Sunglasses, Sandals, Nothing Else

Author’s note: This mostly fictional entry in the Nude Day 2021 contest is set in old California before ubiquitous digital devices and USA invasions of Iraq. All players are at least 18. Tags: romance, multiracial, Mojave Desert, jackrabbit shack, sisters, EMT, National Guard, reptile brain. Views expressed may not be the author’s. Details may be incorrect or invented. The startup may seem slow. Enjoy!

 

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SUNGLASSES, SANDALS, AND NOTHING ELSE
Hot times high on the Mojave Desert
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===== Friday, late spring, late 1980s =====

Classes were over for the day and I was in town abusing stringed instruments. I did not expect this conversation.

“Hey Greg, let me crash on your sofa for the summer and I’ll give you a great deal on that used Ovation you’ve been angsting over. I’ll split food and utilities, okay?”

Paige’s pretty azure eyes fluttered hopefully.

Could I be bribed? My scarred acoustic 6-string Harmony Sovereign guitar, with its easy fretboard for my long fingers, played and sounded okay, but I really loved the high-tech 12-string Ovation Legend’s rich brightness.

And Paige would probably be an okay roommate in my little desert shack on the far side of town. She was tall, cute, some years younger, and not too sarcastic on me.

Any makeup she wore was not obvious. But what does a guy like me know?

Paige’s family had long owned a small string of camera-and-music stores scattered around the Southland. My dad got his photo supplies from them in our smoggy old suburban hometown when he was a teen. I now bought film stuff, and handled instruments beyond my price range, at their store in this dusty high-desert town next to the sprawling Mesquite Ridge joint-forces military base.

I knew Paige ran the store. She confessed her family had exiled her here between high school and university for ‘seasoning’, meaning a season of on-her-own, sink-or-swim business experience. And I knew she lived in the apartment upstairs.

“What’s up that you need my sofa?” I was perplexed.

“Dad wants to focus on business down in the fucking man-heap…” I knew she meant greater Los Angeles “…so he’s selling this store. I’ll work here over the summer to transition the new owners. But they want the apartment right away so I really need somewhere to park my butt.”

A rather nice butt topped long, pale legs in a knee-length jade dress, but I said nothing. I did not remark on her well-filled cream blouse, either. Did I look? Of course!

“You’re not too terrible,” she continued, “I mean, you’ve been a pretty decent guy so far…” her baby-blue peepers fluttered again “…and I don’t have much stuff here, mostly clothes, some books, and my tenor sax, and I promise not to annoy you, and rentals around here suck, and I can cook…” her words ran on nervously “…so how about it?”

The VHF radio on my belt beeped just then.

“Hey, that’s my signal.” I abandoned a tenor banjo and zipped up my reflective orange-and-white EMT vest. “I need to get to the ambulance barn pronto.” I made a fast decision. “Sure, you can move in. But we’ll talk later.”

I was quickly out her door and into my old long-bed stepside Chevy pickup, then busy dodging traffic. I reached the county fire station and its adjacent two-slot car barn our ambulance co-op shared with the fire crew’s rescue unit just as my usual partner Alicia, a military surgeon’s trim wife, drove up. She ran the radio for details; I ran a fast checklist and rolled our rig to the road.

The rescue unit stayed dark so I knew this would not be too bad a mess. Fine with me; I did not really enjoy blood. Not my fetish. Was I odd for a medic?

“Fight at the Roadrunner,” Alicia said. We knew that off-post bar all too well.

“Code two.” Make haste without siren and flashing lights.

“Sheriff has two victims for transport to Mesquite ER. Probable fractures.” Drunk troops whacking each other with bar stools, then. Cleaner than bayonets or firearms. Whew.

“Deputy Dugan is our contact.” Good; no bullshit from her.

We fit two gurneys in the rig. Our straightforward run to Mesquite Medical Center was just a pick-em-up, watch-em-breathe, drop-em-off. As senior EMT, Alicia handled the Emergency Room paperwork, and I fetched us barely palatable coffees and donuts. We were soon back at the ambulance barn and then each rolling to our own homes.

We were on-call EMTs, Emergency Medical Technicians, a fat grade below Paramedics. We never hung around. We were not paid to wait; the co-op only paid a pittance per mile per run. We did this to be useful, not for riches.

We joked of ways to boost our incomes a bit. Greasing the front steps at the Eight-Ball bar would provide many nice, clean fracture victims to transport. But we would have to work the night shift to get away with that. Get-em when they stagger out and kamikaze after ‘last call’. Right.

Alicia had told me of her dating life a couple of decades ago. She grew up mostly at Pearl Harbor and dated many sailors but only once each. They would have a good time, and then he took her home on base… which the posted sign identified as an admiral’s residence. No sailors ever came back. Talk about frustrating Daddy issues! Yikes!

=====

Paige smiled nervously when I opened the store door.

“Really?” she asked. I nodded. She spun from behind the counter and hugged me… the first time we had touched. Her strawberry blonde bob smelled good to me. Her hard nipples felt okay, too.

An older gent occupying a stool across the store stopped playing a Celtic mandolin. “Get a room, kids.”

“Working on it,” Paige laughed. “Right after I close up.” She peered into my boney face and grey eyes. “Unless you’ll be busy?”

“No, nothing special.” She really was a charmful armful and I had nothing entertaining or critical planned tonight.

She released me and stepped back. “Ummm, can I bring a few things down to put in your truck? There’s more than I can fit on my motorbike. But even with my boxes, you’ll have room for your new guitar.”

“Sure,” I said, “my pickup has space. And what’s your deal on the Ovation? Bribe me.”

“I took it in partial trade for a vintage Martin. I can let you have it, with factory case, for a tenth of list.” She quoted an absurdly low price. “It’s like reverse rent. You’ll pay a little for me to live with you. Cool?”

As Brits would say, I would be a cunt to turn down a 90% discount offer. And I am usually not a clueless cunt. But I had to stay real.

“Bribe accepted,” I said. “And my jackrabbit shack is clean. But I’ve got to warn you, there’s no privacy inside, I sleep naked, and I’ll have girlfriends over. The sofa is only a few feet from the bed with nothing but floor in between. Think you can watch from a safe distance?”

“I can probably stand it if you don’t get too kinky,” she grinned, and hugged me again. “No armadillos, okay?” She snorted. “And I don’t have boyfriends or girlfriends here to sneak in. Anyway, let me write up the sale. Your personal cheque is fine. I’ll pack my stuff after closing; it’ll be by the freight door in back.”

We formally shook hands on the deal. I wrote my cheque and said, “Sneak in some clean, tasty girls if you want. But I have things to do right now. See you at closing time.”

The older gent across the room snorted and played a sarcastic Breton mandolin riff. We ignored him.

Paige and I had no romantic or lustful history, only polite, casual interactions. I wondered where this would go.

=====

I was back just as Paige flipped the CLOSED sign and switched off the store lights. Emptying her upstairs apartment yielded scant boxes of belongings to transport; my bargain guitar in its hardshell case easily fit with her few cartons under the pickup’s tarp.

“I don’t keep much up here,” she said. “Most of my history is still in my folks’ house down in smoggy sluburbia.” That was another Los Angeles area reference. “I’d be gone this autumn anyway; got a business scholarship at UCLA. Damn, I’ll miss clean desert air!” She inhaled deeply.

Paige’s Yamaha motorbike trailed me to my weathered cinderblock shanty at the edge of town, just across a raw road from the defunct church day-school temporarily housing Mesquite Community College until its permanent campus was built. I took a full load of classes there. My GI Bill vet’s benefits, National Guard, and ambulance pay covered school, fuel, food, rent, whatever.

Rent was rightfully cheap for the brutalist 27-foot-square “jackrabbit shack”. (That was a minimal structure required to homestead Western public lands.) A cactus patch in front provided savage décor. My only neighbors were snakes and the school. Fine by me.

Privacy? Right. Tinfoil over the windows helped. A door by the bathroom opened to a sandy space hidden behind a green wall of tall, thick, desert shrubs — Larrea tridentata, the field guide said. I could shower, step just outside, and privately air-dry, fast, while viewing miles of open desert.

The main room held my raised king bed; a shoddy desk, shelves, and office chair; a sanitized big thrift-shop sofa, beat-up armchair, and what passed for a coffee table; a scratched 1950s breakfast table-and-chairs set; and an open makeshift closet I could extend for Paige to hang dresses and blouses next to my uniforms and civvies.

A compact kitchen lurked behind a divider wall. The shack was pretty basic. Whadya expect for a hundred a month?

Paige examined my quarters. “This looks good. Neat, and no rats or roaches.” Sure, I stayed clean!

She looked further. “I don’t see a television.”

“No clear broadcast signals out here behind Jojoba Hill. I can’t afford cable and I’d never get any schoolwork done if I had a working TV — I’m kinda addicted to SciFi flicks — so I’m happy to skip the boob tube. We’ll just have to talk or read or something.”

She nodded.

Her boxes unloaded into little space. She stashed her books and bulky saxophone case, and hung or shelved her clothes. A carton of foodstuffs went to the kitchen.

“I’ll fix dinner tonight if you’re okay with guacamole and chili dogs. Got good wine, too.”

