Shake and Bake

The living room was simple, with lots of houseplants. On the walls were series of framed reproductions of paintings by Frida Kahlo, the wild and rebellious Mexican artist. Rosario offered us some beer and guacamole with chips, which we eagerly accepted. As we drank and ate, Rosario asked me, "So, Ty, you must be Hannah's boyfriend?" I wasn't sure what the official story was, but I smiled and nodded.

Hannah came to my rescue. "Yes, Auntie, we just met recently. We've been getting along very well."

Rosario grinned. "You always find the good ones, Hannah."

"Yep," said Hannah. "Ty has some errands to run, but we need a break. I thought we might take a nap for a while. Would that be all right?"

"Of course," said Rosario. "We've got your old room all made up for you."

Hannah looked at me. "Ty, I'm going upstairs. When you're finished with your beer, my room is at the end of the hall to the left when you get to the top of the stairs."

As Hannah went up, Rosario said to Milo, "Milo, we have a guest room for you down here off the living room. I'll show you." Rosario and Milo went to see the room, while I finished my beer and went upstairs.

I turned left, walked to the end of the hall, and knocked on the door. I heard Hannah say, "Come on in," so I opened the door and entered. There stood Hannah, naked, with a wanton smile. Without speaking, she walked to me, seized me by the shoulders, and pushed me down into a chair. Then she straddled my lap and pushed her tits into my face.

This was just what the doctor ordered. I opened my mouth as wide as I could to catch one of Hannah's plump, coarse, beautifully aroused nipples. My lips found one of them, followed by my teeth. Hannah arched her back and twisted her shoulders from side to side, rubbing her tits against my face as I craned my neck to suck and gnaw whenever she let me capture a nipple.

Meanwhile, since her big thighs were spread wide across my lap, I couldn't resist sliding my hand down her belly to feel her hairy cunt. My god, she was wet! I pushed two, then three fingers easily inside her. She groaned her pleasure and began to talk softly to me:

"Come on, Ty, yes, do that, finger-fuck my hungry cunt! You're making me so hot -- I want to make you cum and spurt all over me!"

I pulled my fingers out, covered in her juices, and slowly painted each of her nipples with them. Then, making eye contact with her, I bent my head to take her right nipple in my mouth. I heard her hiss "Yessss..." as she lifted the left nipple to her own mouth. As we both sucked her tits, I shoved my three fingers back inside her, and felt her cunt contract around them as she began to move her hips, fucking my fingers.

I heard Hannah whisper. "Would you like me to cum all over your hand?"

"Yes," I replied, and began to suck her nipple with renewed passion.

Her hips were in motion now, her big, lush body writhing against mine.

"Will you promise to show me your cock if I do?" Her voice was a croak, her breathing ragged.

"Yes," I replied.

Hannah groaned deeply, grinding against my fingers until she began to gush. I made my fingers rigid so she could rub against them to her heart's content, and when her spasms began to subside, I stood up and led her to the bed, where I pushed her down and buried my face in her cunt. She grabbed my head and pulled me hard against her, thrusting her crotch to my mouth until she came again.

Then Hannah got up and led me to over to the wall, where she began to feverishly unbutton my shirt. I undid my belt, saying, "I made you a promise, didn't I?" I pushed my pants down to my knees, allowing my hard cock to spring free.

She looked at, swallowed, and then growled, "touch it." I wrapped my fingers around my cock and began to slowly stroke it. "I like that," said Hannah. She fell to her knees and rubbed her face against my balls as I continued to stroke. Then she helped me out of my pants, rose to her feet, and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her close to me, letting my cock slide between her thighs as we kissed passionately.

Leaning her back against the wall, she said, "Here's something you can't do with just any girl." She seized my rigid cock and pushed it inside herself, and we began to fuck standing up, nose to nose, eye to eye. This was new to me, and very hot. We began to kiss again lasciviously as we moved like a well-oiled machine, my cock pistoning in and out of her until she climaxed again, followed seconds later by me.

Hannah led me to the bed, where for some minutes we lay quietly side by side in the 69 position, licking the cum from each other's private parts. After some time had passed, she asked me, "Do you want to go to the store and get some clothes?"

