Sunglasses, Sandals, Nothing Else

She stopped talking rationally and proceeded to fuck my brains out. Left me totally non compos mentis. That's why I'm so stupid, hey? (You may laugh now.) Anyway, she obviously enjoyed this, too. We both made enough noise.

I set the clock for a survivable wakeup.

.

===== Tuesday =====

The early alarm gave us time for a nice slow missionary fuck on the sloppy bedding. And time to change the mess, wipe ourselves down, absorb coffee and food and more coffee, kiss hungrily, sixtynine madly, cleap-up again, dress, and still meet our deadlines. I even bagged a lunch.

Dalia and I had to pay attention in Earth Science — Dr Doheny had gone ultra-didactic as the semester ended and finals loomed — so we did not chat until we took a shaded table with Rosa. The sisters brought their own frugal lunch bags. We nibbled our sandwiches, sipped our veggie juices, and conspired.

"Paige surprised me last night," Dalia said, and wiped V8 from her pouty lips. "More than I expected."

"Did you think we scared her away?" Rosa asked me between bites.

"Not quite," I said, brushing off crumbs. "She'd told me she had high school girlfriends when she worked her family's Pasadena store, but she didn't give details. She says she doesn't have close friends up here on the high desert. So we're her pals now."

"Well, let's get with her again," Dalia said, seductively munching a banana. "But not tonight. I have to work on that environment paper, and you have yours. We sure are burning through the typewriter ribbons, right, guy?"

"Mr Sterling has us loaded with political analyses too," Rosa sighed, "so we're all occupied."

"And probably for the rest of the week," I said. "Paige didn't tell me her schedule, but she's busy going over inventories and procedures with the new owners. I'll see if she can take off early Friday. Can we get together early? I have to be down to San Bernardino for a National Guard drill this weekend so I can't be up too late."

"The folks haven't mentioned anything yet," Rosa said. "We usually get some warning."

"I know what'll be fun," Dalia suggested. "Skating and dancing at Sagebrush RollerRama."

"Sure," I agreed, "it'll be a good dinner date. Eat burgers there, shake off calories on the roller rink and dance floor, get back early enough for..." I peered around for obvious evesdroppers "...for in-house activities, shall we say."

I did not want to announce our intimacy to nearby ears. The colonel's daughters must not be too flagrant in public.

I checked my Timex wristwatch. "Tell ya what... I can run home, call Paige to see if she's free then, and run back quick. Hang around here, ladies. I'll see you in five or so."

I disposed of my debris and trotted home across the road. Paige answered the store phone and said she would convince the owners to fend for themselves this Friday evening. I loped back and relayed that info to the Ortega sisters. We set off for our afternoon classes.

International Affairs was tough today, even collaborating with sharp-minded Rosa. Just after, an ambulance call let me escape tedious Mr Robert's awful Modern Literature class for an easy, well-paying, three hour run, shuttling a lowlander patient back home to smogland... doctor's orders. We on-call EMTs were paid by the mile so this was a good day.

Alicia drove the return leg; I studied. I picked up my day's coursework from faculty offices and went home for hard study and easy cooking.

=====

Paige came home late to my pressure cooker's beef-barley-vegetable stew and a jug of cheap wine. We curled naked on the sofa with better after-dinner vino.

"Felda — that's Mrs Denson, an owner — thinks we can get enough done the next two nights that she and 'Gramps' — that's her father, he's taking over from me — can do without me Friday evening. Gramps worked their music store for years and he was a pro photographer back in Austria; he can handle the camera side, too. So sure, let's go out with the Ortega girls Friday."

She set her tumbler on my wretched coffee table and bent to lick my cock.

"Just don't wear yourself out too much then." She licked me again. "Or now."

I rolled onto her and sucked her tasty raging nipples. "You'd better stay in shape, too." I sucked harder, then sat up. "But this will have to wait an hour. Damn."

I changed the typewriter ribbon and tapped at my folding Corona's keyboard, following the inflexible essay formula for a fucking Modern Lit paper. That tedious instructor did not value creativity.

Paige had no schoolwork but she was re-reading Samuelson's *Economics* anyway. She had *earned* her business scholarship!

A couple hours of this left us both brain-dead enough for bed and cozy, comfortable sex. Only a few days together and we were almost an old couple already... but with excitement promised. I would enjoy a summer of this.

.

