Stanley Steamer Ch. 14: Carole Tells

Disclaimers: This fictional vacuous stroker's fuckers are over 18 and shun condoms. Tags: father-daughter, mother-son, mother-daughter, brother-sister, sisters, 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!

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Stanley Steamer 14: Carole tells

Mommy, Daddy, their twin girls, and more

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CAROLE

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I will not lie and say I had no premonition. I feared they would fall under his spell but I prayed that satisfied curiosity would bring them home. He was such a magnet when he was so young - when WE were so young, almost twenty years ago. And we are still not very old.

Yes, I was shocked when the girls called after New Year's. They would stay in California! They flew home the next weekend to pack and ship important things. And to tell me important things I thought I didn't really want to hear.

And they suddenly transferred to a university there. Just like that! Just in time for the second semester. And they were making money! I heard their music. It stunned me! I cried more than I had since... since I was torn apart from him, almost twenty years ago.

But they do not live with him except some weekends. He is a hundred miles away. They moved in with the singers, those Asian girls, near the university. In a secured condo! With two pianos! My girls, students in a house of music - I am floored.

"There's nothing to worry about," Talia said. She was always the smart one.

"Mom, it's all wonderful but scary because it's so fast," Tanya said. "Flash! We have new lives! School is good. Living and doing music with Kaylee and Nikki is great. Cousin Megan is nearby. Dad, I mean Stan, is excellent. He asks, and he listens."

That was his fatal magnetism. He listened, and learned. And made me laugh.

Dad? Already?

He was just a kid hammered hard by puberty. I was just a silly senior with the key to a back room in the school library. He asked what I wanted, He learned.

My dad learned I was pregnant, and moved us far away. I'd had no contact or word of him until the girls unearthed him. And now they are his. Only a few days with him, and he owns them. They gave themselves to him.

I thought too much about this, these last few weeks. I feared the next step.

===== [spring equinox 2003]

I was home after work, not going out tonight, washing down a microwaved meal with white wine at the kitchen table. The phone rang. Somehow, I knew.

"Hello Carole, it's Stan-O."

"Yes. You're coming here, aren't you?"

"You haven't slowed any. Next week. Only to talk."

"That was always the problem. We talked."

"The girls say you're doing okay."

"I've simplified a lot."

"That leaves you a lot of complexity."

"A lot made me what I am. You were a major factor - no, a determining factor, and that only took those few months - those few days, really. Everything else fell into place. I've had a lot to deconstruct, to rebuild at lower levels. I try to keep life straightforward." That means I am as routine as my grandmother.

"You haven't slowed any. How is life?"

"It's adequate." It was until the girls found you, anyway.

"I'll be there. We'll talk."

"I know."

"Carole, the girls love you like crazy. They love your family and Manhattan, Kansas life. And they are exceptional, extraordinary. Music is only part of it. They are butterflies now, free of the chrysalis. They will fly further than we can imagine. You have not lost them."

"I know. THEY are not what I lost." No, I have only my shell to lose.

"You can tell me to stay away."

"I know."

We said nothing. I did not tell him to stay away.

"Next week, Carole."

"Next week, Stan-O."

I had agreed! And oh god oh god, he was Stan-O again! I finished my wine. This would be a bad night. Maybe I should go out after all. There are always cute grad students who will do a long blonde MILF like me.

=====

The day was warm for this early in the season. Noontime sun lit the porch swing on the deck by the quiet library staff driveway. I was out here because of fear. I feared myself, not Stan, who would never hurt me, only destroy me, or let me destroy myself. I could always run inside to my office if I felt lethal.

I knew the approaching silent pearl-glow Karmann Ghia convertible was Stan's. The girls had told me about Heidi. She is advanced German steam technology, they said. I looked it up, too. The ZEE is real.

I fingered the ring on my long silver neck chain. Stan gave me that woven silver ring for a young birthday. It was all I had kept of him - kept buried at home. Now it hung between my breasts like a lodestone.

"Carole," he said, and sat at the other end of the porch swing.

I could not speak. I am usually articulate. Now I was more an artichoke.

"The girls wanted me to give you this and I didn't disagree."

He handed me a document-framed black-and-white photo. Giant desert boulders loomed behind people. Tanya and Talia, and Stan, were obvious. I recognized Stan's mom Ursula, who had rarely been around, and his big sister Pamela, who had not bothered us much. Pamela and Ursula looked pregnant. Also in the picture were a woman about my girls' age, and another younger than Stan, with similar features.