I replied that I did. We took our time getting dressed, and then proceeded downstairs. Miranda was seated at the dining room table, reading Vanity Fair. "Hey, Miranda," said Hannah. "You want to go to the store with us to get Ty some supplies?"

Miranda smiled brightly, "Sure," she said, closing the magazine and rising from the table.

The three of us walked out on the street, up a long gradual hill which looked like it culminated in an enclosed footbridge. There was a lot of teasing and joking between the two half sisters, but I thought that I detected something else as well, something excited and conspiratorial.

"Hey, sis," said Hannah, "are you feeling awesome today?"

"Of course," replied Miranda with a grin, but she sounded just slightly hesitant.

We walked over a pretty littlearroyo which had been developed into a park, with brightly painted picnic tables among lush bougainvillea, and some basketball courts. A group of young Hispanics were playing aggressive basketball and talking smack.

We descended on the far side, walking several more blocks until we came to a shopping mall. There we found a Target store, and I purchased a toothbrush, some other personal items, and several days worth of casual clothing. After that, we stopped at a Starbucks for a caffeine infusion, and set out back the way we came.

When we reached the footbridge, the same group of young men played basketball in a court directly below us. Hannah stopped and contemplated them for a minute, then announced, "Miranda, I think we need to work on your training."

I looked at Miranda, and her face was flushed but she said nothing. Hannah looked carefully in both directions to be sure that no one was approaching the footbridge. Then she caressed Miranda's breasts through her blouse, and said softly, "OK, baby, let's get those clothes off."

Slowly and methodically, Miranda removed her shoes and socks, her blouse and her jeans. One of the basketball players happened to look up and see Miranda in her bra and panties, and stopped dead in his tracks, causing a ball that had just been passed to him to go bouncing off the court. His friends initially complained to him, but then saw where he was looking and looked up as well, staring at Miranda, who had removed her bra and was now slithering out of her panties. She looked down at her audience and smiled, and began to dance, although the only sounds were the distant rumbling of automobile traffic.

One of the fellows below us was struck by inspiration, and he went to a boombox that was sitting on the pavement near the basketball court and turned it on. Salsa music blared out, filling the park with rhythm, and Miranda came alive. She really was a good dancer, but Hannah was not satisfied with just good dancing.

"Come on, sweetie, show 'em what you got," said Hannah.

Miranda altered her moves to become as lewdly sexual as she could, squatting to push her cunt toward her audience, and gyrating slowly to the music. Her left hand was pinching her left nipple; her right hand alternated restlessly between her right nipple and her clit.

The initially stunned reaction of the basketball dudes gradually changed to hoots and whistles of encouragement. Hannah moved to Miranda's side and handed her the egg vibrator, and Miranda made a big show of inserting it inside herself. Then she began to dance in a way that was truly spectacular, until she paused in the middle of a timbale solo to cry out, "Oh, god, I'm going to cum." Her body spasmed; her hair whipped to and fro as she threw her head around and screamed in pleasure.

The basketball dudes broke into spontaneous applause. I looked nervously in both directions, but no one was approaching on the footbridge. Hannah approached Miranda and said in a low, throaty voice, "I want more."

Another song had started, and Miranda moved to sit on the railing with her legs akimbo, offering the basketball players below a ringside seat for the show she was about to put on. She hooked her feet under the railing for balance and concentrated on masturbating herself, one hand on her pussy and the other moving from nipple to nipple.

The audience was attentive and vocal, and a couple of guys tried take a run at the wall and ascend to the bridge, but always fell short. Eventually stymied, they settled in to watch the show. Miranda came three more times, and then Hannah came up from behind her, cupped her breasts in her hands, and whispered, "You've been a very good girl." Hannah softly kissed Miranda's neck, moving from behind her ear to below the jawline, her right hand glided down between Miranda's thighs and expertly brought her to another powerful orgasm. Miranda was howling her pleasure and writhing against Hannah. Then suddenly Hannah withdrew her hand, and Miranda squirted pussy juice out into the air. It fell 12 feet down and splattered onto the asphalt courts. Her audience was stunned into silence.

Miranda waved to the ball players, then quickly put her clothing back on, and we walked in silence back in the direction of the home where Celeste and Rosario lived. I found myself musing about my new friends and speculating about the relationship I had begun, apparently with the both of them. They were a bit kinkier than the girls I had been with in the past.

