Stanley Steamer Ch. 08: Pam & Nikki

Stan's pace quickened. Aunt Terri's boobs swung faster. Larry's eyes crossed but he did not cum in his mother's mouth when Stan came hugely into her holy hole. Her lips left Larry's cock again. She issued more orders.

"That was nice, Stan. Now come over here so I can lick you clean. Larry, get back there and give your mother some more. Don't say NO! C'mon boys, trade off, make an old lady happy."

Aunt Terri slurped her desiccated nephew for a long, long time while her drained son fucked her for a long, long time. Her knees must have hurt by now but she soldiered on.

Farad, abandoned by his predator, looked forlorn when he came to Jeri and Sharli and me. He stroked our shoulders, seeking an invitation. Jeri and I still fingered. Sharli still hugged us but she took pity on him. She released us, took his cock in hand, led him to a lounge, pushed its back down, and pushed him into it.

"Let's take care of each other," she said, climbing onto him. She stuffed her pussy in his face and his half-masted cock in her mouth. Jeri and I just watched all the perversion while our fingers did their interior dance.

We all eventually finished. Then it was lunchtime. How would the rest of the weekend go?

===== TO SUNDAY =====

The weekend went about as expected. Everyone fucked everyone - except the guys did not suck or fuck other guys, and Jeri and I only licked each other. And aunt Terri. Yes, aunt Terri went down on Sharli and me and Jeri, her daughter, and we went down on her. Fair is fair. And Sharli liked sucking cum out of us.

It is good that my and Stan's mom Ursula did not drop in from Seattle. She was even wilder than her big sister Teresa.

I recall a "family circle" daisychain. I blew my brother Stan, who ate our aunt Terri, who blew her son Jerry, who ate his sister Jeri, who nicely slurped me. Sharli kept Farad busy during our family conference - kept him busy with a double-ended dildo. Her pussy, his ass, fun fun fun. I wondered when aunt Terri would discard him, and for who or what?

Anyway, amidst the sucking, fucking, slurping, and burping, we consumed food and drink, splashed and soaked in the pool, lay in the sunshine, sang and told jokes, boasted (that was mostly Farad), free-associated, and spread some news. Great news!

Stan and Jeri and I clung together in the water during a 'wet' phase of the day. Stan had told of returning early from a project, finding Rancho Relaxo deserted, and figuring that I was here. Or did he plant a GPS tracker on my car? Anyway, we were happy with Jeri's news.

"Stan, I'm going to have your baby." Maybe his. No DNA test. But let her imagine. Fantasy is cheap.

"And taking a baby to the studio would be a problem." No childcare there, not with her unpredictable hours.

"And my contract is pretty iron-clad. I need them and they need me." Lucky girl! Steady employment is good.

"But I talked and talked with the directors, and we have a fix." I wondered where this was going.

"They've agreed to setup a branch in Yucca Valley. I'm not the only one there." So she won't be stuck living and working in San Bernardino? What then?

"So Stan, dear cousin Stanley, the man I love more than anyone in the world..."

Uh oh. I think I knew where this was going. We would gain a housemate.

"Can I move in with you and Pam? We can raise your babies there together!"

I could see Stan was not totally surprised by the proposal, nor hostile, only thoughtful. He pulled us closer to him. He kissed Jeri soundly. He kissed me soundly. His above-water hands stroked our available boobs. Our underwater hands stroked his thighs and now-expanding cock. Our heads nuzzled together. Then he looked in her eyes, and mine.

"You know the reality. I travel a lot on business. And you won't have me exclusively. Other women will be there with me, with us. No other men, though - that's ironclad. Well, maybe Larry if he and Sharli visit, but they haven't yet. None of your mom's suckers, Jeri. No handsome ER doctors, Pam."

Who, me? I never! Well, hardly ever... But never again!

And other women? Jeri and I both said we didn't care, we only wanted to be with him. I think we meant it. There was an awful lot of Stan to share. He continued.

"And we'll have to stay quiet. Nothing to make the news. Cousin-fucking is fairly socially tolerable. Sibling-fucking still isn't. Lorna and Mari know about us but I don't know what they'll do with their own kids - well, the rez has childcare. Oh yeah, Mari is pregnant too, along with Lorna. Babs knows of us but she won't blab. Any others... we can't brag. Hey, what about Farad? He knows all about our big-incest family now."

"Don't worry about Farad," Jeri said. "He's a sister-fucker. And he's in the US on an expired visa so he won't make trouble. Mom is careful about that. She specializes in athletic illegals. But one thing." She fisted his cock more firmly. "Can we replace that horse trough with a hot-tub?"

Stan grumbled unconvincingly.

