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Disclaimers: This vacuous stroker’s fictional fuckers are over 18 and shun condoms. Tags: father-daughter, mother-son, mother-daughter, brother-sister, sisters, grandmother, fuckfest, bisexual, pregnancy. If you object, stop reading. Voices and details may be unreliable. Opinions may not be the author’s. Read prior chapters first. Comments are demanded. Enjoy!
Stanley Steamer 17: Imani & Carole
Steamy world tour & making many babies
I know Talia and Tanya. I know their flavors. TNT are twins, not identical, but close: same father, same day.
Fraternal twins can have different fathers, you know. Dad’s cousin Pam’s upcoming twins have three paternal suspects. Yes, that was a wild weekend. My mom Sharli, aunt Jeri, grandma Teresa, and friend Lorna all got knocked up then and there, and a bunch of Mom and Dad’s girlfriends. Fucked by Dad, and Stan, and Teresa’s boy-toy of the month, a Persian, or so Mom said.
I do not know if any of those party girlfriends will have twins. But we cannot assume they are ALL Stan’s, can we? Not without DNA tests, and nobody has demanded those.
But I know Tanya and Talia. TNT are Stan’s kids from when their mom Carole was too young and Stan was WAY too young. TNT have been my best friends for almost two years now, first and mostly in Kansas, and now here at Rancho Relaxo, where I found them only three weeks ago. We are lovers and partners.
I sleep with TNT in one bed. At night, a cheek or mouth or hand might touch my lips, and I lick, and taste, and feel, and I know which twin. Or in the dark of night, a pussy finds its way to my face, my mouth, my lips, my tongue. I know the textures, scents, and responses. I know whose pussy I’m slurping. I can tell TNT apart.
Now I know what their mom and dad taste like, too. I recognize Carole and Stan’s textures and flavors in TNT.
I will have to ask our family and friends if Mom and I taste alike. I imagine future pool parties will feature taste tests. Those will be fun.
===== [May Day 2003]
I am now a freshman college dropout. Lots of great and rich and creative and major asshole people could not take the collegiate grind. Or they were too busy drinking, drugging, fucking, maneuvering, to sit out a degree.
I am too busy adjusting to insanity. I really AM in the world’s hottest musical act, and getting rich, and living with my best friends, and facing a new life.
As a freshman I took General Ed classes like Bonehead English, Intro Psycho, and Pre-Calculus. Geography was most useful – learning of the world, its people, and how they all interact. That is what I try to write: Interactions.
K-Y Jam puts to music my words or maybe only the cadences, and listeners go wild and psychotic and try to interact sexually. We are fuck music. Grandma Teresa says a slow dance tune around 1960, MISTER BLUE by the Fleetwoods, drove nubile girls to open their legs and birth the Yuppie generation. Will K-Y Jam cause a population boom?
Words from what I have done, learned, and imagined in my life affect people now. Would word wonks fatally correct me so I lose the zip? Lorna edits tech and pop literature, not song and poetry. What would a poetic editor do to me? Steal my ideas because I’m richer and more successful than them, sure
Lorna is starting her own imprint here at Rancho Relaxo – born around the same time as her twins – and she will be my lyrics publisher. She says I can have any tutoring I want.
I don’t know about tutors. I can go autodidact and read read read. I can recall where my body and mind were when I wrote verses the musicians enliven, and take myself to times and places that drive my verses. I can live live live.
But I want to live with my loves, live as myself. Prose writers must be solitary; songwriters and poets, not so much. I do not feel poetic. Something pops into my head or I see a pattern. I say it to myself and write it down. It just happens, a natural function, like digestion. Robert Frost ended interviews by saying, “Excuse me, I must LET a poem,” as if it were a fart. Mine feel more like burps.
Solitary writers, ugh. Grandma Teresa said the great Isaac Asimov wrote many hundreds of books and spent most of his life locked in a closet with a typewriter. What sad success! He should have gone surfing. Teresa said he did attend wife-swap parties at the Heinlein house, so he was not totally lame.
I knew I was deep into K-Y Jam here. I never even thought to return to my self-imposed Kansas exile – I have grown – and I did not want to spend lonely weekdays at my folks’ place in Palm Springs while they work. So I embedded at Rancho Relaxo.
The singers and Megan had also dropped school. College life was impossible after their huge Las Vegas “pop music” premiere. TNT and their mom Carole still dealt with a family emergency in Kansas right now but the singers had already mostly abandoned the San Bernardino condo they shared with canl─▒ bahis TNT.
Rancho Relaxo was noisy as Anny poured cash on contractors to finish the ‘cabin’ extension: the bedrooms, baths, and dorm for forthcoming family. K-Y Jam would have a fancy theater home in Las Vegas but the Rancho would really be home. Space was crowded until then. No bed went empty, ha ha.