===== Wednesday-Thursday =====

We rose early, sanitized, sucked and fucked, breakfasted, dressed, and dove into our days, with my classes and her work. Evenings, I pressure-cooked stews to suit wine and faded shortwave music. We showered and air-dried to coyote songs, took to bed, sucked, fucked, and snored. Routine now.

I made a point to stop at the photo+music store after classes both days. 'Gramps' was the very image of "that little old winemaker, me!" from ancient TV adverts. His wiry daughter Felda scanned the store books; she would return to her luthier husband Chas this weekend. I got on well with the new proprietors.

Felda asked me to give guitar lessons here as she did at their smogland stores but I would not commit. My time was pretty much occupied already.

Spring semester was set to end soon. The Ortega sisters and I had signed up for summer session Psychology 201 and Creative Writing classes together, both in the evening because hot afternoons might hit 120 fahrenheit, ow! We could collaborate in and out of bed those nights, with the big fan blowing so we would not melt down. But now we had to focus on term papers and final exams. Such is life for serious students.

=====

I only suffered through half of Thursday's lousy Modern Lit class before being rescued by an ambulance call.

Alicia noted our destination and directed me to drive a rutted, sandy track, barely more than a dry wash, out to a lonely desert shack, to contact Deputy Dugan.

Our rig was meant for pavement, not soft sand. I lost traction; we were stuck.

"Stay at the wheel and let's get going," Alicia said, and hopped out. In the side mirror, I saw her slide an inch-thick plank under the dual rear tires and put her shoulder to the rig.

This was pretty funny. Compared to me, that brunette pixie was a decade older, a foot shorter, and maybe half my weight.

But she was strong and effective. The tires caught traction and I pulled the ambulance loose from its sand trap. Alicia threw the plank and herself inside. We made it to the shack and rolled beside the deputy's 4x4 cruiser.

The day stopped being funny. Anger raged in Deputy Doris Dugan's grim face. "We got an anonymous tip. I'll find who did this," she growled.

The girl in the filthy shack looked to be around twenty and was still alive. Her gang tattoos were old; the lash marks and cigarette burns on her naked body were too fresh. Fingers were broken. Her face was cut. She wheezed.

I did not know her name but I had seen her in the town library. Neither a stranger nor an acquaintance, and now, yet another victim. I suppressed my emotions. I had to.

Dugan draped her in a clean blanket. The three of us gently laid her on the ambulance gurney. Alicia tended her; I drove as smoothly as possible, following Dugan's tracks through the sand, and her flashing lights to the hospital. The ER team was ready for us.

I held my mind cold and focused. My self-discipline was tight enough. For now, anyway.

=====

I finished my day, drove home, threw stew makings in the pressure cooker, and self-medicated with too much cheap wine. I kept seeing the girl's torture wounds. Sure, I knew death and destruction, just as the heartless drill sergeant in Basic had promised, and damnation and inhumanity. But this, outside a combat zone, this shit was getting to me. I was tired of numbing myself. I had to find another career. Giving guitar lessons would be cleaner and safer.

"It was a bad one today," I mumbled to Paige when she arrived at twilight.

I lay naked and sweaty in my chaise out back. My empty stew bowl and mostly empty wine jug sat on the low side table. Her sharp eyes surveyed me. She kissed me softly and sniffed with patient accusation.

"We both need to shower," she said. "C'mon now, babe; I'll eat later." I let her drag me inside. She stripped fast, scrubbed us and dried us, and led me to bed.

Paige found a shortwave BBC classical channel. "Thanks for the stew," she called. I stared at the ceiling while she ate. I visualized a baroque chamber ensemble and tried to flush images of old and new mayhem from my mind.

I half-woke from a nightmare when Paige crawled into bed and cuddled her naked body against mine, holding me as I shook. I felt pain drain from me, and slept soundly, wrapped in her comforting arms.

I was glad to have this roommate.

.

===== Friday =====

Breakfast with strong coffee and Paige's hugs pulled me together. We left for our day feeling a bit brighter.

I lunched and chatted with Rosa and Dalia. Later, we finished classes and rolled our vehicles into my rough drive just as Paige's motorbike snarled in. "Gramps gets to close the store tonight," she laughed. She joined the sisters and me taking turns showering, two by two, and then out back to enjoy the solstice sunshine. We all wore only sandals, sunglasses, and tired smiles.

I had hit a charity thrift shop recently and brought home more cheap patio chaises to array behind my jackrabbit shack. The tall mane of thick Larreas screened us from the road. We lounged with legs open, genitals airing.