"Yeah, I thought about that. And I think we'll need to extend the cabin to accommodate moms and kids, probably a new wing. But except for some child-proofing, I'm not changing what my home is now. I've put a lot into it to make it what I want."

No changes? He was in denial. I made no comment.

The fuckfest wound down with more perversion and consumption. Aunt Terri and Farad left for San Diego about when Jeri left for San Bernardino and Stan and I convoyed to Rancho Relaxo. He rigged walky-talkies so we could chat along the way if we stayed close.

Stan parked Heidi in the barn. I parked my Subaru out front. We showered and crawled into his big bed. All was fine until the start of my next shift. Life goes on.

*********

NIKKI

*********

"Funny farm; quack quack." Would Stan always answer his landline like that?

"I have good recipes for duck. Do you volunteer to be devoured?"

"Will you sing before or after you eat me?" His phone must have Caller ID. Or his hearing and recognition were really good.

"Before, for sure - it's a ritual. After, maybe - if you aren't too tough. Are you tough?"

"Marinate me long enough and I'll be as soft as a fantasy novel."

What? Oh yeah, not hard-science-type science-fiction. Fantasies are for soft brains. I counter-attacked.

"I suppose you have the FANTASIA soundtrack on Heidi's sound system."

"Yeah, I'm a softy too. So what's up besides your vocal range?"

"I hate that screechy stuff as much as you do. Good thing I'm a mezzo, not like Kaylee. Anyway, what's up is, we're lonely. And bored. We're off from Friday morning on. We want to come to Rancho Relaxo and sing and stuff."

Kaylee grabbed the phone. "Yeah, stuff. Lots of stuff. But we'll sing, too."

"Tell you what, ladies. It happens that I need a ride to Barstow on Friday to pick up a vehicle. I was going to catch a bus but you could give me a lift. Then we'll convoy back and have time for music and fun and whatever until you head back to San Berdoo. How does that sound?"

Kaylee still possessed the phone. "What times are too early or too late for us to show up?"

"I'll be up to help Pam when she comes off-shift after eight, so I'll say no earlier than nine and no later than one. Or eight if you want to help massage her feet. Or seven if you want to be in bed naked again when she arrives."

I took the phone back. "Naked in bed sounds great - but it's a two-hour drive, and four-thirty in the morning is too early for us to wake up. How about Thursday evening? A little after seven, at least?"

"I'll have burritos ready. Bring your toothbrushes. Don't bother with knickers or feminine sprays. Do either of you have a harmonium?"

I laughed. "Well, now that you mention it..."

"Bring it if you want a continuo part besides my cittern. Now, a quiz. Why is a bassoon better than an oboe?"

I knew that one. "Bassoons burn longer."

"You got it. How can you tell if the drum platform is level?"

"The drummer drools from both sides of his mouth. Any more?"

"What's the difference between an elite tenor and an orca?"

"Twenty-five pounds and a tuxedo. Do we pass?"

"One more. How many sopranos are needed to change a light bulb?"

"Five. One to twist the bulb, and four to kick the chair out from under her."

"Right. Don't forget the harmonium." Click.

===== TO FRIDAY =====

We skipped the last Thursday class - boring and not mandatory - and made it to Rancho Relaxo in time for a soak in the galvanized horseless trough. It was cute but a hot-tub would be nice. Anyway, we got naked and stayed naked with Stan for burritos, wine, singing, and mandola-ing - harmonium tomorrow, Stan said - and nice sucks and fucks for both of us. Kaylee sat beside me and him so he could suck her Shinto nipples while he mounted me and pounded my Hindu pussy, so he said. He could be crude, if fairly accurate.

Stan was not joking about sunrise roadrunners. I awoke Friday morning to the noise of birdfeet tracking across a steel roof as the first light cracked the big bedroom's high thin windows.

"Whuh?" I was dazed. But I got up to pee. Kaylee was right behind me. Stan trailed. I was washing at the sink, Kaylee was on the toilet, but Stan came in to piss in the shower.

"Men don't pee; we piss." he said. "And ladies are unwell while men vomit. Those are the rules." That made sense - but I was still half-asleep.

We naked innocents crawled back to bed and even snored some before Pam's voice spoke from the doorway.

"Them again? And you're not fucking them now? You must be slowing down, Bro. Need any pills?" She sounded dead tired.

'

"Shower and smile. See you in a few." He did not don his Speedos.

Pam returned damp and naked and fell into the bed's center.

"Not so bad this time. Not much trauma. But I still..." Her voice trailed off.

"You want to start on her feet?" Stan asked us.