So I spent a lot of time with Kaylee and Nikki, our singers, and with third cousin or whatever Megan, now as deep into K-Y Jam as Stan.
Krishnon-Yakamura Jamming Troupe, LLC. Slicker than K-Y Jelly. Yeah, right.
Jeri, Pam, Lorna, Mari, and Laszlo had left for work-related stuff this Thursday morning. We remaining were clothed to avoid distracting contractors. Anny wore decent coveralls while she critically supervised the work. Megan, Stan, the singers, and I, lounging in shorts and shirts, idly watched TV coverage of international May Day events. This is the workers’ day everywhere but USA.
It is also pagan. “Why does the Rancho lack a Maypole?” I asked.
“If I commission one from Anny, she’ll stretch it enough for volvadores and then I’ll have to hire some Aztecs,” Stan said. “Best to avoid trouble.”
I was not sure how serious he was about guys swinging around a pole from long ropes tied to their feet. Videos of that are unsettling enough.
The arrival alarm went DING. The screen showed an airport limo van kicking-up gravel. The doors opened on… TNT and Carole! We bounded out the front door – after sticking our feet in moccasins or zorries.
“Honey, I’m home!” Carole called just before Stan grabbed her. The limo driver carried luggage to the front door and tipped her hat.
“So what was the emergency and how did it work out?” I asked when we were all comfortable – which meant we were naked in Stan’s big bed, sipping cool drinks, everyone petting everyone.
“The girls’ Uncle Louie went crazy and started romancing goats. We had Aunt Livia wear a goat costume to keep him at home. Problem solved.”
Carole’s voice was flat. TNT giggled.
“That means it’s a secret,” Tanya said.
“And don’t try to find out,” Talia said.
“Even with your super-spy buddies,” Carole said.
“We’ll make him forget at it,” Tanya said. She and Talia had sucked their father’s cock sufficiently. Talia sat on Stan’s manhood and slid him smoothly into her. They sighed. Tanya sat on Stan’s tongue and twitched. The sisters kissed as they fucked their father.
I did not really pay attention. Nikki was going down on me – very well, thank you – and I lay beside Megan and kissed her while Kaylee went down on her, like last night. Carole hovered over us, stroking us, kissing our bodies.
It was a nice family reunion, with singers. And with my best friends forever. We huddled and whispered ideas. We had to get away together!
The landline beeped but we were occupied with love and lust. We eventually emerged for a non-naked lunch. Damn those contractors!
Ellise’s voice on the message machine was excited.
“Guys! Sony has an offer you fucking cannot fucking refuse! I ran the details past Luiz and he can’t find any legal tricks there. A world tour for more money than you can imagine! Your own Gulfstream. All easy shows in good venues, not jammed together – almost a paid vacation! Call me call me call me!”
We ate impromptu sandwiches before Stan put her on speakerphone.
“Email me the proposal,” he said, “but it had better be flexible.”
“It’ll have to be a damn fast tour, or have some wide-open break time,” Megan said. “Lots of us will be in Auckland in six-plus weeks when Mom, Jeri, Sharli, and Terri are squirting-out babies. And then three weeks later for Ursula.”
“I knew about that, Sony knows, and they can work with it. It’ll be a mystery tour with shows only announced two days in advance. The plan is for one or two nights a week, two shows a night. The first will be your pop songs in a theater venue. The second will be your erotic classical music in a small club with lots of easily-cleaned lounges for rich sinners. Expect sexy sweat.”
Nikki said, “This is what we’ve been training for, isn’t it, Kaylee? All our lives, really. Raise our voices for people everywhere. Get paid well to travel with the world licking our feet. Make them give us jewels and the hottest fashions.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Kaylee said. “It’s wing-spreading time. We can pretend to be divas.”
Talia asked, “Who all is committed to the tour?” She raises good questions.
“Kaylee and Nikki, of course,” Ellise said. “And then any or all players. Show up for your cut of the proceeds.”
The K-Y Jam contract split the take between performers. Kaylee and Nikki got two shares each and any players got one share each. Stan wanted the singers to take three shares each but they wanted an equal split for everyone; the two-and-one system was a compromise.
“It’ll be easier with shows in New Zealand in six and nine weeks,” Megan bahis siteleri said. “I really really want to be with Mom, Grandma, and everyone then.”
“This starts as a Ring of Fire tour, skipping around the Pacific Rim, no pattern to hint at the next stop. But extra days in Australia and New Zealand fit in fine. Pop up in Melbourne, Sydney, Wellington. Fans will fly from all over Asia.”