“Best roommate ever,” I proclaimed. “Now excuse me while I clean up.”

She watched me peel naked enroute to my minimal bathroom and its skinny shower. I sang Springhill Mine Disaster in my baritone range, louder than the water flow, my low notes bouncing off the hard walls. A sensual scalp shampoo; a full body scrub; rinse off well. Then step into huarache sandals, the kind that leave Goodyear imprints in the sand. Recycled tires make cheap, sturdy footwear, y’know.

“Next!” I called. Paige poked her head around the kitchen divider wall. “Clean towels hanging on the door if you want,” I promised. I felt her sharp eyes on my glistening bare ass as I escaped outside to a warm, dry twilight.

No snakes or scorpions occupied the back door’s concrete entry pad. The surrounding brush did not rustle with disturbed creatures. Whew.

The shower squeaked inside. I air-dried, arms wide, and sang the tragic ballad’s last verses. Coyotes howled in the distance. Damn, I loved that chorus!

The shower stopped. The door opened. Paige stepped out wearing only gaudy zories and vivid goosebumps. Pointy pink nipples and wet hair dripped. Her honest strawberry blonde bush was not overly bushy. Pale skin said she spent too much time inside.

“I guess I’d better get used to this,” she said.

She touched my elbow, and shivered when coyotes sang again. Her arm snaked around my waist. I pulled her close and ran my fingers through her wet hair; she smelled even better now. My circumcised cock twitched.

“Hang out here enough and you’ll get a good tan, hey paleface?”

“Not during store hours, dude.” She squeezed my waist. “And working the shop all day gives me an appetite. Dinner in ten. Dress casual.”

She ducked inside, her tight buns wiggling.

I yodeled Lovesick Blues at the coyotes before stepping back indoors. Paige adorned the kitchen in cutoff jeans, a form-fitting red tank top with no bra evident, and paisley socks instead of those sequined zories. I figured my tie-dyed baggy shorts and a thin Aztec calendar t-shirt covered me enough. Ugly GI-issue socks sufficed.

We had hugged naked but had not even kissed yet so yes, a sliver of decency seemed appropriate.

I found a Brazilian station on the HeathKit shortwave radio I had soldered together; scratchy sambas enveloped us. Her slinky hips swayed as she assembled dinner. The food satisfied and the wine left us only a bit blitzed. Were we horny, too? I would not push Paige into sex — she might take the guitar back!

After a shared kitchen cleanup, we sat on the sofa, not yet made up as her bed. We drank more wine and chatted about our histories and hopes. And about music.

“The Ovation is calling me,” I said; “let’s play. Whaddya know?” I blew my pitch pipe and fine-tuned the 12-string.

Paige gave me a pitying look. “I’ve been in music all my life. I know almost *everything*.”

I claim music studies in my past, too. I was no slouch.

She prepped her sax, set the mouthpiece for concert pitch, and blew a mellow jazzy riff. She peered at me.

“And I’ve heard you in the shop, guy. Play something.”

I laid down rhythm and bass patterns and harmonic riffs; her tenor sax wailed and rasped and sang. We toyed with bebop, blues, and bossa nova, then a mad, punky attempt at Gershwin that left us laughing. I vocalized without causing too much anguish. With rehearsals, we could be hot buskers on any big-city street corner!

We made music till almost midnight with our clothes still in place. Yes, we noticed stiff nipples under our thin tops.

“I’m off-call for ambulance duty this weekend,” I said, draining my wine, “but I have strenuous school work all day tomorrow. Do what you want around here, but I’ve been up since dawn and I need sleep now. Will pillows and a light sleeping bag on the sofa be good for you?”

“Should be.” She sounded disappointed. “But what kind of school work is that?” Her hand rubbed my knee,

“I’ve got an Earth Science geology hike in the morning, and a Rock-and-Rescue, that’s Rock Climbing and Backcountry Rescue, session in the afternoon. Might have a date in the evening.”

“A date is school work?” Her hand squeezed a little.

“Sometimes we study together. Close enough.”

I stood. She finished her wine, stood, and hugged me. Firm nipples pressed my chest.

We arranged her bedding.

“Sleepy time it is, then,” she said. “You sleep nude? So do I.” She pulled off her thin tank top; her breasts bounced and nipples stayed hard. I slipped my tee over my head, aroused but fatigued. She stepped out of her cutoffs as I kicked off my baggies.

We faced each other naked. My cock throbbed a little.

“I guess I’d better get used to this,” she giggled, and settled on the sofa. I rolled into my bed and drifted to sleep amid impure thoughts.

=====

Wine and water are only rented, never owned. Bladder pressure, and the sounds of Paige in the bathroom, drove me from bed in the depth of night. I stood naked at the bath door when naked Paige emerged from her oh-dark-hundred piss-and-rinse.

Sanitation fulfilled, I returned to my bed. Not surprisingly, she was in it. I pulled the light comforter over us.

“Can we just cuddle? It’s been awhile for me,” she whispered.

“Pheasant dreams,” I croaked, dry-mouthed. Paige spooned into my back. My impure dreams persisted.

I wondered how many nights she would spend on the sofa. Few, I guessed. I could live with that.

.

===== Saturday =====

My alarm rang later than on school and ambulance-shift days but it was still rude. So was my bloated morning wood which, since we had squirmed overnight, now rudely poked Paige’s rather nice butt. My hand left her soft breast and whacked into silence the insistent clock on the bedside nightstand. She rolled to face me.

“Hey Greg, how ya doing?” She kissed my lips… no tongue, but our first kiss. “Ummm, I have bad dragon mouth in the morning. I really need to brush my teeth.”

“Me too.” I squeezed her naked ass. “You first. Then how about breakfast? Fresh coffee, nutty granola, sweet apples, and more life-saving coffee.”

“Sure thing,” she said. She climbed over me; nice! I watched her bare butt boogie to the bathroom. I started the coffee perking before it was my turn to sanitize.

Paige had breakfast laid out and coffee poured when I emerged. She stayed naked so I did, too. I fantasized buttering muffins and spilling honey on her sleek pale body, to be licked off, of course. Maybe later.

We finished our coffees and then shared kitchen cleanup duties again; buff, bare buns bumped occasionally. We dried our hands, faced each other naked, and hugged. She raised her lips to mine.

“I handle coffee breath better than dragon breath,” she breathed, and opened her mouth. Our tongues tangled. Hands wandered over naked backs and buns.

I heeded an inner voice, glanced at the plain round wall clock, and pulled back a little.

“I have to go for my geology hike pretty soon.”

“And I have to get to the store. Damn, the new owners want me to stay open tonight. Don’t wait for me.”

We hugged and kissed more, then reluctantly pulled on our garb for the day, her as a motorbiking shopkeeper, me as a backcountry ruffian. We dressed in reverse strip teases, salaciously covering our bodies with exaggerated flair. I waggled my weenie at her.

I could get used to this, I thought.

=====

Paige spun her Yamaha toward town. I was off-call today so I walked across the raw road to the temporary college campus to catch a school van to the geology hike site. I sat with curvy Dalia Ortega, my usual class and hike partner. We chatted on the half-hour ride to a volcanic cindercone and helped each other scramble on the risky, crumbling slopes. That was a good excuse to hold hands.

“I’m sorry, Greg, but I can’t see you tonight and neither can Rosa. Mamá insists we attend some damn function on base and Papá wants us there too. Don’t complain to him, okay?”

“That’s easy ’cause we never discuss you. I guess that means he’s okay with us.”

“Oh, he mentions you every now and then, which for him is a lot. He respects your years in the Army and now the Guard, and your community work on the ambulance for almost no pay, and how you stay cool and don’t screw up in tricky situations on the rocks. And how Rosa and I don’t whine about you.”

“Don’t tell him ’cause I don’t want him to get a swelled head,” I said, “but I’m impressed by him as a decent human, and he doesn’t get arrogant on the rocks.”

Some explanations are called for.

Rosa Ortega was Dalia’s even curvier older sister and I dated both girls, often together. Our ‘dates’ were usually at my place, to save money of course, wink wink.

Rosa was my partner in a tough International Affairs class — together, we ace the course! Because we are sharp! Competition there was fierce. Our classmates were mostly older guys, retired or current officers or senior NCOs from the base. One droll fellow said he had flown here from Virginia in an hour and a half so he must pilot an SR-71 Blackbird spy plane. Just a CIA puke, then.

The girls’ Papá was bird Colonel Roberto Ortega, the base’s G3 (operations) officer and my usual Rock-and-Rescue climbing partner. We would hit the rocks that afternoon. Yes, we were Bob and Greg, not Sir and Sergeant. No rigid formalities on the rocks.

And no empty formalities that afternoon because the class had a real rescue to handle.

An incautious trooper illegally took his new, not yet insured, Jeep 4×4 — which I later learned he had bought yesterday with his reenlistment bonus — into rugged off-limits terrain too near the Empire of Rocks, where our class trained on eroded giant boulders. He managed to flip over-and-over down a steep, rough slope, breaking a few bones and wrecking his ride. His CB radio still worked and he called for help before passing out.