NIght was falling when we arrived. Milo was alone, sitting on the couch, and he informed us that Celeste and Rosario were attending a meeting at their church. He scooted over on the couch to make room for another person, and gave me an expectant look.

"Let's go out and get something to eat," proposed Miranda.

"Is there some place around here we can walk to?" asked Milo.

"Not really," said Miranda. "There's an In And Out Burger about 5 miles down the road, let's take your car and go there."

Milo looked disappointed, then said, "Shit, all right, let's go."

We all piled into the Blazer, Miranda once again sharing the front seat with Milo, and Hannah and I in the back.

"Which direction?" asked Milo.

"Just go out to the main drag and head north," said Miranda. Hannah was making herself comfortable again with her legs across my lap.

"Let's go on the back streets," said Milo. "I like these old neighborhoods."

"Can't see much in the dark," observed Miranda.

We proceeded by fits and starts through the run-down Oakland neighborhoods, jogging to the side whenever the street we were on came to an end. Finally Miranda said "turn left here," and we came to a larger thoroughfare, where the In And Out Burger joint sat on the corner. Milo parked, and we all went inside to join a noisy line of people waiting to order.

Before long, we had ordered, paid, and acquired our burgers and shakes. We made small talk as we ate, then went back out to the lot and loaded into the Blazer. Milo started the engine and put the car in reverse, when suddenly our path was blocked by two police cruisers with flashing lights.

"Get out of the car," one of the officers ordered. We all got out, and four officers seized the four of us and put us in handcuffs. Milo and I were marched to one cruiser and pushed unceremoniously into the back seat, while the ladies were put in the other.

No one spoke as we drove for 10 minutes to a police station. I looked over at Milo in hopes of learning something about our predicament, but Milo did not meet my eyes.

When we got to the station, the officer who had taken charge of me led me inside. He was tall with close-cropped sandy hair and military-style wire-rimmed glasses. He looked at my driver's license, asked a few questions, then led me into an interview room, where he sat me down, took off my handcuffs, and said, "Just sit tight for a few minutes." Then he left, locking the door behind him.

Ten minutes later he returned. "All right, Mr. Beanless," he said.

"Bayliss," I corrected him.

He frowned and studied my driver's license again. "Bayliss. Tyler Bayliss -- is that right?" His name, as it appeared above his left breast pocket, was Officer Moone.

"Yes, that's right," I replied.

"OK. Suppose you explain to me what happened here. You were in a stolen vehicle. Did you steal it?"

"No, I didn't. I had no idea it was a stolen vehicle. I live down in the Central Valley. After the earthquake, I was trying to walk to someplace that would have some water, and these people picked me up. I didn't know them."

"You didn't know them, and yet you are still with them all the way up here in Oakland."

"I, um..." -- here I cleared my throat discreetly -- "I struck up a friendship with one of the ladies. Besides, I can't go back to my place until they fix the water and electricity."

"You live in Annette?"

"That's my mailing address. I live out in the country. I can give you my landlady's phone number if you want to check out my story."

"Yes, I think we are definitely going to want to check out your story. What's your landlady's name?"

"Petrossian."

"What? What kind of name is that?"

"She's Armenian."

"Armenian? I'll be darned. Here, write her number on this piece of paper. Spell her name for me."

I gave him Mrs. Petrossian's name and number and he left the room again. I waited another 40 minutes, and just as my full bladder was becoming a real problem, he returned and said, "OK, you can go. Everybody's story seems to agree. You and the girls can go, Milo stays with us. And the car."

He led me out into the lobby, where Hannah and Miranda were waiting, looking tired. After using the restroom, I rejoined them.

"I ordered a Lyft car to take us home," said Miranda.

"I had a feeling that something wasn't quite right with Milo," said Hannah.

I looked at Miranda. "Do you have any idea what's going on with him?"

"Not really," she replied. "I know him from work, though he's in a different department. He seems like a nice enough guy. But he has been sort of nervous this entire trip."

"That's one way of putting it," said Hannah. "That thing with the gun was creepy."

"I don't like guns much," I said. "Although I'm glad we didn't have to spend more time with those guys he shot at."

Hannah and Miranda nodded soberly. Miranda looked out the window at a car which had just pulled up.

