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The House of Robles 1.01

By: latinplayer



"You'd better be home, old man, and you'd better be ready to get to work." Carmela Diaz-Robles muttered to herself, as she swung her big red SUV around a slow moving mini-van. Contemptuously, she glared over at the soccer mom in the lane next to her, and once she'd hit the gas she quickly left the lagging vehicle in her dust. "And I really mean it this time, Pablo. You'd better be ready."

As you can guess, patience was not among Carmela's most prevalent attributes. With a bachelor's degree in business management already in the bag, and a high stress job that annually rewarded her in the middle five digits, who could blame the pretty twenty-three year old for constantly being on edge?

And, as always, Carmela was running late.

"That arrogant circle-jerk." She grumbled, remembering exactly why she was forty-five minutes past her scheduled appointment time. Her job as a leasing agent for Glenhill Properties made for odd hours, and she'd initially been ecstatic when her secretary scheduled a showing for a client interested in one of the top floor corner suites at the prestigious Jade Towers. She stood to make a pretty good commission on the deal, if only she could get the client to sign the dotted line on the leasing contract.

The client turned out to be a presumptuous and heavyset psychiatrist apparently used to having his way, and he had the nerve to do two things that infuriated the tall and very shapely Carmela. (She was tall for a typical Latina, anyway, as she stood at five foot seven without heels). First, the man had come in a full thirty minutes late, when Carmela herself had taken great and unusual pains to show up on time, and second, he'd begun complaining about the suite as soon as Carmela had unlocked the doors and allowed him to wander inside, all in a pointless effort to get Carmela to either lower the monthly rent, or to toss some other concessions into the deal. Oh, and there was one more thing; the lecherous psychiatrist had been unable to keep his eyes off of Carmela's body for more than ten seconds in a row.

Not that the young woman could entirely blame him for that, as she was well aware that her seductive charms could have raised the pulse on a dead man. She had a figure that men drooled over, and that women jealously resented, and she well knew it.

As Carmela shifted over to the fast lane, she grimaced when she realized that on top of being late for her afternoon appointment, she was probably going to miss that evening's gym visit as well. For the last three years, she'd religiously hit the gym three to four times a week, with at least two grueling hours for each session, give or take.

At first, she'd started going just to ogle the handsome and muscular personal trainers, but she'd progressed past that puerile phase long ago and had since become obsessed with perfecting her own body. Intensive cardio and aerobics had sculpted her one hundred and fifteen pound frame into a little tower of lean muscle. Her legs were long and trim, her ass was curvy and tight, and her thin waist gave her a sensuous hourglass figure. She didn't forget to consider her ripe breasts, a set of beautifully rounded C cups that dared any straight male not to stare at them.

Resisting the impulse to bring down the vanity mirror and take in the features of her fashion model caliber countenance, she kept her concentration on the busy road ahead. Besides, she'd seen enough of herself to know her high points; her face was almond shaped, with full lips around an otherwise delicate mouth, and her large and penetrating brown eyes implied vast and intelligent depths were an observer permitted to closely scrutinize them. Finally, her rich and pampered dark brown hair was currently tamed into thick and bouncy curls, and did nothing at all to detract from her pleasing olive skin tone. In fact, she felt that her hair beautifully accentuated the hue of her gorgeous body.

A glance at the digital clock reminded Carmela of her tardiness, and she blew out a mouthful of air as she fought to control her rising anger. Hadn't she been nagging her husband Frankie for the past week to take her stupid car into the dealership for an oil change? And what had he done, but start bitching and moaning about how far out of his way the dealer was. So, she'd taken the car in herself a few days ago, and she'd barely walked into the service department when the manager had taken one look at her and nearly jumped over the counter like a horny dog. The overbearing and pasty-faced man had come-on lines only slightly better than his breath, which smelled of stale onions and staler cigarettes, and not even the offer of free work on her car was enough to entice Carmela into going out with him.

Not that Carmela wasn't immune to the occasional fling, what with Frankie always busy with his two extremely low end jobs, and never being around when she wanted him. He was a hard worker and a decent provider, she had to give him that, but Frankie wasn't exactly the reigning king of romance. Her husband of two-plus years was prone to drinking binges and farting flurries, not necessarily in that order, and as for his vocations, well, to say it all, one of his jobs was detailing vehicle interiors at a car wash.

She remembered making the mistake of taking Frankie to a company event once, and only once, where her company's executive officer had asked him what he did for a living. Frankie replied with a straight face, "I do all the inside vacuuming on the upholstery and spray Armor-All around the dash and console."

Like that was something to be proud of, Carmela's top lip curled in distaste. Frankie, please!

On the positive side, there were plenty of attractive men trying to illicitly court Carmela, far better prospects than overweight psychiatrists and foul smelling counter clerks. For instance, there was Gerald, a handsome stockbroker from the well-known financial office on the first floor of the Jade Towers. He was in his mid-thirties, wore very stylish threads, drove a fancy Porsche, and had a fat bank account that he was frequently willing to ply Carmela with.

Oh, yeah, he was also very, very married, too.

The affair with Gerald had to be cut short, she sighed, as the man was becoming more and more infatuated with her wily self, and the last thing she wanted was to be placed on permanent stand-by for whenever Gerald was looking for a quickie. Long ago, she had decided that no man would ever place her on a shelf and just leave her there.

Why hadn't she met someone like Gerald earlier in her life? Why hadn't she waited just a little bit longer before she got married? She considered these questions, and almost as quickly, she recalled why. She'd been born and raised in the San Diego ghetto, where janitors and dishwashers abounded (not to mention car detailers), and where just holding down a minimum wage job was considered an accomplishment worthy of boasting of at liquor-infested family barbecues.

Taking the next off-ramp, Carmela had been left with but a single viable option for getting her oil change. Frankie's dad, Pablo Robles, could do it. The forty-four year old was nicely built, with square shoulders and a broad back, and through their infrequent conversations, she'd gathered that he'd spent over ten years in various construction jobs, followed by another ten as a building engineer-slash-custodian in a high rise hotel by the bay. He was a man's man, able to do numerous manual chores in a pinch, ranging from landscaping to plumbing to roofing to you name it, and general auto maintenance was not beyond his many skills.

The bad thing, on the other hand, was that Pablo was something of a heavy drinker in the late afternoons, and it was best to catch him at around three or four in the afternoon, and very soon after the he got off work. This meant Carmela would have to leave her own job an hour early, and drive into the rundown part of town that she'd much rather forget about, all in order to get her bothersome errand accomplished. Thanks to the stupid psychiatrist, that plan had gone into the shredder.

Luckily, she had managed to pressure her husband into picking up several quarts of high quality, synthetic motor oil the day before, and as she pulled into the Robles' dirt driveway, she was brimming with hope that the task wouldn't take the rest of the evening, and that Pablo hadn't guzzled down a six-pack already. Her hopes were suddenly dashed when she observed her father sitting in the yard, underneath a faded parasol, and with several cans of beer already resting at arm's length on the glass tabletop beside him.

Carmela's SUV kicked up a large cloud of dust on the dirt driveway as she pulled to a stop, and with some disgust, she waited until the brown mist cleared before she exited her vehicle. There was no way she was getting her expensive business suit dirty out here in the crappy ghetto. Finally, the dirt leveled off, and she popped out of the vehicle like a champagne cork.

"Pablo! Pablo!" Carmela called out, succeeding only in drawing a tiny portion of the lethargic man's attention. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm here for the oil change! Can you still do it?" She glanced expectantly at him, then looked down at her Longines gold plated watch as if wanting to convey her rush to him. "Can you please hurry?"

Since it was such a warm day, Pablo Robles was wearing a loose fitting muscle shirt that showcased his thick arms, a pair of baggy, black Bermuda shorts, and thong sandals. Not one to be pressured into action during his unpaid time off, the father casually got to his feet and started walking towards her. "I was expecting you a little earlier." He commented dryly, while taking in her fancy suit.

Or maybe it was her body that the man was scrutinizing, Carmela wondered. She couldn't tell one way or the other, and she didn't care. She just wanted to get out of there!

"You wanna pop the hood for me?" Pablo asked.

"Sure." Carmela replied dejectedly, stalking back over to the driver's door. After a quick moment, the hood latch clicked open. "How long do you think it'll take? I want to see if I can still make the gym before it gets too late."

Pablo smoothly propped the hood open. "I don't know, maybe half an hour. I'd guess forty-five minutes at the most." He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, hoping to displace the beading sweat that clung there while he'd been waiting.

"That long, huh?" Carmela left the front seat and halted near the fender, but not near enough to get any dust on her clothes. As Pablo pulled out the dipstick and wiped it off with a random rag he'd pulled from his back pocket, Carmela took a moment to study his profile. Pablo could still be considered a handsome man, thanks to his sturdy build, and his tempered face. He had a full head of scruffy hair, although it was starting to thin on the top, and to gray slightly at the edges.

"I'm afraid so." He replied, speaking to her as if she were some dumb kid. "All the old oil has to drip out before I can put the new oil in, otherwise you'll just be getting the new oil mixing in with the old. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

Maybe this is what Pablo really thought of her, she thought, and not without a good amount of resentment. Or maybe he was just intoxicated.

He pointed at the seat he'd just vacated. "Why don't you just sit down over there, where you'll be in the shade. It'll all be over before you know it."

Impatiently, Carmela trudged back to the lift gate and brought out the grocery bags carrying the new cans of oil. She set them on the ground beside Pablo, and couldn't help but notice how strong his thighs and calves looked.

Carmela was still hoping that her father would notice her haste and get a move on himself, but alas no, he simply turned aside and sluggishly began scanning the yard. He dragged out an old, faded rug from behind a battered shed, and an old red toolbox from within the shed, and placed both items on the dirt just in front of the SUV. After kicking the toolbox into a satisfactory position, Pablo lowered himself onto his back, and started inching his way under her car.

The man didn't notice the extra attention Carmela was giving him. His chest was very manly, she considered, much more so than her husband's, and even more pronounced than that of her latest undercover lover, Gerald. She smirked as she thought of the term GILF, which stood for Grandfathers I'd Like to get Frisky with.

"I can reach the reservoir nut from here, so I won't have to jack your car up on stands." He said, oblivious to the sensual scrutiny he was receiving. "That'll save you some time. Get me that oil pan from over there, will you?"

Carmela nearly balked at the request, until she realized Pablo would finish a whole lot faster if she gave him a hand. Reluctantly, she stepped towards the dusty plastic pan, which was resting comfortably under a shrub, and she gingerly gripped it up by the edge while using only two of her fingertips. Dirt and spiders evacuated the item as she picked it up, and she dropped it on the ground to give the critters a moment to run away.

"Just set it right over here." Pablo patted the rug, lifting up all kinds of yucky debris from it.

Enough was enough, Carmela thought, and after she'd kicked the pan over, she refused to offer any additional assistance. Instead she retreated under the shadow of the tired parasol. The moment her tight butt settled into one of the cheap plastic chairs, her hand began digging into her purse for her phone. She grimaced when she saw the low battery warning as she tried to turn it on.

Impatiently, Carmela stowed the phone away and sat back in the plastic chair. Her gaze next focused on the three beer cans resting on the parasol's table stand. After checking each of them, she found the first one empty, the second open and half gone, and the third not only still closed, but also invitingly cold to the touch.

Maybe this would get Pablo to finish faster, she thought, popping his last full beer open and taking a long sip. He was bound to notice that she was drinking up the last of his alcohol.

To her growing irritation, however, her father kept his focus tight on the underside of her car, and wasn't even giving her the slightest attention. Like father, like son, she compared, as her husband Frankie hardly gave her any attention at all back home.

Quickly becoming bored, the young lady took a long look at the yard, with its nearby manicured lawn, and several rows of colorful flowers lining one edge of the dirt driveway. There were some carefully placed and neatly trimmed fruit trees around as well, but for all of the natural beauty that the trees and flowers displayed, there were some negative aesthetics present as well. There were not one, but two old and useless cars cluttering up the backyard, as well as a pile of old furniture and several flat tires on rusted rims. A good portion of the wooden fence around the property was dilapidated and discolored, and several scrawls of graffiti were visible across the way on a neighbor's back wall.

After taking a more generous drink of alcohol, Carmela glanced back towards her car. She did a mental double take as she observed her father's prone form on the ground. Sure, it had been a hot day, but as her eyes ran across Pablo's baggy shorts and pleasingly muscular legs, she found she could see past the loose fabric and right between his thighs. She was even more shocked to discover that he wasn't wearing any underwear underneath his shorts.

Even worse, she could see his big cock dangling about as he worked, lolling back and forth as he reached over for a different socket wrench from his rusty toolbox.

And it was so large, Carmela thought, estimating it at six full inches as it currently was. It was as big as her husband's cock was in full bloom, so she calculated that it had to be a good eight inches or more when fully erect, and way fatter. She wondered if it could grow as thick as her wrist.

Carmela tried to turn away, hoping to distract herself with another long gulp from her beer, but she found the tantalizing sight too tempting to avoid. She was soon obsessed by the thought of her father's cock, and as she allowed her line of sight to again and again return to the fat piece of sausage resting between Pablo's legs, she found herself fantasizing about having that monstrous thing within her grasp.

Mmmm, Carmela purred to herself.

Soon, she felt her sexy parts becoming excited, and as if to drive the sinful thoughts of Pablo away, she again reached out for the can of beer. When her hands encircled the cold metal can, she began to wonder if Pablo's fully erect cock would be as thick as the can was, and as she lifted the beer, she compared it with Pablo's fat glob of meat and shuddered. Could she even get that thing into her mouth?

It took some effort, but Carmela somehow managed to slide her chair in another direction. She finished off the last of her beer, and then grabbed the one Pablo had been drinking when she'd first arrived. A few minutes later, she'd guzzled that one down as well.

She'd just started to get a good buzz when one of Pablo's kids walked by, a foxy eighteen-year-old named Amanda, who was wearing a black blouse and tight denim shorts. Amanda's pretty brown hair was set back in a ponytail, revealing her very pretty face, and she grinned when she saw the empty beer cans sitting next to Carmela.

"You drunk?" The amused teen asked, leaning close enough to Carmela's face to try and smell her breath. "You look drunk."

"No, I'm not drunk. I just got here a few minutes ago." Carmela dared a glance back towards her father, but thankfully, he'd changed his position and his jumbo-size wiener was no longer on public exhibition.

"You want to be?"

"I guess." Carmela shrugged.

"All right." Amanda replied, beaming her usual, radiant smile. "I'll be right back with some more alcohol then. I want to get drunk, too."

The cute teen returned momentarily with a six-pack of beer. She set it on the table between them, and although Amanda and her didn't really see eye to eye with each other, and because she had nothing else to do, Carmela went ahead and had a chat with her. Sure enough, Amanda ended up complaining about the stuff going on at her high school, while hardly allowing Carmela to get a word in edgewise, but whatever. The alcohol was flowing, and that's all that really mattered right then.

Carmela was later hard pressed to remember how much time had elapsed between her first beer and her last, as somewhere down the line, her body had successfully relaxed itself enough on the uncomfortable chair, to the point that she had fallen asleep.

She awoke with a start, looking first up at the darkening sky, and after a moment's search, down at her phone's fading numerals. It was almost seven, she realized, glancing across the table at the still form of Amanda, who had also passed out, but at least she'd taken the time to settle her body onto a reclining chair normally reserved for swimming pool decks, and not junky backyards.

Carmela stood up slowly, yawning and stretching out her numb arms and legs until she got the blood circulating more freely. Carefully, she made her way back to her SUV, noting that the underside of the car had been cleaned up, and that all the oil containers were now empty and peacefully sitting inside the grocery bag she'd brought them in. Deciding to let Pablo take care of them, she didn't even bother to pick them up.

As she opened her car door, the interior lights flooded on and she discovered the slumbering form of her father resting on the passenger seat, which was reclined almost all the way to the rear bench. At least he'd washed and changed before he got in, she noted, as he was clad in a clean muscle shirt and fresh shorts. He didn't look too bad to her, right then.


The House of Robles 1.10



Thanks to some late evening haggling over a suite, Carmela had gotten off work much later than usual. She was on the drive back home, sorry that it was so late, but glad that she'd missed all the afternoon traffic, when her phone went off. Soon enough, she had the phone up to her ear. Her husband was on the other end, and he didn't sound very happy. Frankie's voice sounded strained, as he spoke to her.

"Some asshole named Gerald called a little while ago. He said that the two of you have been sleeping together, off and on, for some four months now. He said he thought I should know about it."

Shit, Carmela thought to herself, gently swerving her SUV over from the slow lane to the shoulder, where she stopped and turned on her interior lights. In truth, Gerald had been fuming ever since she'd stopped messing around with him, and he'd finally done what he'd always threatened he would; He'd called her husband and told him all about their short-lived affair. Fortunately, Carmela had a plan. She always had a plan. "I don't know anybody named Gerald."

"It's funny you should say that, because I wrote down his number from the caller ID," Frankie calmly continued. "And then I went through some of your stuff until I found the bill for your mobile phone. Guess how many times Gerald's number showed up on your bill?"

"You were digging around in my stuff?" She tried to sound incredulous. "You have no right to be..."

"Don't change the subject. We're talking about why this jerk's phone number is on your bill like fifteen times."

Carmela thought fast. "Okay, the truth is that there is this guy, Gerald, who's been hitting on me for a while now. Of course, I wouldn't give him the time of day, so he probably got my number from the secretary at my office, and he's just making all this stuff up because I turned him down. I would have told you about him before, but I thought I could handle it on my own and..."

Frankie cut her off. "I may not be a rocket scientist, but I can read a phone bill. You were the one calling him."

"I can explain how that would look that way, if you didn't know how he'd been leaving me messages and..."

"I've got three words for you; Sexy Little Things." Frankie stated. "This Gerald guy knew your favorite brand of underwear, and he also knew that you like to shop at Victoria's Secret. Care to explain that one?"

"Anybody might be able to guess that just by looking at me..."

"Carmela, he knew your panty size, and he even told me the designs of the panties that he claims he purchased for you." Frankie revealed. "I don't know what's worse; that you cheated on me, or that all these people around me kept telling me you were, over and over, and I was too hard-headed and too stupid to believe them."

"Frankie, I'm coming straight home right now, and..."

"Don't bother, I won't be here. I think I'm going out to find somebody else to screw, just like you've been doing all this time. You've probably been cheating on me ever since we got married..."

"Oh, don't you try to pin all of this shit on me!" Carmela erupted. "If you'd been half the man you're supposed to be, none of this would have... Frankie? Frankie!" She'd heard the phone click off on the other end, and a second later, nothing at all.

"You asshole!" She screamed at the phone, and for a second, she almost slid her car window down and hurled the expensive device into traffic. Instead, she shoved her hand into her purse and buried the offending item as far down as she could.

For the next few minutes, she simply sat there and fumed, observing the flashing lights of the cars speeding by, or unwittingly feeling her car tremble due to the occasional wind gust from an oversized hauler. Fucking dangerous place she decided to pull over, she mused, setting her big car into drive, and gauging the number of vehicles rumbling along in the slow lane.

Taking a deep breath, Carmela joined the traffic flow. There was no way she'd be going straight home, not after that argument, and mentally, she went through her options. She'd had a quick salad right before she left work, so going to a restaurant was out of the question, and for that matter, so was going to a bar. If she wanted men ogling her, she'd have gone to the gym, and not to some loser infested dive where some drunken louts would inevitably start giving her the lamest come-on lines on the planet.

Still, she needed somewhere to relax for a couple of hours.

As she drove, she happened to glance off the highway, and caught a glimpse of a nearby shopping mall. It was one of the few she hadn't been to before, about equidistant between her apartment and her long commute to work, but too far from either to have warranted an earlier visit. She'd go shopping, she decided, taking the off-ramp as soon as it presented itself. A few minutes later, she was pulling into a parking space close to one of those monolithic department stores, and that was when she realized she'd left most of her credit cards at home.

Damn her husband! She cursed Frankie in her thoughts. He'd forced her to give up all her credit cards the previous week, as she was prone to shopping in binges, and she had a bad habit of regularly maxing out her credit limits. It was Carmela's own money she was spending, wasn't it? What right did he have to tell Carmela how she should be spending it? Why had she agreed to hand over her credit cards in the first place? It was as if she'd cut off her arm or something! She needed her plastic to survive!

Clicking on the interior light, she rummaged through her purse until she found her wallet. There was a single credit card inside, which Frankie had warned her was only for emergencies. It was one of those secured deals, where she'd put three hundred dollars into a savings account, and she was restricted to spending only that amount.

She couldn't do much with a measly three hundred, not with her extravagant tastes. A few pairs of shoes and a latte coffee, and that would be the end of it. Mischievously, she considered purchasing one of those calendars with those hunky firemen showing off their muscles, but Frankie had torn up the last one she'd gotten. It had been meant as a joke, a catalyst for Frankie to get up off his lazy ass and start taking better care of his body, but that had backfired with a vengeance as he was now eating even more junk food than before.

What to do, what to do? Carmela spotted a movie theater sign near the parking lot's periphery, and she concluded that watching a movie wasn't a bad idea. It would help her forget about Frankie, Gerald, and all the commotion those two were causing in her life. She was too far to make out what titles were playing, but that didn't matter. Carmela was already looking forward to easing back in the theater's luxury seats, gripping a diet drink, munching on some lightly buttered popcorn, and watching some hot and adventurous romance where the heroine would eventually be swept off her feet by some gorgeous beefcake. Too bad stuff like that didn't happen in real life. At least, stuff like that never happened to her.

She was still wearing her stuffy business attire from work, but with her frequent visits to the gym, and her infrequent rendezvous with Gerald, she'd taken to carrying around a couple of sets of extra clothing in the back of her SUV. Slipping out from the driver's seat, she stepped over to open the back gate and perused her stockpile. The sweats wouldn't work for the theater, she contemplated, and neither would her skimpy red shorts, although she loved the way the shorts hugged her tight butt and showcased her trim and tanned legs. Carmela pulled out a short black skirt, snug at the middle to draw attention to her lean waist, and she decided to top it off with a casual, violet hued, button top blouse. For footwear, she chose her black ankle strap sandals.

The young woman had deliberately parked with the tailgate facing away from the mall and its intrusive lampposts, in order to effect a quick change of wardrobe. This was another bad habit she'd picked up from her clandestine meetings with Gerald, she smirked, taking a quick glance to make sure no people were about. Her conservative white blouse was soon unbuttoned and removed, along with her dark gray houndstooth slacks. Both were neatly folded and placed on the SUV's rear deck, leaving her clad only in her lacy black bra and matching thong. As she was putting away her black heels from work, she gradually became aware of a car engine idling nearby.

It was a mall security truck, which had crept to a point some thirty feet away and sat there with its engine running and its lights shut off. The driver, an overweight and older white guy, stared at her with his mouth wide open.

Ignoring the sentry, Carmela carelessly pulled on the skirt, secured it, and casually started doing the same with her top. Had the security guard been more to her liking, she might have taken a bit longer to get dressed, but alas, fortune was not in the man's favor that night.

As soon as the ankle straps were fastened, and her business attire put away, she walked back over to the driver's door and clicked on the interior light, reaching all the way into the center console. It took her a few moments to retrieve her casual jewelry, all forged from the trendy 14 karat rose gold she'd come to fancy; a couple of flexible bangle bracelets, a chain weave necklace with an amethyst pendant, and a tri-color ankle bracelet adorned with tiny hearts and tiny gemstone insets. She'd no doubt that the old security guard was staring at her cute backside and legs, and although the old man was nowhere near her type, she nevertheless felt herself becoming aroused at being watched so intently by a complete stranger.

A rampant thought crossed Carmela's mind; that of the security guard coming up behind her and forcing her skirt up, manhandling her thong aside and forcing himself into her. Once she envisioned his fat belly rubbing against the bare skin of her lower back, however, the thought simply vanished, and quickly she finished putting on the last of her bling and locked up the car. Resisting the urge to pull up her skirt one last time for the benefit of her spectator, Carmela commenced the short stroll to the nearest entrance. She changed her mind a few yards away, however. She glanced back, to make sure that the truck was still there, and that the sentry was still watching. Nonchalantly, she flipped up her skirt and wiggled her saucy ass at him. She was such a naughty tease! She thought, as she got moving again.

Her brisk pace soon brought her to the indoor mall's large sliding doors, and without bothering to look back again, she stepped into its air-conditioned confines.

Barely past eight, and all of the good shops were already closed, she noted with some dismay. Most of the eateries were still up and running, however, and catering to the younger crowd. She observed a noticeably ethnic gathering of mostly black girls wearing tight jeans and black boys with askew ball caps and basketball jerseys.

Some of the women eyed her clothing and jewelry jealously, and for some reason she was reminded of some dumb movie quote she'd heard; 'Game recognize Game'. The truth was; none of the females around her were even remotely in her league. Carmela was so head and shoulders above them, both physically and materially, that she might as well have been from another planet. And judging from the way the small packs of young men and women were staring at her, they all knew it, too.

Carmela felt like the pied piper, only instead of a pipe, she was using the tight wiggle of her hips to arouse the male members of the crowd. Dozens of eyes followed her sexy sway towards the ticket booth, where she paused to scan through the various movie titles.

"Girl, you lookin' fine." Somebody called out, and she cast a quick glance towards a small mob of unruly teens. All of them were skinny or scruffy, heavily negligent in their personal appearance and oozing of ghetto swagger, and therefore not her type. Besides, whoever had made the comment had no intention of making a move on her; he was simply showing off to his peers as part of their alpha male or machismo dominance.

She saw a couple of Latino men present as well, but their insecure ghetto nags were holding them back. This didn't prevent the men from staring attentively and lustily in her direction, however. She brought her hands up to purposefully play with her hair, her way of teasing the threatened women by showing off her perky C cups, and the two rival girls' frowns turned to outright and menacing grimaces.

With some distress, she realized most of the movies playing were action flicks, and she walked up to the cashier to get a better idea of their plots. "Any of these movies have a good love story?"

The female clerk looked back at her with vacant eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

Some help this minimum-wager turned out to be, Carmela sighed as she placed her hands on her hips and considered her next move.

"You might consider watching Raven Claws." An articulate voice came from her right side.

She turned to confront the speaker, who turned out to be a clean-shaven, handsome black man with a single, stylish diamond earring. Unlike the other youths she'd previously observed in the mall, this one had the fashion sense to wear a black silk shirt, tucked in, and khaki pants that weren't five sizes too big for him or showed off his boxers. He looked kind of young, however.

"What are you, sixteen?" As if she weren't interested, Carmela turned towards the movie posters lining the theater's wall until she found the one he'd mentioned. It looked like the run-of-the-mill horror trash she usually avoided. "Besides, I'm not into those sickening torture movies."

Unperturbed, the young man brazenly stepped into her line of vision. "Don't mind the misleading poster, it's not that type of movie." He shook his head and smiled. "It is a love story, in its way, and if you don't mind me spoiling the plot a little bit..." He paused until Carmela indicated he go on. "It's about a woman whose husband is murdered by a crime syndicate, and she's so distraught that she goes after the killers herself. The romance part is kind of a reoccurring theme, with frequent flashbacks to the better times she had with her husband."

"You've seen it before?"

"It got a good review in the Reader." He nodded. "I don't know if you've ever read the reviews in the Reader, but that guy does not give good reviews on anything."

"I know what you mean." Carmela agreed, softening her voice a little. "Anyway, I'll consider it. Thanks."

"No problem." He smiled again, holding his hand out to shake hers. "My name is Terrell. I've got to check on my brother, and make sure he's keeping out of trouble, but maybe I'll see you inside. If you're into a dark, gothic atmosphere, you'll probably love the movie." Terrell started walking away. "And I'm twenty, not sixteen. I just have a cute baby face, don't I?"

He had charm, too, Carmela thought as she watched his retreating form. Even though she'd never been with a black man, she'd considered it plenty of times, thanks to the escapades she'd heard from her more daring coworkers. Maybe somebody like Terrell was just what she needed for a change of pace.

Once she'd purchased her ticket, Carmela stepped inside the lounge and ordered herself a diet Pepsi and small popcorn. She carried her items down the long hallway until she located the right screen, and made her way through the darkened aisles until she parked herself in her favorite area, near the front and dead center. She hadn't missed anything yet, as the previews were still showing, and a quick glance around informed her that the chamber was nearly deserted, save for two or three couples in random spots. Judging from the scarcity and attire of the crowd, she guessed the movie might just suit her tastes, unlike most of the pop trash that shopping malls were screening nowadays.

A few minutes later, the ads disappeared and the lights darkened. The screen flickered randomly for a few seconds, eventually focusing on the face of a dark haired young woman, sitting silently on the floor, in a corner of some dark old house complete with peeling paint and deep shadows.

"Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned." The woman's narrative voice began, while the screen flashed several quick gruesome images. "I'd read that somewhere, once. A long time ago, when I had the time for books..."

Carmela eased back into the comfort of the chair, quickly becoming engrossed with the heroine's dire plight. The movie was starting off pretty good, she acknowledged, wondering if and when the dashing Terrell would make his appearance.

He came in some twenty minutes later.

"How's the movie so far?" He whispered, taking a spot two seats away from her. He settled a small drink in the chair's built-in cup holder, and a small tray of nachos on his lap. "You know, I don't think I got your name earlier."

"I'm Carmela, and the movie's fine." She replied, pleased that Terrell hadn't automatically taken the seat next to hers, and a little curious as to how he'd brazenly walked into a movie he probably hadn't paid for. "Aren't you worried that the usher might kick you out?"

Terrell finished munching on a nacho. "Nah, there aren't that many people trying to sneak into this one. Besides, I did pay for a ticket, to one of the action flicks, but my brother and his friends are in there making so much noise, I couldn't get into the plot."

"He sounds like he's a handful." Carmela giggled.

"Trust me, he is." Terrell nodded. "But what can I say? He's my little bro." He glanced up at the screen, where the heroine was reminiscing events from her former life. "I'll be quiet now, so you can enjoy the movie."

The truth of the matter was that Carmela was becoming more interested in the young man sitting beside her than she was in the movie. She wouldn't have minded at all if he displayed a little more attention towards her. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to strike up any further conversation, Carmela reluctantly turned her attention back to the movie.

Maybe half an hour later, Carmela heard the theater doors slam open, followed by several loud and intrusive guffaws. Moments later, two shadowy forms were scurrying down the aisle. "Terrell, where you at?" A sharp voice hissed out.

Carmela could hear Terrell mutter "Shit." right before he flagged down the two newcomers. "Over here."

The two unruly figures scrambled across the row of seats right behind Carmela. Noisily, they plopped themselves down, still giggling loudly and distracting her from the movie.

Noting her irritation, Terrell shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sorry." He turned back to address the two troublemakers. "What did you guys do?"

"Drake here dropped his soda on some fool." One answered, before erupting into another round of laughter.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Terrell asked.

"He was askin' for it." Drake replied offhandedly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just what it sounds like." Drake countered. "That fool kept staring at me in the lobby, so he got what was coming to him."

"But that ain't the funniest part of it." The second teen cut in. "Drake didn't even get blamed for that, on account of it being so dark. Some other jackass did. Them fools were pushin' and shovin' at each other until the ushers came in and kicked them both out!"

Drake snickered.

"I can't believe you, bro." Terrell shook his head. "Can't I even take you to the movies without you always starting some kind of mess?"

"Guess not."

The other teenager glanced up at the screen, catching part of a mushy scene between the heroine and her soon-to-be-deceased beau. "What kind of junk is this? Ain't this supposed to be a killer flick? Drake, let's get rollin,' man."




The House of Robles 1.10



Drake had grimaced at the scene himself, but now, his attention drifted down to the hottie sitting two seats away from his older brother. Just like his brother, he mused, to have a nice piece of ass sitting an arm's length away, and he wasn't even trying to talk to her. "Why don't you go on ahead, eh? I gotta ask my brother something, then I'll catch up with you."

"A'ight." The other nodded, already getting to his feet. "I'll meet you over at the arcade." He shuffled away.

"Can't you go out even for one night without doing something stupid?" Terrell asked, once the second perpetrator was gone.

"Why don't you just watch your movie?" Drake snapped.

Terrell shook his head again, and settled back in his seat.

The commotion now over, Carmela returned her own attention back to the movie screen, where the heroine was now crying over her slain lover's grave. "I will avenge your murder." The actress was saying.

The relative silence did not last long however, as Drake was soon clambering over the row of seats and dropped into the vacant opening directly beside Carmela. Arrogantly, he placed his arm across her shoulders and brought his face in close to hers.

"Do you fucking mind?" Carmela asked.

"No, do you?" Drake replied, keeping his face hovering around her like a mosquito. "But let me ask you this, do you know what my brother's biggest problem is?"

"I'm starting to have a pretty good idea."

Drake smiled and drew back a little, enough for Carmela to get a good look at him. He was solidly built, she gave him that much, and his features were as handsome and rugged as his brother's were.

They appraised one another for a good moment, until Drake glanced over and made sure he had his brother's attention. "My brother's biggest problem is that he's too slow with the ladies." He spoke aloud. "If it was me, I'd already have your digits down, and I'd have been spittin' all kinds of game to you right now..."

"Cut it out, Drake." Terrell warned. "Why don't you go hit up the arcade like you said you would?"

"Yeah, why don't you just go away?" Carmela agreed, taking his arm away from her shoulders. "And stop being such an asshole while you're at it."

Drake leaned back, briefly mocking apprehension. He smiled again and loomed closer. "Girl, I just want to see you shake that thing."

"It's not 'girl.' It's Carmela. And I'm not one of your little hood rats."

Drake boldly took up one of her hands, and for a moment, Carmela was poised to scratch his eyes out. Shockingly, the rough teen merely brought his lips down and kissed it. "It's Princess Carmela to me." After a moment, however, his tongue slipped out and wetly circled around her knuckles.

"Pervert." Carmela snatched her hand away.

"There's a lot more where that came from." He whispered, careful that his brother wouldn't overhear. "And I mean, a lot more."

"You're a pig."

"I got satisfied customers all over this state, and a couple other states, too." Drake said, then laughed at his own joke.

Finally having had enough, Terrell stood up. "Carmela, I'm really sorry about this. Can I walk you out?"

Carmela glanced in his direction. So much for having some relaxation time before she went back home, she sighed. "Sure." She got to her feet, only to have Drake's arm snare her waist and guide her down into his lap. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Her nails quickly found and dug into Drake's forearm. "Let me go, or else."

"I was just playing with you." Drake released her, but not before nuzzling his chin against the back of her neck. "Seein' as how you're all uptight. What you need to do is to loosen up a little bit."

"I am not uptight." Carmela shot back, shoving his arm away and getting up. She sidestepped to the end of the row, where Terrell waited for her.

"Where you going, girl?" Drake asked. "We're just getting the party started here."

"I'll deal with you later." Terrell nearly snarled at his brother, only to hear Drake laugh back at him.

With Terrell following closely behind her, Carmela made her way back to the lobby.

"I'm really sorry about my brother. He can be a real jerk sometimes. He's been like that ever since he turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago. He thinks he can get away with anything now." Terrell stated nervously, pulling out his wallet once he had enough light to see. "Let me give you twenty bucks. That should cover the price of the movie ticket and the popcorn you left behind."

Carmela crossed her arms, feigning being upset at not having watched the remainder of the movie. In truth, she'd felt a rush of adrenalin at being roughly handled by Drake. It had reminded her of some of the rough men in the romance novels she was so fond of reading, where they didn't ask permission to push a heroine against a wall somewhere and start shoving their tongues down her throat. "Do you really think that twenty bucks is enough to cover the humiliation I just went through?"

"No. No, I don't." Terrell offered her the bill. "But it is a start. Let me take you out to eat or something. Anything you want, my treat."

Carmela pushed the currency back, quickly going over her options. "I don't want your money, and I'm not hungry."

"Well, tell me what I can do for you." Terrell replied, holding out the twenty once again, waiting until Carmela shook her head before he finally put it away.

"You can start by walking me to my car."

"Sure, I can do that." Terrell nodded, and like a gentleman, he held out the crook of his arm. "Lead the way, my lady."

Such a remarkable difference between the two brothers, Carmela thought, as she allowed herself to be escorted towards the exit. One was polite and courteous: a perfect gentleman. The other was aggressive and unapologetic, like a common thug. Which would make the better lover? She wondered. "Why is your brother so rude?"

"Drake is a straight ruffian." Terrell shook his head. "I couldn't even begin to tell you why he's like that. He sees the world only for what he can take from it, and now that he's eighteen, he's like a dam that just burst open."

"And you?"

Terrell shrugged his shoulders. "I could say that I was raised right, and that Drake wasn't, but that would be a lie. We were both raised the same way, in the same house, by the same parents. I guess we were just born under different star signs, is all. Now, which way to your car?"

"It's the big red SUV," Carmela directed. "Down there on the end."

Terrell gazed way, way across the parking lot. "Why'd you park way out there? If you're worried about anybody dinging your car, well, it ain't gonna happen. You've got like fifty open spots on all sides."

Carmela waited until they stepped under a light before she answered, just so her companion could see her naughty expression. "I had to take off some of my clothes earlier, while I changed into what I have on now."

"Really?" Terrell replied, his eyes registering some awe. "You're some kind of wild woman, aren't you?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."

The pair paused by the luxuriously appointed vehicle, once they reached it.

"And you drive a nice car, too." Terrell commented.

"It gets me back and forth, if you know what I mean." Carmela flirted, clicking her alarm off so that she could pull the rear gate open. She took a seat on the edge, and patted a spot beside her. "Why don't you stay here and talk to me for a minute?"

It was just dawning on Terrell that she might have something more erotic on her mind than just a simple walk to her car. "Aw, I can't stay." He shook his head. "I have to get back to my brother. I mean, who knows what kind of mischief he could be getting up to? Listen, why don't I get your digits and maybe we can..."

Carmela cut him off. "That won't work. I have a man at home." She stood up and went to him, where she casually placed her hands around his slim waist. "You don't really have to go, do you?" Her face loomed closer to his. "You're gonna leave me all alone out here, in the dark? Who knows what might happen to me, if I'm out here by myself?"

From the sharp intake of Terrell's breath, she could tell he wasn't used to being approached this directly, or maybe he was intimidated by her fashion model looks. Relishing in his growing discomfort, she began running her hands all over his back. "You gonna kiss me, or am I gonna have to do this all by myself?"

"I really shouldn't be doing this." Terrell stated, taking a final breath before he mustered up the courage to seek out her full lips.

Something must have finally clicked on inside his head, Carmela considered, as the young man reached for her, pressed her close, and brought his arms into the foray. His lips were gentle, sliding across hers, and as their two mouths slid back and forth in their erotic dance, his tongue darted into the warmth of her mouth. Carmela swooned and purred from the action, excited further by the fact that they were in such a public place, and that someone like that pervert security guard might happen by at any moment and disrupt their liaison.