Dr Maarten, our instructor, took a call on his VHF handheld. He quickly sent a team of us scrambling over boulders to the crash site with a stretcher; I and other medics had our aid bags. We stabilized the injured idiot. Rotating teams of four hauled the stretcher to an access road and the county’s waiting rescue unit and paramedics. Then we hiked back to resume our technical rock training.

That dumb-ass grunt would serve Uncle Sugar for the next six years without his ride. Duh.

=====

I rode the school van back to campus, cleaned up at home, pedaled my 10-speed Peugeot road bike into town, and invaded Paige’s store.

“Hey Greg, what’re you doing here? I thought you had a date.” She inspected me.

“I’m free now. Want to do something tonight? Like, a date?” I was hopeful.

“Trying to impress your tenant, huh? Tell ya what, let’s go Dutch; I’ll buy pizza if you spring for beer and movies. It’s sexy vampire night at the Cactus Drive-In. We’ll have a nice view of the screen from the back of your truck.”

“Sounds good. You’re staying open awhile? I need to bike home now. How about, just before closing, you call in an order? Whatever you like; I’m not choosy. Then ride to my shack. We’ll grab the pizza and enjoy a dinner-and-movie date sprawled in the pickup.”

“I’ll go for that. I have Luigi’s number memorized. I’ll see you at home.” Yes, my home was her home too, for now.

We hugged modestly so as not to entertain the customers.

I pedaled home and studied, studied, studied. Paige’s motorbike buzzed in as twilight faded. She stripped lewdly, cleaned quickly, and dressed in soft, abbreviated denims. I wore loose shorts and a phallic Saguaro cactus t-shirt.

I drove us to Luigi’s pizzeria. He is Italian and his Native American wife Suzie is Arapaho; they called their kids A-wop-a-ho’s, ha ha. Paige clung to the hot large pizza and the cold extra-tall bottle of Colt 45 malt we would share. I found us a prime spot at the drive-in.

I stashed the tarp, spread cotton sleeping bags on the pickup bed for comfort, and inflated a wide, fuzzy, blow-up cushion to lean back against. We shared pizza bites and the Colt beer bottle, swapping slobber with each sip, as on-screen vampires and humans performed pseudo-sexual acts. Women biting women — always hot!

We finished dining and scooted closer. The last of the Colt 45 rinsed our mouths. We kissed during slow scenes.

=====

We left for home around midnight; we could sleep later than today but Paige still had to open up by midmorning.

“Eight days a week,” she joked, “that’s our store hours. I’ll break in the Densons — they’re the new owners, run a folk music store in a college town down in smogland — I’ll get them up to speed as soon as possible so I’ll at least have weekends free. I want to spend more time like this.”

“Like this” was comfortable. We sat naked in the not-too-ratty overstuffed armchair, her leaning back in my lap, my hard cock under her rather nice butt. Odd music from a French shortwave station swam in and out. We drank more cheap wine and snacked on apple slices. Any of my hands not holding sticky fruit or a wet tumbler was calmly stroking her nicely-textured curves and valleys. Any of her free hands rubbed my bare legs.

She turned to kiss me.

“I hadn’t expected this when I asked to move in with you,” she murmured between swallows and kisses. “I trusted you and I thought we’d just be pals with our own hours. But here we are and I won’t whine. We’re getting close. I love feeling your hands and mouth and the rest of you.”

She just said the L-word. Was I ready to move past lust?

She finished her wine, licked apple juice off her fingers, and twisted in the chair to face me, braced on her knees, straddling my thighs. My stiff cock rose between us. She rubbed my back. I squeezed her butt. Her rather nice butt.

We kissed lightly, our noses brushing, our eyes open. This was no time for distance.

“Let’s go to bed,” I said. She hummed YES and clutched me tighter before rising with feline grace. I leaned forward to where she stood facing me, oh so near, and I licked around each wide, fluffy areola, and again.

“Only a little salty,” I said, and suckled.

She laughed, pushed my head away, held my cock, and bent to lick my manly nipples.

“Not as salty as Fritos chips but there’s more of you I want to taste.. OOHHH!”

That outburst was when I eased a fuckfinger into her wet pussy. I felt her, then pulled out and licked her juices off.

“Nice flavor, Paige. Now I want to savor the rest of you.”

I was in command, right, so I readily let her pull me off the not-too-ratty armchair and lead me to the raised bed. She centered on her back and spread her legs, knees up.

“I don’t have time for gentle lovemaking now. I really need to get fucked.”

Her fingers massaged her juicy pussy. Her winking pink labia glistened. I smelled her arousal. My face tightened.

“Sorry there, little missy,” I said in a lousy John Wayne voice, “but I’ve got my protocols. You’ll just have to squeal when I make you squeal.” Yes, I *was* in control!

I crawled on Paige’s perky body to kiss her willing mouth and tickle her tonsils. I bit her slim neck and abused her firm tits, nibbling nubs as she gasped and moaned. She giggled as I smooched her French-style outie navel. She purred when I nuzzled inside her thighs, and panted as my tongue traced her tasty slit and invaded her musky pink depths.

“Oh yeah Greg, oh fuck baby, oh yeah, just like that…”

Stroking her legs and hips would be gentle loving… not our immediate goal. She groaned with my hands on her breasts and my tongue writing mystic formulas around her clit. She gasped louder as I prodded and sucked her love-button, and squealed with each orgasmic spasm.

She writhed when my fingers stroked her velvety vaginal walls, too, so I guess I was doing okay with her.

Her hands on my scalp held me close but eventually pushed my head back.

“Enough of that. Fuck me, Greg. Fuck me now. Fuck me hard. Fuck me good.”

Who was in command now? Yes ma’am, I thought.

Knees up and wide, her legs formed a three-dimensional Vee, her pussy at the nadir. I hovered in place; she aimed me into her wet center. A slow slide put me balls-deep.

“Oh yeah,” we murmured in unison. “Yeah…”

Her heels held my ass-cheeks and pulled me. My thrusts and faster pounding benefitted from that extra impetus.

Well, we both benefitted. You know how that goes.

Her arms wrapped around my back and her heels dug into my butt. She held me close, her breasts pushing into my chest, our mouths locked, our tongues and breaths shared, her orgasmic wails lost down my throat.

I changed angles to bump her clit for maximum effect. My tide was rising fast, too. I pistoned like a madman now.

I did not warn her before I jetted shot after shot of hot jiz deep inside her… that was what she was here for, right? I assumed she was on the pill. If not, well, I foresaw no shotgun wedding. Her folks were Quakers. Safe enough.

Our muscles clenched; we howled into each other’s lungs. We had joined as one being, one life, with two hearts and a shared soul. ‘Soul’ means ‘breath’, y’know. Look it up.

Paige’s legs held me and did not let me roll off. We were both tall and not fragile but I tried to not crush her under me; I rested on my elbows.

Our mouths and souls stayed glued. Our bodies, slick with a fine sweaty film, squeezed together, frictionless. Our sex juices mixed in a complex chemical brew… that leaked on the bedsheet. Oh well; I had more clean sheets.

“Oh babe, you feel so fucking good inside me, filling me up, damn! I could stay like this all night,” she murmured, and kissed me again, “but we’re kinda messy and we wouldn’t sleep well, yeah? But I don’t want to let you go. Just a little more, okay?”

My limp-ish cock tried to withdraw but she clenched her vaginal muscles, imprisoning and reviving me. I am no fast-recharging kid but I stiffened inside her.

“I felt that,” she moaned. “I want to feel it again. More, baby!”

Now was the time for gentle lovemaking, missionary style. We held each other tight. Stiffened, I moved in and out of her with a calm pace, a steady passion. My balls were nowhere near ready for another surge but I sure enjoyed this endless fuck, yeah!

Judging by her moans and shudders, Paige evidently liked it even more. Her fingernails shredded my back. I took that as approval. Yes, sex is a blood sport. Good thing I am no haemophiliac.

I sped up and eventually came again, a thin, burning, almost painful terminal spew, all I had left. I grunted like a rough beast. She finally unwrapped her arm and legs and let me collapse beside her. We touched and wheezed.

“Oh babe, that was great!” She nuzzled my lacerated shoulder and held my fucked-out cock. “You said you had girlfriends. Can I be a girlfriend, too? At least for the summer? You won’t kick me out, will you? Don’t worry, the guitar is yours.” She did not sound too stressed.

My laugh was as soft as my cock, but dryer.

“Yes, you’re special, and yes, you can stay as long as you like, as long as I don’t freak you out. I’m not an easy guy.”

“And I’m not an easy girl, either, but I usually know what I want. I had to bribe you to get to you, didn’t I?”

“What, you wanted me? Did you send signals I missed at the store?” I scanned my memory but came up blank.

“Once Dad said he was selling out, I knew you were my first choice for a roommate till I’m off to university. No other candidates came anywhere near. Don’t get a fat head but you’re more impressive than you think.”

I had never thought much of myself, even with my manly square jaw, but I would not argue now, not with this well-fucked naked woman at my side.

I also knew better than to banter about her qualities. Why had I not tried for her before? I had no excuses so I said nothing of our casual past. Other thoughts drove me.

