Los Cinco Hermanos Ch. 08

But for a definitely good reason,he'd thought with a smile.I should get Molly to work on me whenever she's available. And speaking of which...

He got up and walked out of his office into the strangely quiet house. He was used to having some kind of company hanging around most of the time, especially weekends. Until Dave and Paul had hit on me, he'd been keeping it down to his five best friends and Molly, figuring he'd bring people in as needed to do the porn shoot. No wild parties, no putting up a rock band in transit and their groupies, just a quiet few weeks. Then I'd turned his world on edge and Sandra finished the job by rocking it upside-down.

Now he was coming to find us.

We weren't in the theatre, where he looked first, nor in the kitchen or breakfast nook. He quickly ruled out the poolroom before coming down to check out the pool and jacuzzi... where we weren't, either. A look over the edge showed the tennis courts were empty, so we had to either be up by the cars or down by the studio... or Molly's, maybe. Taking a guess, he headed down.

Molly's door was closed, so he kept going to the studio, easing his way through in the semi-darkness, particularly when he heard the sounds of soft moaning ahead. He found us, alright.

He found us playing with some of his B&D toys.

In particular, he found Sandra back on the bench, straddling it face down but not tied up, with the fucking machine set up with a single dildo, and rhythmically stroking her pussy while she squirmed under the slow but steady pounding. Molly was making sure it stayed lubricated and I was fiddling with the speed and depth controls.

He came in from behind Sandra's field of view, but both Molly and I saw him step out of the shadows. I started to greet him but he quickly put his finger to his lips for silence. So I didn't say anything. Neither did Molly. We watched as he quietly moved over by us, the sounds of his footsteps drowned out by the machine and Sandra's moans. He stood and watched her getting fucked for several moments, a smile building on his face. Then he turned to us.

Mouthing "which one?" to us and pointing to Sandra, I realized he wanted to know if she was Sandra or Sandy. I mouthed "San-drah..." while making an "A" with my fingers and he nodded his understanding. Then he started taking his clothes off.

To my confused look, he just smiled and revealed his rapidly growing erection. And a cute erection it was, too. Then he pointed at Sandra's exposed ass and the bottle of lube and I got a flash of what he intended to do. He could straddle the shaft of the fucking machine and spear Sandra's ass.

I tried to give him a look of "do you know what you're doing?" with an appropriate cringe, but apparently he thought he did because he motioned Molly to move to where she could keep Sandra from launching off the bench. Molly shrugged and complied. When Jerry plunged his well-lubricated cock into her ass, I thought Sandra was going to hit the ceiling and take Jerry with, the hard way.

Molly had her arm across Sandra's back, encouraging her to stay put, and Sandra's initial bucking had given way to accepting the anal fucking. She'd give out a little cry each time he pushed into her, but she'd also push back and it was obvious she was getting cranked up. I started to get worried that Sandy would decide to take over. But in hindsight, I don't think Sandy had time to come out before Sandra went over the edge of a huge orgasm, shuddering in rhythm with the mechanical dildo and Jerry's cock.

Then a weird thing happened. I heard the same sob I'd heard in the theatre when Sandra was jilling off next to me. And this time I looked, trying to pay attention to what was going on with her, and I realized she was softly crying. That just about freaked me out. I must have looked a little panicked as I turned to Jerry to get him to stop sodomizing her and turn off the machine, because Molly intercepted me, hugging me to keep me from doing anything while she whispered in my ear.

"Don't jump to conclusions," she whispered to me. "She's still cumming. Maybe crying is a normal part of it for her. Let's find out..." She let go of me and moved up by Sandra's head, now hung down and shaking with the rest of her body as occasional orgasms ripped their way out.

"Hey..." Molly asked her softly, running her fingers through Sandra's hair. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah," Sandra mumbled quietly. "We're okay..."

We?I thought.This is getting interesting... and weird...

"And the tears?" Molly prompted.

"Too much emotion... sorry," Sandra sniffed. "Don't mean to be making an idiot of myself in front of you." Another cum ripped through her. "Sandy wants out bad. I'm scared of letting go. But God! This is so intense! I want to handle it... don't know if I can..."

"You already are," Molly told her. "You can't make an idiot of yourself in front of me, believe me. And it is so incredibly hot watching you on the edge of losing control. You're safe, if you want to, you know..."

"And by the way – what does Sandy want that she isn't getting?"

"I don't kn... Oh, GOD!!!" Another cum rippled through her. "I don't know..." she iterated stubbornly. "Control, maybe? Me to let go and let her do whatever she wants? That's not going to... OH MY GOD!!!... happen..."