Without breaking their kiss, Carmela yanked Terrell's silky shirt out from the waist of his pants. Her hands crept under the fabric, feeling the smoothness of his dark skin, and he inhaled sharply as her fingernails grazed up and over his tight chest. Her exploring hands drew around to his back, and everywhere the hands went, she felt goose pimples erupt below them. For a moment, Carmela rested her hands on the man's lean waist, allowing herself to savor his passionate kisses, before they took a steady plunge into the waist of his pants and captured the upper curve of his butt. A soft moan fled from between her corralled lips, and from his.

Finally, Terrell began to show signs of fervor, as his hands cradled Carmela's sensuous shoulders, but she was well past that. Her hand went to his crotch, where her fingers located the button and zipper on his slacks, while at the same time she planted a few teasing pecks on Terrell's lips. Once she had his pants undone and the ends pulled apart, she reached past the soft cloth of his boxers and discovered his rigid cock. She took a moment to felt its soft heat within her grip. Her hands began to slide up and down its acceptable length, and as her breathing quickened and her senses spiked, she reached for Terrell's waist and prodded him towards the open gate of her SUV.

She sat him on the vehicle's wide edge, keeping him in place with a few kisses until she drew back and unfastened the handful of buttons on his shirt. In the dim amber glow from a nearby lamppost, Carmela took in Terrell's sharply defined chest and abdomen, and wanting more, she carefully drew his pants and boxers away until his cock and thighs were exposed.

"I wish my girl was as brazen as you are." Terrell said dreamily, groaning as Carmela's tickling fingernails started tracing over his dark skin and taut muscles.

Every passing moment brought them closer to being discovered, Carmela reminded herself, dismissing some of the more passionate movements she might have enjoyed in a more intimate setting, and narrowing her intentions sharply. Her fingers curled around the base Terrell's chocolate member, giving it a few long strokes and producing erotic grunts from the young man's mouth.

Without further complication, Carmela leaned forward and captured the stiff cock with her mouth. She kept it in place with her lips, as her caressing tongue lolled it around her mouth. Under, around and over the slick tip her wet tongue swirled, until Terrell's soft touch ran through her loose hair and neck. Changing her method, Carmela casually drew more of his length into her mouth, slowly savoring the action, before her lips slightly loosened and made their way back up the sensual peak. With some mischief in her eyes, Carmela gazed at the enraptured face of Terrell, open-mouthed and taking raspy breaths, and she playfully teased at the rigid member with her eager tongue.

"Girl, you've got some talent." He managed to declare, before her steamy actions caused him to draw his head back and moan. "Oh, yeah, you do."

Wishing she had more time, or more privacy, Carmela reluctantly pulled away from her captive and straightened up. As Terrell watched appreciatively, she turned her back to him, drawing her tight skirt up and around her waist. In the subdued glare of the nearby lamppost, she could imagine his wanting eyes gazing across her tight, beautiful ass, and centering on the thin black stretch of fabric that made up her thong.

Men loved the taut swells of her butt, and it didn't matter where she was: the gym, the office, anywhere, because she always got their attention. With her classy taste in fashion, and her lean waist, they could only dream of seeing the athletic figure she kept under her enticing wraps. And here she was, wantonly exposing her sweet body to some complete stranger, in the middle of a mall parking lot.

The thought made her giddy with pleasure, and once she'd hooked her fingers into the waist of her thong, she slowly drew the fabric down to her thighs. Bending down to further provoke her admirer, she lowered the thong to her ankles and stepped out of it. She brought the garment up with her, twirling it around with her fingers, before she tossed it into the depths of her vehicle.

With her skirt still encircling her upper thighs, Carmela stepped towards Terrell, prodding him to lean back. Her warm legs straddled his dark torso, and she reached behind her to guide the sturdy cock inside her.

Both parties gasped in unison as the hard shaft slid into her moist folds. Carmela pressed her weight down, taking as much of him as she could, relishing the feel and length of him wrapped inside her. She sensuously ground her hips on him, even as a building intensity began to blossom from between her legs and spread out and around her body.

Daringly, Terrell slid his soft hands across her thighs and over the swell of her ass. The fingers groped at her flesh, clenching it within their grasp, until they disappeared momentarily. As Carmela's fervor started to increase, the fingers soon reappeared on her chest, groping and fondling her full breasts still enclosed within the stylish blouse.

The audacity of their public act pushed Carmela's drive over the edge, and the woman increased her sexual grind to a reckless fuck that began shaking the entire vehicle. The outmatched Terrell could do little more than hold on for dear life as Carmela bucked wildly and pummeled herself onto him. Somewhere down the line, he climaxed and gritted his teeth to keep from shouting out loud, but Carmela was too busy with her own rising excitement to notice.

Finally, it hit her; that overwhelming rush of orgasm that shook her to a halt and coursed through her body like a tidal wave. Carmela's raised hands found the ceiling of her SUV, bracing her erupting body in place, even as her mouth exploded with loud groans of pleasure. She draped herself over her lover's now spent form, releasing deep breaths onto his warm chest and staying in place until the last of the erotic shivers began to fade away.

Carmela pulled herself away from Terrell's exerted body, and had just taken a seat beside him, when both were startled to find a widely grinning young man standing a few feet away.

"What?" Terrell testily asked his younger brother.

Drake was busy taking in Carmela's lean legs. "Just thought you oughta know. Your girl stepped into the mall just a few minutes ago."

"Tabby?" Terrell asked, clearly distraught. "She's here, at the mall? Are you kidding me?" Frantically, he began getting his clothing back together. "What's she doing here?"

"I told her you didn't tell me what movie you were going to watch, and that you might be at any one of them, knowing your fucked up taste." Drake shrugged his shoulders. "You know how your girl gets, T. She started raising a ruckus inside the theater when she couldn't find you, so I told her I'd help her look for you." Again, his eyes skimmed back towards Carmela, who was now straightening up her skirt. "You'd better go check her, before she starts beating on somebody."

Terrell fumbled his nice shirt into his slacks and started walking away, only then remembering that Carmela was still sitting there. "Shit, I'm sorry." He started, "But I've got to go deal with this."

Clearly, Carmela was irritated at being so quickly dismissed. "Then go deal with it."

Drake smirked. "My big brother's just a pussy-whipped nigguh."

"No, I'm not!"

"Then why don't you just call her on your phone," Drake teased. "And put that dumb heifer in her place."

Terrell glared at his brother for a long moment, until he briskly started away. "I'm sorry, Carmela. I have to go and take care of this."

"Tabby and Terrell, sittin' in a tree," Drake further insulted his retreating brother. "A-R-G-U-I-N-G."

Angrily, Carmela crossed her arms and cast an angry glare at the retreating Terrell. "That son of a bitch..."

"Hey, now." Drake warned her. "That's my momma you're talking about."

Ignoring the upstart, Carmela stood up and reached over to grasp the vehicle's hatch. She intended to slam the thing shut and drive away from that mall as fast as possible, because she did not appreciate men turning their back on her, when Drake's powerful arms reached around her waist and shamelessly encircled her breasts.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She hissed at him, whirling around to see if what part of him she was going to claw at first.

Drake grinned as he snagged both her wrists. "I'll let you guess at what I'm up to." He smirked, carefully directing her slender arms down to her sides. "And here's a hint." He brought both her hands together at his crotch, where a noticeable bulge met Carmela's struggling fingers. "Now, I'm going to let you go, and you can do one of two things. You can walk away from here, no questions asked, or you can find out what's hiding behind door number one." With that, he released his grip. "That's where the grand prize is."

"You arrogant shit." Carmela stepped back and let loose a jaw-jarring slap.

Drake barely flinched. "I guess I deserved that, for coming on to you so strong." He admitted. "But I think you're the kind of girl that likes it a little rough." He reached out and snared one of Carmela's wrists, slowly returning it towards where his zipper was. Again, he settled her hand on his crotch. "You ready to claim your prize yet?"

This time, Carmela allowed her hand to graze against Drake's jeans for a longer moment, feeling the concealed member throb against the back of her hand. Intrigued, she caressed at the firm and sizable outline. She ordered, "Pull it out."

Drake undid the single button and enticingly pulled down the zipper, but Carmela couldn't stand the suspense. Her hand dove past the elastic of his loose boxers and surrounded the monster lurking below.

"I call it the Nearly Nine." Drake boasted, as Carmela eagerly stroked at the length. He yanked his boxers down to his thighs, causing his long tool to bound in Carmela's grip.

Spellbound, Carmela had to force her eyes to look up at the grinning gangster. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

"You think so?" In response, Drake reached up to the collar of Carmela's blouse and wrenched it apart. Buttons popped off and bounced all over as the piece of clothing ripped straight down the middle.

"What the hell?" Carmela yelled. "Do you have any idea what this blouse cost?"

"Do I care?" Drake grabbed the athletic woman and forced her back against the edge of the vehicle, where Terrell had been sitting just a few minutes earlier. "Besides, from what I can see, you can afford to get yourself another one."

Carmela stumbled back in surprise, her butt landing on the tailgate's carpet while her legs were being manhandled into the air. Drake stepped closer, managing to hold her ankles steady with one of his large hands, stretching her thighs back almost to her head, while his other hand aimed his missile and pushed. His cock found the still moist mark, and forced its way deep inside of her. Very deep.




The House of Robles 1.10



Carmela yelped at the invasion, feeling the intrusive monster hit the farthest reaches of her being. After a brief stay, the cock slid out, washing the young woman with a sense of relief and a guilty pleasure at being penetrated so roughly. Then, the beast returned, barreling through her pussy like a train and halting only when there was no more place for it to go. She shrieked again, as her eyes clamped shut and her body reacted with a wild ardor she'd hardly ever experienced before. Well, maybe once before, when she'd screwed her husband's father...

Drake's free hand came into play, grabbing and pinching at her aroused breasts through the soft lace of her bra. "What's your man gonna say?" He teased, withdrawing himself entirely. "When you tell him you had nearly nine inches of big, black cock bangin' your ass."

"Do you want to talk about him all night?" Carmela snapped back. "Or do you want to fuck me instead?"

Feeling her legs being spread far apart, she watched as Drake guided himself back into her. She winced as the considerable length slid inside, half hoping that Drake would leave himself planted there and throw her body into some sort of extended orgasm. He complied somewhat, starting a steady rhythm of advance and retreat, each long stroke coursing shock waves into the fit and willing Latina.

Drake's movements sped up, his extra large balls slapping harshly on Carmela's exposed ass. "Your hubby's gonna be so mad when he finds out..."

Somehow, Carmela managed to push Drake back and bring her strained legs back on the ground. "I want to do it this way." She explained to Drake, who for the first time that night was expressing uncertainty. He was pretty used to getting his way, Carmela thought to herself, instead turning around and leaning into the SUV. Her tight ass beckoned him closer.

Drake rubbed the firm flesh of her butt for a few seconds, then brought his hands under her abdomen and squeezed her breasts just long enough to hear Carmela purr in response.

"Ding, ding! Round Two." He announced, and a second later, he backed off and positioned himself behind her. Slowly, he slipped his long tool into her.

Feeling Drake's thrusts was not enough, prompting Carmela to take control. She pushed herself backwards, shoving her body at him, engulfing him, and once she'd taken him entirely in, she gritted her teeth and commenced a steady rotation of her hips. She slowly pulled away on her own, and slammed her butt back into him, impaling herself with pleasure and daring the sensation to ascend to the next level. After a handful of these erotic efforts, Drake simply held onto her lean waist and let her do all the work.

Carmela twisted the long cock sideways, then up, then down, letting its heat simmer inside her until she could no longer bear it. She moaned out loud as her climax began to engulf her, jumpstarting Drake into action. He gripped her hips like a vise, slamming short and decisive strokes that further agitated her cries, until her sensuous reaction brought him right up to the edge and drove him past it. He exploded into her, his grip tightening and his own throat uttering rough grunts of release. As they both climaxed, Drake decreased his tempo and rocked back and forth until all of his energies had been siphoned out.

Exhausted, Drake pulled himself out and braced an unsteady arm against the side of the vehicle. Carmela turned around and dropped heavily onto the back of the SUV, her face moist with sweat.

"Whew!" Carmela panted. "That was totally worth the price of a movie ticket. I have to see you again."

"I aim to please." Drake smiled, using a corner of his boxers to wipe away the last of his expulsion. "Too bad there won't be a next time."

"And why not? Don't tell me you've got a nag waiting for you, too."

"Nuthin' like that. Just your man, and how he might disapprove of me and my Nearly Nine." Drake replied, gesturing as if Carmela should know better. "A hot thing like you should be kept under watch twenty-four-seven."

She stared back at him mischievously. "My sex life has been turned upside down over the last couple of weeks. I might just be looking for something with no strings attached."

"So, you're looking for a rematch? Izzat right?"

Carmela smiled and nodded. She took a moment to locate her small purse, and withdrew the telephone, which she used to verify the time. "I gotta get going." She said, remembering her ruined blouse. "You owe me for my blouse. That thing cost me over sixty bucks, and I intend to make you pay for every button you broke off of it." She scolded, and pensively softened her tone as she thought of her state of appearance. "I'll have to stop at the gym to take a quick shower, too. No way I can go home looking like this."

Drake zipped up his pants. "Yeah, well maybe I can make an exception for you. Seein' as how I might have some time open on my busy schedule."

"Whatever." Carmela replied, starting to put her own clothes back in order. She paused to activate the memory on her phone. "Give your the digits, and if I feel like it, I might get back to you."

Drake smiled and gave up his phone number. "If I see it's you calling, I might just answer."

"You are such an asshole." Carmela teased, gathering up the rest of her things as she quickly worked out what she was going to say when she got back home. Ever since that stressful call from Frankie earlier, she thought to herself blissfully, things had brightened up considerably.



The House of Robles 1.01



Pablo's soft snores reached her ears, and after taking a deep breath, Carmela leaned into her car. Gingerly, she reached out and rested her fingers on her car keys, which were still in the driver's seat where she'd left them.

Should I wake Pablo up or not? She asked herself. She was about to call out to him, when she recalled the big, fat cock she'd seen earlier.

After another deep breath, she quietly boarded her car and started it up. Slowly, carefully, she backed out of the driveway, and at a crawl, she rolled her vehicle down the bumpy alley that led back to the paved street. As she climbed onto the edge of the pavement, Carmela glanced over at the dark form of Pablo, but he was still snoring. She thought to herself, this is it. Any further and she'd be past the point of no return.

She glanced down at the obscure area between the man's legs and shuddered.

With renewed determination, Carmela slightly pressed on the gas, and soon left the crappy neighborhood far behind. Her apartment was almost ten minutes away and in Chula Vista, a much nicer part of town, and just as she made the last turn toward her complex's security gate, she heard Pablo finally start to stir.

In the dark, the man clumsily activated the controls and slowly raised his seat up to a normal position. "Ooh, where are we?"

Carmela was dumbfounded, but only for a few moments. "My car was making this noise the other day, and I was hoping you could tell me what it was." She glanced over, hoping she sounded sincere. "But I drove almost all the way to my apartment, and I still haven't heard it. I was going to wake you if I did."

"Cars have a bad habit of doing things like that." Pablo stated, dryly smacking his lips together.

By then, the security gate had opened, and Carmela drove past, heading directly towards her building.

"The engine sounds fine to me. I mean, this is a new car, so I wouldn't expect much going wrong with it." The man shrugged. "You're giving me a ride back home, yeah?"

"Sure." Carmela answered. "I just want to get something from my apartment first, if that's okay?"

Pablo nodded as if he had a choice, and soon the SUV pulled into its assigned stall in the long carport.

Carmela exited the vehicle, hurrying over to her apartment's front door, and not surprised to find that most of the lights were off. That meant that Frankie was still away at his second job. She let herself in, bolting upstairs and into her bedroom, where she quickly shucked off her work attire.

For good measure, her bra and panties came off, too.

Then, Carmela stepped into her large walk-in closet, where she yanked out a white button-up blouse and a loose fitting black skirt. Black, ankle high boots came next, and finally, a pair of three inch, gold plated hoop earrings were produced from her ornate jewelry box.

For a moment, Carmela appraised herself in her full-length mirror, and giddily she hurried back over to the front door. Soon, she was strolling down the short sidewalk, employing a provocative and sexy saunter, and making sure that her handsome father would admire her approach.

"You sure look different in your street clothes." He told her as she took the driver's seat.

"You think?" Carmela asked, expertly backing up from her parking spot and driving back towards the security gate.

"Can we make one stop before you take me home?" Pablo asked. "Since you and Amanda finished the rest of my beer, would you mind stopping at a liquor store? That's why I got into your car in the first place, but I guess I was more tired than I realized, and I must have fallen asleep."

"Okay, but we have to make one quick stop before that."

"Sure, no problem." He said.

Again, like he had a choice.

Carmela left the vicinity of the apartment complex, driving a few short blocks away. They came to a dark and empty public park, one that had long since been closed for the night. A thick, locked bar prohibited access to the obscure parking lot.

This was no problem for the capable SUV, which easily drove up the adjacent sidewalk and around the barricade.

"Wait, where are we headed to?" Pablo asked, puzzled at the bumpy maneuver.

"A shortcut." Carmela drove further into the park, using the wide pathway normally reserved for pedestrians. She went past a huge clump of trees, and well out of sight of any passing motorists. Needless to say, she'd done this before a few times. "We're almost there."

A few seconds later, the car halted and Pablo glanced around at the dark and abandoned trees and benches. "Why are you stopping here?"

Ignoring him, Carmela shut off the engine, followed by the headlights. Then, she switched on the interior lights to retrieve a hair band from the ashtray. Smoothly, she pulled her curly hair back and tied it into a tight ponytail, and just as quickly, she shut the lights off. The only remaining illumination came from a single lamppost some twenty feet away, and its dull glare left them comfortably in the shadows.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhhh." She whispered. "I just want to pay you for helping me with the oil change."

"You don't have to pay me for doing that..."

"Shhhh." She repeated, and with some determination, she reached over until her hand rested on Pablo's chest. She began caressing his muscular pecs, slowly swirling her hand back and forth, half expecting the older man to grip her wrist and stop her. When he didn't, Carmela became even more brazen, and she brought her eager hand down to touch his soft belly. She heard Pablo's sharp intake of breath, as her fingers dared past the loose fabric of his soft shorts and came to rest on his lower thigh. With her own breathing becoming agitated, Carmela kept making soft, short circles on the man's thigh, and drawing his shorts back a little more with every revolution. "Do me a favor, and tilt your chair all the way back."

For a moment, Carmela worried he wouldn't do it, but she soon heard his fingertips fumbling in the dark with the seat controls, and the soft electric whine announced that the seat was soon leaning back as far as it could go. Carmela reached further across the man's leg, invading beneath the fabric and brushing over his thick pubic hair for a few moments, before finally her fingers came to rest on his warm member.

"It's so big." She whispered dreamily, feeling it suddenly twitch under her tender touch. She ran her fingertips across its length, hearing a low moan issue from her father's mouth.

"You really shouldn't be doing this." Pablo said quietly, although he made no real motion to stop her. "You're married to my son."

"I'm so naughty, aren't I?" Carmela replied, pushing the loose fabric further away and gently raising the cock into the air. She placed one hand near its base, and then encircled her other hand above it. There was still a good portion left free, including the fat head, she realized. She let go of the hard shaft just long enough to reposition herself in her seat.

"You won't tell anybody what a bad girl I've been, will you?" She asked.

Grabbing hold of the rod once again, Carmela disregarded any thought of romance and foreplay, and went straight for the grand prize. She brought her lips down on the end of Pablo's cock, softly kissing it, then running her tongue down its sides, then all around it in a circle.

"Ooohh." Pablo moaned even louder.

Carmela engulfed the big head with her mouth, discovering the fit to be snug, but not too uncomfortable. Her mouth was wet with anticipation, and slowly, she took in a little more, then drew back in the first of her series of bobs, each one sensuously slow and rewarding in itself, each one bringing a sudden and climactic lurch from the engorged cock and its happy owner.

Settling into the erotic mood, Pablo deliberately ignored the severity of what he was doing, and whom he was doing it with. He placed his hands on Carmela's shoulders, tracing a short path past her neck and up to the back of her head. His fingers became entwined with her hair as he firmly held her in place. Slowly, rhythmically, Pablo began pulsating his cock into her mouth, forcing it further into her throat with every gentle thrust, and raising his hips ever so slightly. Carmela tightened her mouth-grip on the shaft, even as Pablo's thrusts increased in frequency and motion, and when the man's hands noticeably tightened on her head, Carmela began rapidly swirling her tongue around the cramped confines of her mouth.

"Oh! Oooohhh!" Pablo groaned, almost trying to squirm out of Carmela's mouth, but she held on to his hot member as tightly as Pablo was holding on to her head.

The older man tensed himself rigid, prompting Carmela to begin her mouth-strokes again, and this time, it only took a handful of motions before Pablo began to shake uncontrollably. White, steamy juice spat into her mouth, and like a champion rodeo rider, Carmela held on to that bucking horse, keeping the wild beast within her lips until finally, long moments later, it quivered and shook itself limp.

Carmela sat up, clicking on the interior light and reaching into the center console for a couple of tissues. No sooner had she wiped away the lingering traces of semen from her lips, than the light went back off. Tossing the soiled tissues aside, she once again reached over to the massive member that now lay on its side like a huge, dormant cucumber.

"You ready for round two?" She asked seductively, her hand softly rubbing the velvety skin of the flaccid cock.

Pablo, still breathing hard from the exertion, didn't answer, but his cock, as if of its own accord, twitched an enthusiastic response.

Carmela slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, exposing her delicious, orange-size breasts and inching her lean body closer to Pablo's. Her hands reached out to feel the strong muscles of Pablo's chest, and hungrily, she again dismissed the usual formalities and took a moment to pull her blouse completely off. While still sitting on the driver's seat, Carmela lifted her hips, hiking her skirt around her middle. Next, she stretched her taut leg over Pablo's nearly horizontal form and straddled his abdomen, trembling as her bare skin came in contact with the hair and flesh of his thighs. Then, the younger woman leaned forward, offering a pleasing breast to her father's mouth, and shivering when his needy lips surrounded and began sucking on her aroused nipples. Instantly, Pablo brought his hands up to grasp both of her warm breasts, his fingers gently pinching and fondling the soft places his probing tongue was missing.

Carmela repositioned her body on Pablo's, her short pubic hair grazing against his much thicker ones, and the proximity of her sex served to inflame his penis into standing up straight again. Most of its length came to rest on one of Carmela's fleshy ass cheeks, and she shifted aside a couple of inches, allowing the thick rod to prod directly into the crack of her ass. She spread her ass a little more, then closed her legs and clenched her butt around the fat cock, partially trapping it between her sexy cheeks, and letting the alluring sensation erupt a mini-orgasm within her body.

"Oh, yes." She shuddered, lifting herself up a few inches until she could feel the purple helmet sliding its way across her ass and in between her legs. She started her descent, pausing nervously when she felt its size pushing at her moist vagina, and she lifted herself up to try again. For a second time, it seemed as if there were just too much cock for her, and she began to question whether or not she would be able to go through with her plan.

Pablo dropped one hand down between Carmela's legs, sliding a ready finger into her pussy. Carmela responded at once, as if willing to accept the substitution instead of the massive member now prodding into her inner thighs, and she began slowly undulating on the man's hand. After a few moments of this frenzied finger-fucking, Pablo lowered his hand, clenching his shaft about halfway up and guiding it to the wet spot his finger had stirred about.

Carmela tensed up immediately. "I can't!" She said, reaching down to stop him. "It's too big!"

"Just relax." Pablo reassured her. "We'll go slow, and it's never as big the second time around."

Carmela bit her bottom lip, gently lowering herself onto the stiff cock. The head felt huge resting against the opening of her blossoming flower, and for another brief moment, Carmela felt a wave of panic going through her body.

"Relax." Pablo softly whispered. "Just a little at a time."

She was the one that wanted this, Carmela reminded herself. She was the one that wanted to seduce her own father. Bracing her body against Pablo's strong chest, she dropped another half an inch, enough to get the thick head inside, and she groaned as the flesh of her pussy stretched itself out. "Oooh, shit!"

Pablo's hands felt their way up her outer thighs, and came to rest on her shapely ass cheeks. "It's all right, you're doing fine."

Carmela bent forward, driving her waist back, trying to further impale herself on the thick rod, and this time, she had to force her body to press down on it. "Oh, damn! Oh, damn! Oh, damn!"

"That's enough." Pablo cautioned, reaching up to caress one of her breasts.

Carmela sat up once again, her head grazing against the SUV's roof, and ground down her hips with a new surge of fervor. "Oooh, damn!" She hissed out loud, managing to get a good five inches in. That was enough, she thought to herself, trying to pull herself up, but finding that she was almost stuck in that position. It took some effort to get a rhythm going, but after several grunts and groans, she did manage to start up a slow rocking motion. It didn't take long for the first orgasm to wrench through her form, the intense bursts of pleasure causing her to sprawl over Pablo's body again.

Once her shivers began to subside, Carmela straightened up and tried to engulf even more of the monster inside her. She discovered she couldn't. "Damn, this thing is big." She moaned, her arms frantically groping about trying to find some support. She reached behind her, grabbing onto Pablo's lower thighs at the kneecaps, and once again ground her hips downward. Another half inch of meat entered her. "Aaaaagh!" She gasped unevenly.

Pablo's hands slowly drifted up her lean legs and reached around to grip the curvy swells of her ass. His strong fingers groped and kneaded her soft flesh, then moved upwards to encircle her small waist. Using his strength to hold his moaning daughter in place, he slowly rolled his hips, forcing even more of his engorged cock into her.

"Oh, damn!" Carmela cried out, her eyes closed, her body shaking from the invasion. She tried to maneuver herself into motion, only to realize that this time, she really was stuck. Placing her hands on Pablo's chest, she straightened her arms and withdrew the length a little at a time, releasing a long gasp as the space between their abdomens increased. Then, with a sudden jerk, she plunged down on the member again, her breaths becoming short and erratic pants of ecstasy.

As Pablo's hard hands started caressing her sides, working themselves up to her nicely rounded breasts and back down again, Carmela repeated her actions of lifting and impaling herself. After a handful of repetitions, she felt another orgasm building up, and as her breaths quickened, Pablo reached for her waist again and helped increase the tempo of her plunges with his muscular arms.

"Oh damn oh damn oh damn!"

Her moans became high-pitched shrieks, and along with how tight she was, further excited Pablo. As he felt his body about to explode again, he clenched both of Carmela's buttocks and drove his member upwards, his hips leaving the car seat so violently that her head bounced against the vehicle's ceiling. Her scream pushed him over the edge, and with quick thrusts, Pablo began shoving himself deeper and deeper into her, each and every intrusion flooding an electric wave of orgasm through his body, ending in a loud and lusty set of grunts that coincided with Carmela's tremors. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his erection began to subside, and his wild bucking slowed until his ass dropped heavily back onto the coarse fabric of the seat.

Completely spent, the young woman feebly tried to ride his shrinking penis, giving up the action moments later. Her exhausted and wet body she allowed to drape down over the older man's steamy form. Her soft lips landed high on his neck, searching in the dark until they met up with Pablo's open mouth. They kissed slowly and passionately, their tongues mingling together playfully, until this proved to be too much effort for Carmela, who then dropped her head heavily on his shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

Enough for her, Pablo thought to himself, but not for him. His lustful thoughts focused on her sweet rear end, which he still held, and of how tight and firm it felt in his hands. Exhaling a deep breath, he imagined entering her from behind, and the images that flashed through his head were enough to jumpstart him back into a semi-aroused state.

The passenger door cracked open, flooding the inside of the vehicle with light, and Carmela tore herself away from Pablo as she hurriedly found the dial that would keep the interior lights off for good. "What'd you do that for? Do you want everybody to see us?"

For a precious few seconds, Carmela's long legs and sexy ass were in Pablo's sight, until the darkness reclaimed its territory. He reached out to encircle his daughter's waist, and gently, he dragged her to the edge of the seat, and out of the SUV.

"You know I'm standing out here in the open, and almost naked?" She complained as he made her face away from him.

Pablo stepped close behind her, his big cock poking into her fleshy ass.

Carmela shuddered as she considered his intentions. "Again? You're serious?"

His size she had expected, but his stamina she had not. Not like her husband Frankie, who was usually done and gone in five minutes or less, and especially if there was a football game going on.

Pablo positioned his meaty rod between her legs, probing up and down until he felt her wet spot. Once his cock was aligned with the opening, he pressed forward.

"Oohhh!" Carmela cried as the bulge wedged itself inside her.

Pablo held her by the waist, jarring Carmela's body with every thrust and forcing sharp yelps from her mouth. As her exclamations increased, he clenched his hands around the beautiful globes of her breasts, and he began pumping away in earnest.

There was little Carmela could do except to hold on the edge of the passenger seat and let herself be ravaged from behind. "No more!" She mouthed breathlessly, her breasts swinging around wildly. "Take it out! Take it out! Oh! Ooh! Oooohhh!"

The frenzy continued, and soon, her will and control succumbed to the powerful strokes shoving her back and forth. Once again, she surrendered to the intense wave of pleasure that racked her body. "Ah! Ah! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!"

The older man clenched his teeth together, trying to avoid falling to a similar fate. He felt himself teeter on the edge of orgasm, and instead of continuing to fight it, he relented and released it with a long and climactic moan. There wasn't much left for him to give up by then, and when the last of his considerable energies finally began to slip away, he slowed his assault and merely continued through the motions until he was too wilted and exhausted to continue.

Panting and spent like a marathon runner, Pablo withdrew himself and staggered against the cold metal of the SUV's exterior. His arms and legs were shaky from the exertion, or maybe it was from the excitement. He might have made an attempt to climb into the vehicle's back seat, when Carmela's equally sweaty form pressed against him.




The House of Robles 1.01



"You should have told me you could go all night." She scolded him, sweetly.

"You never asked."

"One last kiss?" Carmela asked, leaning in without waiting for a reply. She was tall enough that she didn't need to stand on her tiptoes to get her way, and as their lips met, her hands squeezed his chest.

Taking advantage, Pablo groped her butt and pulled her closer, and they embraced and kissed, until Carmela finally pushed him away.

The young woman wordlessly began composing herself.

Knowing the party was now over, Pablo did the same.

"You can't tell anybody we did this." Carmela warned, once she'd secured the last of her blouse's buttons, and the two illicit lovers were again sitting inside the car. "Ever."

"Don't worry, I won't." Pablo agreed, considering the scandal that might break out if anyone found out he'd just screwed his son's pretty wife.

"And, we can never, ever do it again."

"Never." He confirmed. "Never again."

With that, Carmela took over the driver's seat and turned on the ignition. "We'd better get going."

Shifting the car in gear, the pair drove away together, without saying another word to each other.



The House of Robles 1.02



Melinda Robles swung her late model Honda Accord into the parking spot with a flourish, nearly taking out the side mirror of the car in the next stall over with her reckless driving. Unapologetic, the Latin beauty didn't even bother to back up and correct her badly parked sedan. Instead, she left it angled so awkwardly that the elderly Mrs. Mathers would probably have to climb in through the passenger side if she wanted to drive anywhere in the morning.

Melinda didn't care. Mrs. Mathers was such a wrinkled old bitch anyway. She was always complaining to the apartment complex's manager whenever Melinda had her stereo turned up too loud, or had too many friends over.

As a matter of fact, Melinda had arrived in such a foul mood that part of her was actually hoping the old hag would dare to creep out of her apartment and step right in front of her. Any accusation, any bad look whatsoever would be enough to provoke the twenty-one year-old's short temper. Too bad it was almost midnight, and well past Mrs. Mather's bedtime, she fumed.

Melinda slammed her car door shut, and started walking away before she realized she hadn't even locked it. Impatiently, she clicked away at the alarm button until she heard her car chirp, before she stalked under the sporadic amber glow of the parking lot's cheap lights. Had anyone been watching, they would have seen an attractive woman with black hair, wearing a silky black blouse and low cut, very tight blue jeans, but said observer might have been well intimidated by the deep scowl on the young woman's otherwise pleasing face. But why would Melinda be so upset?

Well, it was her boyfriend's fault. Matt was supposed to pick Melinda up after work for a date, as they'd agreed upon, but for the third time in the last couple of weeks, the asshole hadn't had the decency to show up, or to even give Melinda a call. She'd been left hanging in the wind for over an hour, like old towel on a clothesline, while everyone else that worked with her had walked by on their way home or even worse, out to party somewhere. She'd just been standing there on the sidewalk, smiling sheepishly at her peers while they passed her by, like some sort of idiot.

And she really, really needed to see Matt that night.

You see, Melinda worked as an exotic dancer at the Pleasure Palace, a downtown strip club that catered to some of the wealthiest businessmen in the city. She danced under the stage name of Mercedes, and with her voluptuous J-Lo type figure; nicely rounded B-cup breasts, a thick waist and even thicker hips, Melinda had become one of the most popular strippers in the nightclub. As if that wasn't enough, she had a set of playful brown eyes, full lips, and raven black hair that halted just past her shoulder blades. While her nose might have been less than perfect, just a tad too petite in her opinion, she had more than enough elsewhere to captivate the attention of every man, and even most of the women, that dared set foot inside the club's wide double doors.

It was enough for her to walk out of the club with well over six hundred dollars, while most of the other girls had been struggling their entire shift just to break one. And she'd done all of that on a pretty slow Wednesday night, at the expense of a trio of lean and handsome, nicely attired luxury car salesmen.

They'd begun showering the voluptuous brunette with greenbacks from the moment that she'd hit the stage, and while they often passed on lap dances from the other girls, save for that nosy little Asian girl, Kitty, they'd persisted in getting numerous private dances from Melinda. So many, in fact, that Melinda's legs were the sorest they'd been in months. Back and forth she'd shuttled those guys from their seats next to front of the stage, and to the handful of secluded couches in the back, while their money kept getting siphoned from their wallets as if Melinda was using a vacuum on high suction.

And one of them in particular, the blond haired, blue eyed stud, had made quite an impression on her. He was a clean shaven hunk, with a deep, delicious tan from surfing. As she'd writhed all over that man's chest and arms, she'd felt his taut muscles hiding under the thin fabric of his long sleeved shirt. It didn't hurt that he had a smile like a young Tom Cruise, either.

He 'd managed to turn Melinda on high, and they'd both known it. So much that when she straddled his lap and started gyrating her hips on him, and his hands crept up past her thighs and firmly cupped her ass, she ignored the house rules.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' Said numerous signs, and they were posted all over the place.

Maybe it had been the third or fourth private dance, when this beefcake had been brazen enough to place his fingers on her bare mound, and Melinda had obligingly widened her thighs and allowed her thick lower half to be penetrated. She'd gasped, staring into his beautiful blue eyes as she ground down sensually on the fingers, not wanting to end the risqué encounter, yet keeping vigilant on the thick red curtains separating the public tables from the private couches. How far would she have gone, if that little Asian bitch hadn't walked in that very moment, with another customer in tow?

But Kitty had walked in, and if there was one thing Melinda knew about her, it was that Kitty would dump her customer the second she saw something she didn't like, and head directly over to the Manager On Duty to report the infraction.

Melinda wouldn't lose her job over such an incident, as she was much too valuable to the club, but said manager might see fit to reduce her shifts for a week or two, just to let the provocative Latin stripper know who was really in charge. And of course, Melinda did have a lot of bills to pay.

From that point on, she'd kept her behavior strictly professional, which caused only a minor annoyance to the three salesmen, for they still kept showering her with cash until one of them decided to leave. And since the one that had to go was the one that had driven the trio to the club, the gorgeous blond surfer had to go as well. Too bad for him, for Melinda was feeling mighty hot and mighty bothered by that point, and who knows how far she might have taken him if she'd had the chance?

Besides, she'd been pretty certain that Matt was going to be there to pick her up, and she'd thought of all sorts of ways in which she could expend her sexual appetite with her boyfriend. And maybe while they were tussling on the bed, Melinda could close her eyes and pretend it was the blond stud that she was about to give an incredible blowjob to. Who but Melinda would know what was really going through her head?

But Mr. Asshole Matt hadn't shown up, and as a direct result, in her thoughts she'd cursed him like a sailor for the entire drive home.

Melinda took a determined stroll away from the complex's parking area, and walked over to the mailbox lockers. She pulled out a handful of credit card bills from her box, realized what they were, and just as quickly shoved them back inside. She would get them some other time, she thought, doing an about face and starting the short walk toward her apartment.

She sauntered seductively around the centralized swimming pool, disappointed that none of her male neighbors were around to check out her meaty ass swaying about in her tight jeans. There were one or two tenants she might have been tempted to invite into her apartment, as revenge against Matt for having stood her up, but alas, on this occasion it was not to be. She'd been abandoned on all fronts.

Dismayed at having to spend the night alone, Melinda rounded the final corner to her place, and came in view of her front window. She was surprised to see that the living room light was on, and there were flashes that could only be coming from her big screen TV. Nobody was supposed to be in her apartment, not even Matt, as she was the only person with the key to the front door. She crept a little closer, realizing that the TV was blaring loud enough to cover her actions, and stealthily, she unlocked the entryway and started sliding it open.

Through the widening crack, she could see her nineteen-year-old brother, Junior, lying carelessly on her plush couch. He was facing away from her, on his back, his full attention engrossed on the car chase scene playing out on the screen.

Barely able to control her rising anger at his unauthorized entry, Melinda shut the door as quietly as she'd opened it, and made her way towards the end of couch. That's when she let her anger loose.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, you little shit!" She screamed out loud.

Startled, Junior jumped off the couch and dropped the small bowl of popcorn he'd been holding in his hands. Even as the numerous popped kernels scattered onto the cream colored carpet, the younger brother bolted upright and took in the sight of his ill-tempered sister. "Shit, sis! You scared the fuck out of me!"

To say that Melinda's night wasn't going well would have been a major understatement, and thanks to Junior, it had just gotten worse. "I just asked you, what the hell do you think you're doing in my apartment? How did you get in?"

Junior tentatively took a seat on the edge of the couch. He looked nervous.

"Well?" Melinda persisted, stalking over to the smoked glass coffee table, where she imperiously smacked down her purse. "I'm waiting."

Junior lowered his head a few inches. "I jumped the back wall a few hours ago. When I saw you weren't here, I used my driver's license to jimmy the latch open on the sliding door."

"That's called breaking and entering, you asshole." She shook her head in disbelief, only then remembering just how much cash was sitting inside her purse. She snatched it up again, walking around the small counter and into the kitchenette where she could better hide it. "I thought you were in jail."

"I got out this morning." Junior replied, relaxing enough to return his attention back to the TV screen. After a moment, however, he found himself scraping popcorn off the carpet, and if there wasn't anything sticking to it, he ate it. "I sent mom a letter telling her the date, but I guess she never got it, or maybe dad couldn't get out there to pick me up. I had to catch the stupid bus from the jail, and this is the closest I could get to the house. I didn't feel like walking the rest of the way home this late, so I was kind of hoping you could give me a ride to the house."