“Let’s clean up, change the sheet, and cuddle off to sleep. Tomorrow is another day. You have the store and I have some chores. But the shower calls me now. I think we can both squeeze in.”

We hugged, kissed, and rolled off the bed. Paige looked around the room.

“We should leave our sandals by the bathroom door so we can trot outside to dry every time.” Damn, I had not thought of that. Color me dumb.

It was tight but we did manage to fit in the slim shower stall. Yes, we peed on our feet. Then she massaged shampoo into my scalp and I did hers; she purred. Runoff suds served as frugal body wash. Our delicate anatomies were carefully tended.

Air-drying outside took longer in full moonlight than partial sunlight but high-desert air soon dehydrated us… when we quit hugging, squeezing body parts together.

Coyote songs echoed off the sere foothills. Unseen creatures rustled around us, playing the life-and-death, prey-and-predator games of a desert night. Survival is the elusive prize that never lasts.

We snuggled on the tired sofa, shared a last tumbler of wine. changed the soggy bedsheet, crawled in together, and drifted off to dreamland.

.

===== Sunday =====

Think of the erotic story cliché: a guy awakens from a horny dream to find a mouth slurping his cock. I hereby testify, hand on my testicles (that is what ‘testify’ means), that this happens in real life. And not only with women — I have awoken being blown in Army barracks.

Alas, porno versions usually omit the full bladder behind the morning wood. My reality was bothersome.

I twitched and opened my eyes. Paige’s fellating stare captured my gaze, locked on me.

“Oh fuck that’s great,” I moaned, “but you won’t like what you’ll have to swallow. Let me go pee and clean up first.”

“I haven’t tasted enough of you yet,” she moaned around her mouthful. “A little more, okay? I’m enjoying this. Just some more.” Her tongue tortured me.

I reached to hold her head and regretfully pull her off me.

“Okay, take your turn in there,” she grumbled, “but hurry.’

I hurried thoroughly and felt restored when I came to bed, strong enough to pick her up, flip her around, roll under her, poke my stiff cock in her mouth, and grunt, “Keep sucking,” before I tongued her pussy. Our first sixtynine!

She sucked, and pumped me with her warm hands, and shook when I taunted her clit. My hands pulled her rather nice butt close for my attack, then ambled down her taut legs, up her sleek flanks, and under her tempting breasts. Nipple-pinches and clit-nibbles really drew reactions.

“Mmmff mmfff MMMFFF!” she moaned in muffled joy before pumping harder and winning my own spew. I roared into her depths.

My tongue deep in her cunt; her hands at my ass, pulling me deeper; my hands cupping her breasts; my cock in her mouth, drained. What could be more satisfying?

(That answer is forthcoming. Stay tuned.)

We rolled on our sides with mouths and genitals still connected. I guess she liked my tongue and cock inside her as much as I liked being there. Our hands clenched each other’s butts now, holding us tight.

That is when the wind-up clock’s alarm rang. I was too busy to be interrupted; I let the spring wind down.

Paige broke our clench. She rolled off me and sighed.

“Damn, now we’re all sticky again,” she sulked, “so I’d better shower for work. Join me?”

“Get the hot water running and I’ll be in with you as soon as I have the coffee going.”

We crawled from bed, hugged and kissed slowly, and moved out. I started the coffee, then sidled tightly into the shower stall with her. The sun was up so we air-dried outside fast. Morning birds sang nearby. Bushes rustled with wind or restless creatures.

She had time to share a brief granola-and-fruit breakfast before dressing and putting away. My cheap, rickety chaise lounge out back, and a tall coffee mug, lured me to naked enjoyment of the already-warming morning.

=====

On to my Sunday chores. I dressed lightly, tossed the week’s clothes and dank bedding in the pickup, and rolled to the closest laundromat. I restocked on cheap food and wine at the nearby bargain grocery. Whatever Paige added to the pantry would be fine.

The county fire station blared its daily high-noon alarm siren as I unloaded food at home and hung my wash to dry. No need for power- and coin-hungry laundry dryers when a clothesline and free sunshine are available, hey?

Now came my Sunday afternoon ritual, a brisk ride on the 10-speed to stay toned… much better than gym work. I retraced yesterday’s cindercone drive. Only a few wary vultures eyed me.

I shot a 120 roll of Plus-X with my old medium-format Rolleiflex, mostly deep-focus landscapes with tight apertures and the wide-angle adapter. High-contrast filters boosted the drama.

Then back home to shower and lounge outside with iced sangria, wearing only sunglasses, sandals, and thin lotion. Developing the film and contact prints would wait for night’s dark coolness. Too bad I had no room here for an enlarger. My next home needed darkroom space.

=====

I must have drifted asleep on the shaky chaise. I woke at dusk from that same horny dream to that same actual female mouth on my cock. My bladder did not block my pleasure. I hope her mouthload of hot cum tasted fresh.

“I love the appetizer but I’m ready for dinner,” Paige said after swallowing. “Shrimp paella good for you?”

She had said the l-word again. I tried to not worry.

She stood and shook out the folded skirt she had knelt on. I pulled her close enough to kiss her exposed thigh. I crawled two fingers up under her pink panties, poked gently into her wet pussy, and tasted her juices.

“Don’t I get an appetizer too? Inside,” I insisted, “so we don’t break this funky chaise.” We ambled indoors.

“I didn’t have to stay open too late but I’m pretty sweaty,” she said, bent beside the bed, stripping as naked as me. “I should clean up before—”

“Before nothing,” I interrupted. “I want to taste you like you are. And you can watch. C’mere.”

I flopped on my back and urged her legs to frame my head. Our eyes locked. My hands found her tits and my tongue creased her labia — a sharp, salty, organic flavor, but not bad, not bad at all. I lapped for more.

Looking down, she could not really see me licking her slit from taint to clit, but she surely saw the fluffy mustache her bright bush made under my long nose and wide eyes. I steadily pinched and rolled her inviting nipples; she looked away, squinting, groaning, shaking.

I must have been doing well.

Her clit was stiff and springy under my oral assault. Her breath grew ragged, and raspy. Her body tensed.

And then Paige screamed, low at first, going louder, with sounds unconstrained by words. I easily heard her, even with tight thighs pressing my ears. Neighbors would have heard, had any been near. Nearby desert creatures probably fled in terror.

Another flavor filled my mouth, the taste of a woman beyond control, beyond sanity. The flavor of joy. I lapped it up like a thirsty puppy.

She swayed forward, almost limp, upright only because I held her rather nice breasts. Quite nice, actually. I eased her weight off my wrists and let her collapse beside me. She slithered into a hug and nuzzled my neck.

“Great hors d’oeuvre, she whispered. “I’ll fix the paella now but I’ll have a hard time waiting for dessert.” She stroked my cock, only half-flabby after the excitement.

We peed and cleaned but did not bother to dress. Paige worked the kitchen; I watched her butt twitch, and fingerpicked the Ovation. Old-style harmonies sound different on a 12-string guitar, a honky-tonk feel when done right. While the rice simmered, she grabbed her sax and we tortured a few Scott Joplin rags.

Better wine washed-down the meal’s tastiness. Then we kitchen-cleaned, switched to cheaper wine, and made more music. Our easiest, funkiest jams were 12-bar blues forms in various keys, rhythms, tempos, and moods, the heart of so much classic jazz and rock and funk.

We kinda swung. And her bare breasts swung enticingly with each breath. Bouncing nipples kept a steady beat.

I was getting to like this girl.

We played and drank and played more, and that was enough… we both needed rest for tomorrow. Then came dessert time, a long, tasty, noisy fuck. And then cuddly sleep, warm and cozy.

.

===== Monday =====

I had rewound and reset the alarm to give us time to start the day right. Take turns in the bathroom. Take turns on top in sloppy good-morning sixtynines — damn, I loved these juicy tastings! Share a shower and breakfast before dressing for our daily lives: my EMT vest and book bag, and her cute shop-girl garb under a biking jacket.

“I’ll be home late tonight,” she said, “so don’t wait for dinner. I gotta go over store procedures and the business computer with Mrs Denson and her father — he’s moving in and taking over from me.”

“I won’t starve and I’ll save you some wine and super-duper mac-n-cheese,” I promised.

After hugs and kisses, she zipped away on her motorbike and I drove my pickup across the road and into the school parking lot. Why bother driving so near? So when the VHF radio on my belt alerted me, I could quickly reach the ambulance barn an easy mile away. Did emergency calls disrupt my classes? Only a little. Instructors went easy on me because hey, it might be *their* family or friends I would keep alive. I maxed my coursework so that was fine. And I was respected in town.

It’s good to be a local hero, even when the pay is lousy.

I scooted to my desk next to curvy Dalia Ortega in our late morning Earth Science class.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see you this weekend,” she whispered as Dr Doheny sketched a seismic chart on the chalkboard. “Rosa missed you too. How about this evening?”

“I have a roommate now but sure, come on over.”

My VHF beeped just then so I hopped up and sped to the ambulance barn. Alicia arrived when I did. It was another typical short run, moving a shaky old gal from a stinky nursing home to Mesquite Medical Center for treatment, then returning a hospital survivor to their smelly senior warehouse. I doubt their smogland families visited often.

