Stanley Steamer Ch. 11: Megan at Xmas

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:The time has come," Larry announced, "when cousin Stan will drive us to the aerial tramway so we can play in the snow at 8500 feet before we return here below sea level for an evening of naked debauchery. But dress warm for now."

"How will we squeeze nine people in a car that carries eight?" Teresa asked.

"Some woman bare her butt and sit in my lap, no problem," Vaslav offered.

"I have a plan," Jeri said. "Vaslav, you sit in the back row between Ursula and my mom. They can blow you along the way. Sharli, you sit in the middle row between Pam and Megan and they can suck your boobs till we reach the entry. Stan drives, Larry takes shotgun up front, and I sit on the floor between them giving handjobs. Any objections?"

"Go easy on fingering me," Stan said. "I've still got to drive."

We survived the drive to the tram station and its rotating lift-car's spectacular views across hundreds of desert miles. A few inches of snow remained this Christmas afternoon, too little for sculptures but enough for snowballs down the collar. We goofed around the alpine forest -- Vaslav said it felt like the Dinaric Alps at home in Croatia. A bit of play, a bit of cold, and then we were ready for the desert floor's warmth. And more drinks and snacks and sex.

Drinks for everyone but Stan, anyway. He still had to drive. But he could fuck.

I sampled each man's flavor in each woman's cunt. I sampled each woman's flavor on each man's dick. I tasted the flavors of sex in mouths. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe my need to taste my kin IS genetic. Everyone tasted me, too, but that was just for fun, probably.

"Time to leave," Stan said, trying to exit Teresa's overflowing cunt. She did not unwrap her arms and legs until after a long kiss. "Last call for the pool before the bus leaves."

Larry finished inside Ursula about then. These nephews were so GOOD to their aunties! I promised myself to be a great niece for my uncle Stan too. Vaslav finished inside Mom around then and she seemed to like it.

Jeri was such a slut. She quit fingering Sharli and cleaned the cunts and cocks of the three fuckings. And she kissed me. I was used to cum snowballs by now.

Jeri grabbed my hand and dragged us into the pool. Mom, Ursula, and Stan followed. Ursula left barely a ripple.

"Larry and I have work tomorrow," Sharli said from her lounge, sipping a hot rum punch. "Damn offices still do business. Oh well."

"And the studio wants me," Jeri said, drying off. "That holiday-special crap."

"My Teresa won't forge me a medical excuse so I must labor also," Vaslav said. Yes, a handball coach's work never ends.

"I still have blank forms I got from that Jamaican sports doctor," Teresa said, "but I don't think your boss will accept COCK FELL OFF as a diagnosis."

We travelers dried, dressed, and gathered our presents and warm clothes. Larry, Sharli, Teresa, and Vaslav stayed naked but gave thorough good-byes that would have warranted arrests and jail if public.

Jeri took the shotgun seat. Ursula, Mom, and I took the bench seat behind. We laughingly reviewed the party on the hour-long drive home.

Home. Rancho Relaxo felt like home even after this visit's short stay. Military brats are uprooted regularly -- we never have a home. The dorm or Jerry's room in a shared flat sure are not home. Maybe this WILL be home someday.

"That was fun," I said. "What now?"

Ursula sat in the middle, stroking my and Mom's thighs, as we stroked hers. Gentle strokes. Grandmother-mother-daughter strokes. Loving strokes.

"Now we sober up and make it through the night somehow," she said.

"Actually, I have some ideas," Stan said. "Jeri, you have work. The other ladies are with their families. But my closest kin here have no duties before Old Christmas, a week into January. I'll plot out my scheme in the morning."

"No hints?" Mom asked.

"Well, I know this guy in Portland. That's all I can say. Except I'll have a task soon, with Kaylee and Nikki and me. Sony wants a live hour on New Year's Eve to go with the album release but we insisted on a studio shoot in a couple days. Then I'll have ten days free for you and your mom, Megan. You might be interested too, Ursula. What's your calendar like? Any holiday swim meets?"

"I'm training for a charity event in San Diego for the Martin Luther King Jr holiday but I can be flexible. Does you plan involve exercise?"

"Yes, that's another hint to tantalize you. But no, we won't kayak to Oregon."

We got home, got unloaded, got naked, got showered, and got kissed. I very much like kissing my family. It is like kissing myself.

Mom and Jeri went to Stan's big bed to actually sleep. I shared Pam's adequate bed with Ursula. I enjoyed sleeping with my grandmother, who feel more like a horny distant sister. Am I perverted?

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Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. None of us were enticed by holiday sales panics. Jeri had to go off to work. Stan had data to massage at his computer.

"This is unfortunately important. I'll tell you my plans when I finish here."

Ursula, Mom, and I wore thick moccasins and sports bras to jog a few rounds on the rough trail while airing our muffs and our minds. Ursula labored under a burden of guilt, and Mom under a cloud of the crap Stan had rescued her from. I did not try to count or name my own demons.

A few rounds were enough for Mom and me though Ursula was ready for more. We cooled her jets, all got naked, and dunked in the galvanized tank's clean and warm water. We sat close. We hugged, kissed, laughed, and cried. We only argued a little.

The kitchen door discharged Stan clad in rubber-tire sandals and old cargo shorts, less formal than usual. Those were rapidly shed. His refreshments tray was welcome. He climbed in, roiled the water in our direction, and made contact. I like when he kisses my tits.

He started to lay out his plan. A car crunched up the gritty drive. "I don't recognize that one," Mom said.

We watched the rental car park. Two lanky young women in slim jeans and well-filled contrasting blouses got out. Their blonde ponytails swung freely. They saw us in the tank, whispered together, and walked over.

"Stan Ovshinsky?" asked one.

"Yes. So what?"

"Stanley Kamehameha Ovshinsky?"

"I am likely the one and only."

"Hello, Father," said the other.

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Next: You probably expect Stanley to fuck his daughters, right?

Author's note: This story by Hypoxia Smurf is copyright (c) 2018. I tried to get details right, even what I invented. I may have caught most typos but more eye surgery awaits. Your constructive comments, suggestions, fantasies, and bribes are welcome, really. I'm begging you! If you like this tale, join the 1% and VOTE!