Melinda had been listening closely, but now rolled her eyes at the revelation. The last thing she wanted was to get back in her car and chauffer her brother halfway across town. Impatiently, she yanked open the fridge and took out the first wine cooler she saw. It was some kind of wild berry mix. After locating the bottle opener, she popped the cap and stepped back into the living room, all the while wondering how she was going to get rid of Junior. She still had to call Matt, she recalled, and give him the cursing of his life.

Melinda couldn't admit that she was glad to see her brother, either, as right before he'd gotten busted for possession of Marijuana, he'd been wreaking havoc at her parents' house. Junior had been pilfering Mom's jewelry and Dad's tools to support his growing drug habit, but luckily he didn't get that thrown in his face, too. The possession charge had been bad enough: Four and a half months in county lock-up.

Suspicious and determined, Melinda stepped between her younger brother and the television. "Listen, you little shit. Nothing, and I mean nothing, had better be missing from my apartment when you leave here. I am fucking serious."

Junior's face twisted in disbelief. "What are you talking about? I'm not gonna steal anything! I just came here to ask for a ride home!"

Melinda's demeanor softened some, as she realized she'd hurt his feelings. "Just be sure nothing is missing, okay? I'm too tired to give you a ride home tonight, but you're welcome to crash on the couch. I'll take you first thing in the morning."

Junior leaned back on the couch and sighed, but it was clear he was still bothered by his sister's negative assumption.

After taking a long drink, Melinda started looking her brother over. He was wearing a simple outfit; a white tee shirt, jeans and sneakers, but there was something very different about him. It took her a few moments to realize what it was. "Hey, how come you don't look as scrawny as you used to?"

Junior pulled back a sleeve and flexed a taut bicep. "I've been working out. Fifty push-ups, fifty sit-ups, every single day."

"Bullshit."

"I ain't kidding." Junior insisted. "I was bustin' my ass in the clink."

"Don't you mean you were getting your ass busted in the clink?" Melinda joked.

"Real funny." Her brother frowned. "Ain't nobody busted my ass. I would have smacked them down in a heartbeat."

Melinda finished off her drink, and set off towards the kitchen for a second serving. "Hey, you want a cooler? I've got some tropical shit and some mango shit."

"I don't drink wine coolers." Junior replied. "But I'll take something stronger if you've got it."

Melinda leaned forward to get a better look into the fridge. "I've got a couple of beers in here. My boyfriend brought them over a few days ago, but since he just left them here, I'm making them public domain."

"Sounds good to me." Junior called out.

Just the thought of Matt started irritating Melinda again, and she wondered just how she was going to get back at him. If only she'd found some guy on the way home, she might have been getting her just desserts at that very moment. Well, she admitted, she did have a guy in her living room, but it was her dumb little brother.

Junior hadn't even lain eyes on a hottie in like the last five months, she recalled. And here she was, wearing her form-fitting designer jeans in front of him. With more than just a little amount of conceit, Melinda wondered how long it had been since he'd been up close and personal with a woman of her outstanding physical caliber. Maybe never, she arrogantly grinned.

And she was still feeling so horny, she reminded herself. Mischievously, she fantasized about those lap dances she'd given that blond stud earlier, and thought about using her brother as a prop so she could relive those erotic moments, like she sometimes did with her boyfriend. All very twisted, she realized, turning herself on even more.

But no, he was her little brother, and no way she was going to press her hot body up against his, despite his newly acquired muscles. Imagine if anybody ever found out. It would be scandalous!

Grabbing the two beer cans and another cooler, Melinda returned to the living room. She set the cans on the coffee table. "Here, you little shit. Enjoy."

"Thanks." Pablo grasped the first beer and popped the top. He took a good, lengthy drink. "Damn, this sure hits the spot. You don't know how long I've been craving a beer. I mean, you just don't know."

Melinda giggled, and took her customary seat on the end of the same couch. She propped her tired legs on the coffee table, and grimaced at the action sequence on the big screen. "Can't you find something else to watch?"

Junior glanced at her. "I like this movie. I have a copy at the house somewhere, but I haven't seen it since, you know, since I got locked up."

"That must have been awfully tough for you." Melinda felt like teasing him. "I bet you were really lonely in jail."

"Hell yeah I was." Her brother nodded his head. "I mean, there were a couple of homies from the neighborhood in the clink with me, and that made the time pass by that much quicker, but it's not the same thing like being home.

"I mean, I couldn't do what I wanted to, when I wanted to, cuz they've got all of us on the same stupid schedule, and the biggest guys are always pulling their weight over everybody else. I couldn't even use the gym equipment, cuz there's like a waiting line and shit. That's why I started doing push-ups in my cell, so I could get my buff on."

For some reason, the excitable Melinda envisioned her push-up bra when he'd said push-ups. She sighed, even as rampant erotic thoughts within her began crying out for attention. Again, she envisioned herself at work, and giving a lap dance to that blond cutie-pie. "So, did you see any women while you were in there?"

Junior frowned and blew out a burst of air. "Just two ugly ass female guards, a black one and a white one. They were straight out butch-looking heifers. Personally, I wouldn't have fucked either one of them with a ten foot pole, but they had all kinds of horny dogs after their ass, givin' them money and stuff like they were the last hoes on earth. Guess some of those guys were desperate for anything to stick their dicks into."

"I bet some of the boys were after you, huh?"

"Fuck you, sis!" The young man glared back. "Seriously, it's a good thing Dad taught me how to box. I got in some real scraps early on, before those fools figured out I wasn't going to be an easy piece of meat for them."

"Oh, you poor baby." Melinda pouted.

"You know, sometimes you can be a real bitch."

Melinda had deliberately been trying to provoke him, perhaps to make her brother feel as angry and rejected as she herself was feeling. She caught herself now, though, and began wondering if she'd gone too far.

Maybe, she thought, she should lighten up a bit and continue to tease him, but in a more carnal fashion. That would go a long way in making her feel better about Matt's absence, and as for Junior, well, he hadn't gotten any female attention in so long...

She'd tease him, she decided, but just a little. "So, what your telling me is that you haven't seen a good looking woman in how long?"

Crossing his arms, Junior turned his attention towards the TV and ignored her.

Never one to be pushed aside, Melinda purposefully stood up and stepped directly in front of her irritated brother. "You haven't seen anything like this in a while, huh?" She purred, stretching her arms across her waist and grabbing the ends of her silky blouse. With one smooth movement, the black blouse came up and around her shoulders, and continued its ascent over the top of her head. The discarded blouse fluttered down on the coffee table behind her.

Melinda tossed her hair teasingly, just like the beautiful models in the shampoo commercials sometimes do, and she gazed into her brother's awestruck eyes. Her ripe B cups were on proud display, sensuously encased in the lacy black bra Matt had presented her with just a few short weeks ago.

Junior tried his hardest to concentrate on the action on-screen, but his eyes were entirely mesmerized by his older sister's enticing breasts. "Sis, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Emboldened by her own growing arousal, Melinda's reply was to push the coffee table away with the back of her legs. Once it was several feet removed, she daringly stepped forward, her legs pressing against Junior's, and she bent over at the waist. By reaching out to grip the couch's backrest, she allowed her enticing boobs to dangle perilously close to her brother's shocked face.

"Come on, sis! Did you crack your head on something? Put your shirt back on!"

"I'm just showing you what you've been missing these last few months." Melinda breathed in heavily, barely believing what she was doing. She'd always been ahead of the game when it came to making the first move on men, but even for her this was taking things to the extreme. This was her own brother she was flirting with. "I dare you to touch them."

"Say what?"

With her eyes shut, Melinda imagined herself back at the club, with that delicious blonde stud at her mercy. And as for the 'You Can't Touch' signs, well, they were not going to be any part of her fantasy. "You heard me. I said go ahead and touch them. Don't be shy."




The House of Robles 1.02



Junior stared at the lovely set of globes swaying before him, and caught the dreamy look on Melinda's face. "But you're my sister!"

"I knew it!" Melinda's temper flashed, as her erotic thoughts came back to the present. "You got fucked in the ass by some stupid convict, and now you have no clue what to do with a real woman!"

The insult struck the chord it was aimed at, with Junior's countenance erupting into an explosive amount of anger. "You wanna play like that, huh?" His hands struck like vipers, his clawed fingers clamping around the offered sweet apples and squeezing hard. "How's that, huh? You like that?"

Melinda's eyes shut as the rough sensations reverberated across her chest and upper body. In her mind, she was back at the strip joint, giving another lap dance in the back room. She was no longer Melinda, but had once again assumed her onstage persona. She was Mercedes, and the gorgeous blonde hunk was sitting there in front of her, succumbing to her will and becoming hers to do with as she pleased.

"How about this?" A quick yank forced the lacy bra away from her breasts, causing them to drop down like little, sensuous water balloons. "You want me to suck on them, too? All right, I'll do that!" Junior crammed his face into her freed cleavage, nuzzling his nose and cheeks against the perfumed flesh. His mouth sought to capture one of the hanging breasts, soon securing itself against an excited areola while his teeth nibbled away at the engorged and hardened nipple.

Even as her grip on the couch intensified, Melinda struggled to keep her eyelids together and the fantasy intact. Her mouth she could not control, as she spat out a few breathless yelps before the next volley gathered into a rising moan. "Oohhh! You fucker!"

Clumsily, Junior's hands groped their way around Melinda's / Mercedes' back and fumbled to unclasp the pricey bra. Just when the impatient woman was about to shove the novice hands away and do it herself, he succeeded, and a second later, the flimsy piece of fabric slid away from her skin and was gone.

With Junior's mouth fervently kissing and sucking on her delicious breasts, his hands were free to roam the rest of Melinda's body. Daring fingers hungrily slid around her sides and back, and groped further until both hands were running over the tight and curved fabric of his sister's jeans. "Damn, sis, you've got a great ass!"

The remark broke the spell. Melinda straightened up and gawked back at him as if she were in shock, as if she'd just realized who she was putting the moves on. What in the fuck did she think she was doing? Abruptly, Melinda took a sharp step back.

"Don't give me that look." Junior shook his head slightly. "You started this, remember?"

She certainly had. She'd unwittingly taken things too far. And now, with her body fully receptive and wet with anticipation, Melinda realized she had nobody around to help her get her rocks off. Except for the one person sitting right in front of her. And no way was she going to jump in that direction. No fucking way.

"You tell me now, who can't hang?" Junior taunted her, guessing at just how much he'd turned her on. "I got you all hot and bothered, huh? You shouldn't have been talking all that smack earlier, huh? What'chu gonna do now?"

He'd backed her up into a tight corner, and they both knew it.

"You son of a bitch!" She snapped at him.

"Hey, watch it! That's our mom you're talking about!"

Melinda ignored him, festering at being called out on her own game. "You think you're real hot shit, don't you?"

"You tell me." Junior smiled smugly. Leaning forward, he slipped his shirt over his head and exposed a chiseled upper body. His shoulders and biceps were like a lightweight boxer's, his chest defined and taut, and most entrancing of all, his abs were pronounced and ridged, just the way Melinda liked them. "I'm thinking I won't be having too many problems with the ladies. Am I right?"

Silently, Melinda stared at her younger brother's very tempting, and very forbidden muscles.

"You're starting to drool, sis."

"Fuck you!" Melinda shot back. She was torn in two opposing directions. One was STOP, as in; she'd already taken things way too far, but the other one, the one gazing at Junior's pleasing form, that side of her definitely said GO. She was almost breathless, as she said, "You think you've got it going on, but you don't! I bet you've got nothing else to brag about! You wanna prove me wrong?"

"You're serious? You want me to take off the rest of my clothes?"

"Humpf!" Bare-chested and defiant, the Latin beauty impatiently placed her hands on her wide hips. "What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"

Junior looked dumbfounded, but this only lasted a moment. Resolutely, he kicked off his sneakers and pulled off his socks. While still seated, he leaned back and undid his zipper. Shucking off his pants, he revealed light blue boxers with a definite rise in the center.

Melinda leered directly at the hidden prize straining to poke out. "Take it all off."

Smoothly, while staring directly into his sister's lustful eyes, Junior hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers. Raising his lower abdomen, he removed his last piece of clothing and tossed it atop his jeans. Returning his back to the soft cushions, he drew his arms up behind his head and shamelessly allowed himself to be ogled.

His cock was at full mast, standing up straight like a rocket on the launch pad.

Melinda dared to step in for a closer look. "Seven inches." She mused, dropping to her knees to scrutinize the rigid member, and the full and fuzzy balls just below. Inside, the aroused stripper began to tremble.

"Touch it. I dare you." Junior challenged her. "Just like you dared me to touch you."

That proved to be all the prodding Melinda needed, for she leaned forward and clasped both hands around the meaty stick. Her mind swirled with incestuous thoughts. "It's as big as my boyfriend's."

"Too bad he ain't around, huh?"

As if in a drunken stupor, Melinda shut her eyes and started stroking the warm cock. She visualized herself at the club, as the exotic dancer Mercedes, and the length of flesh she held was not her brother's, but instead belonged to that sexy blonde stud...

Her steamy fantasy was slapped away by Junior's harsh voice. "I'm thinking, that since you've already got me butt naked here on the couch, you should be dropping those pants now."

She wasn't Melinda, she resolved as she fought away reality, she was Mercedes, and she was at the club, with her handsome and generous client who sold luxury cars for a living. "One exceptional Pleasure Palace lap dance, coming up." Her voice came out hot and sultry, just as it had when that stud had slipped two twenties into the elastic band of her thong.

Having practiced her dancing in that very living room, it was a small matter for the shapely brunette to walk over to her expensive stereo system and power up an erotic mix of house music, albeit at a greatly reduced sound level. With orgasmic gasps and moans erupting around the intense beat, Melinda switched on the revolving DJ lights sitting atop the stereo cabinet, and in concluding the prep stage, she shut off the rest of the lights in the room. She went on to slide the coffee table far away from the couch, giving herself an ample amount of space, and she took a few calculated steps towards what she now saw as being center stage.

Dramatically, Melinda stood still, allowing her body to be bathed by the erotic sounds of her music. Becoming attuned to the beat, her arms struck out to her sides, and began undulating suggestively, while her head rocked back and forth, her lips open and inviting, her tongue running their length like a sexual lure. The personality of Melinda Robles was quickly being displaced, by the personality of the fictional character she'd created for her stage persona. She was now the voluptuous vixen known in certain shady, seductive circles as Mercedes once again.

And so, Mercedes darted her head to one side, imagining her beauty being taken in by an audience of numerous leering strangers. To provoke these stimulating stares, she started a slow grind of her hips, mesmerizing these onlookers with her steady, rhythmic sway. As if taunting her imagined observers, she brought her hands in close and cupped her bare breasts, mashing them together, lifting them, playing with them and arousing them even further. All these men were looking at her, she imagined, wanting her, desiring her, and the mere thought of that was enough to intoxicate Mercedes with a fervent sexual passion.

And she knew well how to play these tractable fools. Showing her prowess as a seductress, Mercedes dropped a hand to her waist, and with a simple, practiced flick of her wrist, she popped the top button of her jeans loose. Her fingers dropped into the loosened area, disjoining the length of the zipper as they went, and the enthralled stripper envisioned her audience salivating, as her digits dipped into a place very few men were privy to. She would allow only a glimpse of her thong here, as she turned her back to the couch.

As she'd done to her breasts, Mercedes ran her hands around and over the great swells of her ass, and in her thoughts she contemplated many men coursing their fingers and palms all over her thighs and calves. They were mere men, she haughtily considered, envisioning herself a goddess worthy of their adoration. And she had so much more to show them.

Mercedes brought her legs in close, bending at the waist and sliding her hands down the length of denim until they halted at her ankles. While her imagined viewers focused on her sexy rear end, her fingers teased away the knots of her shoelaces. In the same way, she reversed her stance, and like a queen, she daintily stepped out of her shoes and pushed them aside with her feet.

Again, she leaned forward, but this time her fingers had clasped her jeans at the waist, and in an arduously slow manner, exposed inch after inch of her creamy Latin skin. Her tempting ass was on full display now, its tanned and firm flesh broken only by the thin fabric of her sharp black thong. Her legs came next, tightly toned from the rigors of her chosen practice. As had happened with the shoes, her jeans were quickly abandoned.

She could hear her brother gasp, much like the handsome blond customer had gasped earlier that evening. Helplessly, dreamingly, Junior reached out to cop a feel, only to have the dancer Mercedes reach back and slide his hand away from her flesh.

She turned to face him, like a serpent undulating forward until she descended upon his lap, pressing Junior's hard-on between their abdomens, and causing the captive penis to quiver between the rising tensions of their bodies.

Wherever their skin touched, sharp pinpricks of pleasure erupted, and as Mercedes brought her upper body close against Junior's, her breasts rose and rubbed first against his bare chest, and next on his face. She felt her brother's hot tongue darting out and leaving soft trails of saliva on her. She shuddered as she ascended, and his tongue flickered against her ribcage, then her waist, and again, Junior's hands started circumventing the club rules.

"No touching, asshole." Mercedes murmured softly, still caught up in the fantasy that she was performing on stage, as she had earlier that night. Gently, she gripped both of Junior's wrists, bringing his arms up and stretching them past the couch and onto the wall. She pinned his head back with her breasts, enjoying the attention his tongue and mouth were giving them. Her tits felt as if they were on fire, and as she pressed down on Junior's lap, she started ignoring the house rules herself.

Her head leaned forward, her hair brushing against Junior's cheek, and she opened her mouth to allow her own tongue to join in the adventure. She smothered her brother's ear, and licked down the side of his neck and across his shoulder. Scooting herself back a few inches, she produced her own slick trail, running long and steamy streaks across his chest. Mercedes knew how her boyfriend liked to be played with, with her probing tongue gliding across his hardened nipples, and this foreplay she was repeating on her brother. The subsequent moans confirmed that Junior enjoyed this attention as much as Matt would have.

And Mercedes was ready for so much more.

She drew away from the young man sitting on the couch, lowering her sexy contours towards the carpet, while her tongue roamed down the tight ridges of Junior's stomach, and her soft fingers curled around the sturdy fuck-stick rising from her brother's crotch.

"You know," She whispered between her tongue's lashings. "I can place an entire stick of celery in my mouth."

Earlier, when she'd said the same thing to the blonde surfer at the club, the man had merely grunted dreamily. Her brother, however, had a very different response. "I'd like to see you try."

Spurred on by the challenge, Mercedes lowered her head, her soft lips engulfing his cock like a glove. Mercedes swirled the carnal object around with her mouth, each rotation taking in an additional fraction, until she was forced to adjust her body to accommodate even more. Deeper and deeper on the shaft she went, until his entire seven-plus inches had been enveloped within her mouth. Wiry pubic hair tickled at her nose.

Junior shuddered, wanting to feel his sister's hair in his hands, or her shoulders, or anything other than empty air.

Slowly, Mercedes released the captive member, sucking heartily at the head before finally letting go of it completely. She directed the penis with her tongue, pushing it up until she could get under it, and then she angled her head and ran her lips and teeth down its length. The fuzzy and full sack tempted her, and she struck at it first with her tongue, and then vacuumed it within the confines of her mouth. She loved having a man's balls in her mouth, and her men loved when she gave them that special attention, too.

"Oh, fuck." Junior groaned, as Mercedes abandoned the thoroughly moistened sack and went back up to the shaft.

He was getting ready to pop, and she knew it. That wasn't how she wanted her night to end, however. Not after the disaster she'd been through earlier.

During her practice sessions with Matt, the sultry woman had taken to hiding various erotic goodies under the couch cushions. One of these she took out now, a short tube of lubricant that was specifically engineered to tingle a woman's insides. While Junior sat on the couch and watched inquisitively, Mercedes squeezed a generous portion of the jelly onto her fingers, and started rubbing it on his stiff cock.

Keeping in tune with the strong bass from the stereo, Mercedes swayed herself upright. She brought her hands down to her sides, prying her fingers into the edges of her tight thong, and in a practiced motion, she drew the fabric down until it was loose enough to fall to the floor. Brother or not, she was going to get some fucking done that night.

"What are you doing now?" Junior asked.

Mercedes started to straddle her brother, her bare mound sliding across his lap.

"We can't go all the way." Junior protested. "You're my sister!"

"Shut up." She pressed her palm against his mouth, while her other hand sought out his warm and lubricated cock. She directed it exactly where she wanted it. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me. All you have to do is not open your mouth and spoil everything. You feel me?"

Feeling the cock up against her cunt, Mercedes allowed herself a release of pent up frustration. "Finally." She purred, as her burning insides opened up to receive her brother's long rod.

"You sure about this?"

"Just shut up and enjoy the ride." Mercedes descended and consumed its full length, rocking in a slow and sensual motion, getting comfortable with its size.

For his part, Junior simply leaned back and closed his eyes. 

Being both an exotic dancer, and an expert on sexual technique, Mercedes always kept her body in prime condition. She knew how to manipulate muscles other women didn't even know existed, and she was now using these talents to heighten Junior's experience, bringing him up to the point of climax, then allowing the feeling to subside, and starting the erotic roller coaster all over again from the beginning.

"Damn, that feels good." Junior writhed below her, absently rubbing his hands along his sister's thighs. When he realized what he was doing, and that she wasn't pushing him away, he took the extra step and reached out to encompass her incredible ass.

In her mind, Mercedes was back at the club, doing whatever she wanted to that blonde stud, and with little fear of any of the other girls coming by, since it was such a slow Wednesday night.

Except for that Asian girl, Kitty. She was always coming in at the most inopportune moments. And she might very well step in right now and fuck things up...

No! Mercedes' mind refused. Kitty had gone home already, as she'd talked the manager into an early out, and the bouncer, the one who made sure none of the girls were doing what they weren't supposed to, that guy was too busy checking IDs at the door, leaving her to do as she pleased. This was to be her moment!

She ground her hips into her lover's lap, squeezing her pussy tight and imagining the captive cock crying out for mercy. "You've never had it so good, have you?" Her wild side took over. "Say it, you've never had it so good!"

"You got that right."

"This is the best pussy you've ever had, say it!"

Judging from the way the car salesman's fingers were clawing into her luscious ass, she knew she was right. She was going to make her lover beg for mercy, she was going to make him scream her name, for she was a goddess, and he was a mere mortal, and they were both floating through the clouds now.

"I'm giving you the ride of your life, say it!" She shouted.

"Keep it down, sis! You want the whole neighborhood to hear you?"

Still in a sexual frenzy, Mercedes gripped her brother's shoulders harshly, tearing into him with her fingernails. "Say it!"

"What the hell?" Junior grimaced from the pain. In defense, he pushed his sister to one side, only to have her lash out at him with her claws.

They wrestled for control next, with Junior trying to keep her nails away, and Melinda responding by driving a knee into his side.

"That hurt!" Junior's anger flared. "What are you tripping on, anyway?"

He ended up rolling her onto the edge of the sofa, draped over her sweaty form and trying to catch his breath. Both of her arms were pinned behind her back by his stronger muscles, with his cock rubbing roughly against her ass.

Her curvy and gorgeous ass, he understood, as he drew a deep breath.

Holding Melinda's wrists tight with one hand, he placed his cock against her pussy and pushed. His hips pressed against her soft flesh, and he could feel her arms loosen up as he began to slowly thrust himself inside. "You want me to stop, or what?"

Melinda's answer was to push back against him, repeatedly, and in a quicker tempo than his own. Junior was fine with that, as he simply held himself in place by gripping Melinda's thick hips and let her do all the work.

As Melinda's flesh slapped against Junior's abdomen, she no longer had the false impression that she was at the Pleasure Palace, having her way with one of her very special customers. No, she knew whom she was fucking, and that might have made things just a little bit more tantalizing. And she knew how she loved to push the envelope. She was about to get even with Matt, and then some.

Melinda halted her movements. "This is how they had you in prison, isn't it? Right before they fucked you in the ass!"

"Is that what you want now?" Junior took the bait. He pulled out, as Melinda had hoped he would, and she could feel him reach over for the little tube of lubricant. He took a moment to smother his tool with it.




The House of Robles 1.02



She felt his cock probing at her ass, felt his body lift and press itself tightly against her, and she took a deep breath and relaxed herself as he penetrated her.

Not too many men had done this to her, as she normally refused to give them that much control. Certainly, Matt had tried once or twice, until she let him know exactly who was in charge and had bucked him away like a bronco.

Men usually took this as a sign of weakness in women, a way of belittling females and dominating them, and later, of bragging to their friends about what they'd done.

She had to admit, though, that she did enjoy it. She loved the way a man's chest heaved against her upper back, and the way his ragged breaths smothered through her hair. And she loved having a man's cock violate her so wantonly, so savagely.

Melinda gave way to her moans, releasing full and pleasure-laden emissions that spurred her brother's lust, and when his hot hands squirmed under her chest and gripped her hot breasts, she matured from moans into full cries.

Cries loud enough to rouse the neighbors, she knew, loud enough to bring decrepit old Mrs. Mathers out of her cobwebs and to come out and frantically bang on her front door.

Melinda buried her head into the plush cushions, trying to stifle her volume and fervor, while Junior pounded into her from behind at a fever pitch.

She felt his body begin to tremble, heard his breathing catch and exit in fractured bursts, and one final time, she felt his cock slam into her and explode into a wave of heat and ecstasy. He kept himself there, until his entire load had drained away.

Junior's full weight settled down on Melinda, as his energies flooded out and the might fled from his cock. Still he stayed there, in place, allowing their heat and sweat to mingle and combine into a thick, musky odor, not altogether unpleasant, until Melinda's phone burst into a panic.

The ringing gave way to the answering machine, which she always set on high volume so that she could hear it from wherever she was in the apartment. She recognized Matt's voice at once.

"Babe, it's me. I've been trying to reach you all night. I'm guessing that you didn't remember to use the new phone I got you."

Melinda's head shot up. That's right, she remembered. Matt had just gotten her the new phone, and she'd set it on the charging cable that morning, and when she'd left for work, she'd forgotten to switch it out with the old phone. She'd just grabbed the first phone she saw on the dresser right before she left.

"Well, anyway," Matt's voice continued. "Will got into a fight at the bar, and he got tossed in the can. I've been calling around all night trying to get enough money together so I can post bail, and I just got it done this last hour. I'm going to drop him off at home, and then I'm heading straight to you, babe. Give me fifteen minutes, and I'm there. See you soon, babe."

She slid out from underneath her brother. "Junior, you have to go."

"What?"

"I mean it." Melinda started collecting her clothes. "You have to go. You have to get out of here, right now."

Junior took a seat on the couch, gawking at his suddenly nervous sister.

"Come on!" Melinda insisted. "Get your stuff on, and go! Matt can't find you here! If any of the neighbors heard what we were doing, and then they see Matt show up fifteen minutes later, they might tell him I had some other guy in here. There's one old lady that lives upstairs, and she's like a hawk. I swear that she's out to get me."

"You mean I can't spend the night?"

"No!" Melinda refused. "I have to take a quick shower, otherwise Matt will take one look at me, and he'll know what happened. He cannot find any man in this apartment, especially not my own brother! Come on, he's already on his way!"

Melinda clutched her clothing against her body, and hurried towards the bathroom. "Don't go out the front door either, because somebody might see you. Go out the way you came in! Hurry up! Get out of here! Fuck!"

Junior sat there on the couch for a moment, wondering what he was going to do next. He had no cash, he was so far away from home that walking wasn't an option, and all the buses had stopped running for the night, and...

"Damn!" He grumbled. Right after having the best sex of his life, and he was out on the street like a bum. He got up and started raking his clothes off the couch and floor, and quickly dressed himself.

Junior spotted the tube of lubricant on the floor, and as a final revenge, he snatched it up and pocketed it. Then he stalked towards the glass patio door and left.



The House of Robles 1.03



Twirling her long brown hair with one slender hand, the very pretty and recently turned eighteen-year-old Amanda Robles stood pensive in the doorway that led to the garage-converted-into-a-workshop-and-recreation-room. She'd just gotten home from school about an hour ago, changing into a tiny white blouse with spaghetti straps, and a pair of tight, pink cotton shorts, when she'd gone into the small room. She was in the process of getting her clothes out of the dryer, where they'd been sitting the entire day, as she'd spurred the appliance into motion early that morning just to speed-dry the form-fitting denim skirt she'd worn to class, and abandoned everything else.

Amanda was so absorbed in unloading the stale dryer and carelessly piling the remainder of her clothing into a white plastic basket, that she'd nearly jumped into the air when she'd heard a loud noise coming from the darkened portion of the recreation room. It was her dad, spread all over the old brown couch located against the far wall, undoubtedly drunk and snoring like a hibernating bear.

The pretty girl might have quickly finished up her errand, if only to flee from the loud emanations, but as she'd crouched there by the dryer, she'd noticed that a few tiny slivers of sunlight had dared enter into the otherwise shadowy room. The pale rays had fallen upon the portion of the couch where her dad's fuzzy legs were drooped and draped, and his thighs were splayed open like some crooked wishbone.

Her dad had gone into his alcohol-induced slumber wearing his usual baggy black shorts, he called them his comfy shorts, and now, with both of the man's legs stretching off in different directions, the soft fabric had ridden up high on his oblivious thighs. What was revealed by the combination of sunlight and shifted shorts was nothing less than a very formidable and half erect specimen of the male genitalia.

It was big, Amanda thought to herself. No, more than big. It was huge, so huge she'd almost bitten through her bottom lip as she thought furiously about what she was going to do next.

Of course, walking out of the rec. room had been the first and most logical choice, because after all, who really wanted to see their forty-four year old father dead drunk and half naked on a couch? In fact, Amanda had already taken a few steps away, with her clothing basket in tow, heading towards the sliding glass doors leading to the outside. She might have successfully walked away, too, except for a couple of extenuating factors that were now coming into play.

First off, since Amanda figured she was all alone in the house once she'd gotten home from school, she'd gone ahead and taken a couple of beers from the fridge. The resultant buzz from the hastily consumed alcohol was in full throttle, and that had been strong enough to override her common sense and allow her to gaze longingly at the monster meat that she swore was staring back at her with malicious intent.

Secondly, her tough guy boyfriend had gotten himself arrested again, this time for smoking weed in a public park with a couple of his homeboys. He'd been locked up for over two weeks now, and ever since then, a very neglected Amanda had begun to feel even friskier than usual.

She was just standing there in the shadows, gazing, gawking, and nearly bolted for the door when her father snorted and started adjusting himself on the couch. His loud snoring dropped several notches once he'd stopped fidgeting, from registering on the Richter scale to something much less grating on the ears. The half a dozen empty beer cans lying on the floor confirmed that Pablo Senior would be out for hours, as per his usual routine when he got home from work.

With a mischievous look in her eyes, the wicked teen quietly lowered her pink and white clothing basket to the floor, and she took the short time to slide the rec. room's curtains almost all the way across the glass doors for ensured privacy, except for a little space on the edge. Once that was done, she dared step closer for a more intimate angle, to investigate the slumbering man further.

Pablo Senior could be considered a handsome man, the mischievous teen thought. His nicely tanned skin and thick arms extended randomly from the flimsy cover of the gray tank top, and as she stealthily approached her father, she found herself admiring his muscular chest as well. The man's stomach could have been just a little flatter, she mused, but it was far from a disgusting beer belly. She was already imagining running her hands over his arms and chest, when her view shifted downward.

Her eyes started on his bare feet, as his sandals rested on the floor next to the couch, before they slid across to take in his toned calves and strong thighs, noting how the hair ascended from soft curls into thick vines as they forested his groin. Taking a deep breath, Amanda boldly rested her eyes on the fat penis, estimating it to be as thick as her wrist, and it was only at half-mast. What would that thing look like when it was fully aroused? Like a bottle of shampoo? A soft moan escaped Amanda's delicate lips, and the more she stared at the cock, the more excited she felt her body become.

Again her father shifted in his sleep, and although his movement was slight, Amanda still froze with mounting tension. His mouth was moving, muttering words that were barely audible, and Amanda had to hold her breath as she leaned forward to catch a few of them. Did he just say the name Carmela? Was he mumbling something about a tune-up on Carmela's SUV? Or was it a tune-up on Carmela herself? Amanda chuckled quietly. Again, she heard her older sister's name mentioned dreamily.

Her father was fantasizing about Carmela, Amanda realized, and after a moment she thought, why not? She was sure her dad wasn't getting any action lately, as her mom and dad had been arguing loudly every other day, and Carmela was decent, if you were into the snobby, high-maintenance, athletic type.

But Amanda had plenty going on, too. She was five-foot-four and weighed in at a trim one hundred and ten pounds. She'd been blessed with perky B cup breasts, a lean waist, sexy thighs and an ass that all the boys drooled over. The consensus at her high school was that she was built like one of those Mexican soap opera stars.

A girl like her should be able to have any guy she wanted, she lamented, recalling her insanely jealous and violent boyfriend. In truth, the boys at school, the teachers, the security guards, and nearly every male she came across couldn't help but gawk at her perfect hourglass figure passing by and wearing revealing blouses and tight jeans. Unfortunately, ogling and drooling was as far as they got. If they tried anything past that, like passing a note to her in class, or brazenly striking up a conversation with her, her boyfriend would somehow find out and threaten to give them the pounding of their lives. Even while locked up in juvenile hall, her boyfriend was like a mythical menace to society.

But her boyfriend's reach didn't extend this far, she thought, gazing appreciatively at the thick cock resting against her father's thigh. With her dad nearly in hibernation from drinking so much beer, there wasn't much of a possibility of him waking up and catching her staring down at his exposed member.

Gazing back towards the sliding door, now nearly completely hidden behind the dark curtain, she knew there was a chance that someone else could arrive at the house at any moment. But it was still early, and with most of her family members out and about, the chances of being discovered were fairly remote. She was safe, she figured, at least until it got closer to dinnertime.

She could stand there and stare away to her heart's content, Amanda mused, and if she really wanted to, she could probably do even more than that. As the racy thoughts continued to excite her, she boldly took a few steps towards the couch. She could just reach out and touch that big penis, if she really wanted to, and the slumbering man on the couch would never even know she'd done it.

Cautiously, the nervous teen dropped onto her knees, reducing the distance between herself and the monster cock to a matter of inches. Her head loomed even closer, and as she started wondering how her petite mother could handle such a large dick, her nose caught the musky, albeit pleasant smell of his manhood.

Slowly, Amanda brought her hand up to the man's thigh, gently tracing away the soft cloth of his shorts with two of her fingertips, all the while gazing toward her father's face for any hint of him waking up. When nothing happened, she went even further, sliding her fingers off the fabric and onto the flesh of his groin, reaching past the long and wiry pubic hair and encircling the fat base of the man's penis. It was soft and silky, she sensed, following one prominent vein from one end of the cock nearly to the other, and halting her movement before she reached the bulbous head, which she knew would be more sensitive than the rest.

As her breathing became shorter and quicker, Amanda carefully wrapped her fingers around the cock, comparing its feel to be a lot like her boyfriend's, stiff yet spongy, but also gauging that it had to be well over twice as thick. It was warm to her touch, too, and as she ran her loose grip across its considerable length, she again wondered just how big the thing could get when it was ready to pounce.

Well, there was one way to find out, she contemplated excitedly.

She carefully lifted the shaft and gripped it with both hands. It was awesome, she thought to herself, finding that even with both of her small hands holding the cock, there was still a good portion left exposed. The head, she noted, was nearly as thick as the rest of it, and again, she wondered how her tiny mother could allow herself to be impaled by such a monstrous member.

Feeling even more daring, Amanda began caressing the beast with her fingers. She tightened her grip, picking up a gentle rhythm, and pausing every time the cock throbbed or twitched to make sure her father's breathing remained constant. She could jack him off right then and there, she mused, and he would never know it. He'd just wake up later and find cum all over his shorts, and wonder what the hell had happened to him while he was asleep. Or maybe he'd blame it on that dream of Carmela he was having.

As the shaft hardened and grew, she felt invigorated herself.

Gradually, she increased the tempo, until she suddenly heard her dad's snores halt. His breathing caught and he coughed, and she had just barely enough time to let go and pull back, before the sleeping man started readjusting himself. Forcing her own body to remain completely still, she heard the soft rustling sounds and creaks of his movements, and awkwardly, he ended up with one leg leaned against the backrest, while the second slid down onto the floor.

Mesmerized, Amanda watched as the cock swung around as if searching her out, still out in the open and proudly on display. It quivered softly to a halt.

The snoring resumed its steady pace, giving Amanda the encouragement to stop holding her breath. She should get out the rec. room, right now, she thought, and consider herself lucky that she hadn't gotten caught yet.

Another part of her said otherwise. Her dad could very well sleep for another hour or two, she knew, recalling a handful of instances where she'd had to go into the rec. room much later in the afternoon to wake him up for dinner. And to top it off, he'd drunk something like a six-pack of beer, judging from all the beer cans lying on the floor. She could still finish what she started, she theorized, and he'd never find out.

She noticed how the shadows darkened up the room. Her dad's legs and abdomen were partially exposed by the afternoon sunlight, and if she tried anything, such as kneeling before that big tower of his cock, anybody peering in might be able to see her. Hurrying back to the single, long curtain, the teen slid it completely closed, and for added security, she turned the lock on the glass door, too.

Creeping back to the slumbering man, Amanda was dismayed when she realized that from his new position, with his legs all over the place, she'd have to lean forward a good stretch just to reach that big cock. It would be too awkward, she grimaced, wondering how she could adjust her own position to manage her compulsory erotic mission. She almost couldn't go through with it, since the only viable place left for her to go was on the couch itself, between her father's legs, and she'd have to risk edging past the couch's loud creaks and squeaks for the entire way.

Amanda tiptoed to the end of the couch. There was barely enough room for her to squeeze in, and tentatively, she lifted one of her lean legs onto the cushions. Gradually, she tilted her slender frame forward, feeling her weight sag the foam down by several protesting inches. She was persistent, though, and as soon as the creaks subsided, Amanda brought up her other leg, and slowly sank to her knees. With her dad's legs taking up all of the good support spots, she had no choice but to place her palms between the man's legs, and as soon as she'd done so, she felt her body teeter forward unexpectedly.

Right toward her father's exposed groin.

The hot teen held her breath until she stopped tipping over, realizing just how close she'd come to falling face first onto the giant, erect penis. As it was, she now found herself nearly grazing its fat tip with her chin, and she avoided doing so only by straining her neck upwards and away. She considered making an attempt to find other holds, but every time she lifted her palms, she felt her body teeter to one side, and closer to her dad's legs. He was bound to wake up, she figured, if she suddenly dropped her weight on any part of him.

Slowly, Amanda released a long breath of air, and as she lowered her vision, she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the still engorged member staring back at her. The girls at the high school were always bragging about the size of their boyfriend's cocks, she recalled with envy, but none of them had ever stumbled across anything even remotely as big as her dad's member. When she told them about this whopper, all that envy would be directed at her. But would merely telling them about it be enough?