I took a quick lunch break and was back on campus in time for my early afternoon International Affairs class. I sat with sexy Rosa Ortega at our shared double desk.

“Sis and I are sorry we missed you. Tonight then, right?”

One of the retired officers was bloviating so Rosa and I were able to confer quietly.

“You’ve talked to her. Yeah, have dinner with your family, then come on by. Don’t be surprised when my roommate rolls in.”

“Sis mentioned a roomie. Girl or boy? Sure, a girl, you hot dude, you!” She grinned.

“Paige Harper is a refugee from the store her folks sold.”

“I know Paige. She tracked down some rare music from Mamá’s home. So she’s staying with you? Lucky girl!”

“Lucky? We’re doing okay so far but it’s only been a couple days. Just wait.”

Papá Ortega, the colonel, is Latino, and Mamá Ortega, the boss, is Taiwanese. Both daughters show the best of their heritages with alluring dark eyes, soft tan flesh, long cascades of lustrous black hair, and fine figures i.e. good breasts… ‘pneumatic’, as old Brits would say. Holdable slim waists and baby-wide hips too, and tall enough for me, oh yeah!

And flavors! I looked forward to their visit tonight.

=====

I sailed through most afternoon classes before another ambulance call came in. I was glad my shift ended at six.

I feasted (ha!) on my share of gourmet (ha!) cheesy macaroni and cleared the table-set before Rosa’s creamy VW Beetle rolled on my gravel drive. The sisters boiled out, pushed through my screen door, and gave me kisses and gropes. Neither had overdressed but they were surely acceptable at home on the base in their brief dark skirts and loose floral blouses. Gray cargo shorts and a Pancho Villa tee did for me. We were set to play.

The shortwave hummed with scratchy Egyptian music. Cheap wine and a worn deck of cards graced the rickety eating table. We pulled up our wobbly chairs.

“Care to smoke some Lebanese hash?” Dalia asked. She pulled a small cloth bag from her tote.

“Only one deep puff each for us,” Rosa said, “or Papá will be very disappointed with us.”

One strong puff sufficed for me, too. I wanted to remain functional. And I sure did not want the colonel unhappy. That would be imprudent.

We passed the pipe around and dealt the cards.

Our game was strip poker, five card draw, no bets, and nothing wild except the players. Low hands lost items of clothes, merrily tossed on the sofa in a mix-mashed pile, so whoever wanted to get naked fast threw away good cards. If down again when bare-assed, the naked loser(s) slugged wine, stood, and did something sexual to the winner, preferably oral. This was our incentive to play to win. The game ended when no clothes remained.

We all won, of course, getting somewhat drunk and quite naked, and mouthing each other. Yum.

“Three jacks,” Rosa declared. “Do me, losers!”

Lacy panties still clung to her; Dalia and I both wore only skin this late in our engrossing game. So we nudes obeyed and slurped Rosa’s ample breasts. She sighed.

“Two pairs, aces and eights, Dead Man’s hand but I’m still alive,” I announced with the next round. “Get naked, Rosa. And get down, Dalia.”

Rosa slipped her knickers off. I stood; Dalia dropped to her knees and sucked my cock.

“Game over,” Rosa proclaimed, “and I want some of that.” She knelt beside her sister to firmly mouth my balls.

I looked down at the kneeling naked sexpots pleasuring me and took pity.

“Don’t wreck your knees, ladies. Let’s take this to bed.”

I held their hands and helped them stand. We gang-hugged before easing onto bed with me in the middle. I sucked and handled enticing young breasts, one bouncy almond-skinned sister and then the other, and back, and again… and I smoothed their silky inner thighs and probed their inviting wet pussies.

“Oh Greg, oh baby,” Rosa breathed, “that’s so nice! But I want more! You know what to do to me.”

“Go on, make her cum,” Dalia demanded; “I can’t wait too long for you guys.”

They pushed me down the bed and lay side-by-side, Rosa’s leg over Dalia’s, my face happy between Rosa’s thighs.

“Ready, steady, go!” I warned, and dove in, lapping at Rosa’s lower lips before tongue-fucking her. She gulped. I eased back, kissed her smooth thigh flesh, circled her tasty vulva, teased her clit… all my best for her. My hands stroked her ass, hips, and up to her breasts.

“Oh, oh, oh yeah, oh fuck…” Rosa gurgled.

Dalia leaned over to kiss her big sister. Rosa quivered with a sweet small orgasm. I squeezed her breasts and all sisterly thighs. Rosa shook again, dripping cunt juice.

I moved over the nestled legs, settled between Dalia’s flanks, and put my mouth to work as I had so often. My fingers wriggled inside both cunts. The sisters kissed and writhed.

Rosa’s mouth captured Dalia’s small scream. This was my signal; I moved back between Rosa’s legs. I spoke before of sixty-nining satisfaction but hey, little is better than alternating cunt-licks! Bring one to orgasm, then the other, and repeat… a smorgasbord of delight!

Both panted and puffed. I slid up Rosa’s sweat-filmed body and mouthed her, one tit, two tits, right and left, and the flesh between, and back to nipples. As I expected, Dalia joined me in nursing her sister.

“We don’t finger or go down on each other,” Dalia had told me; “that would be too weird.” I surmised that just about everything else seemed acceptable, though.

“Oooohhhh…” Rosa moaned. “I need your cock now.”

“And I wouldn’t mind more tongue,” Dalia breathed.

I knew that signal too. “Come and get it,” I said, and rolled on my back, with a naked, aroused sister on each side.

They moved onto me. Dalia straddled my head and lowered her pussy to my mouth. She bent to teasingly lick my dickhead before straightening and facing Rosa, who mounted my hips and aimed my cock into her depths.

What satisfies a heterosexual man more than great sixtynines, or moving his mouth between pussies and giving orgasms all around? This was it! Tongue-fucking one cunt and cock-fucking another. And sisters!

I had only known sisters before who fought, not loved. I was happily perplexed by the Ortega girls. Then Rosa told me that they used to compete but now they conspire and have lots more fun. I think I understood that.

How did we come to this? Call it fate, karma, pheromones, whatever. We had just clicked as classmates, then as friends, and then as more. Much more.

This much more.

Dalia wiggled on my tongue and lips. Rosa wiggled on my steel-hard cock. My hands climbed to their breasts. I felt the sisters kiss. I felt Rosa bend to suckle her little sister, right, and left, and back. My fingers glided over Dalia’s wet nipples, then circled Rosa’s bumpy areolas and pinched her excited nubs.

Rosa rolled our groins together. I pounded up into her, moderately at first, then faster, until she squealed and shuddered. I mentally pinched my urethra to avoid spewing too soon. I knew what came next.

“My turn now, Sis,” Dalia said, and climbed off my face.They switched places.

Dalia sank straight onto my cock in one fast drop; she bottomed-out and wheezed, “Oh fuck, oh yeah…”

My tongue found Rosa’s exercised pussy. Holy fuck, she tasted so good!

And Dalia felt so good, an exotic black-haired cowgirl riding me, her cunt muscles throbbing and torquing my manhood as we slipped together.

The sisters leaned close, kissing.

We were a magic fucking triad again.

=====

I felt both women quake in orgasm and I was nearly there myself. The sound of Paige’s motorbike buzzing up the road into my raw drive and stopping next to Rosa’s car… no bother. Even a clattering kitchen door did not divert me.

Rosa’s sexy, stressed thighs did not pinch my ears and block me from hearing Paige walk across the tiny kitchen and ask, “Greg, who…??” as she rounded the house wall and came in view of the bed. She obviously heard my loud grunt and saw me convulse, boosting long shots of steaming sperm into quivering Dalia’s hungry quim.

Was I stimulated and pushed over the edge by Paige’s discovery of our fun-fuckery? Probably.

The sisters fell off me and lay by my sides, sweaty and juicy, gasping for breath as I was. Damn, this was great!

Rosa looked up. “Hi, Paige. Have a good day?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure. Smells funky in here. Umm, don’t mind me. Go back to what you’re doing. But I guess Greg won’t be doing much with his juicy meat right away, huh?” Her eyes appraised my spent cock.

She stripped off her shopkeeper clothes and tossed them in a heap on the sofa. “No, really. I need to clean up and then eat. I hope you guys left some wine.”

Paige did not quite sound pissed-off as she trotted naked to the little bathroom, waggling her rather nice bare butt. I heard the shower creak.

The sisters cuddled me; we shared sweat, kisses, and fondles. Dalia used a stray flannel pillowcase to wipe most of the goop from my crotch, then Rosa’s, then her own. Such a thoughtful woman!

“She doesn’t seem real happy,” Rosa observed. “Is there a problem?”

“It’s my house, my rules, so no problem. She knew I’d have women here. ‘No armadillos’, she insisted, and you gals ain’t scaly, ha!” Dalia slapped at me.

The shower stopped. Paige emerged, mostly dry, a towel wrapped as a turban. Her perky breasts led her shakily past us. Her eyes puffed. Had she been crying?

I heard her in the kitchen: The refrigerator door. The plate of mac-n-cheese clinking in the toaster oven. The POP of a cork pulled from a real wine bottle. A pour, a slurp, and another splash. The rattling utensil drawer. The DING of the toaster oven bell. The clicks of hard items placed on a cheap metal café tray.

