Stanley Steamer Ch. 05: Jeri , Sharli


Disclaimers: This vacuous stroker is almost total fiction. Everyone is over 18 and shuns condoms. Tags: clusterfuck, cousins, brother-sister, bisexual, pregnant, multiracial, group sex. If you object to any such, stop reading. Details may be incorrect. Opinions may not be the author’s. Read the first four chapters first. Enjoy!


Stanley Steamer 05: Jeri & Sharli

Stan, cousin Larry, their pregnant sisters, etc





I was on my back on his big bed, my legs open, my pussy alive. Craggy cousin Stan was eating me – oh he slurped so good! – and handling my boobs, and I came and came.

Then he rolled and pulled me on top of him in a big fat juicy 69, his mouth driving me crazy, my mouth worshiping his thick cock, pumping him till he almost spurted, but not quite.

Then he put me in a crouch, and got behind me, and doggy-fucked me, hard and fast, his thighs punching my buns, his hands imprisoning my happy hips. He pounded and pounded but I had primed him well, and soon he stiffened and roared and shot his sperm into me – oh ghod, I was ready for that! More sperm! More of our shared DNA!

Then I pushed him on his back and crawled between his strong, hairy thighs and nuzzled his thick, dark pubes, wet and smelly with my juices, with OUR juices; and I licked and swallowed and kissed and teased his drained cock and balls till he was a ramrod again.

Then I straddled him and aimed his empty cannon into me – oh yeah, that was nice! – and I rode his straining cock for like forever while he fondled my boobs and pinched my nips, and his hips thrust up against me as I rocked and rolled on him, and I came and came forever, and then he finally came again, a lot of work but worth it.

Then, just before I fell off him and lay puddled in orgasmic bliss, the alarm rang and I woke up. Time to go back to work.

I had taken too many break days. The studio demanded full-time-plus to make up for my time with cousins Stan and Pam. So I was booked solid, eight days a week, and twentysix-hour days (well, twelve-hour days), right in the dirty heart of San Boogaloo, er I mean San Bernardino. Too bad the studio had no presence in Yucca Valley, just a few minutes from Stan. Too bad my talents could not transfer to a job at the Indian casino-resort where Lorna and Mariana worked and lived. I could share a condo with them. Then I would be only an hour from Stan… when he was around.

But I was booked and Stan traveled on business a lot. Life is not fair.

So I sublimated. That was the word an army guy used. He had no access to unpaid sex at his miserable base so he sublimated his sex drive by spending every off-duty hour doing creative photo and darkroom work. I sublimated my obsession, no my love, for Stan by throwing myself totally into the studio clamor. My creativity was honed to a razor-sharp edge.

I tried not to dream, but I did. Dreams of the past, the future, and now.

Past: I dreamed of Stan rescuing me and my friends Lorna and Mariana at the border, and driving us impossibly fast in Heidi, his stealthy steam-powered Karmann Ghia, and judging our naked bodies at my brother Larry’s pool, and sucking and fucking us all to death.

Future: I dream of moving in with cousin Stan – our mothers are sisters – but my contract keeps me at the studio for the known future. His sister Pam lives with him, and fucks him, so she and I would be together too. That gets… interesting.

Past: I dreamed of cousin Pam finding me fucking my cousin Stan, her little brother. And Pam demanding to watch us suck and fuck. And then she felt my body, and tasted my semen-filled pussy, and felt her brother’s spent cock, tasting the juices there, OUR juices. And then she left us alone.

Futures: I dream of having Stan’s babies. But we are apart, and I would not raise them alone, and Stan would not shirk the responsibilities of fatherhood. I dream of Pam and me together, having Stan’s babies, all of us living at Rancho Relaxo. I dream of Stan giving my friends and other women babies but I do not mind so long as I have Stan in me.

I dreamed all sorts of fantasy shit. I might as well dream of Santa Claus.

Now: I dream of Stan’s breakfast delights. But I have time for a Pop-Tart and instant coffee, no more. Good thing a taco wagon stops at the studio at lunch and dinner times. Life sucks.

“Funny farm; quack quack.” That was Stan saying HELLO on his landline.

“Stan! Stan! My director says she’s sick so the studio cut me loose for a day! Are you home? Oh duh, of course you’re home, or you wouldn’t answer. Stan! Are you going to be home? Please please?”

“The number you reached has been discombobulated. Please check the number on my phone when you get here, cuz.” That was Stan being funny.

“Ha. Okay, should I bring anything?”

“How about substances that can’t be mentioned on the phone, a trampoline, and your pretty butt? Those should hold us till morning.” Funny again. Ha.