"Is that our driver?" Hannah asked.

We went out on the street and confirmed that it was indeed our ride, and 15 minutes later we were safely back at Celeste's and Rosario's home. Hannah fetched three beers from the kitchen, and we sat down in the living room to discuss our predicament.

"We need to get back down south in a few days," said Miranda. "I've got to get back to work."

"So do I," said Hannah.

"What about Milo?" Miranda asked. "Is he in jail now?"

"They'll hold him until he is arraigned, and then he probably has to make bail," I replied. "I don't think they'll release him on his own recognizance."

"Should we do something to help him?" asked Miranda.

"I think we had best keep our distance," replied Hannah. "They let us go because they think we're just casual acquaintances."

"There's something else I'm wondering about," I said. The two women looked at me expectantly. "What do you think is in Milo's briefcase? I don't think it was in the Blazer."

"Damn," said Miranda. "I wonder about that too."

Hannah rose. "I'm going to check it out." She went to Milo's room, and returned with the briefcase.

She sat down and tried to open it. "It's locked," she reported. She held down the release button and began to slowly spin one of the combination dials.

"Can you open it?" I asked.

"Probably," Hannah replied. "It may take a while."

"Aren't we sort of invading Milo's privacy?" asked Miranda.

Hannah snorted. "He invaded ours when he asked us to carpool in a stolen car. We're lucky we aren't being charged. We need to know what other shit he was mixed up in."

"Why would he steal a car?" I asked. "And why would he be carrying a gun?"

Miranda looked distressed. "I always thought that he was such a sweet guy at work. I mean, sweet in the sense of nice and easy going, not because he was gay or anything like that."

"He didn't seem like he was in any sort of trouble?" I asked.

"No," said Miranda. "Except he really, really wanted us to carpool with him. I had never really hung out with him or anything like that, but when I said I was going to Oakland, he suddenly got very intense."

"And the company that the two of you work for -- what's it like?"

"It's a pharmaceuticals company. We do distribution for the West Coast out of our facility. The factories are back east."

"But the people who you work for -- what are they like? Do they seem honest?"

There was a small, scarcely audible click that came from the briefcase, and Hannah smiled in triumph as she unlatched it. The three of us peered into the case as she opened it. There were rows of small white plastic bottles inside.

"It's Oxycontin," Hannah announced.

"Oh my god, that's a schedule II drug -- Milo shouldn't be carrying that around!" said Miranda.

"We're all lucky that this wasn't in the car when the police busted us," I said. "They wouldn't have let us go -- no way."

"We need to get it out of the house," said Hannah grimly. "The police may come with a warrant if they think Milo is mixed up in selling Oxy."

"Selling it?" said Miranda. "That doesn't sound like Milo. Our company makes it. Maybe he was just bringing it up to our bay area facility."

"In a stolen car?" I asked. "I don't think so."

"I'm getting it out of the house," said Hannah.

"What will you do with it?" asked Miranda anxiously. "The company probably needs it back." Then, rather unnecessarily I thought, she added, "That's worth a lot of money."

"I'm going to hide it in Cyrus Green's junkyard until we figure out who it belongs to and what we should do with it," said Hannah. "Cyrus never touches any of that stuff in his yard nowadays."

"Do you want me to come with you?" asked Miranda.

"No, you'd better stay here. The police might come around, and Celeste or Rosario will freak out. But Ty can come with me. I don't like walking this neighborhood alone at night."

Cyrus Green's junkyard was not far from the house. We just walked down to the corner, turned left, and entered a cul-de-sac. At the end of the street was a decrepit facility with a hand-lettered sign and no lights on. Hannah let herself in through the gate and the two of us wandered through a labyrinth of lifeless refrigerators, other small appliances, and a few automobiles, navigating with some difficulty by the light of the distant street lamps. I followed Hannah to a far corner of the yard, where she selected a prehistoric Plymouth wagon and secreted the briefcase under one of the seats. Then we made our way back out to the street.

When we returned to the house, we found a pensive Miranda awaiting us. "I should call Mr. Sheppard, my supervisor at the company," she said. "Either way, if Milo stole the drugs or if he was delivering them, they are not where they are supposed to be right now."

"Do you have his home number?" I asked.

"No. I'll have to wait until tomorrow when he's in the office."