Paige left the kitchen, her head now without the towel turban, quite naked and cute, and cleared our game debris from the table where she deposited the tray. Her butt plopped into a wobbly chair. She refilled her tumbler from the wine bottle and watched us as she ate and drank.

The sisters and I had not been inactive during Paige’s kitchen time. I kissed all available breasts, necks, and mouths, and mouths kissed me in return, with all hands stroking bare flesh and probing orifices.

Paige dined without talking. Dalia licked my salty chest and asked, “Do you think it’ll bother her if we—”

I broke in. “It’ll bother *me* if you don’t.”

All the naked babes giggled, a promising sound.

The almond-hued sisters moved between my not-too-hairy legs. Hips to hips, breasts to breasts, face to face, and tongue to tongue, they double-blew my tired, cut cock to fresh alertness. Tongues traced vivid veins and dueled on my tender crown; my shaft swallowed by one mouth, and my throbbing balls by the other, and then traded; yes!

Two synchronized mouths sure felt great to me.

I heard Paige clear the table and rattle dishware in the kitchen sink. I glanced past my cocksuckers and saw her sit in the padded armchair, legs tucked under her rather nice bare butt, sipping wine, watching us on the bed while twisting her nipples.

Rosa pushed Dalia’s head up and down on my cock, a good face-fucking for some minutes, with plenty of drool lubricating the action, but I was not close yet. The older sister pulled the younger off me, gave her a deep tongue-thrashing kiss, and took her place, tickling her epiglottis with my ruddy dickhead in her special deep-throat trick.

Rosa looked up, a strand of saliva strung from her mouth to my manhood, and licked her lips. She peered at Paige.

“Hey girl, are you just going to be a damn voyeur? Or do you want a piece of this? We’ve got him all prepped for you. Think fast or I’ll fuck him again myself.”

Paige apparently thought fast. She blinked, drained her wine, uncurled from the armchair with that feline grace I mentioned, hit the bed, and pushed her way up my body, alongside the sisters. The king bed was getting crowded. Or maybe I mean cozy. Yeah, ‘cozy’ is the word.

Paige looked down at my face and the faces beside me. She pulled Rosa’s mouth to hers for a long kiss right in front of my eyes, and then Frenched sweet Dalia, just as close. Women kissing women — always hot!

“Thanks, girls. I’m ready for him now.”

Paige’s eyes puffed no more. She seemed to be adapting.

She pressed our lips together. Our tongues hully-gullied. She lifted her head and her eyes burned into mine.

“We’ve only had sex a few times and there’s so much ahead of us. We haven’t even doggy-fucked yet.”

She pushed the sisters gently. “Give us some room.”

She glared at me. “Now Greg, you dirty dawg — make me your bitch!”

Just what I wanted to hear from a roommate!

“But if we’re gonna fuck like dogs,” I joked, “don’t we have to go outside?”

Paige slapped my bare ass. “Keep that up and you can—”

I shut her up with a kiss. Not a doggy-style kiss, either.

We four arranged ourselves, Paige on hands and knees, her head down, me behind her, the Ortega sisters nuzzling and massaging her. I kissed her rather nice butt and knee-walked into place. Dalia spread Paige’s inviting labia and guided my long, fattened, slippery, cock inside.

“Promise her love but give her nine inches,” a mentor had advised. I tried to follow that guideline.

I was raging hard. Paige was wet and open. I easily passed her pink outer lips and red inner lips, penetrating to fill her hungry womanhood with my revived manhood.

“Oohhhhh fuuckkkk…” she groaned.

My balls had not yet reloaded. I was in no danger of cumming soon, so I was patient. Paige was in for an extended pussy-pounding.

I held her hips and drove into her, my loins slapping her buns, my scrotum swinging, my dickhead not quite poking her cervix, so no pain, only relentless pleasure driving her constant groans.

The sisters shifted on their backs to slurp her rather nice breasts. What a fine sight! Especially when Dalia swung around so she and Paige suckled each other. I saw Dalia finger herself; Rosa beside me had a hand at her own open pussy. So hot!

I changed my angle and drove deeper into Paige.

Rosa kept frigging herself with one hand; her other hand held my balls, squeezing and massaging, her fingers teasing my ball-sack and maddeningly circling my anus.

Another hand played where my cock plowed this cunt. Dalia, still tit-sucking with Paige, brushed fingers on my roomie’s clit and frigged her while I puppy-fucked her. Or mastiff-fucked her. So she wanted to be my bitch? Woof! I would show her what a big dawg does to his bitch!

I pounded faster, our bodies slapping, slapping. Paige’s yells emerged muffled around her mouthful of Dalia’s tit. My balls seemed to swell in Rosa’s warm grasp, warning of my impending eruption.

Our synchronized orgasms were a joy to behold. Paige wailed with another muffled scream. Her cunt spasmed, clutched my cock, and drove me to roar and shoot thick sprays of spunk, coating her womb. The sisters groaned with their masturbatory efforts.

I was drained but not yet limp. Half-hard, I slowly pushed and pulled, in and out, claiming Paige’s pussy as my own. For now, anyway.

Rosa rubbed my ass and hips. I soggily slipped out of Paige and rolled on my back by her. She fell on her side, panting. Dalia scrunched back to kiss her mouth, then snaked down our bodies and lay on me, sucking my sloppy cock, her knees spread by my shoulders, her inflamed pussy at my face. I happily stuck my tongue in her so-moist vagina while she cleaned me.

Rosa delicately climbed over us. I sensed her and Paige embracing and kissing but I was intent on Dalia at the moment, y’know? Mutually mouthing genitals has a way of focusing one’s attention.

Dalia shivered and quivered on me, gave my worn-out cock a nice strong slurp, rolled to my unoccupied flank, and twisted around with our bodies and faces together. We hugged and kissed like the naked women beside us.

We all shifted and changed partners. Rosa and I clenched and tongue-danced as did Paige and Dalia.

Close friends are a blessing, yup!

=====

Coyote songs resounded outside. Rosa looked at my ugly wall clock and groaned.

“Hey guys, Sis and I have got to clean up and get home. Mamá and Papá don’t like us out too late on nights before classes.” I knew that, so she was telling Paige. “A shower and weak coffee should get us past the parents’ sniff test.”

No, they would not want to show up at the colonel’s home on base smelling of sex, wine, and hashish. Not prudent.

We all crawled off the bed. I brewed a weak pot of Folgers while, hand-in-hand, the women headed to the bathroom. Rosa took Paige to share a splash under the spray. Dalia and I waited and kissed at the open outer door, and then it was our turn in the small shower stall.

We soaped and stroked bodies and massaged shampoo into scalps. Dalia’s cooing showed she enjoyed my effort.

Cleansed and dripping, we scurried outside to air-dry. Coffee, cups, and naked women awaited under the starry sky. Also some tequila to spike my cup and Paige’s… we would not drive anywhere tonight.

But we had morning obligations. For now, we had group hugs and gropes as we all went indoors, and tickling as the sisters dressed. They rolled the VeeDub away and then it was only me and Paige, cuddling in the messy bed. Change the sheet tomorrow, okay?

=====

We lay face-to-face. Paige’s lips left mine; our eyes stayed locked. She had questions.

“You do this often? Can I expect other girlfriends? Anyone I know? Will I need blood tests? Sanity tests?”

“A gentleman never tells so you’ll find out on your own.”

“But you’re not an officer and a gentleman, so what can you tell me?”

I had avoided officer training offers — too much commitment — so she almost had me there.

“I’m doing nothing with the A-wop-a-ho girls, I swear it!”

“I sure hope not… they’re too young, haven’t even grown boobs yet, you pervert!” She snorted. “But really babe, do I need or deserve any warnings?””

I got serious. “You deserve to be treated well. I won’t knowingly hurt you, I promise. Do I see the Ortegas often? Pretty much. Will I see other women? Maybe, and I won’t try to stop you from seeing anyone, but please don’t bring men on the property. Will your sanity and bloodstream need testing and treatment? We’ll see.”

Her eyes probed me. I had to ask: “What do you expect?”

Paige pondered.

“I don’t know what I expected when I asked to move in here, maybe just a friendship with occasional benefits.”

She squeezed my cock.

“Now I still don’t know what to expect, only what I want. I want to be with you a lot till we have to go our own ways. I want us to be lovers for the summer at least. I want us to argue calmly, and make more music.

“About all I *don’t* want is, I don’t want us to feel bad about what we do. And don’t be sneaky with me. Like, no sneaky nude photos or evasive lies. Let’s be honest.”

She took a breath.

“Okay, what do I expect? I expect us to be mutually respectful, and talk out any differences, and fuck a lot. I expect us to hang out in the sunshine wearing only sandals and sunglasses. I expect to fall in love with you, and to get over you with some heartbreak. And I hope we’ll have great memories of our time.”

She pushed me on my back. “Let’s build another memory right now.”

She mouthed my already stiffened cock, lubricating me thoroughly. “Let me fuck your brains out.”