I took her left side, Kaylee the right. We saw what Stan did to his sister before. Gentle on her toes, firmer on her feet, firmer still on calves and thighs, and we worked her butt, too. Stan started on her fingers and hands, up her arms, and then dug into her shoulders and back. She made animal sounds throughout.

She rolled over. Her naked body seemed almost nerveless.

"Oh damn. Thanks. Thanks."

She pulled me to her and kissed me. She pulled Kaylee up and kissed her. She pulled Stan to her and kissed him longer.

"I'll eat later. I'm just going to bed now." She started to rise.

"Easy there, Sis. Ladies?"

He pulled her upright. Kaylee and I took her by each arm. We walked her to her room and tucked her in. Stan draped a thin blanket over her. She curled into a foetal posture.

"You know how local TV works, right? 'If it bleeds, it leads.' Pam is in the background of too many top-of-the-hour stories. Don't ask her about it. It's filthy work but someone must, and she volunteered. She is truly amazing."

Stan looked at his big sister with love glowing on his face.

We three had a naked Friday breakfast in his off-bedroom nook. Stan called it a Guatemalan desayuno tipico. Scrambled eggs, black beans, little hand-size tortillas, squares of a salty dry white cheese, fried plantains like not-so-sweet bananas, sour cream, fruit nibbles, and strong black coffee. Then more strong black coffee, fit to raise the dead. The recently dead, anywau.

And then back to bed. After nice kissing-and stroking foreplay, Kaylee and I took turns sucking and riding his tongue and his cock. Stan had the easy part. He only had to lie on his back while we did most of the work. Some guys have all the luck. But I got the squirt when he came.

We were back in the outside nook after the after-sex cleanup, still naked. Stan played the smaller tenor mandola. We sang. It was magic again. Anything he knew and we knew just pulled together like it was meant to be.

"Harmonium after Pam wakes up," Stan said. "We'll stay quieter now."

"You've obviously studied," I said during a sun-tea break. "Want to tell us about it?"

"I started off as a child," he said. "No, really. I was about five when Dad gave me a Celtic mandolin - that's one with a flat back and a round hole, not like the f-holes on bluegrass mandolins. It has a richer, rounder sound. And Mom gave me a soprano 'ukulele she got at some swim meet in Hawai'i. The 'uke was smaller but the necks were about the same size, good for my small hands. Of course they use different tuning systems - you know that.

"One elementary teacher played, and showed me the mechanics of holding and fingering. At first I just copied music I heard. Then Dad gave me methods books and tapes for both, and then sheet music. I upgraded to guitars and mandolas as my hands grew. Those aren't school band instruments but both my junior high and high schools had chamber groups and I fit in there. That was the extent of my musical training. But I practice a lot.

"How about you? How did music grab you? Why learn Western vocal techniques?

"It was in our families," Kaylee said, "both in the old countries and here in America. My family were musicians and dramatists in Japan. My grandfather and father play in Hollywood studio orchestras. I can't wait to sing orchestral recitals with them behind me."

"My family were Indian classical musicians and dancers for generations and my grandfather still produces pop jukebox stuff in Los Angeles," I said. "Our moms were both formal singers, too. So I guess our music is genetic. Wasn't music in your family?"

"Just a little," Stan said. "Grandpa sat on his front porch and played an old big-bowl-type Italian mandolin or a really funky and loud banjo-mandolin. Both are 1910's vintage and I inherited them; they're in my instrument closet. Dad played electric concertina is a Tex-Mex-punk garage band before he went straight. Mom has been a competitive swimmer all her life with zero focus on music. Nobody around me tried to make a living with music, and I don't either. It's just disciplined fun for me."

Then more music by us and more tea. And more time in bed - not too strenuous or stinky. A light lunch of sandwiches of fresh-made tuna salad on sliced artisan bread washed down with more tea. All that tea and coffee had to go somewhere so we peed together in the shower and rinsed. Then it was time to dress and yes, we all wore shorts and musical tees. Stan wore loose grey cargo shorts. Ours were shorter, tighter, brighter, sexier. Of course.

We piled into Kaylee's Mazda, Stan riding shotgun, me in the back. Kaylee did not drive as fast as Stan had so our north-northwest run to Barstow took a little longer.

"We're going back to Miles Ahead Mechanicals," Stan said, "to retrieve newborn Angela and bring her home. She used to be an ordinary Dodge until Miles added the steam ZEE for power and rebuilt the chassis, body, and safety systems. She should be the most uncrunchable car on the road. A real family car, much more suitable for hauling kids and supplies than swift Heidi or ungainly Tilly."

"Kids? You're having kids?"