“I am committed for most of the next ten weeks, including New Zealand,” Stan said. “I can play shows there then but otherwise, no.”
Carole looked relieved. Her new husband would not go partying without her.
“I’m not a player,” I said, “and I’ve missed my best friends too much. We’ve been plotting. We want to travel on our own, stay over in places, get a feel of the world. I need more stuff to write about. But we’ll be in Auckland, sure. I have to be there for Mom and Grandma and Aunt Jeri.” TNT agreed loudly.
“I’d have been scared shitless a week ago,” Megan said, “but I am confident now. I’m sure I can carry a lot of shows myself. If Stan or Tanya or Talia is around, great! But I know I can do it.”
“Yes you can!” Kaylee and Nikki chorused. They hugged and kissed her.
Talia asked, “When does this all start?” Another good question.
“Whenever you are ready,” Ellise said. “Give two days’ notice and Sony will take you there. First stop, San Francisco. Then Acapulco, Vancouver, or Quito.”
“I can do San Francisco if the next stop is Quito,” I said. “That’s just a jump to Machu Picchu. I want to spend time there and Cuzco. Girls?” TNT agreed. “But then we’re off the bus. Just wandering. We’ll stay in touch.” We had the latest flipfones and mini-laptops. “And if Sony wants us, they’ll send a jet, right?”
“That’s in the proposal,” Stan said, carrying a thin printout from his office.
Ellise asked, “So I can tell Sony to go ahead? You’ll sign off on this?”
Nobody shook their head ‘no’.
“I think we have a consensus,” Stan said. “It’s a ‘go’ – or it will be after we read this closely. Who wants to see San Francisco on Saturday?”
We all shouted and waved our hands. Me too. And Carole.
“Book us a cable car. We’re on our way,” Stan said.
And then pleasantries, and goodbye, and a reward. Kaylee and Nikki stripped Stan, dragged him to bed, and double-blew him. I think they were grateful. Megan sucked her uncle’s tongue to seal the deal.
Our Rancho mates were startled by our sudden departure. We had a day to pack and fuck everyone farewell. Megan drove me and TNT to Palm Springs for slurpy goodbyes with my mom and dad. Then more alohas on Saturday.
An early jet-copter ferried us to San Diego. The corporate jet took us to San Francisco with light snacks. We stayed, and everyone played, at a fancy Nob Hill hotel. The ‘intimate’ show’s nearby room felt like a lush fish tank interior. I cuddled with Carole while the musicians drove listeners madly horny.
Sony had a delay on the Quito, Ecuador gig so we toured The City on Sunday. K-Y Jam played shows that night across the bay at a classic movie palace and a crazy abstract club. Ellise called to say our shows had grossed megabucks. I did not dare compute my royalties.
I did not compute Megan’s and TNT’s royalties, either. They got composer credit for my lyrics. We might end up richer than the singers!
Stan and Carole licked us goodbye Monday and jetted back to the Rancho. The musicians and I had three free days before our flight to Quito. We stayed at a classic seashore lodge up the redwood coast, listening to surf and birds and wind, and making love.
And making music on the suite’s balcony. Megan shared her melodica. Talia shared a travel guitar. I wrote some verses. The singers sang. I guess guests at Timber Cove thought we only played recordings – we were not mobbed.
We choppered to San Francisco and took the Sony executive jet to Mexico City to refuel before landing in Quito. Our hotel had been a convent. That is where rich families sent their bad girls, back in the day. The ‘pops’ theater was a basilica. The ‘intimate’ venue was a dense refectory reeking of ancient sin. The audience was fucking in the aisles. I nearly blew an usher.
Nikki, Kaylee, and Megan had a few days before their next flight, to Acapulco, and TNT and I had weeks ahead to explore. We flew to Peru, rode burros to Machu Picchu, staggered oxygen-deprived in Cuzco, and shipped home way too much gorgeous Inca craft work.
We were not nuns. We missed cock. The twins loved their Daddy and I was damn fond of Stan’s thick dick too, and even Lazy in my mouth – but hey, we would not see them for weeks. We did not need to worry about Stan’s supersperm. We found cute guys.
Sony gave me a little high-res low-light digicam. I photographed faces of each guy when they found they could fuck blonde twin sisters and more. Pretty funny. I also shot pics of dicks poking our orifices, just so we could not forget.
Ecuadorians are carnivores. Their cum has that sticky beef bahis ┼čirketleri overtone.
Nikki, Kaylee, and Megan left for Acapulco after juicy goodbyes. TNT and I were now on our own. Talia was the smart one; she had enough Spanish to get by. Soon we could all say ‘slower’, ‘faster’, “not so hard,” and “more, you dog!” We had to train some guys to eat pussy. Learn, or hit the pavement.