No, she thought, her friends would only claim she'd made the whole thing up. That's why she had to do something with it, like jack it off. That way, instead of trying to explain how she'd let such a monster slip past her, or foolishly trying to embellish a story they'd surely see right through, and make a laughingstock of herself, she could simply cross her arms smugly and tell her friends they could believe her or not. She'd done what she'd done, and that was that.

But how? Her arms were having enough trouble keeping her steady, and it would take a lot of effort to back up off the couch without raising a racket.

Gazing down at the meaty missile, she thought, there was one alternative right in front of her mouth. Amanda took a few seconds to consider the deviltry that was now running through her mind; it would be risky, twisted, and downright perverted, but as far as her friends were concerned, well, she didn't have to give away the identity of her unwitting accomplice, did she? She would just tell them she'd given a blowjob to the biggest cock she'd ever seen in her life, end of story.

After making sure the snoring was still more or less regular, Amanda started to open her mouth. Right away she had second thoughts, as unlike her boyfriend's cock, there was no way she was going to get much of this one between her lips. Instead, she stretched out her tongue, letting it rest against the velvety head before she swirled around it. It would be just like servicing her boyfriend, she decided, except this thing was a whole lot bigger.

A glob of drool escaped her parted lips, and streamed down the side of the thick rod, but instead of drawing away, Amanda began licking down the side of the soon to be slick penis and moistening its edges.

She brought her mouth back up to the top, knowing she was about to step past the point of no return, and she opened her lips wide. Her mouth drew tightly against the waiting cock, and for a moment, she thought she might be trying to swallow a small apple. Placing just the head into her mouth would have to be enough, she determined, even as the moistness of her mouth and tongue sought to envelop more fully around the big piece of flesh.

What would happen, she wondered, if her dad were to open his eyes right at that moment, and catch her in the middle of her illicit deed? His own eighteen-year-old daughter was giving him a blowjob! But the girls at school, they'd be so jealous when they found out what she'd done...

Amanda pushed the random thoughts away, focusing on her task. She began bobbing up and down, limiting herself to the engorged tip, and trying to pick up the steady rhythm that brought her unruly boyfriend to a predictably quick and moaning climax.

It wasn't as easy, she was discovering, since taking too much of the cock made it that much harder to work on, and plus, she still had to worry about the couch shifting around under her. Still, she did her best, although she frequently jabbed the roof of her mouth, or ended up grinding her teeth against the soft man-flesh.

Lying still and apparently dormant on the couch, you can imagine the state of confusion that Pablo Robles woke up to. At first, he figured his wife was trying to get back on his good side by giving him a quickie blowjob, but the clumsy grunts and sharp, periodic jolts he kept feeling revealed that he was being serviced by an amateur. Whoever was with him in the rec. room was definitely not his wife.

He'd been clearing the trash out earlier, he recalled, which included rounding up a bunch of empty beer cans he'd up-ended over the last few days, when the day's fatigue finally caught up with him. Instead of walking all the way back into the house for some fresh alcohol, he'd decided to forego his usual happy hour and take a short nap on the couch.

And he'd woken up to this.

The first person he thought of was Carmela. His pretty daughter had probably driven over, he guessed that she was probably looking for some free mechanic work for her car again, and once she'd found him all sprawled out on the couch, he theorized that she'd decided to take a more provocative approach to waking him up. But she'd been much more adept the last time, he remembered. Not all clumsy and rough like she was now.

Ah, he realized, the main difference was because before, she could have taken all the time in the world, since she'd driven him to a secluded and dark area. This time, however, she was incriminating herself at her father's house, and was probably worried to death about being caught red-handed by someone in her own extended family.

Pablo understood that he had to do something, and quick, since Carmela's teeth were severely detracting from the pleasure he should have been reveling in. He didn't want to startle her, so he said softly, "Hey, Carmela, I knew you'd come back for another round."

Amanda went rigid. She'd been found out. Her dad was awake. What was she going to do now?

"You don't have to stop." Pablo purred. "Just slow it down a little bit, yeah?"

She was in so much hot water, Amanda feared.

Pablo's hand reached over and caressed Amanda's hair. "Carmela, just relax a little, and do what you did at the park." He gently pushed her head down.

Her dad thought she was Carmela, Amanda realized. What if, what if she could pretend to be Carmela, her thoughts raced through her mind, and she kept doing what she was doing, and since it was so dark anyway, what if when she was finished, she just ran out before her dad could get a good look at her? It was plenty dark in the rec. room, she knew, but could her plan work?




The House of Robles 1.03



Again, her dad pressured her head down. "Come on, girl. Did I scare you?"

Taking a serious gamble, Amanda brought her open mouth down on her father's cock. He was setting the tempo this time, as he slowly guided her head's motion.

"See, slow down a little bit. Take it easy." He cooed.

She was doing it. She was blowing her own father, and he didn't even know it. And if she played things right, he wasn't going to find out, either.

Just the thought of what she was doing gave her chills, and suddenly, she wondered what it would be like to go all the way with him. He'd be fucking her with that giant piece of lumber, and he wouldn't even realize who she was until it was too late.

Except, her body wasn't anything like Carmela's. Her sister was so much taller than Amanda, and her tits were so much bigger. And her voice was completely different, too. She couldn't say anything, or let his hands roam around too much, or he'd know right away it wasn't Carmela lying on the couch with him.

Pablo, on the other hand, was having his own erotic ideas. "Bring your ass over here." He started sitting up on the couch, and bringing his legs together.

Amanda had to act fast. She squirmed over her father's legs and climbed back on in reverse. Now, she was in the classic sixty-nine position. She pressed her chest close to Pablo's lower abdomen, hoping he wouldn't be able to reach around and encounter her smaller-than-Carmela's tits, and quickly resumed with her blowjob.

This left her ample butt sticking out in the open, and a second later, she felt one of her dad's hands feeling all over it.

"You're wearing shorts today." His hands caressed the curve of the soft cotton. "What happened to those fancy threads you had on last time?"

His fingers didn't wait too long to proceed, as they ran around her butt and peeked under the fabric. They didn't stop there either, as they pushed past her panties, and prodded around a bit, before they plunged deep into Amanda's pussy. Two thick fingers were soon boldly pushing in and out of her, and Amanda discovered that she was getting so turned on she almost forgot about the blowjob.

"Umf!" Amanda squealed, keeping her mouth tight around the captive cock so her dad wouldn't hear her distinctive voice. But the pleasure was so intense that she felt as if she were about to cum all over his hand. "Ummmm!"

Amanda had to finish him off quick, before she opened her mouth and shouted her identity all over the room. She clamped her lips hard on his cock, and sucked at it just the way her boyfriend liked it. It had to work!

And it did. Pablo's fingers paused from their frenzied thrusting, and she could feel him squirm and start to moan as she brought him to the edge of orgasm. But then, his fingers started up again, and it became a race to see who would explode first.

She sucked away savagely, releasing loud smacks of air that echoed throughout the rec. room, even after she heard her dad's loud groan of surrender. He popped like a champagne bottle, spitting white hot lava all across her face and neck, as she'd barely had enough time to avoid catching the goo full in her mouth. Amanda buried her face between his thigh and his groin, driving her tongue into the sweaty crevice there and further heightening Pablo's climax, and fervently, she hoped he'd continue shoving his fingers into her pussy and bring her to her own peak.

He did, stroking his fingers into her so harshly that her head was driven between his thigh and his balls, and each time the hot digits barged in, they slammed the right sensors and set her insides on fire, until she yelled into his thigh and announced the arrival of her climax.

The fingers kept pressuring her, and she kept on yelling and squealing, and she forgot all thoughts of anonymously abandoning that huge cock and instead wanted it shoved so far inside of her until she couldn't fit any more of it in.

Like a cat, Amanda shifted around, mounting her dad and hoping he'd reach down and guide that missile exactly where she wanted it to go.

His hands groped her ass, and roamed across her sides, and she could feel one of them reaching down between her legs, straining aside her shorts and panties, and aiming that big cock in her direction. There was a short pause, when the older man's other hand reached up and squeezed roughly at her left breast, until the fingers clamped around it like a vise.

And then Pablo's movements stopped.

Amanda's hips bucked back, pushing enticingly against his gripped cock, offering her body willingly, ardently, to the massive erection, and it was only then that she realized she was still moaning out loud.

And her dad was listening to her. "Amanda?"

"Just go for it!" She demanded excitedly. "Do it! I know you want to!"

There must have been horror in his face as he asked, "Amanda, is that you?"

She held her tongue.

There was a sudden flurry of motion, as Pablo's strong hands pushed her away, towards the end of the couch. And Pablo, stunned, just lay there with his thighs around Amanda's outstretched legs, and his cock still dangling perilously close to her pussy. He started shifting into a sitting position.

Amanda tried to wrap her legs around him, wanting him closer, wanting him in her. "Dad, I don't want you to stop!"

Pablo drew back, shoving her attentive legs away. "What the hell are you thinking? How could you do this?"

If she turned her back on him, he'd fuck her. It didn't matter that she was eighteen, and that he was forty-four, or that she was his daughter. He'd pull her shorts off and fuck her from behind, because he'd feel her gorgeous ass and he wouldn't be able to resist it. And she wanted him to do it so badly.

Pablo could hear her shuffling around on the couch, felt her feet brush against his legs, and hoped she would just get off the couch and leave. And then, one of her feet settled against his inner thigh, and began rubbing itself towards his crotch. When he realized what she was doing, he grabbed at Amanda's leg and felt her calf with one hand, and when he reached out with the other, he felt the back of her leg, and a little further upward, he found her butt, so round and pleasing, and waiting impatiently for him to make the next move.

He was sitting up now, one knee on the couch, one leg on the floor. His cock was poised for immediate action, and as he absently ran his hand across those two tempting swells, and his fingers took in their fleshy contours, he could already see himself pulling her shorts down to her knees, and exposing her steamy sex, and he imagined himself positioned right behind her, and pressing against her. Both of his hands went to the waistline of her shorts, his fingers curling around the elastic band, the end of his rigid pole brushing against the soft fabric...

Amanda moaned softly from his touch.

But wait, this was his youngest daughter he was fantasizing about, and he wasn't about to commit such a heinous act with her, even if she wanted him to. Even if his own body wanted to! It was so wrong, so horribly wrong to even think it!

"No. I'm not doing this." He said, mustering up all the authority he could during such an awkward moment. Pablo clumsily left the couch and strode directly to the sliding door, trying to push away the harrowing thoughts of what had almost happened. He yanked away the curtain and pulled at the door handle, only then discovering that Amanda had locked it, and with more than a little anger, he flipped the locking lever up and shoved open the door.

A second later, he was gone.

Amanda took a seat on the couch, partially satisfied that she'd gotten away with as much as she had, but a little put out that her dad had halted things just when they were about to get a lot more interesting.

Still, she had plenty to brag about the next day at school, and her girlfriends would be talking enviously about it for weeks.

As for her dad, she wasn't ready to call it quits with him yet. She'd almost snared him, and perhaps with a little more enticement, she'd get him into such a state that he really wouldn't be able to walk away. More than any of the boys at school, or any of the older men she'd ever fantasized about sleeping with before, she wanted her father.

And one way or another, she meant to have him.



The House of Robles 1.04



Carmela Robles fumbled through her key ring as she struggled to hold four plastic bags of groceries with one hand, until she finally found the correct key to her apartment's front door. Impatiently, the olive skinned twenty-three year old jabbed the key into the reluctantly yielding deadbolt, turning the knob mercilessly and shoving open the stubborn door. She quickly scurried in with her groceries before the door bounced off the rubber mount on the foyer wall and quietly slid shut behind her.

Once inside, Carmela couldn't help but look at her reflection in the large foyer mirror as she distributed the grocery bags more evenly. She was wearing a grey Tahari teagan knit blouse and black Ibex casual pants, and her accessories included silver and onyx earrings and gray Ecco sandals. Even burdened with her shopping as she was, she thought, she still looked as hot and fashionable as any runway model she could imagine.

Carmela looked down at her occupied hands, and began cursing under her breath as she remembered that her keys were still hanging on the deadbolt outside. Impatiently, she stomped past the small foyer and across the wide living room in route to the kitchen. Once she'd dropped the clumsy bags off on the kitchen counter, she quickly dispatched the various veggies and the two cartons of heavy pulp orange juice from the bags and into the fridge, and stalked back to the door to retrieve the abandoned keys.

The water was running upstairs, she noticed upon her return, and quizzically, she glanced at her watch to verify the time. It was barely a quarter past one in the afternoon, and still a little too early for her husband Frankie to be home. Usually, Frankie wouldn't appear for another fifteen minutes or so, when he made like a small whirlwind and tore through the apartment, lingering for just enough time to snatch up his lunch and give her a tiny peck on the cheek, before he hurried out to his second job. Perhaps he'd clocked out early from his morning shift at the restaurant, she figured, wondering if they might have time for a quickie once he got out of the shower.

Even as the words ran through her head, she frowned. Frankie never took time out of his busy schedule for her. He'd just pick up his stupid turkey sandwich, his little bag of chips and his can of orange soda, and he'd be right out the door again. He'd be in the house for maybe five minutes tops, before Carmela would find herself all alone in the apartment and sensually dissatisfied for the rest of the afternoon, and probably for the rest of the night as well. Sometimes, she recalled, her single-minded husband would even forget to wave goodbye.

Well maybe, since he was home so early, Carmela could put on a show and convince him otherwise. She hurried into the kitchen and raided the refrigerator, taking out the turkey, the mayo, the two kinds of cheese, and arranging the sandwich on the faux but still showy marble counter. After tossing the loaf of wheat bread and the head of lettuce next to the items, she brought out the butter knife and got down to business. Making short work of the sandwich, she reached into an overhead cabinet for a bag of this week's favored brand of chips, grabbed a cold soda from the fridge, and packed the entire meal neatly into a small brown bag. Content with herself, the determined Carmela set the lunch on its usual spot on the counter, and trotted up the small flight of stairs that led up to the second level of the apartment.

If she got herself ready beforehand, she calculated, there was no way her husband would be able to resist her advances. And as hot and bothered as she'd been feeling recently, she was not about to simply let him walk out and be on his merry way, not without making him give her a good tumble between the sheets first.

Carmela peeled off her outer layer of clothing and set the expensive attire aside. She was left clad only in her Secret Embrace bra, and her Very Sexy hip-hugger panties, both dyed in the blazing red cat color scheme that was sure to enthrall her husband and keep him still enough for her to mesmerize and mount him. Or at least, that was the plan.

Carmela strutted over to the huge, full-length mirror that stood dutifully next to her closet door, and casually admired her lean and attractive figure in its reflective stare. Her shoulders were strong, yet still feminine and rounded, and her waist was deliciously thin from her constant workouts at the gym. She studied her toned legs for a moment, before she turned slightly and checked out her very pleasing and tight butt. Whether she was at work, walking around the neighborhood, or even out shopping as she'd been just minutes ago, men were always staring lustily in her direction.

If only her husband Frankie would give her a fraction of that kind of attention, she lamented. Things just hadn't been the same for the last few months, ever since he'd gone out and gotten that second job at the stupid auto detail place. Now, she spent most of her evenings at the gym taking her frustrations out on the aerobics floor or the exercise bikes, and her nights watching some stupid reality show that focused more on duck lips and artificial boobs than reality.

With their conflicting schedules, she barely even saw Frankie nowadays, let alone found the time to get him into bed, and it had been over two weeks now since the last time they'd even slept together. (Even then, her husband had been too tired to go past an unremarkable five-minute tumble.) Out of desperation, Carmela was now being degraded into trying to seduce her own husband on her own bed.

Hearing the water shut off, Carmela hurried over to the bed and tossed aside the expensive silk covers, then slid warmly over the soft, Egyptian cotton sheets, and turned onto her side. One hand propped her head up, while her opposite arm lay casually draped over her waist, and one leg was enticingly raised and drawn away from the other. This pose was sure to draw the overworked Frankie's attention quickly and completely to the single purpose that had blossomed in Carmela's naughty mind. She would not let him out the front door, she vowed, until she'd had her way with him. And if he was late in getting to his second job, well, screw that job and screw his uptight boss, too.

The knob on the bathroom door turned, and the door began to swing open.

"I've been waiting for you, Frankie." Carmela purred in her sexiest voice. "And I'm feeling a little bit horny right now."

But the man who stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway wasn't her husband Frankie. It was her nineteen-year-old brother Pablo Junior. He was wearing nothing more than a loose towel wrapped around his waist, and in shock, Carmela found herself gawking at his lean frame, in a quick moment taking in his chiseled shoulders and chest, the sculpted ridges on his abs, and briefly, she even wondered at the parts of him now under wraps.

Apparently, Junior was just as surprised as she was. "Oh, shit!" He cursed, taking a step back towards the bathroom. "I didn't think anybody would be home until later!"

The words spurred Carmela into both fury and action, and she quickly reached out to pull the covers over her exposed body. "What the hell are you doing in here? I should call the police on you!" She shifted to snatch up the phone from the cradle on the nightstand and was poised to dial Nine-One-One.

"No, wait!" Junior held his hands out to plead, and dared to take a step into the large bedroom. "I can explain!"

"Explain that you broke into my house?" Carmela snapped.

"Can you hear me out for one second?"

Carmela glared back at him defiantly. "Go ahead, I'm listening! But this had better be good or else I'm calling the cops!"

Junior seemed to be groping for words. "I, uh, I just got out of jail last night. I went over to my sister's house, but, uh, we got into this big fight, and she ended up kicking me out, and..."

"You just got out of jail, and already you're picking fights all over the place? Is it any wonder you got locked up?"

"Look, the bottom line is that she kicked me out of her place, and it was pretty late, after all of the buses stopped running." Junior explained. "I had nowhere else to go, and no cash for a taxi, so I ended up spending the night on a park bench, and my clothes got all dirty."

"And? How does any of that explain why you're standing here with my towel wrapped around your waist?"

"Can you let me finish? This morning, I cashed my jail check and got a bus ride down here, but I didn't want to go home smelling all nasty like a bum. So, I came here, hoping that I could take a quick shower and borrow some of Frankie's clothes for a couple of days."

"And you just let yourself into my apartment like you belong here..."

Junior held his hand out to halt her. "I waited outside for a couple of hours, but nobody showed up. I figured I could come inside, take a shower and change in like half and hour, and leave Frankie a note saying I'd been here, and that I'd bring his stuff back."

"Yeah, sure you would."

"Why do you keep hating on me like that? It's the truth!"

Just then, Carmela heard the recognizable car horn outside. "Oh, shit!" She cursed, tossing the covers aside and jumping off the bed. She ran over to the bedroom window and peeked past the edge of the drapes. "That's Frankie! He can't see the two of us dressed like this, or he'll go ape-shit! You have to hide!"

"Hide? Why should I? I didn't do anything wrong."

"Look, he already thinks I'm screwing around behind his back!" She hastily explained. "Hide somewhere! Anywhere! Go in the closet, on my side. He'll never think to look in there where all my dresses are."

"Frankie won't freak out. He'll understand. He's my brother."

Nearly frantic, Carmela had no alternative but to rush at Junior and shove him toward the closet. "Come on, we're both standing here nearly naked, and he'll be inside in a few seconds!" Her hands were on her brother's still wet chest, and as she looked across at his face, she noticed that he was busy admiring her curves.

Remembering that she was only clad in her fancy red bra and underwear, Carmela shoved him into the closet and to the side, and began rummaging through her attire for the nearest robe.

"Nice tan." Junior commented playfully, reaching out and patting her sexy butt with his hand.

"How dare you!" Carmela hissed through her gritted teeth, swatting away at the offending limb with her free hand. "You are such an asshole!" She snatched at her cotton bathrobe, rough enough to accidentally snap its plastic hanger in two. "Now, stay in here and don't you make a sound!" She stepped back, glaring at him a few moments as if that would still him, before she stalked away.

Soon, the woman with model-caliber looks could be seen hurrying down the stairs and fumbling to get the robe in place. Just as she finished securing the cotton belt around her waist, the front door swung open.

Frankie stepped in, looking even more glum than usual. "Hey." He said casually, upon spotting his nervous wife at the foot of the stairs. "What's going on?"

Carmela shook her head. "Nothing. I was about to take a bath, and I came down when I heard you honk."

Frankie basically ignored her answer, and walked past her on the way to the kitchen. "You got my lunch ready?" Before Carmela could even answer, he was already through the kitchen door and out of sight.

Carmela frowned.

"Oh, good." He called out. "Hey, can you run upstairs and get my white sneakers? All I've got is these black loafers I'm wearing, and I don't want to tear them up at the detail place. I forgot to pick the sneakers up this morning before I left."

"Sure." Carmela replied in resignation. Here she was, nearly naked under the bathrobe, and her husband wasn't even paying attention to her, at all.

"I'll be in the bathroom taking a shit. I think I've got a stomach ache."

"Great. I really needed to know that." Carmela replied, irritated. She turned and slowly made her way back upstairs. This game was getting pretty old, she thought to herself distastefully. Was it any wonder she ended up cheating on Frankie every now and then?

Upon reaching the closet, she slid open the door to check on Junior. "Get out for a second." She motioned him.

Junior stepped out quietly and whispered, "Where's Frankie?"

"He's busy taking a shit!" Carmela answered in an eruption of irritation, before she stepped into the wide closet. She could probably hide ten men inside that thing, she figured, and since Frankie only went in there early in the morning and late at night, he'd never even know about it. She bent down on one knee to scrutinize his footwear collection. "He'll probably be in there like ten minutes. It's part of his stupid schedule."

Cautiously, Junior stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the narrow hallway, reaching a small entertainment niche with a balcony that overlooked the living room below. He sneakily peered over the four-foot high stucco edge.

"Where the hell are you?" Carmela's voice called out. A second later, she poked her head out of the bedroom and spotted him. "Get your ass back into the closet! I mean it!"

Still clad only in the moist towel, Junior raised his arms in a defensive gesture. "Okay, just don't go all weird on me. I had my sister do that to me last night. Trust me, I don't want to go through that kind of bullshit again."

"Move it!" She whispered out loud, although in truth, she'd been staring lustily at her brother's well-developed chest.

"Hey, Carmela," Frankie's muted voice shouted out from the first floor. "Did you find my sneakers?"

"No, they're not in the closet." She stepped over to the balcony and replied loudly.

"Try looking under the bed. I think I stashed them down there last night." He called back, followed quickly by the sound of the bathroom door shutting.

Carmela followed Junior back into the master bedroom, where he stepped aside to allow her to approach the bed. With flaring impatience, Carmela roughly brushed past him and dropped to her knees. Deep in concentration, she bent forward to lift the covers and peek underneath, and unwittingly raised her ass in the air.

"Nice view." Junior teased.

Carmela shot him a menacing look. "Will you get back into the closet, you jerk?" She returned to her task, finding the elusive sneakers to be several feet away from the edge. "How in the hell did these stupid shoes get all the way over there?" She reached in, finding that she had to stretch awkwardly to fetch them. It was only then that realized that Junior hadn't budged an inch, and since her robe wasn't very long, it was now riding up and around the middle of her back. Her ass and legs were totally exposed for her ogling brother to stare at, she knew, and this wasn't an altogether negative consideration. Let him stare, she thought, since her husband sure wasn't going to.

Carmela did not want to give the impression that she was a total slut, however. Quickly, she grabbed the sneakers and straightened up, still kneeling, and modestly, she used her free hand to pull her robe down and cover her lower half.

When she turned her head, Junior's resultant grin told her he'd seen plenty.

"What are you smiling at, you pig?" She reached out to shove him back, her hand lashing out and inadvertently landing smack dab in the middle of the young man's abdomen, where there was suddenly no doubt in her mind that he was sporting a good size boner.

"Not on a first date." Junior playfully shook his head.

He was standing just a couple of feet from her kneeling form. Dangerously close, thought Carmela. Very dangerously, dangerously close.

"Shut up and get back in the closet." She scolded, half hoping he wouldn't listen, as she withdrew her arm and swiveled around on her knees to face him directly. From this angle, she took a really good look at him. He was handsome, in a rough sort of way, with rich brown eyes and short black hair. While he wasn't exactly bulging with muscles, he did have clear definition on his arms and shoulders, and his abdomen displayed a tight and tantalizing six-pack.

Carmela's gaze went straight ahead, her wanting eyes focusing on the area covered by only the meager towel, and they rested briefly on the pronounced bulge hidden behind it. Before Junior could stop her, and before she could stop herself, she reached out and tore the towel away from Junior's body.

"Shit!" Instinctively, Junior covered his privates with his hands and started to step back, when Carmela boldly reached out and snagged his wrists to keep him in place. "What'd you do that for?"

"Weren't you just teasing me a minute ago?" Carmela asked, slapping away at his hands. "Let me see it!" Finally, she forced his fingers away and started scrutinizing the erect member. It must have been seven inches long, she estimated, a little longer and thicker than her husband's. The foreskin puckered up just past the hidden head, and with her lust-filled eyes she studied the soft and velvety skin on the shaft, following it all the way back to the small bush of pubic hairs on his rigid abdomen.

And Frankie was downstairs taking a typical, long and smelly shit.

"What about my brother?" Junior looked down at her, his voice now sounding nervous, but his hard prick betraying his excited state. "I thought you were all worked up about him catching me here."

"Fuck him." Carmela's face loomed closer, and she let out a quick squeal when the cock twitched in her direction. Her hands reached out to clasp around Junior's calves, sliding themselves upwards past his athletic thighs and finally coming to rest on his tight ass. Glancing towards his face, Carmela found that Junior had lifted his head up towards the ceiling. He probably had his eyes closed now, too.

"I don't want any trouble here." He said, half whispering, half moaning the words. "I had enough trouble at my sister's place last night, believe me."

Carmela's response was to bring her hands around his waist and to encircle his member at the base, lowering the upraised prick until it was level with her mouth. Her tongue flashed out like a viper's, flicking at the head repeatedly, then lightly drawing back at the protective foreskin. When Junior's hands reached out to grab her by the back of her head, possibly to push her away, she quickly parted her lips and allowed the silky head to slip inside, halting herself halfway down the shaft and allowing her saliva to moisten the meaty intruder. Gently, she sucked away at his cock, keeping her lips wrapped tightly around it as she glazed over the partial length, and taking brief pauses to attack the head with her tongue.

Feeling Junior's hands tighten around her hair, she pulled more of the shaft into her mouth, sliding her tongue around its curve and drawing back until the prick was just about to fall away, then swallowing its length again. She could get the entire thing inside, she thought, raising her body a little, slowly taking in its length until she could feel the head probing around in her throat. A quick adjustment to her neck, and the hard cock slithered even further in, and soon her lips found themselves nuzzling up against the thick curls of his pubic hair.

Carmela's throat threatened to gag, causing her to pull away a few inches, but once the convulsion faded, she sucked him in again, feeling the prick throb inside her mouth even as Junior's fingers tightened around her hair like thick claws.

"Oh, baby." He groaned, his body tensing and trembling from the erotic pleasure.

He was about to cum, Carmela realized, and much, much sooner than she'd expected. Sliding the wet tool from her mouth, she started stroking it up and down, keeping it erect and exposing Junior's balls. She leaned forward, teasing at the large sack with her tongue, vacuuming one of his testicles into her mouth. As she rolled it around and softly probed it with her tongue, she increased the tempo of her strokes, hearing Junior's voice rising and feeling his grip start to yank painfully at her hair. Without warning, the cock began shaking and spurting love juice all over the place, draping hot jizz on her face and shoulders. Her stroking hand kept jacking him off, however, until Junior was groaning and quivering so much that he ended up pulling his spent member away on his own.




The House of Robles 1.04



"Oh, damn." He said, his voice still shaky. "I don't know why you just did that, but..."

"Shut up, already." Carmela ordered him, once again drawing nearer to his cock. She took him in her mouth, gently rolling his flaccid length around with her tongue, and licking away at the sweet and sticky semen that still clung to his member. 

Junior could only gape down at her, until her explicit caresses brought about more moans from his mouth. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Carmela's hands reached upwards, her fingers playing across his sculpted stomach muscles and rubbing against his strong chest. Her mouth kept massaging his limp cock, as if trying to will the beast back to life.

They both heard the sound of the toilet flushing downstairs.

"Damn it!" Carmela snapped, pushing Junior back and hurrying over to the vanity mirror. "He'll be up here any second." She gazed briefly at her unkempt reflection, then grabbed the edge of her bathrobe and began earnestly wiping away cum from her face and neck. "It's all over my hair, you asshole!" Frantically, she tried to yank the robe higher, then, seeing no other alternative, she untied it and pulled the entire thing off, and eventually balled up one end and rubbed the robe vigorously to clean up the sticky mess.

"Hey, honey?" Frankie clearly shouted from downstairs. "Did you find the sneakers? And where's the remote control? Have you seen it?"

"Be right there." Carmela replied loudly and casually, tossing the sticky robe towards a far corner of the room. Clad only in her bra and underwear now, she brazenly doubled over to snatch up the pair of shoes, carelessly stepping past Junior and hurrying down the short hall leading to the overlook. "Now, what did you say?"

"I said, where is the remote?" Frankie repeated, tossing aside a couple of couch pillows. Finally, he got down on his stomach to look underneath the couch. "I see it. You must have set it on the carpet next to the couch, and kicked it underneath again. How many times have I told you, when you finish watching TV, put the damn thing on the coffee table? Is that such a complicated thing to do?"

"What do you need it for, anyway?" Carmela replied impatiently, struggling to keep the rising irritation out of her voice. A second later, the pair of shoes left her grip and landed with a loud splat on the ceramic tile far below. "There go your fucking shoes!"

Ignoring the inflammatory action, Frankie retrieved the control, then clicked on the television and began cycling through the channels.

With his attention on the TV, Carmela stole a quick glance behind her, shocked to see Junior standing just outside her bedroom, still fully naked and sporting a wide and mischievous smirk on his face. She waved behind her back furiously, hoping he would get the hint and make himself scarce until Frankie left.

"Get back in there!" She whispered harshly.

"Dammitt!" Frankie cursed, forcing Carmela's attention back to the living room.

"Frankie, what are you doing?" Carmela asked in a falsely sweet voice. "Aren't you supposed to be heading off to work right now? Like you do every other time you come in here and grab your lunch?"

"I'm trying to find out what time the Jacksonville game starts." Frankie replied, totally absorbed in the numbers on the screen. "I've got fifty bucks riding on that one." He looked up at her for a second, doing a double take when he noticed her robe was gone. "You know, you shouldn't be walking around the house like that. What if somebody sees you through a window or something?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, all the curtains are already closed." Carmela rolled her eyes. "I could walk around naked all day, and nobody around here will notice. Nobody will even care."

Suspecting that the comment was somehow directed at him, Frankie again shot a quick glance at his wife. A second later, he wordlessly turned back towards the TV.

By this time, Carmela was getting a tad impatient. It was bad enough that Frankie refused to give her any attention, and that just a few feet behind her, stood somebody who undoubtedly would, if only she could get her husband to leave the apartment. "But won't you be late for your second job?"

With visible irritation, Frankie looked up. "I've got five full minutes before I have to get on the road. Are you trying to get rid of me, or what?"

"No, of course not!" Carmela protested, a little too loudly. "I just don't want you to get into any trouble. You know how your boss is."

"My boss is an asshole." Frankie raised the volume on the sports news, and was now watching some of the previous day's highlights. "Did I tell you that Hairy Jerry was going to kick his ass the other day?"

Carmela was about to answer, when she felt a pair of hands gently caress her ass. She glanced back, surprised to find Junior crouched behind her, and still sporting that same shit-eating grin on his face. "Get the fuck out of here!" She whispered angrily.

"What was that?" Frankie asked from below.

"Oh, I just asked what happened?" Carmela asked, kicking back sharply with her heel, and hearing a grunt as she struck some unseen part of Junior's anatomy. "You're talking about that old man with the heavy beard?"

"Yeah, that's Hairy Jerry all right." Frankie nodded, still staring at the TV, where a truck commercial had just come on. "Crusty old Miguel told Jerry not to take any shop towels home, and Jerry denied he'd ever taken anything..."

Carmela forced Junior's inquiring hands away from her butt, half pinching at them with her nails and hoping he would get the message and retreat. A brief look behind her revealed that her brother had simply dropped down onto his knees, next to her legs and patiently waiting for the opportune moment to strike again.

"--could see the towels laying right there on the back seat of Hairy Jerry's station-wagon. So Miguel--"

Junior's hands reached up her lean thighs, pausing and investigating their insides, then again worked themselves up to her tight butt, and began kneading and groping her ass cheeks. In spite of the situation, and perhaps because she knew her that her simple husband was oblivious to what was happening, Carmela felt herself getting turned on.

"--and Hairy Jerry said he'd been set up, that somebody else had placed the towels inside his car without him even knowing. Can you believe that shit--"

One daring hand reached in between her legs, rubbing and circling as it went, and with a long and sensual sigh, Carmela quietly spread her legs and leaned forward on the ledge of the stucco covered balcony. The hand found her sweet spot immediately, cupping her excited mound and making her fear she'd soon start to cum into her bright red panties. The fingers continued their exploration, drawing forward over her pussy, then back around her ass.

"--Jerry said, 'Put your dukes up!' and Miguel, well, he didn't know what to do, so he--"

Junior's hand quietly crept under the elastic of her panties, and in expectation, in ecstasy, Carmela closed her eyes.

"Are you even listening to me?" Frankie looked up at her briefly. "You're not even looking at me. It's like you're somewhere else!"

Carmela's mouth was hanging open, and she quickly tried to remember what her husband was saying. "Of course I am! I'm listening."

"Why do I even bother talking to you? You never listen to me."

"I said I was listening." Carmela repeated, feeling a series of quick tugs pull at her sides, and with each tug, her panties slipped down a few more inches. "You said they both got into a fight over some stupid shop towels? Right?"

"No, no, no." Frankie was clearly irritated, just as the sports show started up again. "I said they almost got into a fight. We broke it up before it got serious, but those guys haven't talked to each other ever since then."

Carmela's underwear was by now down to her ankles, and it felt so good to have the air swirling around her bare ass, and to have Junior teasing her while her husband stood just a few yards below and totally unaware, as was always the case, of what was going on. Her brother's hands returned to the exploration of her legs, enticingly sliding up and down their length. They found their way to the edges of her butt, tracing the soft curves of her skin and bringing both soft shudders and goose pimples to it, then working their way towards her moist middle, where they grazed past and tickled at the trimmed hairs which outlined her private entrance. One brazen finger crept in, swirling around her love hole like a tiny boat caught in a whirlpool, plunging into her with such a swift accuracy that it forced a sharp gasp from her throat.

Absently, Frankie waved for her to be quiet. "Hold on, they're talking about the game."

The long finger poked and slid about, and with her teeth clenched tightly to prevent any further sounds from exiting, Carmela slowly undulated backwards, arching her ass against the invading digit, while Junior's other hand caressed the length of her leg.

"Shit, the game's going to start at five, not at three like I thought." She heard Frankie complaining from the first level. "Now, what'd you say?"

"You said the game was starting later," She thought quickly. "Does that mean you'll be coming home late?"

Frankie shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I might. Depends on the evening traffic. Who knows how many people will want their cars washed later today, since they won't be heading straight home to watch the game at three, like I thought earlier."

"But I really wanted to spend some time with you." Carmela explained, suddenly remorseful that the only sexual attention she was getting was coming from outside of her marriage. "I hardly ever see you now, with you working every single day of the week."

Frankie casually returned his attention towards the screen. "Well, if you hadn't maxed out your credit cards, I wouldn't need to be working two jobs, would I?"

Junior's daring hands reached up to fondle her bare ass, and a short but powerful shudder ran through Carmela's spine, resulting in a quick and sharp yelp.

"Are you okay?" Frankie asked, this time not even bothering to glance up. "You're acting kind of weird today."

"I was about to sneeze, but I caught myself." Carmela lied, feeling the lone finger penetrate her again. Gritting her teeth together, she bucked back hard into Junior's steady hand, and while keeping a close eye on her husband, she started shoving her ass backwards, even as the finger struggled to keep up with her movements.

"I hope you're not coming down with a cold or something."

"Ohhh, I hope I don't either." Carmela stammered, still driving herself back and lathering the invading finger with her wet cunt. "But I think I'm getting a headache. Maybe I should lay down for a while."

"Yeah, take some of my vitamins, too." Frankie said, clicking the TV off. "I don't want you getting sick, because you might get me sick, too. Then I might have to miss work, and it'll make it that much harder to pay off those fucking credit cards that you maxed out."

Carmela nodded, concealing her flushed face by dropping her head on top of her hands. Her fingers were now tightly gripping the thick edge of the balcony.

Junior's face inched closer to her behind, and just after his excited breaths blew warm air on her ass, his tongue lashed out to probe between the swells of her buttocks.

"Oh, shit." She mumbled sensually.

Junior's tongue revolved a few times around her anus, taking wet pokes at the spot, and entering its secrets for only the minutest of moments. The tongue withdrew briefly, as if gathering its strength, until it charged forward once more. Pulling away, the tongue roamed a short distance south, prompting Carmela to arch her back further, and allow the slick appendage access to her moist pussy.

"I guess I should be heading out." Frankie called up to her, making his way across the living room floor. Instead of heading toward the door, however, he'd turned toward the kitchen. "Thanks for having the sandwich ready."

"Just the way you like it." Carmela replied, bracing herself as the invasive tongue began pumping in and out of her folds.

Frankie disappeared from view, briefly scaring Carmela with the impression that he was coming up the stairs. Once she'd heard him opening and closing the kitchen drawers, she relaxed a little, and allowed the sensations of the skillful tongue behind her to rack her body with an intense and increasing pleasure.

"I don't want any hot chips today. Do we still have any corn chips?" Frankie's voice could be heard from the kitchen.

"Not in the little bags," Carmela mouthed a steamy yet silent moan, then struggled to find her voice as the merciless tongue went to work on her clit. "There's half a bag of corn chips, aahh, in the back cabinet."

A few seconds passed before Frankie's voice reached her again. "I found it. Is it okay if I take the entire bag? It's nearly empty, anyway."

"Take it!" Carmela shouted down, even as a probing finger squeezed itself past her seducer's warm face.

The finger traced upwards, ignoring the rapid movements of Junior's tongue, and centered itself on her asshole. A few quick jabs signaled its intentions, causing Carmela to reach back with one hand in an effort to swipe it away.

Frankie walked back into the living room, and as Carmela brought her husband into focus, Junior forced his wet index finger right into her ass.

"Oh, oh!" Carmela winced, noting Frankie's quick glance upwards. "Sorry. I almost sneezed again."

Frankie simply shook his head, and kept walking towards the front door. "You'd better not be getting sick. I mean it."