“Ha. bahis firmaları Stan, if I didn’t love you to death, I’d have to murder you. Slowly. Painfully.”

“Say that again; the surveillance teams might have missed it.”

“Up yours. See ya in a couple of hours.”

“This is radio KCUF signing off because the DJ isn’t drunk enough. Sayonara.”

Did I hear giggling in the background?

If I did not love him, I really would HAVE to murder him. I remember an old National Enquirer story about a man who beat his wife to death with raw broccoli. It took seven years. I might use raw carrots on Stan. It would be faster and they’re easier to insert.

A night with Stan! Finally! I hope the director is sick tomorrow, too. Two nights with Stan! And the day in-between!

Lorna gets three nights with Stan every weekend when he is around. Her editor job at the rez lets her have him from Friday night to Monday morning, the bitch, the lucky big-titted blonde bitch. I know she loves him, hopelessly or not. She is almost his weekend wife.

Her naturally-tan Latina roommate Mariana has staggered and late shifts as a croupier at the rez so she does not get him as much. His big sister Pam, who he rescued big-time, also has weird long paramedic shifts; she often sleeps over at the ambulance station in Yucca Valley. At Rancho Relaxo, she recuperates in her own bed and rewards him in his.

And that Korean dish, Babs the botany professor. She must be in her eighth month by now and her hormones must be hyper-actinic. She will be hornier than ever.

I am wet just thinking about our upcoming fuckings and all the rest. Like his custom gourmet burritos washed down with cheap boxed wine. After the first hot jalapeño bite, the wine is great. And soaking in his horseless horse water tank. Sex may happen there. And me riding him cowgirl-style while we’re in that big handwoven hammock from the Yucatan swinging behind his big steel barn – that is tricky. And his thick cock and everything attached to it. Him, I mean.

Morning was far enough along that San Boogaloo traffic was not toxic, and the speed cops were asleep, so I made it to Rancho Relaxo in not much over an hour. I hoped Stan would not mind that I was early.

I managed to not get too excited, and to drive slow along the rough access track. I pulled my Subaru around the last big boulder and saw two cars in front of his big rock-sheltered fieldstone ‘cabin’. I recognized Mariana’s Mazda but not the other Subaru. It did not look like Pam’s. Obviously owned by a mountaineer or dirt-roader. Someone new?

No, it was only Babs. Only? Hah! She was definitely too far gone to ride her motorbike. But not too far gone for good sex.

Asian bombshell Babs gaspingly rode prone Mariana’s spicy mouth while Stan plowed steadily into the horizontal Latina vixen, my friend. Stan bent to gently suckle on Babs’s bloated boobs. They formed a fine triangle. Babs kneaded her cunt-licker’s bobbling breasts while Mari’s hands rubbed Babs’s belly. Babs really got off on that – the more pregnant she was, the more she loved being suckled and rubbed. She moaned merrily.

I had guessed at such action from the animal sounds I heard even from the silently-hinged front door. I doffed my sandals and softly padded to his bedroom door. There they were!

I got wetter as I watched. I thought, “Why not?” I quickly got naked and crawled on the bed.

Stan un-mouthed from one big beautiful milk dispenser and said, “You’re early.” Then he slurped the other nozzle. I nestled beside him and took in my mouth the tit he had just abandoned. Damn, she tasted good! I want to taste that good, too!

As I sucked, my hands joined Mari’s on Babs’s fertile belly, then moved to stroke the mom-to-be’s sides and hips, and her thighs astride Mari’s head. I felt hands on my body but my eyes were closed and I did not bother to identify whom. I felt like Mari and Babs and I were avatars of Woman, all one soul, one flesh, different packages but the same contents.

Mari’s tongue played at Babs’s twat. Stan and my tongues played at her transcendent tits. Baba leaned back. We leaned forward to continue nursing. Babs reached the tipping point. Her scream should have shattered glass. I would check the kitchen later.

Babs pushed our mouths away and fell beside us. Her body heaved. Her lungs gasped. Her pussy gaped – so inviting… but I did not muff-dive, did not lick women below navels. Yet.

Mari reached for me. “Oh Jeri, Jeri..” I bent to kiss her mouth, her boobs, her navel, while Stan continued fucking her. I moved around so she could mouth my breasts while I sucked hers. My hands stroked her sides. Her hands teased my butt and my pussy. Mariana, you bad girl! Babs had rolled so she could stroke us both. Oh Babs! And Stan kept pumping into Mari, her legs in the air.

Stan braced himself lower and bit my neck as Mari and I nursed each other. Oh ghod! I felt Babs move behind him. She may have stuck a thumb up his ass. He roared and kaçak iddaa came Came CAME, an endless eruption filling a relentless cavern. I was so jealous of her. All that sperm!