She straddled my hips and lowered herself on me, aiming me into her juicy pussy. “Oh yeah! I’ll be as good as any girl you ever had. No, I’ll be your best ever. Oh fuck!”

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 4×4 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.”

Who was in charge now? Not me, obviously. Fine; I knew how to follow orders.

I watched Paige tongue-fuck the girl while I knelt by her head, directed my cock into her mouth, and face-fucked her… not in a mean way, but enough to enjoy it.

“Ooh, I don’t know if I can take all of this,” Mira gasped. I think my cock pressed her epiglottis and tickled her larynx. But she kept sucking.

Her suction flickered when she came again and again from Paige’s efforts.

A throbbing Mira rolled aside. Her hands moved on us.

“Holy fuck, that’s great! Now I want to do nice for you two. Greg, you get behind and fuck me while I eat you, Paige.”

We rearranged. Mira stuck her butt up for my cock and her face down into Paige’s pussy.

“Oh shit, you’re so big!” Mira bubbled, then resumed her active cunt-licking. I drove deep into her. Page’s pussy swallowed the Asian girl’s moans.

Yes, we did suck and fuck, rocking the truck, scaring the wildlife, ha! But I had another idea.

I pulled out of Mira and moved back just a little. She groaned in disappointment and raised her wet face from Paige’s soggy vulva.

“Hey, I want more of that—”

“And you’ll get more,” I interrupted. “But scoot around into a sixtynine, ladies. Mira, you get on top. I want to see slurpy tongue action while I fuck into you. Yeah, like that.”

I rolled a towel as a pillow under Paige’s head to avoid neck strain while she ate Mira and licked my shaft on my out-strokes. I leaned forward a little; Mira’s tidy breasts were my handholds as I fucked in, pulled out, fucked in again, and again, and again, oh fuck yeah!

I felt the women quiver with extended orgasms. I felt the heat from their interlocked bodies. I felt us all slide sweatily, flesh on flesh, as I sped-up my pistoning. I felt my balls tighten, warning of release as they bounced on Paige’s face.

And I sure felt like a fucking *GOD* when I shot load after load, rope after rope, of hot semen into Mira’s pussy, like a mouth, vacuuming cum right out of me, wow!

Mira’s mousetrap vagina was pretty damn talented.

I felt her orgasmic shaking die down; I softened inside her. I felt Paige’s mouth move from cunt-licking to ball-sucking and then cock-sucking and -cleaning when I slipped out, limp now. She returned her attention to Mira’s pussy and lapped-up the spermy juices dripping from that cunt, and then back to me, siphoning me dry.

We rearranged again, scrunched side-by-side, Mira sandwiched in the middle. The women locked mouths, sharing the creampie, and then swallowed. Mira turned and kissed me. My bleachy-salty cum flavor was only a top-note on the tastes of their pussy juices.

“That was great,” Mira whispered breathily, “one of the best ever. I sure hope you’ll be back again for skating and dancing and stuff. But I’ve got to go home now ’cause I have to work at our store tomorrow.”

“I sure know how that goes,” Paige also sighed. “I have a store to open, too.”

“And I have to be up and out early,” I rumbled, “down to San Bernardino for my Weekend Warrior drill.”

I comforted her by tickling her tonsils, then moving down to suck her tits, and then going further to tongue-fuck her spicy cunt and abuse her poor clit until she wailed yet again… shrieking into Paige’s mouth.

I eased-off, gave her pussy a last lick, and slid up to join our lips once more. I felt Paige’s hands on our butts. What a girl!

“Do you want to go home smelling like sex?” I asked Mira when I caught my breath. “We can clean you a little if you think that’s prudent.”

We all stood in the soft sand and put the water jug and clean rags and towels to good use. Then we regretfully dressed and I drove Mira home.

I foresaw sex-filled get-togethers ahead. And regular STD blood tests. Was Mira contagious? Better play it safe.

=====

Paige sat beside me on the pickup’s bench seat. We were quiet for the first while. But I had to ask.

“Tell me if I’m out of line, but I… well, I know you mentioned girlfriends, so I’m not really surprised, but…”

“But you wonder why I went all lezzie on Mira and not so much with Rosa and Dalia, right? Like, why didn’t I lick their pussies, right? That spooks you.”

I had seen studies that women worldwide were more gender-fluid than men, and increasingly so. I was not about to complain.

“Spook me? Ha!” I snorted. “Is a puzzlement, another jagged piece of the conundrum that is you.”

“Oh, I think I’m more of a maze than a jigsaw puzzle. And I’m good at drawing mazes. This one is pretty simple.”

She leaned into me as far as the center seatbelt allowed. Her voice was bright.

“When I was at Pasadena High I worked part-time at the store so I had time for a social life, yeah, boyfriends and girlfriends. I was never blatantly wild but I had discreet fun. Then Dad sent me up here so I’d know the ‘real world’. Which meant the store, total responsibility, sixteen-hour days every day. No time for anything else. The folks came sometimes to check the books but I was on my own.

“Not only no time, but worse… no room to be *me*. Sure, this store lives on bored troops blowing paychecks, but it’s also a family place where parents buy their kids ‘ukuleles and tinwhistles. It can’t be run by a flagrant bisexual slut. Word gets around, y’know. I can’t be close to anyone out here unless I can really trust them. Especially not if they’re tied to the base. I think the Ortega girls are probably okay but I need longer to be sure.

“And you… I’ve known I could trust you for months now. With Gramps taking over the store, a lot of pressure is off me. I’ll have time and space for you, and for Mira, and other friends. Are you bringing home more girlfriends?”

She squeezed my cock through the fabric. I laughed.

“You’re anxious to find out, huh? Well, just wait and see.”

She vindictively stuck her tongue in my ear. I managed to stay on the road.

We reached home before midnight. We drank wine, showered, drank more wine, juiceily sucked and noisily fucked — I was still up for that though it took a while — and slept, sweaty and entangled.

.

===== Weekend =====

The Saturday sunrise alarm was brutal but we had time for Paige to happily ride my morning wood before hastening to breakfast and to our obligations at her shop and my armory.

You do not need or want to know of the drill at my Engineer company in San Bernardino. No disasters were active in our area so we mostly just re-inventoried supplies. My team of field medics did our shitwork; I scribbled the paperwork and passed it up the line. That is how a chain of command works.

But never forget the basic rule of hierarchies: credit flows uphill and shit flows downhill. CYA for survival.

Judy, the unmarried redhead bomb-disposal specialist I usually overnighted with — troops with that job rarely afford long-term personal relationships — was training in Utah, so I slept at the armory after relaxing at a local tavern with cheap beer, a vintage jukebox, and danceable women who hid their wedding rings.

I had carefully left my pickup in a dark, sheltered corner of the bar’s parking lot. That was only prudent.

The fleshy ash-blonde I puppy-fucked, crouched on my truck’s wide seat with her skirt pushed up, said she was Jessica. I wiped myself clean with her lace panties and added them to my multicolored undies collection. On each, I pinned a little tag with a name. Am I macho-piggy, or obsessive, or otherwise pervy?

That was early. Later, Shi’landra, a cute, curvy, hearty chocolate treat of a gal, blew me stiff enough to enable a long, loud, happy fuck in the truck. She nicely sent me off to my night in a lonely armory bunk. Yes, I collected her tie-dyed panties, too.

Did I sniff my collection? I would never admit that. Go ahead, judge me. See if I care.

=====

Sunday was nothing special but at day’s end the ambitious new company commander decided she needed a lengthy briefing with all NCOs so I could not escape until late. I managed to phone Paige to warn of my delay.

The setting sun glowed dim and bloody through thick Southland smog. High-desert air was much cleaner.

Home was a relief. Naked Paige fed me her breasts, decent wine, and a tasty frittata after I showered. Dessert was a superb blowjob and an all-night cuddle.

Yes, I was liking this girl more and more.

.

===== Monday =====

The morning: The annoying alarm. The initial sanitation. The juicy ‘hello’ sixtynine lick-offs. The fast breakfast. Dress for the day. Motor off, me to school, her to business. The new normal.

Another intense Earth Science class gave me no chance to chat with curvy Dalia. We yakked with curvier Rosa over sodas and sandwiches at an outside lunch table.

The tawny sisters peered around, saw no obvious gawkers or eavesdroppers, and both touched me. Innocently, of course. We were visible.

“Did you miss us Friday?” Dalia asked.

“We know you’ve been busy since then,” Rosa said. “Your Guard drills are important.”

“Sure,” I said, “but that’s how it is. Let’s try again next Saturday. I won’t have to be up early Sunday. Paige can tarry a little, too.”

“I think Papá won’t mind if we’re out all night then,” Dalia said, “and it’ll be a good kickoff for finals week.” Yes, the spring semester was almost over. “But we don’t *need* to go honky-tonking. How about we head home with you after classes today?”

“Sis and I will even cook dinner,” Rosa said. “Then we all can study and, y’know, entertain ourselves. When do you expect Paige to come in? She’s part of this too.”

“She says she’s got Gramps trained for the evening trade and closing,” I said, “so she won’t be very late.”

“Okay then,” Dalia said, “study time and a dinner date at your place. We can catch some sunshine, too.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’m on-call for the ambulance till six so I’ll have to stay clothed and act innocent. But sure, we can have a cheap date. You know where to find the backdoor key if I’m held up.”

