I were given had a king bed.

Pam and Jeri went into what looked like the master bedroom at the top of the hall. Stan followed a few minutes later. The door closed.

No hive-mind, no telepathy, but I vividly visualized scenarios if Tanya and I were not here to disrupt routine. Kaylee and Nikki obviously loved Stan madly. Stan, his sister Pam, and their cousin Jeri were a team. Our cousin Megan and grandmother Ursula were intimate with them if not quite as close. But Megan had only arrived a couple of days ago, and here she was!

They all fucked each other. They would all be in Stan's room if we were not here. Stan would fuck his mother, sister, niece, cousin, and the singers, who were all pleasuring each other while awaiting our father's penis. I foresaw many obscene three-way combinations.

Tanya and I saw other lived-in rooms down the hall. We knew of Anathea, and Lorna and Mariana. Other non-residents were mentioned. Our father was drowning in women! Many were his close kin. And now we were here.

Sleep did not come easy, even after Tanya and I fingered and licked each other to groaning exhaustion. And the dreams did not go away.

===== [27 Dec 2002]

Breakfast, courtesy of Stan, was cheddar omelets, Andouille sausages, ranch potatoes, chunky salsa, fruit hunks, and strong coffee with tequila for those in need. Like me. Breakfast was naked except for Jeri's tight black jumpsuit revealing slight bulges.