Babs pulled me to her side of the bed.

“Jeri girt, come up here, I want to taste you.”

Experience her tender tongue and lilting lips again? Oh ghod yes! I straddled her head; her eyes stayed with mine. I settled lower. Oh, what her mouth did to my pussy! Oh, what her hands did to my boobs! I felt Stan and Mari move beside her. They seemed to be rubbing her bountiful belly and breasts, just as she liked.

Babs’s lips, tongue, hands, and soul were so gentle on me. My orgasm was dreamland. I fell beside her. She pressed her pregnancy against me, and held me, and kissed me. Her breath was so sweet.

She held my head. “All good things must end, kid,” she whispered, and kissed me again, and rolled to the edge of the bed and stood. “Late morning class. I’m always on time.”

The rest of us naked slobs had strewn clothes in scattered piles but Babs’s garments were neatly arrayed. On went decent knickers – “Not prudent to go commando in class” – and grey cargo shorts, much like Stan’s, but I did not know a maternity version was made. Then a monster sports bra – “Can’t have these girls waving freely, they’re too distracting” – and a big T-shirt with a crossed-out ZPG inside a red circle. I think she did not care much for the Zero Population Growth cult.

“Gotta go, kids.”

She kissed our mouths. We felt her butt. Her wiggling departure was not quite a waddle. She squatted to don her red high-top sneakers at the front door. That was hilarious.

Mari said, “The way she smells now is pretty distracting too. I’d better shower before I start my next shift. Jeri, c’mere.” My friend pulled me close for a naked full-body hug and a deep kiss. “Stan, don’t be shy.” Their embrace was hot! “Race you guys to the shower!”

I was in no hurry. I was barely sweaty!

“Stan, Stan, Stan,” I murmured, before he swept me away forever.

Well, almost forever. Stan eventually pushed back.

“You don’t smell too bad, cuz, but I stink and the sheets need changing. Shower first.”

Mari was taking her sweet time under a misting spray.

“About time you guys got here. Jeri, lather my head and armpits. Stan, wash my boobs and buns.” She could be pushy.

We cleaned, rinsed, tasted, rinsed more, and dried and tasted again, but that was enough for now. Mari and I agreed, together on our knees, that Stan’s mighty manhood tasted clean and deserved a big double-kiss. He pulled us up and sniffed our armpits. We passed.

“Employment calls,” freshly-dressed Mari said. She slid into sandals, and sailed out the heavy ironwood door.

Stan and I were still naked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whined, backing away defensively. “I’m all fucked out. Have mercy! I’m no kid anymore. And I worked up an appetite. Want any food?”

We dressed in socks – no footwear on the oak floors, please – and scraped something together. That meant Stan made al pastor burritos to die for, and I ground the Chiapas coffee beans and Veracruz cocoa beans, brewed the mocha, and added enough raw sugar, heavy cream, and Oaxaca mezcal to make it worthwhile.

Stan said, “The sign across the Pan-American Highway in Mitla, Oaxaca proclaims MEZCAL CAPITOL OF THE WORLD and who am I to argue?” I nodded. I recalled his tale of dodging burning barricades while driving through Oaxaca City. I guess mezcal was worth it.

Stan carried the loaded tray out the kitchen door (where slippers awaited our feet) to a patio table and chairs sheltered by the inevitable monster boulders. We could see far across mountains and desert but only satellites and spy planes could see us. An open-air naked brunch is always best – AFTER whisk-brooming blown debris off the furniture.

A remote materialized from somewhere and Stan punched-up music. Ravi Shankar’s sitar swirled a morning raga from hidden speakers. This was almost as good as sex.

We talked of this and that. Food disappeared. Mocha drained away. The sun was overhead and the breeze was insufficient. And we heard tires crunching on his primitive driveway.

“It’s probably Pam,” Stan said, “but let’s get decent, just in case.”

Back inside, we each threw on shorts and tees, nothing more, and acted innocent. Pam came in from the front and skipped off her sensible shoes. She looked exhausted, and still beautiful, enough like her big little brother but much prettier.

“Jeri!” She tossed her bag aside and stumbled to me. We hugged and kissed. I had not seen her for weeks. Blame our work schedules.

“How long are you here for?” She was already stripping off her paramedic uniform. “Wait a minute – I’ve got to wash this stuff.” She stumbled naked to the laundry room. The washer rumbled. She stumbled back. “Any time off?”