Carmela quickly and quietly nodded, keeping her head down and trying to keep her breathing under control. "You son of a bitch." She hissed down between her legs.

"Hey, that's my mom you're talking about!" Junior whispered fiercely.

Frankie paused in the open doorway. "I'll see you later tonight. Okay?"

"Okay." Carmela looked up, trying to give him her best smile. "Don't stay out too late."

"Laters." Frankie waved goodbye. "And don't forget to put some clothes on. And don't forget to take those vitamins, either."

The door closed shut behind him, and a moment later, she could hear the deadbolt locking into place.

Junior pressed his face right up against her ass, and his tongue tried to squeeze into the tight space his finger had invaded just moments before. She gave in to his erotic attention, gasping at the reckless intrusions and even arching her ass further back to greet him. When Junior's finger started creeping closer, she straightened up quickly and spun around to face the kneeling culprit. "You little asshole! I can't believe you did that in front of Frankie! Do you know how close I came to screaming out loud?"

Carmela shoved her stunned brother back so roughly he had no choice but to roll onto his back. Before he could react, Carmela mounted his thighs and clamped a tight grip on his shaft. She squeezed on it hard. "Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten me into? How about if I decide to stick my finger up your ass?"

"Ow, ow!" Junior groaned and chuckled at the same time. "Hey, I was just returning the favor. You went down on me first, remember?"

"Yeah, but I didn't have an audience watching me the whole time!" Carmela snapped back. "Imagine if your dumb brother had figured out what was really going on?"

"Hey, he's not that dumb."

"Oh, whatever. He's as dumb as a couch."

"Well, you married him!"

Carmela still held Junior's cock in her hand, and she gave it a few more tugs, but these weren't as harsh as the last ones. She could do so many things with that cock, she imagined, if she really wanted to take her time with it. Carmela didn't have the patience for any foreplay at the moment. She just wanted to get good and screwed, and right away.

Carmela crawled forward those last few inches, still in possession of the long rod, and poised her body to engulf it. "I know you want this."

"Hell yeah I do. I'm not denying that."

As Carmela gracefully settled her weight onto Junior, she felt his cock slide smoothly into her steaming void. Just before she started her erotic ride, she leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of Junior's shoulders, gazing into his enthralled eyes even as her long curls dropped down around her.

"It's your lucky day." She purred. "Because I'm feeling very naughty right now."

If there was one thing that Junior had learned about women, it was to let them have their way if that's what they wanted. So when his brother's wife started a quiet and rhythmic grind, he simply lay there and trickled his hands across her sides every once in a while. Only when Carmela's breathing began to deepen, and when her movements began to accelerate, did he bring up his expectant hands and curl his fingers around the great swells of her bra.

At the height of her climax, Junior slipped her body to one side and mounted her, pressing his flesh into her and clasping her shoulders to keep her in place. Keeping with the pace that Carmela had just set, he rocked back and forth with her, feeling her legs snare his lower back, and her arms clasp his upper half, and each timed thrust coincided with the release of Carmela's breaths.

Finally, when Junior could hold back no longer, he slowed his pace and instead of a fast and furious finish, he experienced a much more controlled, yet equally powerful climax. His head dropped next to Carmela's, and their perspiring faces brushed together, even as they mutually became aware of the sweet and cooling sweat on the exposed parts of their flesh. Still, they held each other close, as if what they'd just experienced might have meant more than just a random fling, but each knowing that the truth was a much harsher reality.

When the moment of passion had faded away, Junior rolled onto his back, giving Carmela whatever space he thought she might need.

"That was nice." She said, a few moments later. "I haven't had a good fuck like that in a long time. I really needed it like that too, like a lover would do it, instead of like a cheap quickie."

Carmela sat up, and she might have been feeling a bit of remorse for cheating on her husband, with his own brother even, but then she recalled how she'd given him plenty of opportunity to make something happen, and how he kept walking away from her time after time. It was Frankie's fault that she'd cheated on him, she rightfully concluded.

Junior sat up next to her.

"What are you going to do?" Carmela asked.

Junior shrugged. "I don't know. Thanks to you, I'll probably have to take another shower, and I guess I'm walking home after that. Unless you want to give me a ride, that is."

Give him a ride, he said. The daring woman smirked to herself; I just did, and maybe I'll do it again.

Melancholy did not sit well with Carmela. Her motto was; you make your own path, and if you don't like it, you move on. She just hadn't decided if Frankie was on the same path as she was, or blocking it, and she wasn't ready to make a final decision on him. At least, not yet she wasn't. So Carmela got to her feet, and for a moment, the young man sitting on the floor wondered if that was what super models looked like naked.

She undid her bra, finally, and let it fall onto the floor. "I think I need to take a shower, too." She took the handful of steps into the bathroom, where she paused at the doorway and looked back. "Are you coming, or am I doing this all by myself?"

Grinning, Frankie got up and followed her inside.



The House of Robles 1.05



Pablo Senior was pretty ticked off. Here he was, standing in his home's dirt driveway with his thick arms folded across his chest, and his sturdy body leaning back defiantly on the front fender of his most prized possession, a nicely appointed 2010 Dodge Ram pickup truck.

"I already said NO." The forty-four year old repeated, more than a little anxious to get back inside, as the cool night breeze was nipping at his thin layer of clothing: a simple white tee shirt and a pair of gray cotton shorts. The only thing preventing him from going back inside was his pretty but feisty daughter Melinda, who was sternly pacing a few yards away from him, and keeping the keys to his vehicle tightly gripped within her clutch. "I don't know why I have to keep telling you over and over again, you are not going to drive my truck tonight. Or on any other night, for that matter!"

Against any other man, Melinda considered, she would have long since gotten her way, and she would have been quite a few miles down the road by that point. Other, much more susceptible types would have long ago buckled under her tight scrutiny, or better yet, succumbed to her flirty advances. But this was her stubborn mule of a father standing before her. Her sexy just didn't work on him.

She harrumphed her displeasure, recalling how a few years earlier she'd abruptly stormed out of her parents' quaint residence. That was right after she'd turned eighteen, and she knew her dad had never forgiven her for that. It was even worse when her parents later found out that she was working as a stripper. Or, she thought smugly, like that one day a couple of years back, when she abruptly dropped out of beauty school and left her dad holding the bag for the tuition. He was probably still paying off the debt, but instead of feeling sorry for what she'd done, the self-centered Melinda blamed that on her father. He shouldn't have been stupid enough to co-sign on the loan with her, when he knew it wasn't even her decision to enroll in the beauty school in the first place. That had all been her mother's idea.

She cleared her throat and said, "And I don't know why I have to keep telling you; my car is in the shop, and it won't be ready for another couple of days. I am going to use your truck tonight."

"Tell your boyfriend to come pick you up."

"He's working tonight." Melinda countered. "I don't know why I'm even bothering standing here arguing with you. If mom were here, she would have already forced you to move out of the way, and you know it."

"Well, then it's a good thing she's out for the night." Was Pablo's smart-ass reply. "She's getting drunk with your Aunt Cessy, and she probably won't be coming home until tomorrow morning."

The deck was stacked against her, Melinda acknowledged as she glanced towards the house. All the windows were dark, and that meant that her sister Amanda was probably spending the night at a friend's house, and nobody had seen her brother Junior recently, even though he'd gotten out of jail a few days before. There was no person around who could help her talk her father into giving up the showy vehicle, and Melinda gave in to her frustration. "Come on! I need to use the truck, just for tonight!"

"I'm sure you've got friends over at that... that dancing place you work at." Pablo looked away carelessly. The truth was; he really hadn't gotten over the fact that his precious twenty-one year old daughter was taking off her clothes for money, and in front of droves and droves of strange men. "Why don't you call and bug one of those girls?"

Cursing her father in her thoughts, Melinda was ready to play her last card. "Either you let me use the truck, or I'm telling mom."

Pablo looked at her with contempt. "Telling her what? You'll try to make something up so your mother will get mad at me, won't you? Well guess what, she's already mad at me, and for something I didn't even do."

"I know you've been cheating on her, behind her back."

"That's bullshit, and you know it."

"Oh, really?" Melinda's tone changed, as if she really did have the goods on him.

Suddenly, Pablo found himself wary, and he watched as Melinda slowed her constant pacing, and very arrogantly, very deliberately, his daughter reached up and ensnared a lock of her raven colored hair in her fingers. She began to twirl and twist on this as she asked; "Do you remember what mom said, if she found out that you tried to cheat on her again?"

Lorena, his wife, had sworn that she would leave him, Pablo recalled. It was bad enough that he and his wife were barely talking nowadays, and ever since his son Frankie had moved out, they'd even taken to sleeping in separate bedrooms. Another allegation of infidelity, Pablo figured, would probably mean the end of their marriage. A marriage that had lasted over twenty-four years.

Melinda was staring at him coldly, knowing full well that she'd struck at a raw nerve. "I mean, if she were to find out what I know..." She trailed off, making sure her father would observe the look of satisfaction on her face.

Pablo tried to stare back with equal rancor, but inside, he was getting nervous. Especially after his recent escapade with his son's wife Carmela, and the unpardonable act he'd almost committed with his youngest daughter Amanda soon after. Melinda really knew how to needle a man, he thought vehemently, in much the same way her mother did.

The comparison between his wife and Melinda brought back memories of long ago, back to when he'd first met his wife Lorena in a cathouse just south of the border. She'd been a server then, barely nineteen and unwilling to peddle her wares away like the other girls, although he had to admit, there had been a persistent rumor that she'd slept with one or two patrons when the price was right.

He'd been an energetic and mischievous young man of eighteen, when he crossed the threshold into that darkened cavern of a saloon, and he'd been infatuated with Lorena the moment he first laid eyes on her. So enamored was he with this beautiful serving girl, that he soon began promising to give her the moon. He ardently vowed to marry her, and to take her away from that godforsaken brothel.

Lorena had tried to manipulate him at first, he recalled, by coquettishly questioning his motives and dangling an expensive piece of jewelry in front of his face, something one of the other patrons had given her. She enticed him into buying her fancy rings and necklaces, and yes, he'd fallen for the obvious ploy like a fool, which in hindsight, he understood that he had been. Eventually, Pablo succeeded on his own end and won the young lady's heart. He'd come through on his promise to marry Lorena, and he brought her across the border to a place where they could begin a new life together.

Twenty-six years they'd been together, twenty-four in marriage, and now he could see that his third oldest child had grown into the spitting image of the woman he'd fallen in love with. Melinda had the same dark black hair as his wife, although she kept it a lot shorter, and she had the same piercing brown eyes, and as for Melinda's figure, while she might have been lacking Lorena's much fuller breasts, Melinda certainly made up for it with her voluptuous thighs.

And just like her mother, Melinda knew how to use full advantage of her face and body. On this night, she wore just enough eyeliner to soften her harsh, calculating eyes, and just the right tinge of lipstick to accent her full lips. Her clothing was as carefully selected as her make-up, as she wore a white blouse, more a half-blouse really, since it's collar was wide enough to allow a tanned shoulder to peek past, and it ended several inches above the bellybutton. Over this was draped a black fishnet blouse, snug enough to warmly hug her B cup bosom, its mesh revealing the pleasing and tanned stretch of her waist until her skin was cut off by her tight denim skirt. The swell of her hips was unmistakable, and her skirt stopped a few inches above her knees to reveal even more of the same sensuous tan on her toned thighs and legs.

As cold and calculating as ever, Melinda stepped out of the glare of the single light that illuminated the backyard and the driveway, long enough for the motion sensor to shut the light off, bathing the vicinity in darkness. She didn't stay out of the spotlight for too long, as a moment later she reappeared and the motion sensor snapped the light back on. This time, however, Melinda had her hands on her hips, either thoughtfully or impatiently, and she was pacing back and forth across from him like a warden.

This gave Pablo ample opportunity to scrutinize his daughter's carnal masterpiece. Melinda's ass swayed and shifted with every step, as if it was daring him not to look at it. It bounced ever so slightly, reinforcing the impression that it was firm and meaty, and it jutted out like a pair of large and filled balloons. The only drawback, from Pablo's more conservative point of view, was that Melinda's tramp stamp was revealed on her lower back. She had the image of a butterfly tattooed there, a full six inches wide and with artistic squiggles coming off the wings, and the T of her black thong cut across the tat's bottom third.

Awkwardly, Pablo became aware that he was becoming aroused at the sight of his daughter's curvy shape, and by pressing his waist closer to his truck, he confirmed that there was indeed a huge bulge poking away from of his shorts. Scolding himself for having worn those same baggy shorts yet again, as well as the loose boxers underneath, he kept his body close to the fender in an effort to hide his embarrassing and still growing erection.

"Well, are you going to let me use the truck, or am I going to tell mom that you cheated on her?" Melinda's impatience got the best of her.

Pablo pressed his abdomen closer to the fender, hoping to pressure his cock into submission, but it wasn't working. In fact, the contact with the cold sheet metal was having the opposite effect. He was getting harder than ever. "You're bluffing. You don't know anything."

"You're right." Melinda spun around to face him. "Not right now, anyway. But I know who does, and for the right bribe, I'm sure she'll be willing to talk."

"What are you babbling about now?"

"Amanda said she knows who you cheated with." Melinda revealed her ace in the hole. "And all I have to do is haggle with her a little bit, and she'll tell me everything. You know she will."

Pablo cringed. Amanda was the last person he wanted making deals with a blackmailing vixen like Melinda. If she exposed what almost went down in the rec. room between Pablo and her, his wife would probably try to kill him. Literally. As in chopping him into little pieces literally. "Amanda doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Oooh, mom is going to be so pissed off at you." Melinda was teasing him now. "Maybe I'll go inside and start looking for Amanda's phone book, and start calling up some of her friends so I can find out where she's hiding at. I'm giving you one last chance to let me use your truck."

Amanda was going to spill the beans, Pablo worried, with his giant pecker still up and smashed against the fender. He couldn't just step away from the truck and let Melinda see him with a telephone pole poking out of his shorts.

Apparently, Melinda's timer was on a short fuse, as she grunted impatiently and started stalking towards the back door. "Fine, have it your way. I'm getting Amanda's phone book."

Pablo couldn't take the risk that Amanda would keep quiet. "Wait!"

"Too late, you had your chance." Melinda called back without stopping.

"Wait!"

Fearing dire repercussions, Pablo ran after his daughter. Racing past the glare of the light, he entered into a dark and lengthy patch between the driveway and the back door, and too late he realized that Melinda, and probably thinking she'd won the discussion and was about to get her way, had halted directly in his path.

The result was that Pablo ran blindly into his daughter, and he ended up tumbling them both down into the dewy grass of the backyard.

"Will you get off me!" Melinda screeched, flailing her arms about wildly as she found herself pinned down face first by her father's considerable weight.

Fearing the worst, the discovery of his erection, Pablo attempted to leverage himself up by adopting a wide push-up stance, only to have Melinda angrily ram an elbow into his gut. The wind gushed out of him, causing his arms to buckle, and he fell right back on her a second time. Hic massive cock was now being crushed between their squirming bodies.

"Get your arm away from my ass!" Melinda snarled, even as she jabbed out with more elbow strikes.

Pablo rolled to one side and tried to catch his breath.

"Wait a minute." Melinda pulled herself up on her knees. "That wasn't your arm. What's in your pocket, a flashlight?"

Before Pablo could draw a fragment of a breath and scoot further away, Melinda's arm was already reaching through the darkness and sliding down his abdomen. Her hand came to a sudden stop at his groin, and her lingering fingers only partially encircled the great girth of his cock.

"What is that?" Melinda's voice sounded alarmed. Her hand continued over the cloaked length until it found the top end. "Is that what I think it is?"

Pablo felt his giant penis being squeezed.

"Oh, shit." Melinda gasped. "Mom told me once that you had, I mean, that you have a huge dick, but I guess I didn't think it was this big. This thing is crazy."

Finally, Pablo was breathing normally again. Well, almost normally, as he was becoming agitated from having his daughter's hand fondling his rod. He started slapping away at her arm. "What's your problem? Stop touching it!"

"That's a lot of sausage." Melinda sounded awed, and suddenly, both of her hands were resting on it. "Fuck me, it's gotta be like eight inches long."

"Look, you win." From the shame he was now feeling, Pablo caved in to her demand. "Just take your hands off, and take the truck, and let me go back into the house. Okay?" He reached out and clasped both of Melinda's wrists.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was for Melinda's sharp nails to start digging into the thin fabric of his shorts. It wouldn't take much more pressure, he realized, before those nails started pinching at his vulnerable man-flesh.

"You're not going anywhere." Melinda's voice wasn't as harsh as before. "You're not going to move until I get this thing out in the open."

""You don't want to do that." Pablo warned. "You want to move your hands away, and let me go back inside the house. And then, you can drive my truck and go wherever the hell you wanted to go in the first place. You and me are both going to forget this ever happened." Again, he motioned to pry his daughter's hands away.

"Don't you move an inch, or I swear, I'll scratch your dick so hard it's gonna bleed." Melinda threatened.

As if to prove how serious she was, Melinda briefly sank her claws into it, causing the helpless Pablo to wince in pain. Fortunately, the nails quickly relaxed again, although they were still positioned to strike. At least, one hand was still clamped on his dick, while the other started running softly across its length.

And his cock was responding to being fondled, by growing even bigger.

"No wonder I used to see mom walking all funny sometimes." Melinda mentioned, when the free hand departed with its caresses. A moment later it came to rest on Pablo's waist, where it slid his tee shirt back and glanced over the soft skin of his stomach.

"Melinda, you need to stop." Pablo urged. "You need to stop right now."

Deliberately, Melinda's hand reached the edge of his shorts, and like a serpent it slid under the soft fabric. Gliding past the flesh of his lower abdomen, and across the patch of pubic hair, his daughter's fingers circled the fat base of his cock, and he might have heard a quick groan escape Melinda's mouth.

"Melinda..."

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment." She hissed back, giving Pablo the impression that she was playing out some kind of fantasy in her mind.

Whatever twisted thoughts were running through Melinda's mind, he wanted no part of them. More forcefully, he said, "Melinda!"

She replied by tightening her nails hard enough to make him squeal. Not through the cloth, like the last time, but on the bare flesh.

"Don't do that!" Pablo warned, and angrily, he considered slapping Melinda hard on the shoulder, or maybe even on the side of her face, and startling her long enough for him to shove her away. Then he wondered, what if he left a bruise on her? How would he explain that he'd struck his daughter to his already enraged and suspicious wife? He had no doubt that Melinda would play the incident up for all it was worth. Hell, she'd probably end up owning his truck, if both women agreed that it should be the right punishment he deserved for striking her.

"Don't you move." Melinda said, and for a moment, Pablo was glad they were both lying in one of the darkest parts of the yard. Imagine if it was daytime, and somebody caught a glimpse of what was going on?

While maintaining a hard grip on his bare cock, Melinda's other hand grasped his waistband, and she forcefully yanked at his shorts, and his boxers, until she freed the monster.

Now, Pablo's cock was out in the open, with not one, but two elastic bands tearing into his nuts. Letting go of Melinda's wrists, Pablo pulled the waistband further down to ease the tension.

"All the way off." Melinda ordered, reinforcing her control with a pinch of her nails.

For a moment, Pablo wished somebody would walk by and discover the way his daughter was humiliating him. Then, he thought of how embarrassed he'd feel when the story started circulating around the house.

"I said, all the way off." Melinda threatened to pinch again.

In resignation, Pablo lifted his butt and slid the shorts across to his calves. Melinda took it from there, nearly ripping the garment from his legs until she realized the shorts had gotten tangled up around his sandals. The boxers and shorts were soon freed and tossed aside, along with the sandals.

Both of Melinda's hands encircled his girth a second later. She mumbled, "I wish I had some light around here."

What was she hoping to accomplish? Pablo asked himself. "Melinda, you don't want to take this any further. It isn't right for either one of us."

He felt his daughter shuffling around his legs, and for a moment, he thought he'd convinced her to stop. Instead, he found that she'd moved away from his side, and was now kneeling between his legs. Her hands started moving up and down on his cock, and stroking it.

She was working it well, too. So well that for a moment he almost gave in to the sensations of pleasure, and almost forgot that it was his own daughter jerking him off.

"Melinda..."

"It's not Melinda, it's Mercedes." His daughter corrected him.

He recognized the name, because she liked taunting him with it, and because she liked leaving little flyers around the house announcing it whenever the strip club was having some kind of special promotion. Mercedes was her dancing name. Her stripper name.

"And you," She continued. "You're gonna be Mark."

Who the hell was Mark? Maybe working under all those bright lights had fried away part of her brain, Pablo considered, to the point where Melinda could just close her eyes and suddenly immerse herself into some kind of perverted fantasy world. A world that he didn't want to be any part of!

She continued to stroke his full length. "Tell me what you're thinking of, Mark, when I'm doing this."

He was thinking that she was doing a damn good job, Pablo acknowledged, but he sure wasn't some asshole named Mark!

"You're the quiet type, aren't you?" Melinda / Mercedes purred like a pussycat. "You know what they say about the quiet guys, right? That they make the best lovers. And you know what else? Tonight is Anything Goes Night."




The House of Robles 1.05



Pablo looked up at the night sky and tried to count the stars, and when that failed, he tried to remember what he'd eaten for lunch that day. He was trying any way he could think of to quell the arousal he was feeling in his groin, but it wasn't working. He was still as hard as a rock.

"You know, I can put half a can of soda inside my mouth."

He was about to mention how disgusting he thought that was, hearing it coming from his own daughter, when he sensed Melinda leaning forward. Her lips vacuumed the tip of his cock into the moistness of her mouth. And the heat he felt inside there was both intense and stimulating.

Pablo thought; if he was going to put a halt to things, he was going to have to do it right that moment. But then he started remembering some other things Melinda had done, like that stupid beauty school loan that she'd saddled him with. He remembered the time she'd scratched up the entire right side of his last car, maybe three weeks after he'd taken it in to have it painted. Or all those long distance telephone calls he'd paid for, back when she was still living in his house. All those times, Melinda had taken full advantage of him, and she'd refused to take responsibility and even pay a fraction of the damages she'd incurred. In fact, she'd never paid a single cent on anything, as far back as he could remember.

And whose side had his wife Lorena taken, each and every time when there'd been an argument between Pablo and his selfish, unruly daughter? Well, Lorena had always been on Melinda's side. He was the one always left holding the bag and looking like a sucker. He was the one who was always getting shafted.

Well, not this time. Here was his opportunity to get back at Melinda, as well as getting back at his wife, for all the bullshit they'd both been putting him through for over a decade now, and he was about to claim a sweet revenge by letting his own daughter give him a blowjob.

"Ummm." Melinda / Mercedes was moaning between his legs, and by this time, she was engulfing almost half of his length. Her lips smacked away feverishly trying to devour more, while her wet tongue was pressing tightly against the underside of his cock.

Suddenly, his daughter abandoned his rod, and for a moment, Pablo wondered if she'd just realized what she was doing, and who she was doing it to.

Then, he heard her murmur, "Oh, Mark..." And he felt his member tilted towards his belly and his stripper daughter's nasty tongue running the length of his cock, from the tip all the way down to his balls. Whoever this Mark guy was, Pablo thought, he was missing out big time.

Melinda was so caught up in her erotic fantasy, Pablo noticed, that her hands were no longer in a position to cause him injury. He could have tried to push her away then, if he really wanted to. The question was, did he really want to?

He felt her tongue running across his balls, leaving long wet streaks before they darted aside and lashed at his inner thighs, and he shuddered and groaned at the attention.

Melinda / Mercedes pulled back. "I knew I could get a reaction out of you. You're not as strong and silent as you think you are." She placed the end of his cock into her mouth, warming it up with her tongue, while one hand stroked the remainder of its length.

With Melinda, it was always about control, Pablo noticed, always about dominance. The only way he was going to get one over on his scheming daughter, and indirectly at his wife Lorena, was for him to start calling the shots. He knew just how he was going to do it, too. He was going to play up to her fantasy, and then some.

Gently, he tugged on his daughter's wrist. "Mercedes, I've got an extra twenty for you, if you turn your ass around this way." The stripper seemed to freeze upon hearing his words. Maybe he'd screwed up her fantasy, he thought. "You said anything goes tonight, remember?"

She wouldn't go through with it, he surmised, she'd come to her senses and probably freak out and not talk to him for a few months, but after all the crap she'd put him through, Pablo didn't care. It'd be nice for the shoe to be on the other foot for once.

She seemed to be deliberating for a long time.

Finally, Melinda / Mercedes placed her hands on Pablo's upraised knees, and she flattened his legs out on the grass. "You know why I really wanted the truck?" She casually asked. "One of my girlfriends is having a bachelorette party tonight, and I know the guy that they hired to strip for her. His name is Mark, and he works at the same place I do. He does his thing every Wednesday, on Ladies' Night." Her hands tickled down the sides of his thighs. "He's a bodybuilder, and he has a nice body. He has a nice dick, too, but it's nowhere near as big as yours."

That was it, Pablo figured. She'd given up on the idea that he was somebody other than her father, and now, she was probably feeling very embarrassed about what she'd just been doing. At least, he hoped so.

"I should go." She murmured. "I mean, it's still early enough that I could catch most of his act, and..."

Melinda started shuffling over his leg, probably to stand up and start looking for his truck keys. She must have dropped them in the grass when they'd collided earlier.

"But I've gotta tell you, I haven't been this turned on in a long time." Melinda admitted. "And you've got the biggest dick I've ever felt up close." Her arm reached across his abdomen and she started sliding her body over his. "Dad, you'd better not tell anyone about this." Her leg slowly glided across his chest, finally coming to a stop on the opposite side. Her calves worked their way under his broad shoulders.

It was pitch black in the backyard, and Melinda's body was draped directly over his. Her chest was resting on his stomach and her meaty ass was poised just a few inches above his face. She was going to do it, Pablo realized. She was ready and willing to sixty-nine him right there on the grass.

If only she wasn't his twenty-one year old daughter, Pablo might have been savoring the thought of having such a sexy young woman straddled over his chest. Her pretty face, her perky breasts, her thick waist and nice round ass, all enough to make any real man's mouth water. And while he did consider himself a real man, wasn't this going too far?

Melinda took him into her mouth, and started working on him again. Her head was bobbing up and down this time, while her frisky tongue teased and played with his flesh.

All the thoughts of taking revenge on his daughter drifted away as he gave in to her constant motions, and for a few moments, he simply allowed the carnal sensations to sweep through his sturdy frame.

She wanted it, and after considering his feelings for a minute, he knew that he wanted it just as badly. Somewhere down the line, he'd regret what he was about to do, and maybe he'd even hate himself for doing it, but at that very second, he wasn't about to push her aside and make his way into the house.

Pablo's hands slid up Melinda's ribcage and ended up close to one another over the small of her back, and for an instant, he didn't know which way to maneuver them. This was only a brief pause, as they soon gravitated down towards her chest. As his fingers cupped the pair of modest breasts, Melinda's head rose up into the night and she gasped, "Oh, Daddy. I can't believe you're touching my tits like that."

Instead of feeling repulsed, Pablo was encouraged by her erotic response. He softly squeezed her breasts within his hard fingers.

"Keep doing it, Daddy." Melinda murmured. "Keep doing it."

Emboldened, Pablo's hands instead drew back, past the barrier of the black fishnet shirt, and the short white blouse underneath. His fingers grazed lightly on her skin, before they plunged under the fabric and sought out her breasts once more. He quickly discovered that Melinda wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and her aroused nipples singed his fingertips with their heat.

Melinda inhaled a deep breath, eventually releasing it as a series of harsh gasps. "Daddy!" She squealed, as Pablo lovingly toyed with her tits.

He started pushing her two blouses towards her shoulders, and taking the hint, Melinda straightened up and pulled the restrictive clothing over her head and tossed it aside. She tilted forward once she was done, pressing her naked breasts against Pablo's abdomen as she grabbed at his hard cock and aimed it between her lips.

During the brief time that she'd taken in removing her upper attire, her sweet apple-shaped ass had neared Pablo's face even more, and he'd caught a whiff of whatever fragrance she'd sprayed on herself earlier. It was a sharp and flowery scent that he'd smelled. A very sweet smell.

His hands drew across his daughter's bare back a few times, but this was only a distraction, as soon they ended up gliding over the magnificent swells of her ass. The denim skirt they encountered in their travel was a course and rigid region, but it was a problem soon remedied, as he pulled the material up until it curled around Melinda's waist like some sort of thick blue rope.

This left most of her ass at the mercy of his tongue, and he proceeded to attack the pronounced globes in turns, bringing merciless spasms of lust from his expectant daughter, and throaty growls whenever her mouth managed to detach itself from his cock.

Pablo's heavy hands gripped the great swells of her ass, bringing it closer to his face, and his tongue tried to pry between the moist flesh of her mound and the cursed black string of her tight thong.

Melinda's arm reached back, and she yanked the barrier aside to grant him the access he yearned for.

His tongue flitted about, twisting and thrashing the swollen folds of her blooming flower around and about, and tasting at the honey-like sweetness that seeped around its innermost edges. She was very receptive, and very wet with desire. So much that she could barely return her focus to the massive piece of lumber that had started the sensual frenzy in the first place.

It was like an erotic see-saw then, with Melinda's head popping up to moan or cry out whenever Pablo's tongue successfully invaded her innermost secrets, and her mouth resuming its own erotic task whenever he drew a respite.

"Daddy, I've got to have it inside me." Melinda panted lustily, reluctantly leaving her position and getting to her feet.

Pablo could hear her hasty movements, as she stripped off her thong, and kicked away whatever footwear she'd had on, and he knew he might have been able to prevent the ultimate culmination of their sin, if he chose to do so.

He hesitated, however, and in that moment of indecision, Melinda had turned her back on him, and straddled his lower half. Her grip was steady as she aimed his fat cock at the spot where it would do the most damage.

She might have realized that such a monster wasn't going to simply or smoothly glide into her wet pussy, and perhaps that's why she chose to press it tight against her slit before she dropped her full weight on it.

It barged in, filling her tight void like no other man had done before, and tearing at her insides in a dual jolt of both pleasure and pain.

"Uunnnggghh." Melinda groaned, and even though she was impaled by perhaps four thick inches of Pablo's being, she was yet to be satisfied. The wicked daughter started grinding her ass downwards in an attempt to swallow up even more. "Uhhnn, Daddy."

Her movements were choppy and staggered, but they were all she could manage considering the size of her father's cock, and every few seconds she paused and grabbed onto Pablo's knees as the waves of miniature orgasms thrilled her body.

"Uunnnnn."

Her passionate cries inflamed Pablo's own fervor to the point where simply allowing her to have her way wouldn't be enough. His hands sought out Melinda's waist, caressing it like a lover would, before they rounded the beautiful swells of her ass and groped at their soft and delicious flesh.

She surprised him by bucking down hard, forcing even more of himself into her body, and her frequent moans began to unnerve him and bring him that much closer to the edge of his own climax.

With two-thirds of his man-flesh shoved in her, Melinda bit roughly into her bottom lip, before she leaned back and shifted her weight onto her outstretched arms. Effectively, she was passing control of the lovemaking to her father.

Pablo's hands roamed the length of his daughter's warm body, from the tempting globes of her ass and around her waist, but when he reached up and grasped her breasts, he began bucking his lower body in a slow and meaningful tempo.

Each thrust forced a new shriek from Melinda's throat, and although she attempted to quell the clamor by keeping her lips together, only a few instances passed before she gave up and allowed the sensations to explode from her mouth.

"Daddy, yes, Daddy!"

She was announcing their illicit act to the entire world, but only a small part of this was registering in Pablo's brain, as his concentration was almost entirely focused on his own approaching climax.

"Daddy, Daddy!" Melinda suddenly went rigid with pleasure, her moans deteriorating into unintelligible groans and bursts of excitement. "You're doing it! You're doing it! You're making me cum! Yes, yes, yes!"

He gave Melinda her moment, but before her provocative orgasm could overwhelm him, and unwilling to risk any later complications, Pablo realized just how close he was to the brink and he hastily pushed Melinda off to one side.

She complied with the move, as if she might have had enough of his engorged manhood for one night, and once she'd lain across his lower half, her hands went to work on his still steamy and prematurely released cock.

Her strokes were perfectly timed, for less than a handful of minutes had passed before Pablo found himself tensing up and clutching at the ground beside him. Two fists full of grass were ripped from the earth as the volcano between his legs finally erupted.

As the pent up climax flooded its way out of his throat, and his hot seed ejaculated into the night, Melinda brought him to even more intense ecstasy by increasing her tempo. Pablo shook hard, from his head to his toes, and he kept on shaking until he finally felt the pleasure and shock subside.

Having kept close tabs on his reactions, Melinda released his dwindling manhood and rolled onto her back. Her upper half was now resting on Pablo's stomach and chest, as if they were both merely lying there and gazing at the stars.

Pablo imagined what the scene would look like, if someone inadvertently walked through the backyard at that precise moment. That person would have seen him lying there, nude from the waist down and fully spent, and resting across his middle, they would have seen his daughter Melinda, who was fully naked except for the rolled up denim skirt around her waist.

He felt Melinda's hand encircle his rod, and even though it had wilted away some, it was still a formidable specimen. Gently, she started tugging at it.

"Wow, it didn't go down by much, did it?" She sounded impressed.

Stamina had never been much of a problem with Pablo, although he hadn't had much opportunity to showcase this special talent lately, as his petite wife usually ran away from him after a single romp. But at the moment, with Melinda's sensuous touch to prod him along, he'd already started feeling invigorated.

In his mind, he visualized positioning Melinda on her hands and knees, and holding her in place as he pushed into her from behind.

Right after that, however, he remembered his other daughter, Amanda, in exactly the same pose, just a couple of days earlier in the rec. room. A sudden wave of guilt began creeping through his body.

"No." He said.

"No what?"

"We... We shouldn't have done it." Pablo admitted. "I mean, things aren't going to be the same between us. Ever."

"Bullshit." Melinda sat up, and she probably turned in his direction, although in the dark he couldn't tell for sure. "You wanted to do it as much as I did. Don't try and deny it."

She was right, of course, although that didn't make him feel any better about it. And that day with Amanda, even though most of him had cried out against it, there had been a small part of him that wanted to go all the way with her as well.

"You just have to keep this under wraps." Melinda continued. "You know how Mom is. If she sees you acting weird, she's going to put things together and figure out that you did something."

Lorena had eyes as sharp as a hawk, he concurred. "Then what? How am I supposed to act around you from now on? What am I supposed to do?"

"You're not supposed to do anything. You just act like you normally do, like none of this ever happened." She replied, apparently groping around in the grass. "I think we're going to need a flashlight. I can't even see where my clothes are, and I don't know where I dropped the truck keys."

Pablo could just imagine himself walking around the house to retrieve a flashlight from the rec. room, wearing nothing more than his rumpled up tee shirt.

"Never mind, I found my stuff." She said, apparently after having crawled a few feet away. "Here go your shorts. Now all I need is your keys."

The item softly landed on his chest, and he wasted no time in putting it on. "I'll be right back." He croaked, knowing he still had his boxers and sandals laying out there somewhere. Hurriedly, he trudged through the yard and made his way to the rec. room.

Pablo slid the glass door open, and stuck his hand inside to flip on the lights. The sudden glare was harsh on his eyes, and he stood there a few moments until his vision adjusted. As he kept his tools neatly organized, he knew precisely where to go to find the flashlight, and a few seconds later, he was walking back out with it.

Discreetly, he clicked it on and scanned the backyard, easily illuminating his remaining personal items, but Melinda was nowhere to be seen.

Then he heard his truck start.

Willing his body to stay still, he heard the vehicle shift into gear and start rolling out of the driveway.

Maybe it was better this way, he thought, as he knew he would be feeling awkward every time he set eyes on his pretty daughter in the future. Better to let her drive off, and put some distance between them, even though he cringed as he imagined what she might do to his prized vehicle.

Melinda didn't get her way this time, he realized with a sudden smirk, at least not in the way that she thought she would. Sure, she'd driven off in his truck, like she'd originally intended to, but she did end up paying for that privilege with her pussy.

And the next time his wife Lorena took Melinda's side in an argument, and gave Melinda whatever she wanted, Pablo imagined himself crossing his arms and quietly grinning right back at her, because only he and Melinda would know that he'd gotten one up on her.

And Lorena was never going to find out what had taken place that night.

At least, he shuddered, he hoped not.



The House of Robles 1.06



Any other guy would have been having the time of his life, Frankie Robles glumly thought to himself. He sure didn't feel twenty-two years old that afternoon, although it was a typically warm Southern California day, and a gently breeze was swelling across the relaxing landscape. No, he felt more like he was fifty-two years old. Or maybe even eighty-two. Inwardly sighing to himself, he tilted his head down a little, in order to sneak a peek over the top edge of his dark, aviator style sunglasses. His gaze shifted over to the apartment complex's rounded swimming pool.

Three beautiful women were in the pool. They were splashing and sloshing about so much that their wild antics occasionally sent a torrent of cool water crashing down near him on the low lying deck chair. Normally, having three beautiful women jumping around in their bikinis might have been a cause for a celebration, but not so this time. On this day, unfortunately, all three of the scantily clad honeys were either related to him, or married to him.

First, there was his pretty wife, Carmela, lean and trim at twenty-three years of age, and sporting a red two-piece bikini that blended nicely with her tanned bronze skin. Possessing fully rounded C cups, Carmela had the largest breasts of the trio of babes prancing around in the water. Her ass, after having spent countless hours bouncing on a fitness center treadmill, was incredibly shapely and tight enough to crack walnuts.

Next, came his equally attractive sister Melinda, a full year younger than him, and wearing the usual tiny black thong she sported on such public outings. Her B cups were barely kept in check by the small triangular patches of fabric strung across her chest, and her naturally thick hips gave way to big and meaty butt cheeks. Every so often, she'd absently reach into the deep cleft of her ass and tug that stubborn, stringy thong out.

The last of the shapely females was his youngest sister Amanda, recently turned eighteen and with a magnificent figure all her own. Her bikini was a simple white, and cut a little more generously than the other two women's outfits, but regardless of this prudence, her perky B cups and pleasing rump were just as much on display as the rest. Amanda was also the most hesitant participant of the three, Frankie noticed, as she'd frequently taken to wading over in the shallow end of the pool whenever any of the neighborhood lechers got too close.

Of course, such an unparalleled display of female flesh was bound to bring the dogs out, and this time they'd arrived in kennels. The apartment complex was veritably teeming with horny men. The younger, shapelier ones had wasted little time in donning their own swimming trunks and diving right into the pool, while the older perverts had probably feigned some excuse or other to their wives in order to step out and leer from their tiny balconies or patios. No less than six virile studs (the day's record was set earlier at eight) were presently in the water thrashing and crashing about for any sort of attention from trio of the pretty girls.