"Pam is due for twins in a few months. And our cousin Jeri is moving in with us. She'll have a kid about the same time. So will Lorna - she usually spends weekends here and I don't see that changing anytime soon. My cabin is too small for that influx so I'll have to add a wing. And change the horse trough to a hot-tub."

"How many of these kids are yours?"

"Nobody is having DNA tests so parentage is officially unknown. If they don't know then I don't know."

I looked at Kaylee. She asked the question.

"You and your sister are lovers, aren't you?"

Stan said nothing.

"I know you and Lorna are. And Mariana. Your cousin Jeri, too?"

Stan sighed.

"Hardly anyone knows. Keep it close, okay?"

He did not elaborate. We did not push. The drive to Barstow was tensely quiet until I thought of a safe subject.

"Why only steam vehicles? Why not gas or diesel like everyone else?"

"All my buggies can drink gas, diesel, kerosene, peanut oil, any liquid that burns. They burn clean, they're almost silent, I like being different, and a guy in Stuttgart owes me big-time, so I get the ZEEs at a steep discount. Internal combustion is inherently dirty and noisy. Electrics won't be feasible without major battery breakthroughs and infrastructure buildup. Steam is my way to be nice to the planet that's nice to me."

He told us too much about technology comparisons. The atmosphere grew less tense. We were fairly relaxed when we reached Miles Ahead Mechanicals.

Angela was a lighter shade of pearl than Heidi. She otherwise looked like a boxy generic Caravan. Kaylee and I poked around inside her while Stan dealt with Miles. I saw Stan write a check. Miles smiled.

Angela was VERY comfortable. And her body and doors felt and sounded super solid. I saw no sharp edges anywhere inside. Foldable back seats were removable and it looked like a thin bed would fold down. Angela was built for safe fun, I could tell.

"Anyone like to sail on a maiden voyage?" Stan asked. "Down the old highway to Victorville and then some side roads back to here? Maybe an hour or so."

"Sure," Kaylee said. I agreed. She rode shotgun. I stretched in the back.

The old highway was not smooth but Angela's ride was. Same with noise. Angela was absolutely silent unless Stan punched the sound system. I heard every note of LA MER. Stan sang a baritone line when that ended. Kaylee and I recognized it. We hit our notes. Stan started over. Our counterpoint all fitted together like finely-oiled clockwork. More magic. I was getting wet, dammit!

We took twisty, hilly roads back north. No rush. A few side trips to rocky vistas. Kaylee grabbed Stan's arm at one lonely overlook.

"I don't care about you and your sister, your cousin, you girlfriends. I want to fuck you. Now. Here." Her tee came off; only herself was underneath. "That's a bed in back, isn't it? The seat folds up and the bed folds down. Let's do it."

Her sandals, shorts, and thong fell away. She crawled between the front bucket seats into the back. That move put her bare butt right in Stan's face. She held it there a long moment.

I had already arranged Angela's accommodations. I peeled my clothes off. Stan accepted the inevitable, climbed in back, and stripped.

We lay together, kissing. Stan stayed with me, mouth to mouth. Kaylee's mouth wandered south to his chest, his nipples, his belly button, his cock. His mouth moved south to my melons. I held his head against me. Kaylee pumped his cock, aiming for her tonsils.

Kaylee gave him a nice slurp and pulled away.

"Enough of this foreplay crap. I want to fuck you. Stay right there."

She pushed him on his back. He pulled me so my boob stayed in his mouth. Kaylee mounted him. She aimed his fully-loaded cock into her and eased down on him.

"Oh yeah..." she sighed - a beautiful sigh.

My next move seemed inevitable. I knelt over his head and dropped my pussy to his mouth. His tongue greeted me. Oh fuck, that was nice!

We were back to riding Stan, Kaylee on his cock, me on his tongue, and my mouth glued to Kaylee's. Kaylee held my shoulders to keep us near. After a long kiss, she whispered in my ear.

"We've joined Stan's harem now, haven't we? He owns us. We gave ourselves to him. We'll do anything he wants, any fucking thing. We'll fuck big carrots. If he wants me to go down on you, I will. If he wants to watch us 69, we will, won't we? And we're not gay. You're his slave too, aren't you?"

I could not speak an answer but I could not argue. His tongue and his hands, oh fuck. His music, oh fuck. His aura, oh fuck me! I am not gay but I kissed my roommate deeper than I ever had before. She bounced faster on his thighs, her hips speeding into a blur, almost comical, but I was slurping her boobs, my arms around her neck, trying to hang on while she bucked.

She slowed. She moaned like a ghost. Stan's thighs pressed up again, and spasmed, and delivered his cupful of cum into her, while I melted with joy into her sweet breasts. Oh fuck.