“Tonight at least,” I said. “It depends on how long Tranh wants to be sick. Hey, you look beat. Want someone to shampoo your scalp?” kaçak bahis

She nodded. “Too many code runs in that 36-hour shift. Not enough rest. Too much blood. Wash my cares away, hey?”

Stan and I lost our coverings quickly. “Your servants await, m’lady.”

We washed her, kissed her, held her up, dried her, and half-carried her to her own bed, not Stan’s. “See you tomorrow, guys.” We were quiet till midnight.

We snuggled together on the impossibly comfortable soft-leather sofa. Stan sighed.

“After a rough one, she’s often down for twelve hours. It’s really tough work but she loves it, wouldn’t do anything else, anywhere else. Here, in the hinterlands of the high desert, she makes a difference.” He kissed my lips.

“And now, my dear cousin, *I* need to make a difference. I’ll be sitting at the computer for a couple of hours. If you want to kneel naked between my knees and fellate me the whole time, I will not stop you.” He leered at me.

“My knees won’t last that long. Can I sit cross-legged there?”

“Not enough room. You’ll just have to jill-off or something while I’m busy.”

“No, let’s do this.”

I pushed him over on his back and sat on his chest. That was easy; the sofa was wide.

“You lick my pussy till I squirt on you, and I won’t yell or anything. Then you go do your computer thing. And THEN I’ll fellate you for an hour whether you like it or not. Hmmm?”

“Sounds like a plan, but keep it quiet” he said. His hands took control of my pretty butt. He pulled me forward and impaled my cunt on his magic tongue. Oh ghod!

He was too good. I came wheezing, and I squirted a little, much too soon.

“Hey, no fair,” I whined quietly. “I didn’t expect Speedy Gonzales.”

“A deal’s a deal. And I have work to do. Get off me now, wench. And get your mouth in shape. An hour you promised, an hour I get.”

I had already slid down for full-body contact. I kissed his mouth. I tasted me on his lips. I tasted good. I kissed him harder and then stood by the sofa. He rose beside me, pulled me to him with a strong hand under each buttock, and kissed me harder yet. I wrapped my arms around his neck so he could not escape. My boobs pressed into him. We hummed.

My lips left his. “I love you,” I whispered.

“You’re not bad yourself,” he said, and put our mouths back together. Then he dropped me.

“The salt mines call me. I must go swing that sledge, shovel that salt, all so you can have your margaritas.” He slapped my ass (quietly) and headed for his office.

Stan persuaded his keyboard. I sketched some ideas for the studio. This was not how I had intended a decadent sleepover with Stan but I took what I could of his time and self.

We built a small dinner, drank a small wine, puffed a small joint, fucked big-time but quietly, and napped through the evening. We were awakened after the witching hour by a naked sorceress crawling into bed with us.

“Hey Jeri, did you leave any for me?” She kissed me.

I remembered that day, oh so long ago, when she first found her big little brother fucking their little cousin, me. Something swept over me. I felt an urge for a replay, but switched. I pushed her to Stan and set myself in the club chair.

“I want to watch you suck and fuck.”

Brother and sister looked and each other, at me, at each other again. Stan pushed his sister back and settled her at just the right angle. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts for some time, her navel, her inner thighs, her muff, her labia, her clitoris. His tongue plumbed her vaginal depths and then returned to the surface for much more licking and slurping. He made sure I saw every move.

Pam pulled her big little brother’s head by his ears, pulled him close, pulled him tight, until she shivered and shook and screamed. Damn, I would have to check the kitchen glass again.

“C’mon, it’s showtime,” he said, pulling his big sister around so they were both crotch-to-mouth. I watched as she licked and sucked and swallowed her brother’s cock. I saw her lips press against his pubes with his cock down her throat. She stayed there till she had to gasp.

She rolled off and flipped ends. “Fuck me, little brother,” she whispered, “fuck me hard.”

Her legs were open. I watched her guide his penetration. In a little, then more, then all the way, and out a bit, and back in, and back out, and in and out, in and out, the ancient rhythm.

Pam clenched him as if to save her life. Stan fucked her like a maniac. Their faces mashed. Their groins crashed. Sparks flashed. And Stan came and came into his big sister and then fell softly on her. I knew what his collapse felt like. It felt like love.

He raised himself to suck her tits and then nuzzled her cheek.

He lay on her awhile. She pushed him off and looked at me. They guessed what was next.

“Come here, Pam. I want to feel you.”

Pam sat on the edge of the bed. I crouched between her legs, and rubbed up her legs from her feet to her hips, then up her sides, and then fondled her heaving breasts.

“Forward now; I want to taste you.”

She leaned so her boobs were in my face. I licked and tasted. Stan’s mouth had been there.

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