Admittedly, his voluptuous sister Melinda was basking, even thriving in the male attention, and this behavior hadn't been totally unexpected. Frankie knew what his sister did for a living; she was a professional stripper.

What was disconcerting, on the other hand, was the fact that his wife had apparently forgotten that Frankie was part of the audience. And from his viewpoint, Carmela was taking great pains to steal some of the limelight away from his curvy sister. For example, when the girls were playing volleyball earlier, Carmela was spiking the ball extra hard in Melinda's direction, obviously trying to show her up, and whenever she succeeded, she'd openly gloat about it. Then, a playful wrestling match between the sexy pair threatened to turn ugly, until several pairs of eager male hands reached out and groped the two women apart.

The final straw occurred when one of Melinda's breasts slipped out from its flimsy protection, and of course, Melinda made a vain show of harnessing and reigning in her valuable asset. At this point, it seemed inevitable that the increasingly jealous Mount Carmela would erupt, and in his wife's enviously surpassing fashion, she did. Less than five minutes after Melinda's mishap, and much to the enjoyment of the throng of male spectators, his wife retaliated by losing her entire top. It was discovered shortly, floating near the bottom of the pool, and resulted in a piranha-like frenzy as several of the guys set out to rescue it.

Now, one of the things Frankie admired most regarding his wife was her competitive drive and ambition. She'd landed herself a great job with great pay, drove a brand new SUV, wore very stylish clothes and had leased an apartment in one of the nicer parts of town. That much was fine with Frankie, except for the mounting credit card bills she kept racking up in order to keep abreast of the latest fashion trends. So, while Frankie felt he had to tolerate some horseplay in their marriage, how could Carmela rationalize losing her bikini top while in a swimming pool full of horny guys?

Irritated, Frankie knew he had only two options. One, he could start a huge and very public argument right then and there, a fight that was likely to spill over into the rest of the afternoon, and probably into the next few days as well. Or two, he could quietly retreat into Melinda's apartment and ignore the whole thing. He mulled this over for an extra long minute, before he finally decided to throw in the towel and leave.

After snatching up the remote control and flopping onto Melinda's posh couch, he searched through the TV channels until he found a good ball game. That would help put him out of his misery, he thought, but he only caught a grand total of two pitches before a skeptical manager came out and called in for a reliever, and all Frankie was left with was a lengthy commercial break full of light beer and overpriced trucks. Well, that figures, he thought resentfully.

Impatiently, he waited until the game finally started up again, and being the sports fanatic that he was, he soon became absorbed in the on-field action. A couple of innings later, he heard Melinda's voice approaching the open front door, while close behind her, one of the many horn-dogs was already urging her to hurry back.

Melinda stepped inside, pulling her wet hair back and wringing some of the clingy water from it. "Don't you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Your phone, you dummy." Melinda rolled her eyes at him. "I can hear it all the way outside."

The ringing crept into focus. "That's Carmela's phone." He grumbled.

"Well, are you going to answer it?" Melinda asked, right before she strode towards the kitchen counter, where the phone was crying out for attention. "Hello?" She paused to listen. "Oh, yeah, she's right outside. Let me go grab her." Melinda stalked past. "Hey, Frankie. You're a lazy fucking bum, you know that?"

Meh, Frankie thought, and almost turned his attention back to the ball game. Before he did, though, he caught a glimpse of Melinda's big butt stepping outside, and of the black string of thong hiding out in the middle of it. If Melinda hadn't been his sister, he sure wouldn't have minded going to one of her strip shows.

"Carmela, you've got a phone call!" Melinda's voice rang out.

Back on the screen, Frankie noticed that a good base stealer had managed to coax a walk, and with the score being tight, the pitcher started paying very close attention to first base. The baseball was lobbed over to first base in an attempt to keep the runner honest.

In the back of his mind, he could hear his wife stepping inside the apartment while she was still on the phone. Since she was droning on and on, Frankie did what he usually did at home, and this was to block her voice out completely and concentrate instead on the ball game.

It wasn't until she stepped between him and the TV that he lost focus. "Frankie! I'm talking to you!"

"What?"

"I just asked you if you've seen my purse!" She sounded frantic.

Frankie shrugged his shoulders. "Isn't it on the counter, where you left it?"

"No!" She snapped back as she hurried toward the hallway where the bathroom was.

He noticed she had her street clothes in her arms. "What's going on?"

"I was scheduled to show a suite to this guy yesterday." She explained. "But his flight got delayed, and he couldn't make the appointment."

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?" Carmela made a face. "He's in town now, and he wants me to show him the suite!"

"On a Saturday?"

"Do you have any idea what kind of commission I could get?" Carmela disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later, she returned fully clothed. "Are you sure you haven't seen my purse?" She turned her head toward the front door. "Melinda, have you seen my purse?"

"Wasn't it on the counter?" Melinda stepped in again.

"Not anymore." Carmela looked ready to scream. "I have to go home right away and change into a business suit. The client wants to meet in less than an hour! Frankie, do you have your keys on you?"

"Yeah, but I didn't drive here, remember? You did."

"I know that, you asshole!" Carmela slammed him. "But I can use your keys to get into the apartment, can't I?"

As soon as Frankie held out his key ring, Carmela snatched it out of his hand.

"Melinda, I really, really need to make this appointment." Carmela pleaded. "If I can get this client to sign my lease, I'll have some big cash waiting for me later. I'll give you fifty bucks if you drive me to my apartment!"

"Fifty bucks?"

"Yes! Come on, I don't want to miss this appointment!"

"Give me a minute to throw something on." Melinda streaked across his field of vision. Apparently, she'd been standing in the doorway and drying herself off with a beach towel, as the damp towel fell on the coffee table a moment later.

Carmela looked back at him. "I'm going to be gone a couple of hours. See if you can find my purse, and then you can use my keys to drive yourself home in my car and make yourself something to eat." She was frowning as she said this, since she didn't like Frankie behind the wheel of her showy, new vehicle. "And be extra careful with my baby."

"I'm going to drive it into the first ditch I see." Frankie smirked.

"Don't you dare." She replied, only half-joking, just as Melinda came strutting back. "I'll see you later, Frankie. Wish me luck!"

The two shapely women bounded out of sight, and as far as Frankie was concerned, out of mind. Now, he could get back to the ball game.

Alas, this was not to be. Not even five minutes later, Frankie heard somebody else's footsteps approaching the front door, and he turned just as his little sister was stepping inside. She didn't look too happy.

"What the hell just happened?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm right there in the middle of the pool surrounded by all these perverts, and then Melinda and Carmela run by fully dressed, and all they can say is 'see you later'! And then, poof, they're both gone!" Noticing the moist towel on the coffee table, she grabbed it and started drying off her arms and shoulders. "I can't believe they left me in the water by myself!"

Frankie couldn't help but chuckle.

Angrily, Amanda hurled the balled up towel at him, before she stormed off towards the single bathroom.

Her butt wasn't as big as Melinda's, Frankie compared as she went past him, and it wasn't as tight as Carmela's, but it did have its own particular charm to it.

Frankie glanced toward the front door, which was still wide open. Better close that up, he said to himself, before any of the predators loitering outside walked over and tried to invite themselves in. Once he'd shut it, he remembered the predicament he'd have to deal with when the time came to go home, and he walked over and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Hey, Amanda, did you see where Carmela's purse went?"

"What?" Came a garbled reply from the steady stream of running water.

"Do you know what happened to Carmela's purse?" Frankie repeated.

"I put it under the sink!"

"Why did you do that?" Frankie called out.

The shower suddenly shut off, and Amanda's voice came across that much louder. "Melinda told me to hide it somewhere, since the front door was going to be wide open. She didn't want one of those guys coming inside and stealing it." The door swung aside, and she stepped out wearing only a towel draped across her chest. "Damn it!"

Frankie had already started back to the living room, and the still in progress baseball game. He turned back to ask, "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered that my street clothes are all wet!" Amanda grimaced. "From when you guys tossed me in the pool earlier!"

Frankie smirked. "Well, you did dare us to."

"I didn't think you guys would actually do it." Amanda countered. "What am I going to do? I sure as hell ain't walking over to the laundry room to dry my clothes, not with all those assholes still hanging around outside." She did an about-face and defiantly strode into their sister's bedroom. "I'm going to borrow some of Melinda's clothes, and when she comes back, I'm going to make her dry my stuff!"

Frankie groaned when he returned to the living room and saw another stupid commercial break on the screen. How was he ever going to watch the ballgame with all those interruptions?

Sure enough, the game had been on for about a minute, when Amanda stepped back into view. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt that went all the way down to her knees, with a fuzzy pink teddy bear displayed on the front. Following some kind of latent womanly instinct, Amanda walked around the TV and grimaced at what was happening on the screen. "Don't tell me you're going to watch a dumb baseball game! Come on, they're showing MMA on the other sports network right now!"

It was the Curse Of Carmela, Frankie decided, like on those rare occasions when he didn't have to go to either one of his crappy jobs, and Carmela decided that Frankie had to go shopping with her. His wife could be relentless, nagging him and hounding him until he gave up and came that close to breaking his remote control in half. And all so she could lollygag at the perfume counter of some department store at the mall, or watch as Carmela tried on a dozen skirts and then decide she couldn't make up her mind and ended up buying like half of them. Somehow, his wife had cast her dreaded Curse on him without even being there.

He wasn't going to win, he decided, clicking on the correct channel to humor his sister. As soon as he did, however, Amanda stepped out of the living room and into the small kitchen. Well, that fucking figures, Frankie though in mounting irritation.

"There aren't any chips left!" Amanda cried out, and a moment later, he could hear cabinets being opened and shut. "I found some popcorn. You want some?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

A couple of minutes later, Amanda set a steamy, overfilled bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She munched down a handful of popped kernels, casually watching the action on the TV. Two lesser known fighters had just finished up a match, and the opponents for the next match were being announced.

Amanda's eyes lit up as one of the brawny fighters started his walk toward the ring, accompanied by the heavy beats of his entrance music. "Oooh, this is going to be a good fight!" She lay down right in front of the television.

At least Amanda was into some kind of sports, Frankie considered, unlike his wife, who considered most organized competitions to be as pointless as owning a two-year-old car.

Knowing he might as well forget about the ball game, he listened to the roar of crowd as the second fighter came out with his arms raised high in the air, and this is when he began to notice something else as well.

Amanda's big tee shirt had crept up her legs, unwittingly giving him a glimpse of her fleshy thighs. Possibly, he realized, if he repositioned himself further back on the couch, he could get a peek at her panties, too. Discreetly, Frankie leaned back, watching as more and more of his little sister's pretty legs came into view, and then he hit the jackpot. She was wearing white cotton underwear, and clearly, he could see the soft curves of her butt.

"Have you seen this guy fight before?" Amanda asked, absently glancing back to address her brother.

Frankie darted his eyes back to the screen.

"Were you just looking at my butt?" Amanda questioned. "You were, weren't you?"

"No." Frankie denied. "Why would I do that?"

"You are such a little pervert." She admonished him, reaching back to draw the oversized tee shirt all the way down to her knees. "You were staring at my ass just like all those guys at the swimming pool were. My own brother!"

"No I wasn't."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing."

"How are you going to say that when I'm looking right at you, and I can see that you're blushing?"

"I'm not blushing."

"Okay, whatever." Amanda disagreed. "Say what you want, but I caught you."

"Caught me doing what?"

"Staring at my butt."

"I was not staring at your butt!"

Amanda shifted her attention back to the TV, where the match had already started. She wasn't done with the embarrassing discussion, however. "I was watching you, when we were in the pool outside. I saw you staring at Melinda's butt, too, when I was at the far end of the pool by myself. Don't even try to deny it, because I watched you do it."

Frankie was in hot water, and he knew it. Maybe, he concluded, he should just keep his mouth shut, before Amanda started blabbing his guilt to the entire world.

"Where'd they go to anyway, in such a damned hurry?" Amanda suddenly sounded irritated. "What was so important that they had to leave me out there by myself in a... in a pool full of meat-eating sharks?"

Glad that she'd changed the subject, Frankie replied, "Carmela had to show a suite to somebody."

"You sure she wasn't going out to mess around with somebody? Your wife seemed pretty frisky out there in the pool."

"Hey, you were out there, too." A wounded Frankie retaliated. "And you were surrounded by all the same guys that she was."

"Yeah, but I didn't loosen up my bikini top so it would fall off a minute later." Amanda glanced back at him. "I saw her do it. She just reached behind her back and pulled on the little knot, and thirty seconds later, her top was gone."

Frankie had figured as much, although he hadn't actually witnessed this.

"She's such a bitch." Amanda returned her attention to the screen. "I don't know how you can stand being married to her. She cheats on you all the time..."

"You don't know that!"

"Oh, yes I do." Pensive, Amanda began raising and lowering her legs. Melinda had been trying to pry that same exact secret from her very recently, but she was holding out until somebody offered her something juicy in return. She chose her next words carefully. "I might even know one of the guys she cheated with."

"That's bullshit." Frankie was starting to sound angry. "You're making that up."

Amanda told Melinda that she knew who their father had cheated with, and now, Amanda was telling her brother that she knew who Carmela was cheating with. If Frankie and Melinda ever got together and compared notes, what would stop the two of them from figuring out that it was their own father that had cheated with Carmela? Now, if Amanda's secret were to remain a secret, she couldn't keep teasing everybody about it. She decided to change tactics. "I'm not going to tell you, anyway. You're just going to have to figure it out by yourself."

"That's because there is no other guy!" Frankie snarled. "Admit it! You just made that up to piss me off!"

An idea twinkled on inside Amanda's head. "I wonder how many guys' phone numbers Carmela has inside of her purse. I bet she's got all kinds of phone numbers hiding in there." She got to her feet and went to retrieve the purse from where she'd hidden it in the kitchen. Shaking it out tauntingly by the strap as she walked back, she unceremoniously dropped it smack in the middle of the coffee table. "I dare you to look inside."




The House of Robles 1.06



Frankie leaned back on the couch and smugly crossed his arms. "I don't need to look. I trust Carmela."

"Prove that I'm wrong then. Go ahead and take a look."

"Why should I? She doesn't go digging through my wallet, so why should I go digging through her purse?"

"Frankie, sometimes you can be a real pussy." Amanda snorted. Before her brother could react, she grabbed the purse and turned it upside down. Cosmetics, keys and various other items tumbled out and landed on the coffee table, or bounced off and fell to the floor. As a final gesture, Amanda released her hold and allowed the empty purse to drop on the small pile, before she lay back down on the carpet and returned to watching the fight on TV.

"How could you do that?" Frankie sounded shocked. He glared at his sister futilely, as she'd already turned her back to him, before he hastily started scooping and shoveling the scattered items back into the purse. There was the usual feminine paraphernalia: blush, lipstick, and mascara. Just as Frankie opened his mouth to refute and scold his sister for her brash action, his eyes fell upon a carefully folded up envelope.

He unraveled it to find a man's name and phone number. Hoping to attribute this single indiscretion to some business acquaintance, Frankie set the item aside and began combing through the rest of the litter a little more carefully. He found no less than two additional male names, both also accompanied by phone numbers. One was on the back of a restaurant receipt, the other on a personalized notepad with an address near where Carmela worked. This last jerk, named Gerald, had the gall to ask Carmela not to wear any panties when she came to see him next. Quietly, somberly, Frankie finished placing the items back inside the purse.

"So, what'd you find?" Amanda asked.

"Three." Frankie could barely mouth the words. "I found three numbers."

Although Amanda could hear the bitter resignation in her brother's voice, she was glad he had discovered the incriminating evidence. She hadn't really liked Carmela from the start. "Better to know than not know, right?"

"This is your fault." Frankie replied dejectedly. "If you hadn't dumped out her purse, I would never have found out."

"You're supposed to say 'Thank You,' asshole."

"Yeah, thanks a lot. As if things weren't going bad enough already."

"Come on, you're not going to get all butt-hurt at me, are you?"

Frankie stayed quiet.

"Hey, I just did you a big favor!" Amanda declared. "So now you owe me one." Her brother was going to mope all day, unless she did something about it. Just then, another, sexier idea occurred to her. "And I know just how you can repay me. You wanna know how?"

Frankie briefly considered going home, until he realized that the last place he wanted to be was in the same apartment he shared with his adulterous wife.

"Well?"

"Okay, fine. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to come over here and give me a full-body massage." Amanda couldn't believe she'd actually mouthed the words. The truth was, she'd felt more excited about Frankie giving her the once over, than she had when the half a dozen horn-dogs had been ogling her in the swimming pool. "I know you want to, since you kept looking at me so much when I was in the water, and then I caught you looking at my butt just a minute ago."

It seemed as if Frankie was deliberating the action, when he finally admitted, "I don't feel like it."

"Yeah, right. Like I'm going to believe that." Amanda countered. "Get over here, before I change my mind."

Frankie stared at the horizontal form of his little sister for a good, long moment. Her brown hair was still moist from her shower, and while her oversized white tee shirt was covering most of her lean curves, there was still a tantalizing portion of her thighs poking out, along with the rest of her sexy legs. In its own way, Amanda's petite, hourglass figure was just as sexy as Carmela's C cups and Melinda's big butt, and as he'd witnessed outside earlier, there were plenty of admirers who were dying to get their hands on her.

"Well?" She asked, expectantly.

After taking one last deep breath, Frankie slid away from the couch and while on his knees, crawled over beside Amanda. Tentatively, he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Come on, do it right." She complained.

"I haven't even started yet."

"You don't have to be there on the side and do it all awkward like that." Amanda explained. "Just do it right."

Did Amanda just ask him to straddle her? He wondered if he'd heard her right, when her hand reached back and tugged her shirt upwards. The shirt ended up in folds at the small of her back, and her white panties were deliberately, and very deliciously exposed.

"If you give me a good massage, I'll let you look at my butt as much as you want."

The offer was too good to pass up. Frankie stretched his leg up and over, and planted himself right over her saucy ass. He'd hold her to her promise and stare at that juicy ass later, but first she was going to get the massage of her life.

Every once in a while, his wife would start whining about how much stress she was under, and she'd talk Frankie into giving her an impromptu massage. Carmela would always point out what he was doing wrong, or tell him which areas to concentrate on and how to work them the right way, and since frequenting massage parlors counted among her many expensive pastimes, she really did know what she was talking about. Thus, Frankie had been informally educated in the basics, and this expertise he was calling on now.

Amanda squirmed as Frankie's harsh fingers began kneading at her shoulder blades, and gradually, as the steady motion continued and expanded, she began to relax. Tight muscles were mangled until they gave up to his grinding, relentless pressure.

"I didn't know you could give a real massage. Turn off the TV, will you? The show's over now anyway."

With the remote control being on the far side of the coffee table, Frankie had to leave his comfortable mount. He shut it off, and as he leaned back towards Amanda, he noticed his sister's hands reaching to either side of her panties. She slid them all the way back to her thighs, revealing the creamy flesh of her ass.

"You may continue." She said.

Frankie resumed his position, although the fact that he was now sitting on Amanda's bare butt was making him dizzy. What could be going through her head? Even worse, he discovered that his cock was responding to being so close to such a tasty sight.

Focus, Frankie demanded of himself, focus on the massage.

With his tour of the upper back complete, Frankie moved a few inches down. His technique shifted to drawing small circles with the heel of his palm, and he alternated this by pulling all the way across Amanda's back with the tips of his fingers.

Unlike Carmela, who was always finding fault with his actions, Amanda was now purring in satisfaction.

Emboldened by her sweet murmurs, Frankie scooted his body down to her thighs, and took in the amazing sight of Amanda's ass. His hands were concentrating on her lower back now, and each revolution of his fingers drew that much nearer to the sensuous swells, yet could he bring himself to actually rest his hands there?

It was just a pair of big muscles, he told himself, as he gripped a full cheek in each hand. The gluteus maximus, it was called, and...

Amanda might have moaned, just a little.

It was at that point that Frankie achieved a maximum erection, and he found his cock to be severely restrained inside his shorts. Still, he kept up his massage, kneading and pressuring the wonderfully soft backside belonging to his little sister.

"You should take off your shorts." Her voice came out low and sexy, like an inviting growl.

He slid off to one side, wondering when she would draw the line and halt their erotic interaction, and knowing that they'd probably taken it too far already. It wasn't right for a brother to massage his sister like he'd just done. Then he began to wonder, what if she didn't want to stop anytime soon? What if she wanted to do a little more than just to get felt up by him?

Amanda rolled on her side, and as Frankie slid away, he thought, well, she'd finally come to her senses and that was that. Instead, she sat up and pulled the giant tee shirt off. The panties came off right after.

"I want you to do my front." She said, lying down on her back and sliding her arms way above her head. "But without your shorts on."

Frankie's hesitation kept him from taking any further action. "You're my sister."

"So, pretend I'm somebody else." Amanda answered, and slowly, her lean legs drifted apart and exposed her blossoming sex. Her enticing, fleshy folds glistened with anticipation.

Frankie slid his hand over his shorts, feeling the bulge of his prick crying out for attention. Grabbing hold of his waistband, he drew up on his knees and lowered the shorts until his cock popped out. He glanced at his sister, who was lying there and watching him closely.

"You're keeping me waiting." Amanda urged him on.

Once he'd discarded his shorts and briefs, he crawled in between Amanda's legs. How the hell was he supposed to continue with the massage? If he leaned in to start on her upper body, his throbbing cock would be resting on her abdomen. Perplexed, he asked, "Uh, where did you want me to start?"

"My shoulders."

Frankie's head swirled as he leaned over his sister's tight nubile form. With his hard rod poking at her middle, he reached out and grabbed both of Amanda's shoulders, and started squeezing them and kneading at them. This, he felt, was way more erotic than any massage he'd ever given to his unresponsive and always complaining wife.

"I like that." Amanda's mouth gaped sensually, even as her upper back arched upwards. "Do my tits."

Obediently, Frankie's fingers slid down to cup the modest breasts. He began squeezing them, but not nearly as roughly as he'd done to her shoulders, and he ran light caresses along her areola and over her erect nipples. As his hands slid down the side of her belly, he sat back on his legs and took in the sight of her engorged sex. Dizzy with lust, he knew he couldn't resist the tempting prize any longer.

By running his hands across Amanda's thighs, he brought her legs closer together, until they touched his. Slowly, casually, he scooped the sexy legs up and into the air, and draped them across his shoulders, while he pressed his lower half against her flesh.

Frankie slightly elevated himself, feeling the backs of Amanda's thighs hot against his chest, and her butt rubbing against his cock. While his intentions were clear, he had to make sure this is what Amanda wanted, and he searched out her gaze before he went any further.

Amanda nodded back dreamily, hastily.

He pushed into her, as gracefully as any accomplished lover would, until his full length was gripped by her moist insides.

Amanda's reply was to clasp his extended forearms and cry out sharply.

Frankie held his pose for a handful of seconds, before he withdrew nearly the entire length out, and slowly guided it back inside. As the erotic game got underway, he brought Amanda's legs even further up, until he was staring directly into her eyes.

Amanda stared right back, issuing soft moans toward her brother's face, each coinciding with a thrust. Her mouth beckoned him closer, and as Frankie's head lowered, Amanda's raised. Her lips parted to greet his, and a moment later, they savored the taste of one another's tongue.

As Amanda's legs slipped from her brother's shoulders, Frankie closed the final gap between them and lay on top of her. His chest rested on her heaving breasts, while his lower half maintained an automatic and steady pace.

Amanda turned away frequently, exhaling gasps and drawing in quick breaths, before resuming their fervent kissing. It was as if she meant to keep Frankie's mouth captive, as if whatever sex she'd experienced before had been merely that: primitive sex and nothing more meaningful than that. This might have been the first time, Frankie suspected, that she was really making love with anyone.

While Carmela hadn't been Frankie's first girlfriend, she had been the first woman to sleep with him, and the only woman he'd ever slept with, up until this moment. And, he knew, she was always so domineering in their lovemaking, always wanting to be on top, or methodically directing him into position as if he was merely a stage prop to be used and abused at will. Not this time, he thought. This time, he was deliberately keeping his pace slow, and responding to his lover's reactions, even as his lover was responding to his.

When Amanda wrapped her arms around his back, and kept her eyes closed and her mouth erupting in constant moans, Frankie finally increased his tempo into something less dignified. He held onto her shoulders tightly, matching his thrusts to his sister's rising cries, until they climaxed simultaneously.

Amanda's utterances reached their peak, maintaining their sharp volume for a time, before they quickly subsided and faded away, coinciding with Frankie's own throaty expulsions. As if denying that the forbidden coupling could be over, Amanda brought Frankie's open mouth close to hers, and enveloped his lips with hers in a passion that she'd never displayed before. Her boyfriend, she recalled, had never been much of the romantic, cuddling type.

And while any lesser man might have balked at such post-climactic attention, Frankie certainly wasn't complaining, as he'd been feeling ignored and unwanted in his marriage for some time now.

Eventually, they broke their bond, and the two siblings set about gathering their wits and their clothing. Amanda was nearly giggling as she set off for the shower again, while Frankie casually got dressed and announced that he was heading home for a shower of his own.

As he left Melinda's apartment, he happened to glance over at the swimming pool, and remembered all of the action that had taken place there earlier. He knew he'd be having a pretty good argument with Carmela sometime soon, but at the moment, he wasn't paying that too much mind.

Twirling Carmela's key ring in his hand, and holding her fancy purse in the other, Frankie was making his way to the parking lot with a very big grin on his face.



The House of Robles 1.07



Pablo Robles sat on the living room couch, impatiently clicking past channel after channel until he finally gave up and left the big screen TV on the twenty-four hour sports network. Football scores and highlights filled the screen, along with the usual annoying, sappy commentary the hosts always chattered when they had no video clips to show. One stupid joke after another flowed between the overweight, balding has-beens, almost as if they were flirting with one another. Pablo might have been in his forties, just like the announcers were, but he'd be damned if he ever got caught winking and smiling at another man.

Still fidgety, Pablo raised his arms behind his head and clasped his fingers together, but that pose only lasted for a few seconds. Anxiously, he leaned forward and rubbed both knees, fruitlessly trying to will his palms to stop moving. Not five seconds after this, he once again caught his head unconsciously leaning forward, and his gaze shifting out of the living room.

From this position, Pablo had a clear view into the kitchen, and more specifically, to the double sinks where his oldest daughter Victoria was busy doing the dishes. It took some willpower for him to make his body lean back against the cushions, and then his hands were all fluttery again, scratching at his nose, tugging at the folds of his shirt, and more often than not, adjusting the considerable bulge growing underneath his shorts.

It had been less than a month since he'd changed his schedule at the hotel, where he'd been working from ten in the morning to seven in the evening for the last few years. His new shift started at seven in the morning and ended at three-thirty in the afternoon, and just the fact that he was home several hours earlier than normal had led Pablo into some very compromising situations.

It had all started when his daughter, Carmela, had asked him to change the oil on her SUV. He'd done it as a favor, and although she was an attractive girl, she was only twenty-three and married to his oldest son Frankie. When Carmela had come on to him, he should have stopped her, but he hadn't, had he?

That incident he could pin on his wife, who'd been a bitch to him for maybe the last four months, ever since some anonymous bastard had claimed that Pablo had been having an affair. The truth of the matter was that yes, he'd gone out to dinner with a woman from work, and yes, he was enjoying her company a little more than he should have, but as for cheating on his wife, that had never happened. It was possible that it might have happened, he admitted, but it hadn't. And for that near miss, his wife Lorena had turned into an icy bitch, and the vengeful woman had even managed to turn most of his kids against him, all on nothing more than a baseless accusation.

The result was that he'd started drinking a lot more. He'd come home to cold stares and bitter arguments with his wife so often that he'd started a routine of walking into the house, grabbing a six-pack from the fridge, and retreating into the old garage that he'd set up as a workshop and recreation room. That's where the second incident took place, Pablo guiltily remembered.

It had been a warm afternoon, a couple of weeks back, when his youngest daughter Amanda had come home from school. For some reason that Pablo still could not fathom, she had ended up in the rec. room with him, and in a very awkward position. She might have been drinking that day, Pablo later theorized, and he'd consumed a little alcohol as well, so maybe their combined judgment hadn't been as sharp as it should have been. Regardless, it had been pretty dark in the room, and Amanda had known full well who she'd been getting involved with. Pablo had suspected it was Carmela messing around with him at first, and it wasn't until the moment when Amanda had cried out in ecstasy that he'd recognized who she really was.

Pablo leaned his head back up against the couch and stared at the ceiling. The next taboo incident he might have been able to stop as well, when his other daughter Melinda had tried to take his truck keys, and they'd ended up rolling around in the backyard like a couple of horny teenagers. She'd always been a little temptress, as ever since she'd turned fifteen and started growing boobs she had a small troop of young men following closely at her heels. If she hadn't reminded Pablo so much of her mother that night, perhaps he could have managed to push her away. With a sigh, Pablo thought, he hadn't done this when he had the chance, as he felt he was getting some payback for all those times that Melinda and his wife had conspired together to screw him over.

That brought him back to the present. His oldest daughter Vicky had eloped with her beau soon after high school graduation, and the two lovers had moved into an apartment somewhere on the east side of town. The couple had been happy for a time, he supposed, as they tried to make things work and even had a child together, but most recently, things had fallen apart between them. Vicky had turned twenty-four just a few months ago, at which point she'd finally taken enough bullshit and had thrown the guy out. She'd been unable to pay the high rent of her apartment on her own, however, along with paying the rest of the bills and taking care of everything else. So a few days prior, she'd come back home with her one year-old baby and moved into her old bedroom.

And ever since then, she'd been driving him crazy, Pablo thought to himself, again leaning forward to ogle her from behind. The nervous father silently cursed himself for checking out his own daughter, taking in her height of five-foot-six, her wavy and sassy black hair and the beautifully creamy skin of her neck and arms. She always hummed to herself when she did the dishes, wiggling her thick hips to whatever was playing on her music player, and although she was wearing a simple light blue blouse and gray sweats, she nevertheless exuded a sensuous air that seemed to charge the very air between them. She was a little stocky, or better yet, portly, but she was extremely well proportioned and without too much belly fat. Vicky's boobs were massive, he guessed them to be in the range of thirty-four double D's, and as for her ass, well, it was a matter of known fact that all of his daughters had nice rear ends. Vicky's butt was as thick and pronounced as Melinda's, and not even the baggy sweats she was wearing could conceal those curvy swells. It was bad enough that Vicky had a desirable and sexy body, Pablo thought, but ever since she'd moved back in, she was making it very hard for him to keep his eyes away from her.

He considered how quiet the household usually was after dark. His wife Lorena was spending most of her nights out drinking with her sister Cecilia, and the only other person left in the house was Amanda, who always went to sleep early on school nights. His son Pablo Junior seemed to come and go as he pleased, leaving and arriving at odd hours, and he didn't even step inside the house on some nights, but crashed out on the couch in the rec. room. Finally, after the last big fight Pablo had with his wife, Pablo had started sleeping in the living room. A normal evening found him lying back on the couch's pull-out bed and watching some old action movie on TV, all by his lonesome.

Vicky knew he was there, every night when she strolled through the living room on her way to the kitchen for a late snack or drink. That didn't bother him too much, except she would wear these loose white shirts that came down to only the middle of her ass, and for underwear she used those revealing panties that were in style with today's young women. The fabric was tight enough to hug her bottom like a second skin, as it kept her butt cheeks parted and half exposed. Pablo couldn't recall her ever being so brazen around him before, and at first, he shrugged it off as some bad habit she'd picked up around her ex-boyfriend.

Sometimes, however, she would halt halfway through the living room, and stand between him and the TV to watch a few minutes of whatever movie was on. Given a choice between watching some cruddy late night programming or Vicky displaying her big and saucy, and nearly nude butt, what else could a hot-blooded male like him have done?

Then there was the day he'd passed by her bedroom door, while she was in the shower. He'd been on his way outside, and had casually glanced into the room, halting in his tracks when he saw the object on her dresser. There was a big, purple dildo lying there on its side, the kind that had little stubby fingers running down its length. For some reason, he'd never thought of any of his daughters using such a thing, and in haste, he hurried down the hallway.

Finally, on the day before, he'd walked over to the bathroom to take a leak, and without thinking he turned the knob and swung the door open. Vicky had been standing there, naked from the waist up and spreading mousse through her damp hair. For a long moment, he'd stood there stunned, staring at her upraised arms and at her exposed and huge breasts.

"Are you gonna stand there all day?" Vicky asked him, her voice more annoyed than anything else. She didn't even bother to cover herself up. "Or are you going to let me finish?"

"Well, next time lock the door!" Pablo snapped back, shutting the door abruptly and forgetting all about his pressing bladder.

When he'd calmed down and thought about it, he'd realized she hadn't even cared that he'd seen her half naked. It was his own shock that had forced him to react, assuming she would be angry at his intrusion and directing him to respond accordingly.

Ever since then, he'd been thinking about that; Vicky hadn't cared that he'd seen her naked. Thoughts of Vicky's big breasts swaying back and forth in front of his face clouded the images on the television the previous night. And when she'd made her usual late visit to the kitchen, clad in her enticing tee shirt and revealing panties, he found himself hoping she would casually take a seat on the folded out bed with him, and he fantasized her leaning over to give him that first kiss. As it happened, Vicky had simply paused for a minute or two, as per her nightly routine, shifting from one leg to the other and doing some quick, simple stretch, before she scampered off to her bedroom.

This time, Pablo knew, the encounter would be much different than his previous escapades. This time, he would have to be the initiator; he was going to have to make the first move. The taboo that should have sprung up and flashed a STOP sign in his mind had been chipped at three times now, and was disintegrating even more as the carnal thoughts crowding his mind became more and more empowered.

The worst part about it was how badly he wanted to take that first step.

The first thing he'd done when he got home was take a cold shower, but as he stood there under the freezing torrent of water, he found himself to be as hard as he'd ever been. He'd put on a pair of snug briefs, attempting to restrain his thick cock, but the pressure proved unbearable, and he abandoned them in favor of much more comfortable cotton boxers. The bulge between his legs was a constant threat.

Amanda had come in and gone out for the afternoon, his wife was nowhere to be found, and Vicky's baby was quietly snoozing in her little crib in the bedroom, leaving him and his oldest daughter effectively alone in the house. And then, Vicky's ass started to sway back and forth, in cadence to whatever she had on her music player, as she took care of the dishes...

How long could a man like Pablo hold out? How long could he keep himself under control?

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, if he tried something blatant, she might slap him across the face and break this bind that was threatening to overwhelm him. He'd be embarrassed as hell, and might not dare look his daughter in the eye for a long time, but how else could he get rid of these wicked thoughts other than bringing them out into the open and getting publicly reprimanded for having them?

Taking a deep breath, Pablo reached over to grab the remote and clicked the TV off, then lightly sprung from the couch. He straightened his tee shirt unnecessarily, hoping it would conceal some of the lust his groin felt, and he took the dozen or so steps into the small kitchen. He'd grab her ass, he considered, good and rough so she'd have no choice but to strike out at him, and then his temptation would be squashed for good.

The man got to within four feet of Vicky when he stopped. His daughter was leaning forward against the sink, her arms taut and concentrating on cleaning up some extra resistant pot, and her hips swaying vigorously back and forth from the persistent effort. It took all of Pablo's willpower not to yank down her sweats and set his hands on her meaty globes.

With a loud clang, Vicky set the wet pot aside and reached over for another, straightening up considerably. Pablo hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until then, and it came out long and ragged.

"Oh, hey, dad." Vicky glanced back at him, still moving to her music. "I didn't know you were back there, you sneak." She pulled her earplugs out, and stuck the ends into her collar.

Pablo was at a loss for words, and when they finally came, they were flat and lifeless. "I just wanted to apologize for, you know, barging in on you yesterday..."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Vicky shrugged her shoulders without turning, starting another grind on a pan. "It's no biggie."

Pablo casually placed his hand on her back, rubbing it softly for a few seconds, and his ardor seemed to ease away at the same time.

"I've been feeling a little tense." Vicky stated, still engrossed by her manual chore. "Can you rub my shoulders for me?"

Automatically, her father said, "Sure." He stepped directly behind her, clasping his strong fingers around both of her shoulders, and he began to give her a light massage. Working his way towards her neck, he found her shoulder blades to be very tight, and for the next few minutes he pressed and rolled the muscles between his fingers and thumb.

"That feels nice." She purred, rinsing off the last of the dishes and reaching over for the towel. Quickly, she wiped off her damp arms, then tossed the towel back in a corner and resumed her leaning position.

Absently, Pablo kept up his task, but he soon noticed that his daughter had gone rigid as he began massaging out towards her shoulders.

"Oh, my." She murmured, leaning forward slightly as if to strengthen her grip on the edge of the sink. Her head bowed down, and a long, low moan began to hiss from her lips. "Oh, my."

Following her lead, Pablo also leaned forward, keeping his arms loose as he gripped and released her shoulders. He'd inadvertently brushed his abdomen up against her lower back, and shockingly, the man was just now realizing that his cock had escaped from the confines of his boxers. His cock was at full mast with only the thin and strained fabric of his shorts hanging between it and his daughter's sultry body. There was no way possible that she couldn't have realized what was poking into her backside.

He had to make a hasty exit right away, the nervous father thought to himself.

Before he could make the move, Vicky dropped onto her elbows, on the countertop's edge, and further pressed her lower back into her father's aroused groin. A sharp gasp left his daughter's mouth.

Well, this is what you wanted, Pablo thought to himself, sure that slap was about to hit home in the next second or two. So there would be no doubt about his intentions, he pressed in even closer, feeling the heat of his cock pressed between their two forms. Pablo bucked his hips slightly, forcing the intruder to travel a short length across his daughter's broad and tasty ass.

Abruptly, Vicky straightened up, extending and locking her arms out against the counter and pressing her back against Pablo's chest.

For a moment, Pablo wasn't sure what he was going to do next, but all this time, he'd kept his massage on autopilot. His hands gracefully slid down the outside of her arms, stopping at the elbows, and returned by way of her inner arms. His hands ran up near his daughter's armpits, and once he realized what he was doing, he dared his tempted fingers to continue.

Pablo casually brought his hands around Vicky's ribcage and cupped her sizable tits. Another tight gasp escaped his daughter's lips, and as if to prevent her from escaping his clutches, Pablo brought his mouth down to her neck and began kissing her. The light fragrance of her perfume, and the rich smell of her shampoo hit his senses at the same moment, and he found himself nudging her wavy hair about with his cheek, reaching and tasting at the newly uncovered areas with his fervent mouth. The man's hungry hands squeezed and toyed with his daughter's extra large breasts, and from their warmth and loose jiggle, he knew there was no extra large bra present to contain them.

Suddenly, Vicky pulled away, halted only by the rigid expanse of the sink and counter. "Dad, what are you doing? We shouldn't be doing this."