My landline phone rang so I trudged inside — Mamá Ortega, calling for either daughter. Rosa took the phone and returned with lousy news.

"This sucks. Sis and I have GOT to go, there's another fucking event on base that we can NOT avoid, no arguments. So shit, we're breaking tonight's date."

Dalia looked stricken. "So we've got to leave, like, right now? Why are they doing this to us?"

"We're only the brats. Ours not to reason why, et fucking cetera. Can we break free when Papá makes general? We'll have to be elsewhere then, off to university or jobs. But while we're here, we follow orders. C'mon, let's get dressed and do this. Sorry, guys."

Will daughters of flag-rank officers all suffer Daddy issues? My statistical sample is too small to confirm.

Rosa rose and pulled Dalia up from her chaise. Paige and I stood, too, for a naked gang hug before going inside.

An idea struck as I watched the sisters dress.

"Let's postpone our foursome date, not break it. We'll get to the Sagebrush next week. Bring your dancing shoes."

The sisters, dressed now, agreed. Paige looked pensive.

"I'd better phone to let Gramps know he'll close the store on his own tonight. He can handle that now."

More hugs and kisses, and the sisters were gone.

=====

Paige got off the phone, leaned her naked body into mine, and groped me. I fingered her vulva.

"Let's fuck," I said, "and then go on this date."

I lifted her without straining my back and carried her to bed. Stroking and a mutually orgasmic sixtynine put us in the mood. But the evening was young and we hungered for more. We dressed in loud tees, shorts, and sneakers. I drove.

The Sagebrush RollerRama sat in a skanky village a half-hour away, distant and vanilla enough to not attract many troops from the base, so it was a pretty safe playground, even for the colonel's daughters. Paige and I would have no trouble in this hangout of local civilians.

Half of the big desert-weathered building held a decent rink with roller skates available in all sizes, even for my long feet. The other half was split between a well-worn dance floor and a snack bar's café tables and chairs. Cheesy canned music filled both high-ceilinged spaces. Skate or dance at the same pace.

Younger locals tended to skate and the more mature danced but the cadres mixed and traded comfortably. An old gal might cut in on a young stud and they swirled or rolled while their mates found new partners for the song.

Paige and I ate our loaded burgers, rented skates, and hit the rink. A fast number, then slower, and fast again, together until a middle-aged couple — they looked and moved like ranchers — broke us apart and whirled us like experts. We spun a few rounds and replaced them with young kids, just barely out of high school, judging by their looks and energy.

Then we skated a trio with a young Korean girl I had seen here before. Mira, a slinky local with long black hair tied in a ponytail like Paige's, wore tighter and brighter shorts and tee than we did. She seemed fond of us and said she was tired of the rink at about the same time we were ready for a break.

We three turned in our skates and hit the snack bar for refreshments. Ice cream floats in ginger beer suited us all. We rehydrated and turned to the dance floor.

I took a slow, body-hugging waltz with Paige, and one faster and just as close with Mira. Then the women seemed to fuck each other in a sultry blues. I ground groins with somebody's MILFy aunt in that tune. I liked her fine cleavage and bent to snuggle there. When I surfaced, she kissed me, with tongue.

An older gent cut Paige out; they, the hot aunty and I, and Mira and a Black woman twice her age, all bounced without damage when fast salsa played. Then came one more slow sexy tune. Aunty and I fondled buns. I was tempted to swirl her to the truck for a fuck but a young guy cut in and twirled her away. Oh well...

The next sweaty number saw Paige, Mira, and I grinding our bodies hotly. I was sure we could have fun with our clothes off, too. I had a plan.

"Let's cool down a little," I said when the music paused. We took a three-chair café table and I fetched iced mugs and a pitcher of draft ale. We huddled at the small table; our bare knees touched. We each held a mug with one hand and a nearby leg with the other.

"We drove in from Mesquite Ridge, and how about you? Are you far away?"

We had downed our mugs and freed our hands for leg-stroking. Both women had delectable thighs. I guess mine were satisfactory.

"No," Mira said, her fingers inching toward my crotch, and probably toward Paige's too, "it's just a ten minute ride on my moped to where I live with my parents by our hardware store. Not much privacy there. I wish..."

"Let's take a little spin in my pickup," I said. "There's pads for comfort, we can have fun, then I'll drive you home."

I stroked her thigh. Paige probably did, too.

"C'mon," Paige said. She showed a screwtop half-bottle of tawny port in her tote. "We can sip on the way."