"Me and my mom," he pointed. "Your girls. My sister Pam and her girl Megan, who is part of our music. Our cousin Jeri. Mom, Pam, Jeri and I live together, at least when we're around. By the way, do you know Imani Barnes?"

My mouth outran my mind. "Imani has been the girls' closest friend for over a year. How do you know Imani?" My mind skipped over his "live together" talk.

"Our cousin Jeri's brother is Larry Barnes; his wife is Sharli; their daughter is Imani, now living here in self-imposed exile from her folks' wild ways. She's the girls' second cousin or something."

I felt a chill. "Are the girls still gay? I know they had sex with each other, and with Imani, and other girlfriends. And they had sex with their cousin? I don't... Are those singers lesbians? No, they can't be, not if YOU fuck them."

He shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. Megan and I, and your girls, share some telepathy with the singers, something beyond love. Yes, they have sex. No, they aren't dykes, don't seek women. Sex is only the expression."

I did not need to ask if he had sex with them all, with my girls, his daughters, and his cousin and niece and sister and mother. Postures in the photo told me. Stan is a magnet. I had to ask something else.

"Why are you here?"

"An odd-shaped business route. I normally fly. But sometimes I have to physically meet clients in places along the way. I'll meet a nearby client tomorrow. Then I'll loop around and head home."

"No. Why are you HERE?"

"Because you made me what I am. Without you, I was... not lost, but not all there. Maybe I still am - not all there. Why the fuck are YOU here?"

I did not cry. "Because I can't go anywhere else."

He waited. "Because there IS nowhere else," I said.

He asked the question I feared. "What do you want?"

All I have ever wanted is you - but I could not say that, not aloud.

"I want safety. I want stability. I want regularity. Life is very regular here."

That was all true, and a total lie. All I ever wanted was torn from me long ago.

He waited, listening, learning. What would I teach him?

"I lied. I want a place in the world, and I'm here, so this is the place. But it's artificial. You KNOW what I want. You always knew what I wanted - because I told you and showed you. "

I sighed. I did not cry. "I want what is gone." I cannot reclaim a lost past.

"What do you want to do? Or be? Or have?"

I almost laughed. "Goddam you, Stan-O! You know! I want to be a schoolgirl in the library's back room with a suddenly-mature young man. I want to do what we did, and more, and go on and on. I want my impossible life. That's all."

He waited. I had not finished teaching.

"I want pies in the skies. I want reindeer hooves on my roof. I want my girls to have what I never had. I want to have what *I* haven't had for too long."

That was pretty direct. He still waited, eager to learn.

"I want you to hold my hand and walk me to my condo, it's nearby, walk me there in public where anyone can see us, and they'll wonder why I picked up a guy so early. No, I want you to rape me right here on this porch swing, but you wouldn't do that, would you? Or would you? No, I want to go inside, get my purse and sweater, come back, get in your silent car, and drive off into the sunset, which is a ways off. No, I want you to..." I held my breath.

He pulled a palm-sized compass from his jacket pocket and passed it to me.

"Pick a direction." He waited.

I thought forever, but fast. I laid the compass on the swing seat.

"Wait," I said. I returned from my office with purse and sweater. He still waited. I held out my hand. "My place is that way."

"Walk, ride, or fly?" He smiled.

I thought faster. I tilted the compass so the needle stuck on West.

"But walk with me first." One hand held my purse; the other held his hand.

The short walk home took years. Almost twenty years, reversed. We were almost young again.

=====

I was not embarrassed to undress before him. I was in damn good shape for a mid-thirties librarian - I hit the gym most lunchtimes. He saw the ring on my neck chain. He smiled. I was not embarrassed to watch him undress. We did not strip each other. We were not close enough for that now, not yet.

I was relieved to shower with him. We had not done that before. We kissed in the shower. He worked shampoo into my scalp.

"But I'll need the dryer-"

"I like you with wet hair. Sweat-wet is even better. Remember that?" Yes, I remember, damn you!

I shampooed his head in retaliation. We kissed again and laughed at the suds.