Pablo was silent as he stepped forward, his hands dropping to her hips, finding the massive territory of her ass, pressing and pushing at the cloth of her sweats. Wondering if she wasn't wearing any panties as well, he reached up to her waistband, lowering it just far enough to slide his hands past the material and onto the warm and naked flesh below. She was as bare beneath her sweats as she'd been beneath her shirt.

Vicky shuddered at the invasion, then forcefully shoved herself back and spun around. "Dad, you have to stop!" She could have fled then, since she was no longer pinned by Pablo's body, but she hesitated one second too long.

Her father stepped in again, pressing her back against the counter, and glancing into her worried eyes.

"Dad, stop." She gasped, pleading. "You have to stop."

Her mouth remained open, and Pablo lowered his lips against hers and kissed her. She could have resisted then, but to the man's surprise, Vicky responded to the sensual intrusion by kissing back, her tongue emerging, slowly, timidly, until Pablo's own tongue joined it and lashed it about. Slipping his hand between their bodies, Pablo found the loose sweat pants, navigating north until he came to her soft belly, then dragging the waistband south while taking the slipping sweat pants with it. Coarse tufts of hair brushed against his fingers, and he swirled his hand across them, playfully grabbing and teasing them. His hand reached further down, finding and cupping her warm mound, and his fingers began a slow rubbing against the moist folds. One bold finger swirled about, poking and exploring her furry pussy until it found the opening and pushed itself inside.

Vicky grabbed her father's sleeves, releasing his mouth to gasp as the finger pulsed in and out of her, then she grabbed the back of his head and forced herself back onto his lips. She began a steady grunting even though their mouths were locked together, but when a second finger joined the first, she threw her head back again and shrieked, loud enough to be heard outside and across the yard. The yells further inflamed Pablo's lust, and he shoved his digits into the hot folds as fast as he could, licking and biting at his daughter's exposed neck even as she bucked down onto his hand and exploded into orgasm.

The sexy woman shuddered as she ground her hips down onto the two fingers, and as her throaty groans began to diminish, Pablo withdrew his hand and pulled her blouse up to expose her huge tits. He lowered his sturdy frame, far enough to take the first beautiful swell into his mouth, his lips clamping themselves onto the gumdrop-sized nipple. The excited father released the captive flesh and nuzzled his cheeks across both breasts, then started a licking frenzy on one, while his hands reached around Vicky's waist and pressed themselves against her now bare ass.




The House of Robles 1.07



He had to have her, Pablo knew, grabbing at her fallen sweats, and bringing them back up as he stood. He motioned her towards the couch in the living room.

Vicky glanced at him sharply. "What?"

"Just come to the couch with me." The older man motioned for her to go first. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going through with it.

Unexpectedly and resolutely, she tightened her grip around the droopy sweats and ambled away. Pablo followed, halting her in front of the couch and turning her about to face him. First, he pulled her blouse over her head, not quite roughly, but still with some impatience. He managed to get the music player tangled up in it, so that was out of the way. Next, he kneeled down, just long enough to remove her slippers and slide off her sweats.

Protectively, Vicky covered her naked breasts and took a seat.

Pablo nearly ripped off his own shirt, and as he dropped both his shorts and his boxers, he heard his daughter's quick gasp. "That's bigger than Barney!"

Pablo set his clothing aside. "Who the hell is Barney?"

"My vibrator." She replied, her eyes still glued on the thick organ. "This is going to hurt."

The lustful father dropped onto both knees, then spread his daughter's legs and squeezed himself between them.

"I'm afraid of it." She told him, still staring at the giant member.

Pablo inched as close as he could get, then grabbed at the young woman's legs and drew her towards him. Her legs stretched out onto the floor, then her thighs hung out in the air, and finally even part of her ass left the cushions as he tried to get her into position. Pablo allowed his throbbing cock to rest against her lower belly as he leaned over and started kissing her breasts again. His fingers went into action as well, pushing into the wet pussy frantically as he tried to make her forget the big piece of lumber that was about to wedge itself into her.

After some work, she finally closed her eyes and began to relax. She was humming again, her hands reaching for and coursing through her father's hair, her nails sometimes reaching a little further to scratch along his bare upper back.

Pablo kept up his end, drawing his tongue from one side of her waist, up and around both breasts, and all the way across to the other side. Only when she opened her mouth and started gasping did he proceed to the next step in his mission.

He straightened up, still on his knees, withdrawing his fingers and running both of his hands along her creamy thighs. His hands went under her thighs, caressing her ass and working their way to either edge of her wet crevice before finally crossing over the wiry nest of pubes. She had a generous amount of hair on her, he considered, glancing up at her face. Her eyes were still closed, and she was biting her bottom lip.

It was time, he acknowledged, scooting himself towards the love hole, and aiming his meaty torpedo at the target. There would be a lot of resistance, he knew, judging from the feel his fingers had given him, and he might not be able to get the entire thing in, but that wasn't going to deter him from making the attempt. Pablo rubbed the excited purple head against the folds of pink flesh that guarded his objective, watching as his daughter winced through closed eyes and clawed the nearest of the cushions.

"Relax a little." He said soothingly, gently pressing his cock against the forbidden entrance. His member throbbed eagerly, as if appraising the small entrance and the tangle of hairs it was coming in contact with. He applied more pressure, penetrating only a fraction of an inch, and slowly, gradually he felt the tip make its way inside.

"Ah!" Vicky cried sharply, her eyes still shut and her thick thighs visibly tensing. "Take it out!"

Pablo did, taking a few seconds to reach in and wet his fingers on her juices, which he spread around the first few inches of his cock. He positioned it against her pussy again, easing it inside, as he'd done the first time. He leaned forward to gain a little leverage, grabbing tightly onto his daughter's thighs and edging it in a little at a time, pausing whenever Vicky gasped or yelped or whatever it was she was doing.

"I can't! I can't!" She complained.

This wasn't going to work, he thought to himself, because he'd only managed to get a couple of inches in, and already she was threatening to make him stop.

Pablo had to move faster. He retreated, until the head threatened to pop out, then pushed back in steadily. Again he did it, and again, each time lodging more cock inside, feeling the tight pussy complain at his efforts. Three inches pushed into her, then four, and Vicky's hands started fluttering about from the pain. Another thrust displaced five inches worth of pussy, tearing it apart and battering it as no man had ever done before. Six inches and she started to cry out, tears welling up and streaming down her cheeks, and her gasps became quick and dry heaves of both lust and distress.

"Oh! Oh! That's enough!" She finally panted.

Pablo went no further, instead retracing his steps with a steady rhythm, getting the steamy pussy acclimated to his enormous size.

Vicky tried to lift one of her legs over her father's shoulders, maybe to escape, but the older man had another idea. He pulled out, lifting the fleshy thigh over his head, and he repositioned her on her side, her body still half on and half off of the couch. Placing her legs together, he got a great view of her sideways ass sticking out into the air. His fingers made the first trip in, but they didn't visit long, as he knew she was still very wet from his previous incursion.

Pablo inserted his cock past her ass-cheeks, and prodded around a moment before he found the engorged lips. Then he planted himself inside, already several inches deep due to the lubricated walls and the past exploration, and this time he began pumping away with a purpose.

Vicky, for her part, was being shoved against the back of the couch with each thrust, shaking the entire piece of furniture. Long and piercing wails issued from her mouth, and every so often, she shuddered with another quick climax, but the jolts of pain kept capping them off. She reached out to place a hand on her father's brawny chest, but the constant tumult kept her arm flailing about, until she finally curled her arms together across her bouncing breasts and resigned her body to the abuse she was getting.

Her father had plunged in to the previous benchmark of six inches, keeping himself at a steady pace, but now he was ready for more. He still had a good couple of inches left, and a sudden long stroke resulted in a startled scream from his daughter's mouth.

"No, don't do that!" She protested, but the words fell on deaf ears as the mega cock pummeled into her, impaling her almost to the hilt. This time, there was no doubt her screams could be heard into the neighbor's yard.

Vicky's slaps finally arrived, swatting at her father's chest and arms until he had no choice but to surrender. He scooted back, watching as the woman sat up and shouted at him. "You're too rough!" She warned him. Instead of leaving the room, however, she remained seated and patted the empty portion of the couch next to her. "Now, come and sit over here. It's my turn."

Obediently, Pablo sat down, only to watch her slink off the couch and crawl between his legs. "Lean back on the couch." She commanded, getting on her knees and placing her fine breasts on either side of his cock. Pressing her great globes together, she began rubbing the length of his rod with them, pausing only to spit saliva and moisten his man-flesh. After she did this, her mouth went to work on the fat head, sucking it in with her lips and bobbing up and down with no hesitation. Her tongue came into play every so often, but her mouth did most of the work, engulfing the end and placing just enough pressure on it to prolong her father's ecstasy. Then, when Pablo's groans began to increase, she'd simply lift her head and allow him to cool down, while still rubbing her double D's up and down the rest of the long shaft. Once he started to shift about without pause, however, she knew he didn't have much longer before he came. "Okay," She said, dropping onto her back and motioning for him to straddle her. "Get over here."

Pablo followed the suggestive gestures, sitting over his daughter's chest and watching as she engulfed his pole between her big breasts.

"Now fuck my titties." Vicky ordered him.

Pablo did, thrusting into her moist breasts with a recklessness he couldn't achieve earlier. Feeling those fleshy globes graze against his member, the soft, young flesh rubbing against his throbbing meat and veins, rapidly brought him up to the edge. As he started dropping the hectic pace, Vicky drew her tits up further, making him straddle her higher up, his cock now nearing her open mouth. She took him in with her lips, sucking away at the moving head, and tightening her breasts around the rest of the meat. The first convulsion hit Pablo, and he jerked himself out, abandoning both her mouth and breasts, only to have her hands grip his spastic shaft and hungrily stroke on its length.

Although he tried to suppress it, a long moan fought its way out of his throat, and his cock blasted out like a cannon, draping ropes of hot cum all over Vicky's face, throat and tits. He stayed there, his eyes closed and riding the climax out, as his daughter continued to pump the shaft dry. Finally, when Pablo was finished, he gently unwrapped Vicky's fingers away. He made a half-hearted attempt to stand, but only made it up to one knee before he changed his mind and settled down on the floor next to the couch.

Vicky was already scrambling towards his nearby shirt, which she quickly used to clean herself off. When she was done, she laughed and threw the sticky shirt back at him.

Pablo wiped himself dry, noting that even at half mast, he was still pretty hard. He glanced over at Vicky, who was crawling around on hands and knees trying to get her stuff together. Her fat ass was nearly begging for a rematch. "Why don't you come over here?" He dared. "I'm not through with you yet."

"You can do more?"

Pablo nodded, motioning her close.

She crawled over and looked at his sizable prick. "I guess you can."

While remaining seated on the floor and against the couch, Pablo had his oldest daughter straddle him. Her legs went over his, and she sat facing him, taking his only slightly diminished cock and guiding it into her. It went much smoother this time, as his cock wasn't quite as long and thick as before. They kissed, much slower and more passionately than they had previously, with Vicky picking up a slow grind, and Pablo using his roaming hands to clench her ass, then to caress the length of her back and finally, to cup her extra large tits and direct them towards his mouth.

Her steady motion increased with the approach of another orgasm, and before long, he found her teeth clamping down on his shoulder, and her hips bucking wildly against his. She rode out her climax by leaning backwards and thrusting her body down as her hands gripped Pablo's knees like vises, while Pablo's own hands fondled her bouncing breasts. When it was over, she came back to him, lifting her frame enough for her father to suck at one of her nipples, even as his hands ran across her ass and thighs. She brought up both of her tits, offering them for his pleasure, but instead of focusing on them, Pablo gently nudged her off and to one side.

Vicky was repositioned on her hands and knees, and Pablo began a soft caress of her upraised thighs and ass, guiding his skillful fingers across her skin and down her sides, and planting soft kisses on her lower back. His fingers found and manipulated her hanging breasts, making her nipples doubly hard and giving her brand new sensations and shivers. Then he took up a spot directly behind her, teasing her with his semi-hard prick by dashing it along her engorged labia, until he finally decided to ease it into her and bury it to nearly its entire length. His strokes were long and calculated this time, as if he had all the time in the world, and a few times, he simply took the entire thing out for a few moments, giving him time to drop a few more kisses on her back.

For Vicky, this prolonged arousal resulted in a long stream of tiny climaxes, her body sometimes shivering, sometimes contracting from the extended pleasure. She dropped onto her elbows after a while, and even later, her head came to rest on the carpet.

Pablo would grip Vicky's hips, and sway her ass back to meet him, driving himself forward into her pussy and becoming tantalized by her erotic and throaty moans. His prick had hardened considerably, almost at its full length now, but by then, his considerable stamina was starting to wane. Knowing he was near the brink, he bucked into her savagely a handful of times, then held himself steady as he gripped both sides of her ass and let loose another dosage of his manly essence.

When he was finished, he finally separated the sensual joining of their bodies and limply dropped away. Pulling himself onto the couch, Pablo leaned back helplessly as if the last drops of energy had fled from his sturdy frame.

From her position on the floor, Vicky glanced back at him, her eyes taking in the glistening sweat on her father's chest and arms, when a sudden noise caused her to snap her head towards the nearest open, but thankfully covered window. A car had just pulled into the driveway, she realized, her eyes darting back to her fatigued father's. Pablo had heard the sound as well, and in a micro-second, both exhausted family members called up their emergency reserves, and made a quick dash for their strewn about clothing.

Vicky grabbed her blouse and sweats, fumbling briefly when her fingers failed to clench her slippers, before dashing safely towards her bedroom. Pablo had a slightly more difficult time, as he was trying to collect and put on his attire in the same motions. In exasperation, he gave up and hopped away on one leg, towards his own refuge in the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind him, Pablo threw his clothing onto the tiled floor, and reached into the shower to turn on both handles. As the noises of car doors being shut filtered in through the small, slightly open bathroom window, he cast one last uneasy, and perhaps a little guilty, glance at himself into the mirror on the cabinet, before he stepped under the lukewarm spray of water and quickly slid the vinyl curtain closed behind him.



The House of Robles 1.08



Rubbing a warm hand against this damp forehead, Pablo Robles Junior glanced at the bright green lawn he'd just finished mowing. The nineteen year old had been hoping to finish with the assorted yard work by one in the afternoon, but his Aunt Cecilia, or Aunt Cessy for short, had kept coming up with one chore after another, effectively prolonging the agony of him being out there in the scalding sun.

And then, just when Junior was about to finish with the grass, his aunt had very conveniently hopped into her silver Honda and driven away, with neither a flash nor a mention of the twenty bucks she'd promised to pay him for his exhaustive endeavor. It had been bad enough that he hadn't been able to get any kind of job the last couple of weeks, with that drug misdemeanor permanently blackening his record, but now, to do all this stupid yard work and to get stiffed by his own aunt? That was the final straw. 

With a grimace, he glanced at his last appointed task; to break up an old couch into smaller pieces and toss it into the garbage.

"Fuck!" He cursed out loud, knowing that the big garbage tub was already near capacity. No way all that debris from the couch was going to fit in there, and if he knew his Aunt Cessy, she might start deducting dollars from his promised pay for such a minor infraction as that one.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed again, aiming these particular obscenities towards all judgmental and unforgiving employers, law enforcement in general, and his cheapskate aunt in specific. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

The couch was going to pay, Junior thought to himself as he stalked into the open garage where the innocent piece of furniture was resting. He contemplated the many forms of torture the garage had provided for him. He could snip at it with the hedge clippers, slice at it with the weed cutter, beat it with the shovel, or if he felt so inclined, attempt to run the damn thing over with the lawn mower he'd just turned off a few minutes ago. As he ran his gaze over the handful of shelved, combustible liquids, then scanned across the floor at the rest of the gardening tools, he came across the form of a sledgehammer with a two-foot handle.

Perfect, he thought, yanking the heavy item out and testing its grip. "Come here, little couchy couchy." He teased, stepping over to the offensive piece of furniture. "I got something for your punk ass."

Junior lowered the heavy sledge to the ground, where it reverberated a dull and echoing thud against the concrete floor of the garage. Peeling off his sweaty shirt and tossing it aside, the teen momentarily found himself wishing he had a boom-box nearby, and preferably set to a hard rock radio station.

Then, the sledgehammer eagerly hopped into his hands, and smoothly swung out in its graceful, upward arc. It crashed down like lightning, crippling the defenseless armrest and making it cry out in splintery protest. A second strike ripped through fabric and exposed the shattered wood beneath, followed quickly by a third and slanted blow that nearly tore the pleading armrest away from the rest of the couch. A couple of vicious kicks finished dislodging the limb, after which Junior pulled out his switchblade and cut the last of the clingy fabric away. One armrest down, he thought, and the rest of the couch was going down right after it.

The teen held the fragment out before him like a trophy, and once he'd turned to parade it out to the garbage tub, he realized he'd acquired an audience. His eighteen-year-old cousin Diamond and some unknown friend, of the same age judging from the other girl's appearance, were both standing in the driveway and staring at him.

Undeterred, Junior dumped the trash, then realized the two girls were holding schoolbooks and had backpacks slung over their shoulders. "Hey, Diamond, what time is it?"

"Two-thirty." She answered, glancing at her watch and blowing a small balloon of bubble gum out of her mouth until it popped. "Watcha doin'? It looked like you were dreaming you were at a mosh pit or something."

Junior ignored her, staring at the now brimming garbage tub and knowing no more trash would fit in it. No wonder his bitch aunt had taken off, right after having seen that he was almost finished, and when it was almost time for her to fork over the cash.

"Fine then, don't talk to me." Diamond snootily walked towards the front door of the two-story house. "Dick."

"Shut up." Junior testily replied, all the while wondering when Aunt Cessy was coming back.

"You shut up." Diamond snapped back, followed by a low chuckle from her friend. "Don't be telling me to shut up. You ain't nobody to be telling me to shut up!"

Junior considered issuing a smart answer to that, as the girls paused to unlock the front door, but he bit his tongue. Instead, the teen's gaze took in his younger cousin's maturing body. Diamond was a little on the short side, maybe five-foot-one, with a lean figure that was several pounds lighter than the century mark. She had long black hair and a pretty almond shaped face, with thin stretches that only barely qualified as lips. Her pink blouse had spaghetti straps, showing off her slender shoulders, and clung to her small, perky breasts. Diamond's waist was extra lean, giving her butt a lot of extra oomf, and her nicely curved derriere was presently covered in a tight, white skirt. Junior preferred his women with a little more meat on their bones, however, as he considered Diamond's long and skinny toothpicks-slash-legs. All in all, she wasn't too horrible to look at, as far as first cousins went.

Diamond's friend didn't look too bad, either. She was a cute white chick, a blond with short, sassy hair that didn't quite touch her shoulders, and he guessed her to be maybe five-foot-four, and to weigh somewhere between one-twenty and one-forty. Much more to his liking, this hottie without a doubt carried D cups, as the well-rounded boobs noticeably pressed against the front of her white tee shirt. Her healthy butt, he noted, stood nicely defined by the tight jeans she wore.

He wouldn't have minded going a couple of rounds with that one, Junior thought to himself, as the two young ladies gained entry into the house and Diamond very obviously gave him a raspberry and slammed the door shut behind her.

As Junior turned his focus back to the crippled couch, he found he didn't have the patience or the heart to finish it off. Not that it mattered one way or the other, he realized, as it was becoming clear that he wasn't going to be paid that day, or perhaps any other day, by his long-gone and cheapskate aunt.

Instead, he dragged the heavy piece of furniture back into the garage, and set about returning all the tools he'd used back into their original resting places. Having finished this task, Junior snatched his shirt up from where he'd set it, and rolled the garage door down from the outside.

He might have been about to begin the short trek back to his parents' house, when he realized just how sweaty and grimy he was. If there was one thing Junior couldn't stand, it was walking around smelling like a giant armpit. And since his aunt had just stiffed him for twenty clams, he thought he'd be justified in taking a quick shower at the stingy woman's expense.

Junior was stepping toward the front door, when he saw the curtains abruptly slide shut. Probably his venom tongued cousin, he figured, waiting to bathe him with more choice expletives.

Whatever, he thought to himself, hoping his cousin hadn't been so immature as to lock him out of the house. The knob turned, thankfully, and Junior stepped into the tiny foyer and removed his dirty sneakers. He started across the living room in his socks, noticing that both Diamond and her cute buddy were sitting nearby, and both were pretending they'd been watching television, although it was clear that they weren't. They were up to something, his senses warned him.

He felt the need to vocalize his intentions. "Uh, I'm going to take a quick shower before I hit the road, okay?"

"So, who's stopping you?" Diamond snapped back.

Diamond's friend tried, and failed, to suppress a giggle.

So Diamond wanted to show off, Junior realized, and in retaliation, he balled up his sweaty shirt and flung it in his cousin's direction. He scored a direct hit to the head.

"Ewww!" Diamond squealed, slapping the shirt away as if it were diseased. "Don't be trying to give me your nasty cooties!"

Junior ignored the outburst and made his way down the hall. The residence had two stories, with the top level harboring three bedrooms, one for his aunt, one for his cousin, and a spare room where guests could sleep over. The first floor had the usual, a living room, a dining room, a washroom and a kitchen, and lucky for him, it also had a three-quarters bathroom that he'd emptied his bladder in earlier.

He walked into the downstairs bathroom, making sure he shut the door behind him, and shucked off the remaining pieces of clothing still on his body. Reminding himself to change gear as soon as he got home, Junior started up the shower, tested the water for warmth, and stepped inside. The tropical beach themed shower curtain and opaque liner were plenty thick enough for privacy.

In dismay, as the water pummeled his face and chest, he found a bunch of fragrance-laden soaps, gels and shampoos sitting in the caddy. All of it was girlie stuff that was undoubtedly going to leave him smelling like a flower in heat for the walk home. In resignation, Junior decided to use as little of the product as possible to get himself cleaned up. Halfway through his shampoo, though, he thought he heard murmurs and noises just outside the door, and he paused to listen.

The noises died down.

What the hell was his cousin up to? He wondered.

Just then, he felt the sudden draft from somebody quickly opening the door.

Junior yelled through the thick shower curtain, "What the fuck? I'll be out in a minute, all right?"

A second draft announced the door being closed.

Grumbling, Junior finished rinsing himself and turned off the water. He slid the shower curtain open and took a quick look around. There was the ugly pastel pink towel, still resting on its chrome bar, but his dirty clothing was nowhere to be seen. As he dried himself, he searched the entirety of the small bathroom, further reassuring himself that his clothes were indeed gone.

A second later, he heard a multitude of heavy steps retreating up to the second floor.

Wrapping himself around with the embarrassing, ultra-feminine pink towel, Junior stepped out into the hallway. "Diamond! I know you took my clothes!"

No reply.

"Diamond, bring back my clothes! Shit!"

This time, he heard a defiant "Why don't you come up here and get them?"

Yeah, right, he thought. What if Aunt Cessy decided to walk in the house right then and there? She'd find him naked, except for that stupid pink towel he had around his waist, prancing around on the second floor and chasing after his tormenting cousin. What were the chances of him getting his twenty bucks if that were to happen?

"I'm not playing with you, Diamond!" Junior shouted impatiently. "I want my clothes back, right now!"

"Fuck off!" Was the answer he got.

"Damn it." Junior muttered, starting up the stairs to the second level. He found the master bedroom to the right, the bathroom in the center, and the two secondary bedrooms to the left. The first was the guest bedroom, and the second, you guessed it, was Diamond's room.

The first thing that struck Junior was the room's décor. The walls were painted a pastel pink, and several posters of boy bands were lined up all over them. The bed was a full-sized one, taking up most of the center of the room, but leaving just enough room for a white dresser and a matching nightstand in the corner.

Diamond was sitting on the bottom edge of the bed, her arms crossed defiantly, and a plastic bag that he assumed had his stuff inside was resting on her lap. Her cute friend was also sitting on the edge of the bed, but in the corner furthest away from the door.

Beyond question, the two were up to something, and Junior chose his words carefully. "Why did you go and take my clothes?"

Diamond glanced at the bag on her legs. "They were all so nasty and smelly, why wouldn't I take them? I've got half a mind to burn them on the stove."

"Give me my clothes." Junior said seriously, evenly.

"Don't be coming into my room, trying to be Mister Boss Man and shit!" Diamond snapped back. "You'll get them when I decide I want to give them to you!"

Enough was enough, Junior decided. He understood the gravity of the situation, if he were to be discovered in his cousin's bedroom while wearing only a thin towel. Still, he figured he could quickly recover his items and retreat back down the stairs in less than five seconds.

He lunged towards the bed.

Apparently, Diamond was expecting him to do that very same action, as she simply lay back on the mattress and tossed the plastic bag to her partner.

Unable to stop his motion, Junior dropped heavily on the bed, and on top of his cousin, and like a waiting snare, Diamond clasped her arms and legs around Junior's moist back and abdomen.

Junior tried to pull away, only to realize just how tightly his cousin had a hold on him. Their bodies were pressed together, and their faces were only inches apart. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"I'll give you back your clothes." Diamond opened her mouth wide and ran her tongue around the edges. "In a minute."

"No, you'll give them back right now." Junior countered. "I'm not kidding!"

"I can feel you down there." Diamond hinted. "You're getting bigger already."

In horror, Junior realized his bottom half was indeed getting excited. "Diamond, just let me have my clothes, so I can get out of your room."

His cousin's legs slacked away, and for a moment, Junior thought she was releasing him. That is, until her hands reached under this towel and started groping his butt.

"Oh, yes." She murmured dreamily. "You're definitely getting bigger down there."

Before he could stop her, Diamond yanked the towel away and left him completely exposed. Her legs wrapped themselves around his, drawing him close again.

"Uhn." Diamond purred, bucking her hips towards his. "You like hearing noises like that, don't you? Like they make in the porn movies? Ooh. Unnn..."

As much as Junior hated to admit it, he was finding his cousin's erotic squeals very enticing. While his buttocks were getting worked over, he dared lower his own hand and ran it across the rough fabric of the Diamond's skirt, which was now bunched up around her middle. Beneath the skirt, his fingers only touched the bare skin of her ass.

"You know you want to fuck me." Diamond whispered. "And ain't nobody here gonna stop you. So why don't you?"

Junior's hard cock was already pressed against her inner thigh.

One of Diamond's hands slid between them, grasping his member like a warm vise. She brought it up to her pussy, and began rubbing it back and forth against herself.

"Aahh." Diamond moaned. "Oooh. Just give it a little push. Pretty please?"

Junior did, and a moment later a very aroused part of him slid into the tight and already moist opening.

Diamond bucked her hips up, enveloping more of his length, even as she purred and squealed at the invasion. "All of it. I want all of it. Right now."

Now beyond reason, Junior pushed his cock in as far as it would go. It felt just like pushing into a warm and inviting glove, he grunted.

His cousin seemed content to be doing the bulk of the work, as she kept pressing her lithe body up against his, until she abruptly pushed Junior away. "Lay down on the bed for me." She directed, and a moment later, she was straddling him.

Diamond's petite body smoothly swallowed up his cock, and once she'd adjusted herself, she started grinding on it. Her movements weren't gentle, but instead harsh and frenzied, as if she were harboring some inner fire that desperately needed to be put out.

Bed springs squeaked in protest, as Diamond started rotating her delicious hips around Junior's helpless shaft. She twisted and bent it to all kinds of angles, not all of them pleasant, and as Junior stared wild-eyed into his little cousin's face, he saw her lips press together, and her eyes tighten, giving him the impression that she was daring a climax to show itself.

Junior was holding onto her lean thighs, hardly even thinking about reaching for loftier places, when her orgasm unexpectedly arrived. Grunting like a savage, Diamond gritted her teeth and battered her hot pussy onto Junior's bottom half without mercy.

"Hey, take it easy!" Junior warned, but his words were lost in the midst of Diamond's vicious grunts.

Unbelievably, Diamond shuddered a bit and rapidly dismounted. She straightened out her skirt and blouse, and casually stepped around the corner of the bed, her arm held out expectantly. "Clothes."

The pretty blond tossed the plastic bag over.

"Be back in a bit." Diamond sauntered her saucy little butt toward the door.

Junior sat up. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To wash your clothes, duh." Diamond rolled her eyes. "Just play with Sheila until I get back, okay?"

It took a moment for the bizarre situation to sink in, and Junior began to wonder if he'd just been raped. He hadn't even had the time to touch anything!

Junior turned to face the pretty blond sitting quietly in the room. Obviously, she had been turned on by the voyeuristic exhibition, and she was still staring at his nude body with open lust. "Uh, I guess you're name is Sheila, right?"

The buxom blond nodded.

"You wanna explain what the fuck is going on here?"

Sheila shrugged. "Diamond does shit like that. She gets on, she gets off, and it's all over. She pisses off a lot of guys like that."

Junior glanced over at the bedroom door with some contempt. He was pissed off all right. He looked back to Sheila. "And what about you? You get off on watching her?"

"Nooo." Sheila shook her head.

"Then what?"

Growing nervous, Sheila replied, "I told Diamond I thought you were cute."

"So?"

She shrugged her shoulders again. "She asked me if I had the chance, would I fuck you, and I said maybe."

"Okay. Keep going."

"Well, she made up this plan to get me to, you know, to sleep with you." Sheila admitted. "And the only condition was that she got to have you first."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"What do you want me to say?" Sheila asked. "I don't have the guts to trick you into following me up here. But Diamond sure does. She does all kinds of crazy things."

"I'm sure she does." Junior shook his head lightly. "I don't know what to tell you, either. The only thing I'm sure of is that I can't have my Aunt coming back and finding me butt naked inside her house. She'll call the cops on me, and I just got out of jail a few days ago, and I don't want to go back there..."

"Diamond's mom isn't coming back any time soon."

"Why not?" Junior wondered. "For all you know, she could be pulling into the driveway right this minute."

"Diamond called her mom while you were still in the garage." Sheila revealed. "She found out what you were doing here, and she told her mom that you were pissed off because you didn't get your money, and that you were threatening to stay out there until she came back even if it took the rest of the day." She smacked her hands on her lap, and resolutely stood up. "Then, when you were in the shower, Diamond called her mom again and told her that she should stay away from the house because you were still here, and that Diamond would call her back when you were gone."

There went any chance of him getting paid, Junior thought distastefully.

Sheila was slowly making her way from the corner of the room, to the side of the bed Junior was sitting on. "I think Diamond's mom said she was going to the mall for a few hours."




The House of Robles 1.08



"Great." Junior mouthed, realizing he was stuck inside the house while his clothes were being washed. "So, what am I supposed to do for the next couple of hours?"

"Well," Sheila bit her bottom lip, which Junior found very enticing. "If you let me touch you, I'll let you undress me."

The crux of the matter was just starting to hit home with Junior. "Wait, are you saying you're cool with me, even after what me and Diamond just did?"

"Like I said, Diamond pisses a lot of guys off because of her quick little orgasms. That's why I told her it was okay for her to screw you first." Sheila gave him unequivocal bedroom eyes. "And I think you're really hot. You don't even know."

Now, Junior had always heard that white chicks were nutty, but he hadn't encountered too many of them in his neck of the neighborhood. How did that old saying go? A Hispanic chick wouldn't let you do anything to her, a white chick would let you do anything you wanted to, and a black chick would turn it around and do anything she wanted to you. Something like that, anyway.

Junior looked straight at the pretty female standing in front of him. He already thought she was pretty fine, so why not? "Okay, why don't you make your move?"

Sheila started bouncing up and down on her toes for a few seconds, as if she had a birthday present she couldn't wait to open up. The thing was, her present was already open, and it was lean and muscular and five-foot-six. Once she'd taken a couple of expectant, ragged breaths, she dared step in closer, and set a timid hand on Junior's warm chest. Her fingers ran the length of his pecs. "You have a nice chest."

Hoping he wouldn't say something stupid and ruin the moment, Junior tactfully asked, "What do you want to do next?"

Sheila's reply was instant. "I want to kiss you."

Junior took a firm step closer, and swept the young lady in his arms. Even as she gasped at his boldness, his lips came down on hers and pressed. It was just like one of those passionate kisses from the movies, Junior hoped, and in response, he felt Sheila's body tremble next to his. She was the romantic type, he figured, and even better, and unlike his last few recent conquests, she was in no way related to him. That meant he didn't have to worry about any later repercussions and could really cut loose this time.

Ardently, Sheila kissed back, even as one of her soft hands mischievously descended and took hold of his once again hardening prick. Playfully, she tugged at Junior's manhood, even as her lips slipped past his and her tongue slid across his cheek and toward his ear.

"I want to suck your dick." She whispered, just before her body smoothly lowered to the floor.

Junior watched as the blonde's mouth took him in, and for a moment he wondered how Sheila could do such a thing when he still had Diamond's cum all over him. This uncertainty soon vanished, as Sheila clamped a hand around his cock and went to work on the top third. Cute mewling sounds began bursting out from around the less than airtight seal. Her squeals reached his ears as delicious little noises, high pitched and brimming with real pleasure, and very quickly, he forgot his almost torturous bout with Diamond of just a few minutes ago.

He'd only been with one white girl in his entire life, Junior realized, and that had been some trailer trash chick he'd met at one of his construction jobs. That girl had smelled like cigarettes and coffee when they'd fucked, and that scene had taken place in the lowest level of some parking garage. But this girl, this girl was different.

Sheila was special, Junior realized, and he wasn't about to demean her by having her suck him off like some common tramp. Maybe she thought that's all there was to sex; just random and unfeeling motions until one party got up and walked away. Maybe that's what she'd become accustomed to, by all the men she'd screwed in the past.

The biggest thing that Junior had learned about women is that most of them were only doing what they thought would please their men, and only a very few men made love in a mutually satisfying way. This was not the way Junior did things, however. Gently, he pushed Sheila away.

"What's wrong?" She asked worriedly, as if the answer might somehow hurt her. "Why'd you stop me?"

"I think we're going too fast." Junior admitted. "I mean, I barely met you like five minutes ago. You know?"

Sheila's gaze drifted away. "You don't like me." She stood up in dejection.

"Who said I didn't like you?" Junior countered, reaching out to snag both of her wrists. "I just think we should take our time and enjoy ourselves a little bit, instead of trying to rush to the finish line like you're doing."

"But Diamond said that all guys like to have quickies." Sheila protested. "She said that guys like to do their thing, and move on to something else."

"Maybe Diamond doesn't know everything there is to know about men." Junior frowned. "Did you ever think of that? How many guys have you slept with, anyway?"

Shyly, Sheila looked to the side.

"How many?" Junior repeated.

"One."

"And he was the quickie type? He just did his business and went on his way?"

Sheila nodded. 

"Huh." Junior said. "And Diamond said that's what all men do?"

Again, Sheila nodded.

"Well, believe it or not, that's not all there is to it." Junior stated. He still had a loose grip on her wrists. "Why don't we start over? I'm Junior."

Sheila made a minute gesture with her head and shoulders, and Junior found the movement beautiful. "Too late for an intro, you're already naked." The last two words were raised in pitch and lingered in the room like the emanations from a wind chime.

"Just follow my lead for a minute."

The pretty girl bit her bottom lip, before she finally relented. "Okay, I'm Sheila. It's very nice to meet you, sir. How are you doing today?"

Junior allowed her playful sarcasm to drift away, before he said, "I want you to give me your best kiss. Matter of fact, I want you to give me your best ten kisses. I don't want you to stop kissing me until I'm begging for mercy."

Sheila looked at him as if he might be pulling her leg. "Okay." She stepped close and pecked him on the lips, then stepped back.

"Now you're just teasing me." Junior's hands encircled her waist, and he brought her close and tight to his nude body. He stared into Sheila's eyes for a long moment, long enough for her natural shyness to overcome her and cause her to start nervously looking around. Diamond and that other guy had really screwed her up, Junior realized. "You okay with this?"

"I... It's just," She started. "Most guys are in such a hurry."

"I'm not like most guys." He softly replied. "I've got all the time in the world for you. Now, look into my eyes and tell me you're cool with this? Tell me that you're cool with me, and that Diamond didn't put you up to this like it's some kind of dare."

After taking a quick breath, Sheila did turn to look at him. She gazed into his eyes longingly, giving him one, no, two instances of bedroom eyes, before her mouth trembled open. Instead of blurting out some awkward phrase, however, she brought her lips up to Junior's and kissed him. It was a lover's kiss, full of passion and warmth, equal to her initial volley of kisses, and Junior returned her fervor with his own. Her muted squeals emerged a moment later, and coursed shivers throughout Junior's excited body.

Longing to hear those seductive sounds out in the open, he reluctantly tore his lips away from hers. His mouth grazed a moist trail across her cheek and sought out the sensitive skin of her neck, where he began planting careful kisses like a patient gardener. They came again, these quick and beautiful moans of ecstasy, emboldened and much louder now that his mouth wasn't impeding hers, and they seemed to fill the small bedroom like a shower of soft roses intermingled with a rainbow of fireworks.

Junior again sought out her lips, and there it was again, the feeling of sensual poetry, of infinite caresses, of planets slowing their orbits and galaxies pausing to take note of their passion. There lips were interlocked, and their tongues speaking to one another of the timelessness of love, and an aura of bliss descended upon the pair and rippled up their spines until it exploded into goose pimples on both their skins.

Minutes after, Junior lowered his head, considering his blunt nakedness and his hold on Sheila's middle, and he felt shame at himself and at his cousin's deviousness in forcing the two into such a compromising position. It was meant to belittle the two of them, he realized, to demean their union into just another run of the mill fuck between strangers. But already, the chance encounter had transcended into something else, something much more special.

Sheila stared into his eyes as he brought his head back up. "I like the way you kiss me." She said, smiling brightly. "Nobody's ever kissed me like that."

Junior recalled some construction site, where he and some of the other workers had paused in their duties to wait out a light drizzle. They'd been talking about women, and about sex, as was their normal routine, and one of the older guys had mentioned that there was a big difference between just fucking, and making love.

Fucking, he explained, was like two people in the dark, groping and fumbling on the bed and hoping to connect. Making love, he further elaborated, was an odyssey filled with wonder and exploration, a journey through the stars that you never wanted to end. Of course, the younger guys kidded and teased the old timer. Romances like that only happened in chick flicks, they'd all said, and at the time, Junior had agreed with them.

The old guy held up a finger until they'd all quieted down, then he asked everyone what good pussy tasted like. The handful of answers ranged from nothing to sardines, but the old man just kept shaking his head. Good pussy, the man had said to the group, tasted like sweet honey. Ain't none of you youngsters ever had good pussy yet, he'd admonished them, if you haven't had pussy that tasted like that.

Of course, Junior had laughed along with the others at the fanciful notion. Now, however, after the vivid and enthralling sensations he'd just received from the mere kisses of a stranger, he wasn't so sure. Regardless of how his cousin had set things up, he vowed to himself that this was not going to be end up like some cheap dry hump.

"I like the way you kiss, too." He admitted, nudging her head with his own. He kissed her forehead lovingly and softly moved her back by a couple of feet. "And you know what else? I'm going to do you right."