=====

Rosa and I more than held our own in International Affairs. I made it through most afternoon classes before my VHF beeped me to the ambulance for a routine run, another senior transferring from Mesquite Medical Center back to their smelly nursing facility, where a paperwork fuckup — not by Alicia — delayed us.

I *really* needed a shower when I got home just after six. Rosa’s VeeDub sat in the drive but I did not see Paige’s little Yamaha. I hoped she did not need to work too late.

I got naked and clean as soon as possible. Out back, I joined the gleamingly fresh almond-toned Ortega sisters who, like me, wore only sandals and sunglasses. They lounged and absorbed solar rays, boosting their natural tans. Their long, black hair was not bleached by the sun.

I bent to suck their inviting nipples. Nope, no sunscreen there. None on me, either; I did not taint their welcome-home cocksucks with a chemical flavor.

Another flavor awaited me: a lifesaving iced pitcher of tart, fruity sangria. I settled into my creaky chaise with a tall, cold tumbler of relief. Aahhh…

“Good thing you have ingredients,” Dalia said, sipping sangria, “and your toaster oven has a timer, and your best pyrex baking dish fits. The chicken upside-down cornbread dinner is ready whenever we are.”

“The chicken what?” I had a suspicion.

“Just simmer a thick, saucy, chicken and veggie stew, no potatoes,” Rosa said between sloppy slurps of sangria, “pour it in the dish, top that with a layer of cornbread batter, and bake it. To eat, flip it over so the stew gravy soaks the fluffy cornbread. Fast, easy, tasty. I think Mamá got the recipe from a Methodist Ladies’ cookbook.”

“And we raided Mamá’s pantry for a jug of Almaden white chablis to wash it down,” Dalia said. “So much better than your awful Gallo burgundy, that cheap Dago red I had to seriously doctor for this sangria.” She waggled her half-full tumbler. Her breasts wiggled enticingly, too.

“So Methodist ladies prefer Almaden?” I snarked. “I’ll keep that in mind, next time I’m pussy-hunting in church.”

Rosa aimed rude gestures at me. I waved fingers at her. Good thing we had no soggy strawberries to throw at each other — that would have been wasteful. Ha!

I heard a familiar motorbike crunch on the rough driveway, and creaking of the kitchen’s screen door. Paige poked her head out the side door a moment later and surveyed us nudists. I wagged my weenie at her. Yes, I am a dork.

“Just what I expected,” she smirked, and pointed at the sweating icy sangria pitcher. “Save some for me.”

The door closed; the shower squeaked; brief minutes passed. She emerged dripping in sandals and sunglasses, kissed all nipples and my cock, and took a tumbler of sangria to a waiting chaise. She spun slowly, arms out, breasts high and proud, before lounging.

Nice body, I thought. Cute girl. I was glad she was here.

Dalia set her drained tumbler down. “Anyone as hungry as me?” We all grumbled assent. “Wait here. I’ll fetch.”

She scooted inside and returned first with the Almaden jug, then with loaded plates and forks for me and Paige, then two more servings for her big sister and herself.

The bushes rustled with critters smelling our grub. “Go eat each other,” I mentally projected. They likely did.

We emptied our plates, drank our wine, removed our sunglasses, and chatted about everything until twilight faded and the night’s insects ventured out. We naked, succulent human targets took refuge indoors.

“Let’s eat each other,” I mentally projected at the luscious naked women, and set that intention into action.

“Anyone as horny as me?” I asked. They all giggled.

I guess Paige was exceptionally horny or had decided the sisters were trustworthy enough. She and I urged them to lie side-by-side on the bed. She and I nestled between their sweet, tan thighs while the Ortegas kissed. I licked Rosa’s pussy and Paige lapped into Dalia.

We switched after their first groaning orgasms. I savored how Paige’s mouth had ignited Dalia and she doubtlessly tasted me in Rosa’s labial folds. Talk about fun!

The sisters demanded a change.

“C’mere,” Rosa insisted, gripping Paige’s hair, pulling my roommate up beside her before scrunching around and setting her pussy over Paige’s face.

“I’m on top. Keep licking me.” Rosa dove between Paige’s thighs with her tongue busy.

“C’mere,” Dalia echoed, gripping my hair, pulling me to nest in her spread legs. “You can fuck them later if you’re still alive. But you’re going to fuck ME now.”

So fuck her I did, and she yelled like she enjoyed it. She dug her heels into my ass and pulled me deep inside her. The gals sixty-nine-ing beside us were a fine inspiration.

I was not yet ready to cum but my own inspiration hit me. I pulled out of Dalia’s quivering quim, as the Brits would say, and pushed her around, over Paige’s leg, so she huddled with her face by her sister’s. She got the hint and joined her tongue at Paige’s strawberry blonde pussy.

I scooted myself over, opened Rosa’s legs just enough, and slid my rampant cock into her dark, wet entrance, just above Paige’s startled blue eyes. I fucked deep into that pussy, my balls bouncing on that forehead.

My reptile-brain instincts forgot about names then. Two naked women were locked in passion below me. The animal ‘me’ fucked the woman on top while another naked woman helped her mouth the woman underneath.

Life has few riches grander than a crowded bed.

I came in steaming gouts, overflowing the pussy I pistoned into. The mouth below captured the overflow while licking the juncture of cock and cunt. I squirted my last, pulled out, and felt that mouth swallow my cock and its pool of savory juices.

Try to find a better situation than this. Go ahead, try.

The reptilian cortex buried in my brain stem told me, ‘Fuck all these females. Fill them with sperm. Make many babies. Be immortal.’

The cognitive levels diffused between my ears said, ‘Make sure these women are protected. Paternity and disease are beyond budget. Be careful.’

The reptile won, of course. Raw fucking is fun.

Alas, all good times must end, yada yada. This was a school night and the sisters had to get home… after showering off the scents of sex and wine. More hugs and kisses before and after they dressed, and then they motored away.

Paige and I were alone now, naked and clean but low on energy, so we finished the wine dregs and cuddled in the sloppy bed. Change the sheet tomorrow. G’night.

.

===== Tuesday-Thursday =====

School days for me. Finals week. All fairly easy… after I crammed devilishly hard before each. No ambulance calls came at awkward times. Good. The Ortega sisters did not ‘study’ with me; we would be distracted. Damn.

The semester was over but I would not see a graduation ceremony — not enough credits yet. The summer session would see me quietly win an AA degree.

Paige was stuck with closing the store late and running the ledgers. She was preparing for the final hand-off of ownership to the Densons. They would keep her on as a clerk through the summer. We had that long together.

Our midweek nights lacked drama and excitement beyond the decent food and comfortable sex. Was this like married life? Was I acclimating?

.

===== Friday =====

Did married life include Girls Nights Out? A weekend out?

I had finished my last exam and was home playing guitar in front of my big fan, waiting for my on-call shift to end, when the landline phone rang. Paige sounded nervous.

“Uhh Greg, I won’t be home tonight. Or over the weekend. N’shelle and Carlos, friends from Pasadena, are up here, and you don’t want me to bring a guy to your place, so I’ll stay with them at their motel. You’ll be okay, right?”

Yes, she was nervous indeed, and I was itchy. My reptile brain wanted to roar but my prefrontal lobe kept me calm.

“Hey, it’s your life. Enjoy your friends. I’ll see you Monday then? Bye.” Click.

Was I too abrupt? Am I a macho pig? We have no ownership issues. We are roommates, that is all. Right.

Fuck. I knew I would have to deal with issues. We would cohabit over the summer. How would I feel if she was out with visitors on weekends or more?

My reptile brain was most unhappy.

=====

My reptile brain found a fresh target for the interim.

Alicia was away on a two-week vacation with her doctor hubby. They and a crowd of professional friends with big motorcycles were cruising their Harleys and BMWs up the coast to B&Bs booked the whole way. Sailing in the sea breeze, riders clutching partners and jamming crotches into butts… ya gotta love that!

Her substitute these weekdays was Lakshmi from London, usually on-call over weekends. Her Irish hubby was a civilian contractor busy with military systems from his tech firm. Lakshmi was an occasional girlfriend when he was out of the area. That means she was my part-time slut.

No, her Robby was no soldier. I would not knowingly Jody a trooper. But civvy wives were fair game, and often easy. Their wombs, their choices. I was just along for the ride.

We chatted on the few routine calls that first week. I even kept my eyes off her Bengali beauty as I drove.

“How’s it going with your shopgirl?” her lilting voice asked.

“Pretty fair so far. And she’s still a part owner, not a clerk.”

Her veiled arrogance annoyed me at times. But she was a pleasant fuck.

“Oh yes, humping the help can end badly. Proprietors are rewarding if they behave. But I like your skills, driver.”

She did not reach over to squeeze my cock. Good thing.

We had a short non-emergency run that Friday after Paige called me. I might have let my mood show.

“You’re in a sweet snit today, driver. Got bedroom issues?”

Fuck, was I that easy to read?

“No, not that I’ve noticed. But Paige is out with friends for the weekend. Just a slight change of process for us.”