We found bisexual triplet brothers at one club. That was a wild night!
We were in Valparaiso when K-Y Jam arrived for a Santiago de Chile night, so TNT played. We six did okay but that part of Chile still had a weird political vibe so we did not stay. The show headed north; we vagabonds flew to Napoli and Italy’s Amalfi Coast. Incredible views from Ravello’s clifftop! Great paved trails all through the coastal slopes. Lots of bisexual guys. We had to return!
===== [13 June 2003]
Five-plus weeks of exploration and inspiration were fun but tiring. I wrote some decent verses. TNT made them musical. K-Y Jam would have more hits! And more royalties! But it was good to dry out and be home in Rancho Relaxo, and it was great to see and fuck Mom and Dad again.
Like Grandma Terri and Cousin Jeri and Lorna, Mom was huge, just a week from delivery. Crown Prince Tahne’e booked family on a DuPont corporate jet for Auckland tomorrow. Medics would be on board, just in case.
At the Rancho, Lorna would be helped by Anny, Lazy, Tina, Frieda, and Mari, herself almost due. Her mother Luci from Duluth would be there too. Lorna would not be lonely.
But this Tuesday night, under a full moon on the thick playpad by the Palm Springs pool, Dad and I licked Mom to orgasm after orgasm till she feared she would pop on the spot. Then Mom and Dad licked me till I could yell no more.
And then Mom’s and my tongues coaxed Dad’s cock to its hugest. I took that fleshy nozzle into me. Oh fuck, my father’s manhood felt great! My hot cowgirl ride did not last long; Dad’s firehose blast was fast and fierce after what we had done to him. For dessert, I 69’d on Dad, sharing our juices between us. Mom’s mouth conspired with Dad to suck my pussy dry before she turned to slurp his balls.
Dad took paternity leave from the tax office to be in Auckland. I would get to feel him cum in me all week and more! TNT had their mom Carole and dad Stan to play with. They were great to watch. Sure, Megan and the singers safely played with us all, too. But denying Stan’s cock was a sure sign we had been fucking around. All pretended not to notice.
Another sure sign: Dad and Stan played tag-team, spit-roasting Carole. She crouched on hands and knees, blowing Dad hard. Then she blew Stan hard while Dad fucked and came in her. He and Stan switched; Stan came in her, and then Dad again, and that was it for them. But now she knew about Stan’s alleged supersperm. That play meant she wanted pregnancy, or already was.
“It was when Stan brought me from Kansas,” she told me. We snuggled in a quiet corner. “We picked up people in clubs, mostly women, but once a married couple. I hope Stan is the dad. He’ll have a nice Christmas present.”
I kissed her tits. She kissed mine. My best friends would have a brother!
The Auckland hotel rooftop was ours – three big suites around a private pool. A party place. And pregnant women loved floating on warm water in between clit-licks and body-strokes. Auckland weather is like San Diego. Even midwinter (now) was warm. The full moon looked the same here.
K-Y Jam played shows in Wellington the night after we reached New Zealand, took a day off, played shows in Auckland, and that was enough. Maternity was near. Pam’s twins Piper & Pelagia came a little early. My aunt Jeri produced my new cousin Katrina the next day, within hours of Lorna’s Langdon across the date line in Yucca Valley. My new brother Ashur popped out of Mom the next day, just before my grandma Teresa delivered my new aunt Erina.
We were in constant touch with Rancho Relaxo, of course. Anny swore the contractors had finished enough that all mothers and babies would have good lodging when we returned. Yes, she had hired a ‘nanny’. Clara was a pediatric nurse from Pam’s Yucca Valley clinic. Old, ugly, precise, no nonsense. Perfect.
All these Summer Solstice kids. Yikes. Birthday festivals would be noisy.
K-Y Jam played final shows in Sydney. Yes, the hot opera house! And then a subterranean lounge full of rich horny Asians. This put Sony on the hook to fly everybody home. Rancho Relaxo had never looked so good! But I stayed in Palm Springs with Grandma, Mom, Dad, Jeri, three new babies, and a nurse’s aide to help. I slept with Dad, Mom, and Ashur; the other bedrooms were full.
Ashur was my skin shade – but damn! His face would be craggy like Stan’s.
TNT now had their own silent ZEE steamer Karmann Ghias, sisters to Stan’s lovely Heidi. Talia’s sapphire-blue Gretchen and Tanya’s jade-green Gretel were birthday gifts from Anny. A week after we returned from Auckland, Talia drove me up to the Rancho where I belonged. I sat in the middle up front; my best friends and I rubbed thighs.
Anny gave me a steam Ghia too, blood-red and ominous. He had to be Thor.
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