Paige leaned in to kiss Mira's cheek. I was tempted to talk but thought to let Paige do the convincing. Mira seemed halfway there. I felt her questing fingertip on my dickhead.

We *would* be comfortable. Yes, I kept pads and blankets stashed under the tarp in my pickup, just in case... just in case I had some willing woman or women, like now. I brushed Mira's sweaty bush.

Mira's hand left me to pick up her mug and drain it down her throat.

"I'm good with that," she said. Paige and I finished our ales, too. I followed the women out the door, watching their squirming butts.

=====

We loaded Mira's moped in the back of my pickup and rolled. Mira sat between us on the wide bench seat. The women shared the wine bottle and spirited kisses; I just drove while they made out. Mira's twitchy hand on my thigh only distracted me a little.

Well, I'll admit I safely pulled off the road a couple of times for hot, spicy kisses, too. And a few gropes.

Mira aimed us to a gravel track running behind a palisade of giant boulders. I backed to a secluded sandy patch, lost the tarp, unloaded the moped, dropped the tailgate, and spread cotton sleeping bags for full padding. We stripped each other, lit by the Milky way, wrapped in desert night sounds.

Mira sat between us once again, crowded on the padded tailgate. Our dangling bare toes drew random patterns in the soft sand.

Half of the port wine remained. I took a mouthful, pulled Mira's lips to mine, and squirted it into her. Our tongues tangled awhile. I leaned over her and treated Paige, too.

Mira took the bottle and spritzed me a languid mouthful, then turned and gave Paige a wine-y kiss that lasted minutes, it seemed.

Paige leaned past Mira, fed me wine and tongue, then emptied the bottle to kiss Mira again. I fondled them while they were busy. Mira's breasts were smaller and firmer than Paige's, with a tighter texture.

Mira turned from Paige to me for kisses and groin strokes. Her hand held my cock and then Paige's covered hers. My fingertips found both wet pussies. I pressed in, then put my hands to their faces to slide my fingers into their mouths. Both giggled and slurped the other's flavor.

"That's what I'm looking forward to," Paige said. "Mira, scoot up and spread your legs. Greg, be a good boy and doggy-fuck me while I eat her. Yeah, a treat at both ends."

So she wanted simultaneous cock and pussy? Interesting.

Mira scooted, and opened her thighs. Paige hunched, head down, butt up. The height was perfect. I knelt behind her and easily worked my ramrod into her hot depths. I held her hip with one hand and gently frigged her with the other.

Paige had mentioned past girlfriends. Now I would see how far she would go. How far? Straight to cunnilingus.Why Mira and not the Ortega sisters? I might ask later. I was preoccupied now.

Paige mouthed Mira's nethers, kissing her inner thighs, and did more that I could imagine but not see. Starlight showed me Paige's hands moving on Mira's slender body, and the girl's feet clenching and rocking. I was in no hurry to cum so I speared Paige in-and-out slowly, steadily... satisfyingly for her. She raised her head to moan, then dived back into her cunt-licking.

Her tongue seemed to satisfy Mira, proved by the Asian girl's groans. Both women quivered, shivered, shook, and sobbed over and over.

I wanted to go further. I pulled out of a moaning Paige, high-crawled past her, knelt by Mira's head, and aimed my stiff, soggy cock at the girl's mouth.

"Clean me off," I ordered Mira, and she did.

"Make room for me," I told Paige, and she did.

We all managed to squeeze together. Paige and I sandwiched Mira tightly in the well-padded pickup bed. We licked our victim's breasts. Our fingers met in her swollen labia. Her hands rubbed our butts.

"Are you with me on this?" Paige asked. "C'mon, let's both of us rock this girl's world." We nestled between Mira's legs and nuzzled her vulva.

Cheek to cheek, our tongues explored Mira's hot, wet pussy, taking turns around and top to bottom, inside and back out with gathered juices, and double-dipping her excited clit. Her hands held our heads close. Our hands slipped over each other's bodies and hers, down her legs and up her hips and sides to her perky breasts and gem-quality nipples. I pinched and Paige probably did, too.

I took over the clit-licking. Mira's pussy got even hotter and wetter when she spasmed and howled her long, intense orgasm at the starry sky. Her fingers clutched my hair, almost yanking me bald, and then she pushed our heads away.

"We're not done with you yet, girl," Paige growled. "Greg, move up there so this bitch can suck your cock, get you nice and wet, while I eat her some more. She sure tastes good to me."