We rinsed and dried before I really touched him. I did not want Stan wet - we had never been this wet. I wanted to feel his dry body, his pliable skin, sturdy hair, those strong muscles. I wanted to feel his face with my hands, my lips, my breasts, my thighs. I wanted his lips to feel me there and everywhere.

I told him what I wanted. He granted every wish.

For as long as I wanted, he bit my neck, worshiped my breasts, nuzzled my thighs, mouthed my pussy, and tickled my feet, just the ways I liked, the ways I told him. I wanted his cock in my mouth again while his tongue taunted my clit - and there we were. I told him where and how to bite and finger me - and he did. I told him I wanted to be with him forever - and he fucked me like a dog. That was good too.

We had both learned a lot since we were kids. Some of our new tricks were fun. But what was best? Lying with him, our breaths shared, his heart beating close to mine. "I thought my joy would fill the Earth and last till the end of time, my love." The song sang true within me. That is when I cried.

"Goddam you, Stanley Kamehameha Ovshinsky! I was safe here - I fucking AM safe here! I was safe until you fucking resurrected. Why couldn't you stay dead? Why did my girls have to bring you to life like a revenant? Why are you... Why do I want to run naked to your car and put you behind the wheel and blow you till we reach California? Why do I want to shatter?" I still cried.

"Why, indeed. What do you want, Carole? And where to you want it?"

I stopped crying. I kissed his mouth. Then I moved down and sucked his cock. He was too spent to cum again but his thickness stiffened and sang. I moved up again and kissed his mouth.

"I want a life. I have been in suspended animation. I want to be awake. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid of where that takes me, where my life goes."

I squeezed his cock in my hand.

"I know where this has been. I can tell from the picture. You fuck your cousin, your sister, and her daughter. You fuck your mother and our daughters, MY girls. You fuck the singers and other women the girls told me about. And they all fuck each other. If I come with you, will I fuck them all too? If I hitch a ride with you on this business trip, how many women will you fuck? How many will *I* fuck? All of them?"

"All of them," he said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Then I did laugh, hard. Well, it started as laughing, but turned to hysteria and almost convulsions. I sobbed and shook and clenched and almost crushed his ribs. I calmed a little and sucked his cock again. My eyes were on his.

I quit sucking. "Do you have room for a passenger in Heidi?" I sucked again.

"My route has me loop back here in a week or so and then head home. You don't need to rush off. Do you want that time to think about this?"

I licked down his shaft, sucked his scrotum, moved up, and kissed his mouth. He did not flinch. I held his head and stared into his soul.

"I'd think myself into paralysis. I'd think about this place and everything in it. I'd think about my family, my friends, my career, stuff that owns me. I'd think about what I'm giving up. I'd think myself into a coffin. No thinking. Let's go."

"Think of it as a test run," he said. "We'll be back. You can bail out. You can take a 'family emergency' leave of absence. You can-"

"Shut up! I can do all sorts of sorry shit. That's not what I want. You always ask what I want. I want to go with you. Period. Now. Right this very instant."

"I have a client here tomorrow so we've no need to rush off - unless you want to go pick up a woman or three for us to fuck. Do you know any candidates or good places to snag some pussy? Would you rather be double-dicked, spit-roasted like a rotisserie chicken? Do you have any kinks to satisfy locally?"

I was going to punch his gut but that would probably hurt my fist. I did not want to slap him. I wanted to...

"I want to do what you want," I said.

He sat up. "I want a burrito and beer. Got any good taco wagons nearby?"

I spread my legs for him. "Eat my taco, hombre!"

He did. Then we dressed and walked to the best cheap taqueria. None of my grad student studs were there. None were at the office girls' bar two blocks away either, so we had easy pickings.

I was a college girl so I was not shy. Rosalita and Shakira were our new friends. I recall Stan laying us side by side and eating our pussies, one by one, while the other two sucked that one's breasts or tongue or toes. Then we moved on.

I 69'd under Rosalita. Shakira lay between my legs and knit her tongue with Rosalita's on my pussy. Stan puppy-fucked Rosalita and fountained mightily into her after bouncing his balls off my forehead. I drank his overflowing cum from her and sucked dry his dropped-out cock.

"That's all the juice I have now - sorry, ladies," he said.

We girls still had energy. Shakira wanted her clit bitten and her nipples pinched hard. No problem. We entertained Stan with oral daisychains and dildo play. I felt good. Then we thanked them and kicked them out.