She looked at him questioningly, but he figured his actions would prove his point much more accurately than his words could. "Put your hands up behind your head, like some cop just pulled up and is about to give you a hassle." He directed, an as soon as she had, Junior's hands went around her waist. "Keep your arms just like that." He kissed her, keeping her attention captivated with his mouth, as his fingers probed under her loose shirt and came in contact with the warm flesh of her sides. His hands next caressed the length of her back, bringing the shirt up with them. One hand held the fabric up near her neck while the other gently tugged up from the front, briefly bumping against the swell of one breast before the shirt was lifted from her shoulders and up over her head. It fell to the floor a second later.

As Sheila returned her arms and again interlocked her fingers behind her head, Junior gifted her a few more kisses and glanced down at her breasts, which were encased in a white and partially see-through brassiere. That the bra was nearly transparent was enticing enough, but what really took the young man's attention were the large globes it held at bay. Flesh threatened to spill out from both sides of the bra, and in the center, her breasts were pressed so closely together that they were touching. His hand reached up to cup one, and through the sheer cloth, he could feel its immensity, its temptation swelling through his fingers. "Wow, what size are they?"

"Double D's." She answered, sounding almost embarrassed.

Junior bent his head to kiss one, briefly settling his lips near one peeking areola, but he wasn't ready to work on her breasts just yet. Instead, he brought his mouth up against hers again, while at the same time expertly popping the button of her jeans open. The zipper proved a bit trickier, as he had to struggle with it a few moments, before he gave up and used both hands to finally separate those tiny teeth apart. His mouth only broke contact with hers for short fractions of time, as both of Junior's hands ran around the waistline of the pants, skimming the band of her panties and lowering the jeans until his fingers embraced the vastness of her butt. Junior gripped her rounded cheeks, kneading them and pressing them together until her mouth had no choice except to abandon his and utter those pleasant moans of pleasure that he was starting to crave. Like a sweet song, the sounds drifted past his ear.

Junior kneeled, long enough to remove the girl's sneakers, socks and jeans. He stood up and stepped behind her, viewing her matching white panties and gazing at her curvy and exposed ass through the negligible material. Next, he reached under her still raised arms and clasped both of her beautiful orbs, as his erect cock pressed against her backside and produced a series of slight tremors throughout her body as well as his.

Junior's hands came back and congregated long enough to unclasp the extra tight bra, and once the garment had loosened its stranglehold, he lowered the droopy straps and watched it fall carelessly to the floor. Navigating Sheila toward the bed, Junior motioned for her to sit on its edge and lie back, and as he crawled over her body, he was reminded of the earlier romp with his cousin, who thankfully, still hadn't returned to the bedroom to try and screw things up.

This time, it would be different, he'd promised himself, keeping his body raised as he planted half a dozen obligatory kisses on Sheila's face and neck before proceeding to his intended target. The massive swells of her breasts beckoned him, and he left a slick trail as his tongue made the passage down her throat and upper chest until he reached the open valley between the tender monuments of flesh. His mouth drifted across to the first, attacking its volume with its full arsenal. Teeth nibbled, lips mangled, and his tongue thrashed about, trying to subdue the untamed swell, but its resilience continually jiggled it back into place. Junior slid his tongue all the way across to the second swell, engulfing its large nipple into his mouth and sucking at it fervently. Sheila's erratic moans and erotic shifts instead prompted him to take in small portions of the assaulted breast. Junior released the breast as he raised his head, watching the ripple of flesh cascade across her breast like a small ocean wave.

His hands were already tugging at her waistband, and Sheila shifted first to one side, then to the other, giving him the opening to pull the panties down. Once her panties reached a point just past her knees, Junior's cock halted him and demanded its introduction. It simply refused to wait any longer.

Junior scooped up both of Sheila's legs, still loosely bound by the panties around her knees, and draped them together over one of his shoulders. He pressed forward, bringing her thighs up against her middle and exposing her pussy and ass for his lustful inspection. Then, as he had done with Diamond, he brought his body up against Sheila's and slowly penetrated her tight flesh with his full and eager stature.

Sheila gasped at the intrusion, her mouth an explosion of noise, as Junior commenced a steady pump into her. The lubricated entryway welcomed him inside, embracing his fullness and inducing him to expel sensual moans of his own. He drove himself in faster, like a rampant machine, sometimes allowing his cock to rest a split second at its maximum penetration, or withdrawing nearly its entire length before plunging inside again. Even as he did this, he still had time to lick and nibble at the calves and ankles of her upraised legs, or to reach over and give her great swaying tits a playful squeeze or push.

Sheila's dangling panties drooped towards her ankles, and once Junior had yanked them away, he spread the writhing girl's legs apart and entered her in the missionary position. Grasping her creamy shoulders, he kept her steady from his constant thrusts, and sought out her lips. They proved evasive, gasping and moaning in their confusion and lust, until he pinned them down and conquered them. Then, he pumped into her with the threat of impending climax haunting him, trying to keep himself from going over the brink, until her mouth squirmed out from under his and released a long squeal that tumbled his senses into overload. Her legs clamped around his waist, and her arms held him tight against her shoulder, but through it all, the squeal persisted, increasing his desire, his lust, until he burst into a shuddering orgasm that rocked across his body like a miniature earthquake.

Junior halted his thrusts, allowing his body to enjoy the delicious sensations as they swept through him, not wanting her arms and legs ever to release him, and feeling his essence drain away into her. Through his eyes, ears and nose, he took in as much as he could of her flavor, observing the thin beads of sweat that had formed over her forehead, hearing her breathless gasps becoming more manageable, and smelling the sweet aroma of their lovemaking that now permeated the bedroom. Finally, Sheila's resolve wilted away, and her limbs simultaneously dropped at her sides as if devoid of any further energy.

Junior rolled away and onto his back, discovering Diamond looming nearby and looking disgruntled at the sight of the two naked forms lying on her bed.

"You didn't do shit like that to me." His cousin said, taking a seat on the end of the bed and lying down next to Junior. With their three bodies spread across the length of the bed, there wasn't much space left on the mattress.

"That's because you didn't deserve it."

Ignoring the jab, Diamond leaned over, pushing out her tongue to run across her cousin's sweat-damped chest. She made a face as she pulled away. "Yuck. You taste like salt." She gazed into Junior's face. "Kiss me, just like you kissed Sheila right now."

Their lips came together. Diamond's movements weren't as frenzied and unfeeling as before, and approvingly, Junior returned the affection. She pulled away shortly and chuckled. "You kiss just like a girl." The teen reached down and tugged at Junior's spent penis. "I think I want another ride on your merry-go-round."

"What about your mom?" Junior asked, just remembering the hard work he'd done earlier, and his missing pay. He glanced down at his flaccid organ, which Diamond was now trying to revive with her calculated strokes.

"Don't worry about her. I just called her dumb ass on her cell phone a couple of minutes ago." His pretty cousin replied. "Can you believe that bitch is going to hang out at the shopping mall and until you up and leave here, before she finally comes back?"

"That's what I figured."

Diamond shook her head in disbelief. "And over a lousy twenty bucks. Sometimes I just don't know about her dumb ass. Anyway, she thinks you're sitting outside waiting for her, and that me and Sheila are in here doing our homework. She has no idea that the three of us are all in here fucking our brains out. Ha! I just told her I'd give her a call once you left."

Junior tried to remember the last time he'd been around a girl with such a foul mouth, but he couldn't. Diamond could out-cuss a sailor. "And you're sure that Aunt Cessy won't suspect that anything is going on?"




The House of Robles 1.08



Sheila leaned over to peck him on the lips. "Actually, your aunt thinks we're both lesbians."

"She what?" Junior glanced at his cousin.

"Yup. She used to always tell me how she didn't want some ghetto ass hoodlum knocking me up." Diamond admitted. "Up until I got tired of hearing that shit. So me and Sheila give each other hugs or kisses every now and then, you know, just to keep up the act. Anyway, that's how I know you kiss like a girl. You kiss like Sheila does."

Junior glanced at the blond appreciatively, and after shooting him a grin, she leaned over and kissed him again. "I think you kiss great."

Diamond kept stroking him. "Plus, we both get birth control pills from the family services place, so you can be our little fuck slave for as long as we want." Abruptly, she slapped his thigh. "Hey, get this thing up already."

"It takes a little while, okay?"

"Well, I don't feel like waiting a little while." She said, hopping off the bed and kneeling down between his legs. "Sheila, we've got to get my cousin horny enough to fuck us again. Yeah?"

"Okay." Sheila giggled, drawing herself closer and bringing her mouth down on his chest. Her lips encircled his left nipple, and she sucked at it for a few seconds, before starting to trail of kisses all over that side of his body. She paused to gaze into Junior's eyes. "Is it working yet?"

"Not down here it ain't." An annoyed Diamond replied for him. Apparently, she'd wiped him off with a towel or something, and was now once again stroking his lifeless cock. "You think a bicycle pump will work on this thing?"

"I've got an idea." Junior pulled Sheila toward him. "Just straighten out your arms, and scoot up a little." He positioned her body so that her breasts swung freely over his face like giant pendulums. His hands eagerly clutched at both of them, but the nearest one he directed into his mouth, where he began sucking and licking at the pale flesh, and the extra large areola.

Sheila moaned out loud, just as Diamond's mouth lowered itself onto his rod. Easily, his cousin captured a good portion of its length, tightening her wet grip on the piece of meat and bobbing up and down slowly. The sensation of her strict lips rubbing against the shaft was intense, and although preoccupied, Junior could feel himself become more rigid by the moment. Playfully, he swung Sheila's nearest breast aside with his cheek and tried to catch it with his mouth.

"That's better." After giving the tip a couple of quick sucks, Diamond removed her mouth and replaced it with her hand, keeping up the tempo of her former strokes as she roughly tugged at her cousin's legs.

Obediently, Junior scooted down, interrupting his own interaction with Sheila, who wisely withdrew until everything settled down again. Diamond stood up, unzipping and discarding her white skirt, and after another moment, she did the same with her blouse. 

Her pert breasts and lean abdomen were visible to him, but only for a moment, as she quickly turned and showed him the rest of her assets; her sexy back, tiny waist and tight, shapely butt. She backed into his spread legs, then reached down to grasp his newly invigorated cock, and smoothly planted herself on it. Diamond grunted as she swiveled her hips, giving Junior the fear that it would be a repeat of their earlier fiasco, but apparently she'd just been reacquainting herself with his cock, for she soon stopped and slightly leaned over, gripping both of his knees and bracing herself.

Diamond's firm ass lifted from his abdomen, and slowly came back down again. She repeated the movement, even slower, as if she were testing out its adequacy. It must have passed her test, as she brought herself down hard the next time, releasing another quick grunt of approval. Unexpectedly, her body tensed, as if she were some sort of race driver awaiting the green light. Then, as if that light had flashed, she began a frantic repeat of her recent movements, but sped up a hundred times, and Junior became some sort of instrument akin to a sexual pogo stick. Her ass came and went in a blur of motion, keeping itself from getting either too high or too low on his shaft, but occasionally misjudging the distance and slapping roughly against his groin.

Energetically, tirelessly, her petite body flapped up and down, and when she looked back to gauge Junior's reaction, it was not to note his pleasure, but to find out how close he was to another orgasm. The look on her face was one of pure concentration.

Finding the flurried movements to be more mechanical than sensual, Junior was nowhere near his erotic limits. Beside him, Sheila only stared with rapt attention at the sexual dynamo and her frenzied exploits.

After a few minutes, Diamond paused in mid-stride, letting a lone and throaty grunt escape her lips, as if the interaction were over, only to resume exactly where she'd left off a second later. This time, however, there could be no doubt she was approaching her own climax, as witnessed by her raspier breaths and bowed head. Her nails began to claw at Junior's knees.

"Oh yes! Oh yes!" She burst out, her pace wavering slightly. "Ah! Unnn!" Then, she slowed considerably, bringing her sexy hips all the way down to the base of Junior's shaft, then all the way up again. Her grunts evolved into longer, more vocal emissions that reminded Junior of cats in heat.

When she sat on him and commenced a slow grind, Junior felt his own excitement welling up, and he tightly gripped her ass to brace himself for his own release. He wouldn't last much longer, he knew, when as abruptly as the first time, Diamond stood up and started stepping away. Her climax now complete, she again retreated, albeit this time on much shakier legs, while Junior lay there expectantly like a man jilted at the altar.

Well, Junior wasn't going to let her have her own way again, as if he were some plastic vibrator that she could drop as soon as she felt she was finished with. He grabbed his cousin by the wrist and shoved her back onto the bed. Diamond landed on her side, and before she had a chance to recover, Junior straddled one of her thighs and lifted her other leg high into the air. He plunged into her sideways, his arms grabbing her by the waist and pinning the girl in place, and he began his own version of a perpetual motion machine. His balls slapped loudly against her fleshy thigh as he pounded into her, when one of her small hands made it past the constant jolting and reached out for his thigh. Her nails dug into his flesh, but whether it was from ecstasy or repulsion, Junior couldn't tell.

As the pain began to register from his broken skin, Junior instinctively responded with a sharp slap onto Diamond's nearest exposed butt cheek. The girl yelped from the startling blow. Surprisingly, the shriek did not sound like one of distress.

Now shivering with pleasure, Diamond again scratched at her cousin's leg. In retaliation, Junior slammed his open palm down on her firm butt, and this time, Diamond seemed to shriek with delight. He'd pushed the right button that time, Junior realized, and as he found himself nearing his own erotic boundary, he reached up and grabbed a handful of his little cousin's hair and sharply yanked back on her head. Some pain must have been registering within her, he knew, as he punished her pussy with deep strokes that jostled her head and neck several inches up and back.

Diamond's peculiar climactic cries resumed, and this time, Junior coincided his orgasm with hers. He exploded inside her, holding her steady with the tight grip on her hair. Like a wild horse, he bucked his last few thrusts into her, halting only when her moans and grunts did.

Sliding his cock out, he scrutinized the sharp red welts now appearing on her ass. He'd never struck a woman that hard in his life, he recalled, sitting on the edge of the bed and rolling Diamond over to face him. There were tears in her eyes. "You okay?" 

His cousin nodded back. "I don't think I've ever cum like in my whole, entire life." She sat up abruptly, wincing as her red cheek made contact with the comforter. With a baffled expression on her face, she stood up. Almost as an afterthought, she brought her head close to Junior's and pecked him on the cheek. "I'm fine. No, I'm more than fine. That was pretty intense." She said as she quietly made her way to the door. "Be right back, I gotta go freshen up. Maybe we'll do it again sometime."

Junior glanced down at the several scratches of broken skin on his thigh, and he thought, maybe we won't be doing it again, ever. He glanced over at Sheila, who lay all but forgotten on top of a couple of pillows, her head near the headboard end of the bed.

For a few moments, neither of them said a word.

Finally, Sheila spoke up. "I guess the party's over." She looked at him as if with disinterest. "So, I guess we'll see you around sometime."

"Why are you saying it like that? Like you don't want to see me again?"

"That's what guys do, isn't it?" Sheila briefly looked at him, but soon found something interesting to stare at on her fingernails. "They get what they want, and then they always leave."

"With most guys, I'd say yeah." Junior said, leaning over closer to the blonde, who stopped lollygagging and was now staring into his eyes. No way he was going to let this one slip through his fingers, even if Diamond ended up having a fit over it. "But I'm kind of in the market for a girlfriend right now. Are you interested?"

"Don't you think I'm too fat?" She asked, her eyes nervously darting away, as if Junior was just teasing her. "That's what my last boyfriend said."

"I think you're perfect." He replied, pausing for a long moment to stare at Sheila's massive bosom. "Well, maybe your tits are too big."

Sheila looked back at him sharply, but instead of seeing a taunting face, she found Junior grinning back at her. He reached out to grab her arm and rolled her off the pillows and on top of him. He kissed her, longingly and deeply, and at first she only returned hesitant pecks, as if it were all part of some illusion that would shatter at any moment.

Once she stopped worrying about her looks, her weight, her past, and the general state of the world, however, she gave in and went with the flow.

Their lips locked together, and as if some grave injustice had just been corrected, as if an invisible cloud of bliss had just descended upon the newfound lovers. Everything in the universe seemed right again.



The House of Robles 1.09



Frankie Robles slowly shook his can of beer, noting that he'd need a refill pretty soon, and with a discontented sigh he cursed the bad luck he'd been having all day. A glance at the nearby wall clock informed him that it was already past ten at night, much too late for his fortune to change, and as he left his seat on the stairs, he wondered what the following day might have in store for him.

After a short walk across the downstairs hallway, he found himself in the spacious kitchen, and with a cringe, he reached out and opened the refrigerator. The twenty-one year old felt something approaching glee as he discovered there was still plenty of beer left in the blue cardboard box.

As he returned to his self-assigned post on the stairs, his mind went over the day's more troublesome events. First, he'd gotten into a pretty heated argument at his car detail job, starting with a co-worker, Hairy Jerry, and later moving on to his boss Miguel, over an accusation that he'd lifted a digital camera from a customer's car. Hairy Jerry had been the person who'd actually cleaned the car, he recalled, but it was Frankie who had signed his name on the slip that he'd handed to the customer, and so Frankie became the prime suspect by default. Stupid Miguel wasn't any help, as he'd sided with the customer from the start, and even though the camera later turned out to be in the trunk of the car, which nobody had been asked to clean or vacuum in the first place. To save face, Miguel had sent both Frankie and Jerry home early.

To make matters worse, he'd attempted to call his wife as soon as he'd gotten home, but Carmela wasn't in her office. The secretary who picked up mentioned that she'd gone out with her husband, which was kind of ironic, since Carmela knew Frankie would be at work until eight. She'd gone out with someone else then, he angrily concluded, further confirming Frankie's suspicions that she was screwing around, yet again, behind his back.

In resignation, he'd driven over to his mom's house, officially to watch TV, and unofficially to watch his hot sister, Amanda. Amanda was indeed there, and immediately she'd read his mind, as she started flashing her B-cup boobs at him whenever no one was paying attention. That little hooker kept teasing him right up until his mom walked into the living room and asked him for a ride to Aunt Cecilia's house. With a grunt of irritation, Frankie agreed to do this simple task.

That's how he ended up there, sitting on the stairs in Aunt Cessy's house and drinking the night away. His mother and his aunt were both chatting in the nearby family room, and occasionally, they'd call over and ask him to retrieve a couple more brews for them.

At first, he'd hated his lowly assignment, but as the time went by, he discovered the alcohol was loosening the two women's normally guarded tongues, and every so often he'd catch some interesting gossip. For example, he'd learned that his little cousin, Diamond, was a lesbian, and was now hooking up with some white girl with blonde hair, who had what Aunt Cessy kept calling 'monster titties.' (Diamond had no opportunity to rebut this, as she was not at home, but spending the night at her aforementioned friend's house.) Then, Frankie had snickered when his aunt revealed that she'd stiffed his younger brother Junior for twenty bucks, after he'd done all kinds of yard work, and this just a few days ago. His mother also took the revelation in with a hearty laugh.

Apparently, the women had forgotten he was still there, sitting ignored and out of sight on the stairs, as they began kidding around about ordering for a pizza and asking for some black kid named Marshall. When his mother suggested that Aunt Cessy had better take things slower than the last time, or she'd scare the poor kid away again, both women had broken into a fit of uproarious laughter. What the hell were they talking about?

He knew Aunt Cessy had a bad reputation as a flirt, and then some, but his own mom going along with trying to seduce a random pizza guy? Then his aunt casually mentioned how long she'd been without a man, making sure she was standing in a corner where her eyes could lock in on Frankie's. She'd smiled straight at him, sexily sliding her tongue across her lips, before she changed the topic of conversation. Frankie's own aunt was flirting with him. He couldn't believe it!

Of course, he found the mature woman attractive. She had dark bronze skin, extra big tits, thick thighs and a fat, juicy ass. Her hair was a rich, dark brown, short enough to curl just past the curve of her jaw, and her face was a little rounded but still cute. Her lips were thick and pouting, her eyes large and sexy, and she looked especially inviting in her short and strapless, yellow and flowery sundress. A few minutes later, he observed the woman climbing onto the couch to adjust her stubborn drapes, giving Frankie a good eyeful of her fleshy legs and ample rear end.

His gaze lingered on his aunt's loosely wrapped butt for a few more seconds, before his eyes fell upon the other woman in the room. His mother looked very much like an older and more attractive version of his sister Melinda, with her classy good looks and her long black hair. Compared to his aunt, his mom had much lighter skin, a leaner waist and trimmer thighs that emphasized the curvy swells of her own ass, and breasts that reminded him of small melons. Wearing a snug white blouse and knee length black skirt, finished off with a pair of cute black boots, Lorena Robles was a stunning mature lady. (I'd better slow down on the beer, Frankie determined, once he'd realized how he'd just been checking out his own mother.)

Finally, Aunt Cessy succeeded in taming the drapes, and after dismounting the couch, she drifted over by her massive stereo system. She put on some trendy Tex-Mex music, and as she started shuffling her feet and swaying her hips, she became aware of Frankie sitting there. "Nephew, why don't you come and dance with me."

Frankie shook his head. "No thanks. I'm not into this kind of music."

His aunt pouted, but kept on dancing. Raising her arms high into the air, she turned and began wiggling her ass from side to side. "This is how I was dancing at Humberto's birthday party."

His mother cleared her throat as she got to her feet. She complained, "You never showed me the pictures from that party. Why don't you go find them while I go and grab another beer?"

"But they're all the way upstairs!"

Frankie's mother strolled by Frankie on her way to the kitchen, rolling her eyes as if letting her son know that Aunt Cessy was officially drunk. "Just go and get them, Cessy."

"Easy for you to say, Lorena." Cessy grimaced comically, before she took a few awkward steps towards the stairs. "You're not the one that has to go all the way up there to get them."

Frankie stood up to let her pass, only to have her lean close to his face.

Cessy's face hovered close to his, with her voice coming out in a husky whisper. "You and me, we're going to dance later, yes? Once your mother goes to bed."

"Sure." Frankie nodded, looking across at her sexy brown eyes. He would have liked to do a little more than dance, he thought to himself. "Anything you say."

With a sly grin, his aunt began an unsteady trudge up the steps, only to tumble down near the top. Frankie was poised to rush to her assistance, when he realized just how short her dress was. Not only did he see an eyeful of brown calves and thighs, but bare buttocks and a fat pussy as well. She was clean-shaven, and the dark petals of her sex were large and defined. Her ass was perfectly round and meaty, and already, Frankie found himself fantasizing what it would feel like to be inside of her.

Aunt Cessy got to her feet, gripping the handrail for support, and before she disappeared into her bedroom, she glanced back to see if Frankie was still watching. Of course he was, and this revelation resulted in a quick wink from the woman.

For a few seconds, the young man stood motionless, until he realized his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut just as his mother reemerged from the kitchen with two fresh beers in her hand.

"Did Cessy go upstairs to get the picture album?" His mom asked, her words now noticeably slurred. She passed one of the beers in Frankie's direction.

"Yeah."

Without issuing a reply, the woman ambled towards the nearest couch and plopped herself down on it. "Do you know how many beers I've had tonight?" She absently turned towards her son, waving at the growing bunch of empty cans standing on the coffee table. "I can't remember the last time I drank so much."

" You've had about half of those." Frankie estimated, wondering just how many more it would take before his mother would be incoherent enough for him to make a move on his voluptuous aunt.

Aunt Cessy came back down, holding a photo album high in the air. "Here we go. I found it." She called out, and hoping to avoid another nasty fall, she latched onto the white rail with a death grip, and began a slow descent. "If I don't grab onto something, I'm liable to do a cartwheel to the bottom."

In the family room, his mother exploded into giggles.

"Help an old lady down, sweetheart." The woman purred, prodding Frankie to trudge up to her side. Using him as support, she released the handrail and woozily conquered the stairs a little faster.

Frankie's mom stood up and began a steady stride down the hallway. "Be right back. I've gotta go to the lady's room again."

As Cessy reached the base of the stairs, she turned and dropped the album onto a nearby glass side table, where it landed with a loud smack. Then, she abruptly turned towards Frankie, but in her haste, she nearly toppled the two of them over.

Frankie managed to grab his aunt by the waist and kept her on her feet.

"Who keeps moving the floor?" His aunt snickered, tapping a short finger on Frankie's lips. "Was it you?"

"Yeah, it was me." Frankie frowned, leading the woman towards the couch, where he helped ease her down. Her short dress had crawled up her thighs, scant inches from exposing her bare womanhood to his eyes. If only his mom weren't around, he thought impatiently, he might have lifted the hem and gotten a nice little peek at it.

"That must be the photo album." His mother's voice suddenly carried over, and reluctantly, Frankie straightened up and returned to his spot at the foot of the stairs.

Lorena stepped over in front of the couch, watching as Cessy tipped over sideways onto her shoulder and yawned out loud. The woman tried to stifle her own yawn, but it emerged nonetheless.

"Well, I guess we're not going to see the pictures together after all." Lorena frowned, tilting her head in Frankie's direction. "I'm going upstairs to sleep in the guest bedroom, so I won't be needing you to drive me home after all. You can go home if you want to."

"Okay, mom."

"Just shut off the stereo before you go." His mom directed, already turning and making her unsteady way towards the stairs.

"No, he's going to leave it on all night." Cessy countered, fumbling for a moment before she'd propped herself up on one elbow. "This is one of my favorite songs, anyway. If you turn it off, I'll kill you."

Frankie's mother paused halfway up the stairs and shook her head. "Frankie, why don't you wait a little while, and shut it off once your aunt is asleep. That'll give you enough time to finish your beer. Then you can go. I want you to go straight home, too, because you've been drinking, and I don't want you to get pulled over."

"Sure, mom." He nodded. "Good night."

"Good night, Frankie." Her voice trailed away, her upraised arm waving haphazardly.

He waited until the woman was out of sight, before he turned his full attention towards his aunt, who had somehow managed to get her body into a sitting position. Aunt Cessy was trying to stifle a thick and sleepy yawn with the back of her hand, but it erupted nonetheless.

Brazenly, the young man stepped in front of her, dropping down on his knees and placing both of his hands on his aunt's warm knees. He began to gently knead her fleshy thighs. "You feeling okay?"

Cessy smiled, just before emitting a foul beer burp.

Frankie pulled away from the noxious fumes. "Nasty!"

His aunt burst into laughter. "Mijo, help me get up." She held out her hands, which Frankie took with some hesitation. Once she was on her feet, she began ambling down the hallway. "Just give me a couple of minutes while I go freshen up. Oh, and don't turn off the stereo yet, because that might make your mother come down here to see what we're up to. And we don't want her to see what we're up to, do we?"

For the next few minutes, Frankie simply stood there and wondered what might take place next. After his unexpected encounter with his younger sister, Amanda, of just a few days past, he figured nothing was beyond his limits.

When Aunt Cessy returned, she was still drunk, but she looked considerably more level headed and steady than when she'd left. Getting in tune with the music, she began gyrating her juicy hips and pranced over to where her nephew was standing. Taking Frankie's arms, she wrapped them around her thick waist and stared dreamily into his eyes. "Were you getting lonely without me? I know you were."

"What did you do? Take an energy drink or something? You're not all drunk anymore."

Cessy gave him a mischievous glance. "I told you I was going to freshen up."

"Yeah, but you could barely sit up just a few minutes ago." Frankie became curious. "And now you look like you're getting over your buzz. What's the big secret?"

"You really want to know?" Cessy waited for her nephew's nod. "Have you ever been to a cathouse in Tijuana?"

Frankie shrugged his shoulders. "Hasn't everybody? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I used to work in one, a long time ago. I was a waitress back then, and not a stripper, even though the strippers made a lot more money than I did. Anyhow, do you know those girls that sometimes come by and sit at your table, and they start asking you to buy them drinks right away? And even when you keep buying them drinks, and one after the other the girls drink them down, but they never seem to get very drunk?"

"Yeah." Frankie nodded. "And they're always asking for the most expensive drinks from the bar, on top of that."

"Right, because they make more commission from the expensive drinks." His aunt continued. "But don't you think it's odd that they don't get drunk, even after so many drinks, and how they keep excusing themselves to go to the restroom every ten minutes?"

"Yeah, so? What about it?"

"So, they go into the restroom, and they take a spoonful of olive oil, or fish oil, or whatever oil, and they vomit out all that alcohol that you've been buying them." Cessy concluded. "Then, when you run out of money, they simply move on to the next customer and start the whole cycle all over again. This way, they don't get more than a little buzzed, and they can keep drinking alcohol all night long."

"You're kidding, right?" Frankie asked in disbelief. "You're not kidding?"

Still in the young man's arms, Cessy shook her head. "No, baby, I'm not. I used to do the same thing when I was younger."

"So when you went to the bathroom just now..." Frankie began, the words dying out his throat. "Ugh! That is nasty!"

"Keep quiet!" The giggling aunt playfully smacked him on the shoulder. "Do you want your mother to come downstairs?" She pressed him closer to her waist and peered closely into eyes. "Besides, I took a double shot of mouthwash." She huffed a full and minty breath at Frankie. "See? Now tell me, do you like me a little bit, or a lot?"

"I... I guess I like you."

"You don't have to play shy with me." She grinned, lightly patting his crotch. "It's not like I can't see this thing getting warmed up." Her sexy eyes winked at him. "And I'm not afraid to tell you that I like younger men. So, how much do you really like me? Enough to give me a big kiss?"

Aunt Cessy reached out to grasp Frankie's head with both hands, bringing it over close to hers and gently sliding her thick lips across his. Her sweet, steamy breaths grazed across his mouth and cheeks, and willingly, Frankie gave in to their enticing promise. His lips clasped onto hers, pressing roughly as if trying to devour her, and within seconds, both mouths were competing in an intense and erotic struggle. His tongue pried her lips open, invading the moistness of her mouth and probing tauntingly at her tongue until she retaliated and started darting playfully at his.

Frankie's embrace tightened, squeezing a deep and lustful moan from his aunt's willing form. His arms grasped her shoulders, pinning the two of them together, even as his ardent kisses forced her head back. Cessy's inquisitive and warm hands released their hold on his middle, daring to slide past his shirt and into his jeans, where her red nails lingered and traced over the small of his back.

Abandoning the sweet cavern of her mouth, Frankie's eager lips took in the sensuousness of her cheek, then the soft skin of her neck, before his teeth honed in on her shoulder and nibbled at the aroused flesh they found there.

Aunt Cessy gently pulled away, waiting until Frankie's hold slackened. Brazenly, she drew the bright sundress down to her waist, exposing her huge breasts to his eyes. D cups, certainly, and although he longed to stare at them a little longer, his aunt's height of five foot seven, only an inch lower his own, demanded that Frankie quickly bring his gaze up and look directly into her flirty eyes.

Frankie pulled his aunt close, again mashing his mouth against hers. His hand reached up between their bodies and came in contact with the hanging mound of one breast, causing a saucy and daring moan to escape from her. While roughly caressing her breast, Frankie used his free hand and started to draw his shirt up, only to have Cessy's impatient fingers yank it up for him. She nearly ripped it off his back, and like a wildcat she threw it across the room.

"You know that I have work in the morning." She hinted, eagerly manhandling his crotch. "So I hope you don't think that I'm always this fast. Or this easy. Any other time, and you'd really have to work for it."

A moment later, Aunt Cessy dropped to her knees and began tugging at his jeans. The single, securing button came undone, followed by the clumsy sliding of his zipper, after which both Frankie's jeans and boxers went tumbling down to his ankles. Aunt Cessy grunted lustily at the sight of her nephew's proudly erect manhood, as if it were a intimate friend that she hadn't seen in some time.

She brought her warm cheek up against his thigh and caressed his skin with it, and she took in his manly and musky scent, and that was the point where the foreplay ended. Her tongue lashed out like a whip, lavishly moistening his excited flesh, and leaving a searing path across his thigh, until her tongue suddenly halted by his rigid shaft. Like a cobra, his aunt's head drew back and struck, engulfing his rod with her steamy mouth, her lips smoothly gliding across Frankie's length even as her arms held him in place.

Frankie's hands clamped onto his aunt's sexy shoulders, as her tantalizing actions began forcing spastic shudders and ragged breaths from his body. Much too rapidly, he felt his resolve weakening and his climax building, when he felt himself slipping out from Cessy's mouth. In a daze, he observed the woman getting to her feet, and almost casually, she slipped the sundress up over her shoulders, and like a noble matador tired of holding his red cloak, she flung it on the floor behind her.

Brusquely, she started tugging at his hard member and set her lusty gaze steadily into Frankie's eyes. Frankie was hers to do with as she pleased, and he was just becoming aware of this, as he stared back at those willful and demanding eyes, with her determined and panting mouth, and her teeth set close together. Recklessly, Cessy pushed against his body, her large nipples hot and clamoring for attention against his cool chest, as her hands abandoned his cock and reached up to drag his head next to hers. Subserviently, Frankie submitted to her fierce kisses, and he barely had enough time to kick off his pants and shoes before his aunt pretty much flung him onto the couch.




The House of Robles 1.09



Heavily, Cessy fell on top of him, and after a minor skirmish with both the cushions and their positions, she succeeded in mounting his thighs and capturing his cock. With a lascivious grin, she descended and gulped his manhood within her. 

Aunt Cessy's sharp and guttural cry pierced past the commotion of the still-blaring stereo, and as if giving herself over to some primal force, she began rolling her hips and grinding her body onto his. Like an animal, she growled and grit her teeth, giving the sexual act an appearance of wild desire and fury, and wanton lust.

Frankie was barely able to keep up. His hands were tightly clenched on his aunt's wide ass-cheeks, as if he were the one riding a mechanical bull, instead of the other way around. Aunt Cessy's thighs were slapping onto his like thunderclaps, and her huge breasts were bouncing around all over the place.

Without warning, Aunt Cessy gasped out in an extended and reverberating groan, as her wild bucking threatened to be halted by her ensuing sharp climaxes. She kept riding him, although the shudders made her rhythm erratic, and finally, the spent woman gave up and slowed her attack as she brought her frenzied breaths under control.

Aunt Cessy rolled aside, and as she straightened up in front of the couch, she reached out and drew Frankie up with her. The buxom mature woman led him only a few feet away, to the end of the couch, where she let go of her nephew's hand and leaned over the couch's plush and rounded armrest. Her thirty-eight inch ass mesmerized Frankie for a good, long moment, before he inched closer and dared to place his hands on it.

The massive swells contorted deliciously within his fingers, and although he could have played with them for hours, Frankie recalled his aunt's tight schedule and moved on. He grabbed his dedicated cock, and aimed it at the dark folds of her sex, and easily, he slipped inside. He started thrusting into her roughly, hoping to imitate her own frantic pace, but almost at once he realized just how wet his aunt's pussy was. Her insides were drenched with moisture.

As if also sensing this, Cessy reached back with one hand and halted Frankie. He drew away, watching his doubled-over aunt slightly draw her body off the couch, and allowing her legs to be left drooping a bit. Then, repositioned, his aunt waved him forward. "Come on."

Of course, Frankie approached, although her new spot would be awkward to engage with, unless that wasn't what she wanted...

Aunt Cessy managed to grab hold of Frankie's cock, and just so there would be no doubt, she pulled him closer and aimed it directly at her anus.

Trying to play it cool, Frankie allowed his manhood to nuzzle against his aunt's ass, but the truth was that he'd never engaged in this type of sex before. In fact, he hadn't even considered that his aunt might be into that, regardless of all the slutty rumors he'd heard about her.

Aunt Cessy wiggled her big, tasty ass back and forth, prodding him to react, and for a second, Frankie considered what to do next. Then he thought to himself, screw it. It's what she wanted, wasn't it?

Steeling himself, he pressed forward, only to come up against a soft wall of resistance. He was plenty lubricated enough, he knew that, and just as he began to wonder if he was doing it right, the end of his cock pushed through. Cessy's loud moan confirmed his penetration, encouraging him to continue, and he soon felt the firm ring of her asshole crawl further across his length.

Using Aunt Cessy's vocalizations to guide him, Frankie crammed three-quarters of his cock into her, before he started to slowly withdraw. The reversal was just as strange as the entry, he discovered, and as he slowly pushed back in, he found that he had plenty of time to maneuver about with his hands. His fingers ran up along his aunt's back, reaching and grasping her shoulders, while he completed his second intrusion. The next time, his exploring hands decided to fasten themselves around the great round globes of her breasts, resulting in even more caterwauling and groaning from his aunt.

And that's where Frankie's hands stayed, as he worked himself up to a steady, controlled pace, and his abdomen regularly squeezed tight against his aunt's fleshy ass cheeks. He persisted, even after he felt his aunt's body tensing up for an upcoming climax, when her breaths shortened, and her cries sharpened into provocative shrills. Even while Aunt Cessy's orgasm overcame her and racked her thick frame, Frankie's hands were groping and fondling those incredible pendulums. Only when his own sexual peak appeared and contorted his grunts and the features of his face, did he finally let go.

Both his and his aunt's body were left sapped of their strength, leaving their limp limbs and forms sprawled together like some kind of human octopus, but this didn't last long, as Cessy quickly started prodding for Frankie to get up.

"Oh, shit, it's so late." Cessy first looked up to the clock on the wall, and next turned to face him. "I feel like I have a fever now, you made me so hot. What are you, some kind of superman or something?" Seeing an embarrassed Frankie glance to one side, she reached out to grab onto his head. "Come here, you."

Aunt Cessy pressed her mouth against his, showering him with a quick rainfall of affectionate kisses. Her meaty leg reached around to ensnare his lean one, and as her shaved mound pressed against Frankie's thigh, he reached around and squeezed her ample behind with both hands.

Finally, Cessy broke their union. "Whew! I have to invite you over more often." She turned away as a long yawn escaped her throat, and after glancing at the nearby clock one last time, she placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. "It's getting pretty late, and I do have work in the morning. You don't want me to get fired, do you?"

Frankie allowed her to slip away. "Okay. I guess I've got to get going, too."

"I've got to take a quick shower before I go to bed." Cessy decided, before she marched over beside the front door.

Frankie got the hint. He quickly dressed, and after making sure his car keys were still in his pocket, he quietly made his way outside.

"You'd better take a shower, too, once you get home." Cessy reminded him. "Unless you want your pretty wife to catch the smell of a real woman all over you."

Frankie smirked. "You'll call me the next time you're having a few drinks?"

In reply, his aunt puckered up and sent him an airborne kiss. "You bet I will. Now, get out of here before your mother comes down the stairs and sees me walking around in my birthday suit."

A second later, the door shut, and a few seconds after that, the stereo was finally shut off, leaving Frankie out in the silent and dark night.

Confidently, he started in the direction of his car, but since he was so engrossed in his most recent sexual conquest, he failed to notice one very important detail.

A soft light was glowing through the window of the guest bedroom on the second floor...