I think fucking them made fucking Stan easier, safer. That was my excuse.

We dressed and walked hand-in-hand to Heidi, to fetch her to my place. The evening was still young. We could have found more action - maybe one or two of those grad student guys. But I did not feel a desire for multiple cocks. Stan's would be enough. I was changing already, I guess.

"Is this what it will be like?" I asked.

"Is this what you want it to be like?"

"I told you, I want what you want."

"And I want what you want, so we're even, except when there's something either of us HAS to do, like laundry. Then we ride it out. Okay?"

"I want you."

"Fair enough. Do you smoke hash?"

That Ukiah Black was good.

=====

Breakfast was coffee and pastry, and me. Stan's mouth and fingers could keep me on the brink for hours, the bastard. I was glad he had a meeting scheduled.

Heidi held spare duffels. I packed one with what I considered necessities for a couple of weeks on the road. I do not trust motel shampoo.

We dressed casual. "We're ordinary folk, not suits. Be comfortable." Yessir!

Stan drove silent Heidi to a fenced industrial park between the university and the army base. He inserted a card into a gatelock and keyed a code; the gate opened. Our unnamed destination held a pleasant reception room with good chairs, quality magazines, a keypad door, and no windows or people.

"This won't take long. Just a simple stop-and-swap and almost no shop talk."

He carded and keyed the doorlock and swung through with his fat briefcase. I read the current SMITHSONIAN magazine. Stan came through the door after I had finished two short feature articles. His briefcase was thinner.

"Are they all like this?" I asked when we were eastbound on the freeway.

"A few of my corporate and agency clients like to be inconspicuous. Most stops are much more casual. I'm a delivery boy now. I hand over something they want and they give me something I or somebody else wants. Usually stuff they would rather not entrust to public transport."

"Is any contraband? Are you a smuggler?"

"Not quite. It's mostly documents and discs. Some are items the usual carriers won't handle. They're all well-shielded and enclosed. I check."

"This is how you make your living? This, and that impossible music?"

"This is the on-the-ground part. I'm mostly at my home terminal, massaging data. Some data results need my delivery service. It all pays well. Enough clients have very deep pockets." He smiled. He was close to scary.

"Much of the music was recorded at home, too, but I won't be in that orbit forever. Nikki and Kaylee, the singers, and Talia, Tanya, and Megan on their instruments, are bonding very well and making the same magic without me. I also do odd tasks for Indian tribal councils, mostly transport for expeditions. And then, for free, I arrange quick university transfers."

"Is rescuing distressed maidens a well-paying job?" Tanya had hinted at this.

"Not bad, so far."

I squeezed his cock hard. This was easy, as I was nestled against him in Heidi's wide, comfy front seat. Then I kissed his ear. It was a sloppy kiss. Silly me.

=====

Our week-or-so loop usually saw a very few stops each day. Public and private offices, strip malls, secure sites, colleges, boarded-up store fronts, homes from grand to shabby, laboratories, a kennel - I saw no pattern. Stan's briefcase changed thickness at most stops.

Those were the days on the road. Nights were dinner, and low-key clubs, and sex in varied hotel rooms with good baths, maybe only the two of us, maybe more. Alone, we talked of our missing decades. It was easy to remember why I loved him so when we were young.

I felt young again. Oh god, what would I do for Stan-O? What would I NOT do?

Our week-or-so loop took us back to my condo. I had decided that yes, I would evolve. I would leave this chunk of my life behind and move west. Like my girls had. Yucca Valley needs a librarian, Stan said.

One whole day, with his appointments postponed, was almost enough time to pack, to arrange to ship my car and condo contents to Stan's Rancho - he promised storage - to tender my resignation, to give to the girls' Uncle Louie and Aunt Livia goodbye kisses. Almost enough time. The next stop would have been late but damn, Heidi can sure fly! Her radar alarms worked, too. And her music system - oh god, that music...

The trip west went fast. Stan stopped at many Indian tribal offices without his briefcase. He sometimes emerged with packages. Heidi's trunk was already stuffed; our duffels filled the back seat, with packages stacked on the floor.

"Goodies for my cabinets," he said. "Pottery, jewelry, carvings, all from the best artists. I need no more Navajo rugs or Maria ollas. These suit me. And they're in appreciation of my work, so they're all meaningful."