"How about you make a deal with her?" Molly asked. "Find out what she wants, then you do it with you staying in control. You get to experience it and remember it, she gets to run wild... within limits."

Sandra was back to breathing hard and pushing back into Jerry and the machine. She sounded a little ragged, and I was starting to worry if this was such a hot idea.

"You'd have to call the guys back from Santa Monica for that," Sandra managed to moan. "Sandy's unreasonable. She wants it all, whatever 'all' is... OH GOD!!!"

"Maybe those two machines back there need to ease up," Sandra moaned. "Sandy be damned, I've never cum this hard or this long in my life... I think my pussy's on the verge of taking some serious damage..."

Jerry picked up on it immediately and eased himself out while Molly turned down the RPM's until the fucking machine ground to a halt. Sandra eased herself forward off the dildo. Jerry brought her a cold bottle of water.

"Some ice for my pussy would be nice," she muttered to him, and unfortunately, he took her seriously.

Well, maybe not unfortunately... but Sandra was definitely surprised as she lay on her belly on the bench, when Jerry put the ice pack between her legs.

"Yeow!!!" she cried out as she scurried off the bench, away from the ice. "What the fuck was that???"

"Ice," he told her simply. "For your pussy. You asked for some ice for your pussy."

"That was figurative, not literal!" she turned around. "I meant, like... my pussy's on fire from so much fucking."

"Actually, it's not such a bad idea, if you can stand it," Molly told her. "The ice pack could help reduce some of the swelling and inflammation, and you'd be a lot more comfortable, later. If you can handle the feeling of the ice pack, that is."

Sandra eyed Molly for a few moments like she was crazy. Then her expression softened.

"Really?" she finally asked. "You really think an ice pack is going to cut down the soreness later?" Obviously, she valued Molly's opinion.

"I think if you can stand it, along with some of the meds that Jerry keeps for guests, you'll probably wake up in the morning without regretting what you did tonight," Molly told her.

"Then have at it," Sandra told Molly, kneeling up on the bench with her ass high in the air and her shoulders down, making her pussy very accessible.

Molly took advantage of it. Carefully, and not too much at a time, she applied the ice pack to Sandra's nethers. At first, Sandra would cringe and moan at the cold, but over time she was able to accept more and for longer. By the time Molly pointed out that the ice pack was pretty well done, Sandra was a lot more comfortable. Jerry told me to show Sandra where the meds were when we went back upstairs to bed, and I did.

Sandra decided she wanted to sleep with me and I had no objections. We got her medicated, with a couple of nightcaps to top it off, then crawled in. She wasn't terribly talkative – more like introspective – but she wasn't pulled in, either. We fell asleep cradled in each other's arms and were blissfully out like a light until morning.

* * * * *

"Do you think me giving in to Sandy's wants is going to fuck me up?"

Sandra and I were lying out in the sun, by the pool. It was early afternoon on Saturday and we were all being lazy. The guys had returned late from Santa Monica and had missed us. Ginger had gotten back even later than them. So "taking it easy" while I was technically on vacation was the order of the day.

"I don't think anything gets fucked up if Sandy lets you drive, you agree to try to keep her happy, and you follow the House Rules. You can't do anything to get the cops involved. Sandy's been pretty cooperative when it came to having you remember the outrageous, hedonistic pleasure pursuits. She wants you to remember and she didn't mind handing you the reins. If we can figure out how to let her drive but account to you and have you remember, that would be fantastic."

"As far as predicting the future?" I added. "I haven't a clue..."

Sandra sighed and settled farther down into her chaise.

"This is way scary for me," she admitted, taking a sip off her lemonade. "Sandy would have been in jail a couple of times, except for her phenomenal survival instinct. And a judge that liked to be dom'd..."

That brought me up short. "What did you say?" I asked.

"Never mind," she thought better of it. "Ancient history. Look... no matter what happens, I need you to keep half an eye on me and don't let me get out of control, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, with no idea as to how I was going to do that.

My cell bleeped.

A cold feeling of dread fell over me as I picked it up and looked at the Caller ID. It said "P. Cooke". I was afraid of that.

"Yes?" I answered it. "This is Beth."

"Don't panic," Dr. Cooke's friendly sounding voice came over the phone. "This is a social call, not a work emergency." I heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"What can I do for you, Doctor?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, we're outside of work, so you could call me Pam," she told me. "Secondly, I wasn't sure if you and Sandra had any dinner plans for tomorrow night, but if not, I'd like to invite you out."

Dinner? With the PhD that liked to jill off in public restrooms? Sure... why not?

"We haven't really had time to make any plans for the coming week," I told her. "So I don't see why we couldn't join you. Two questions, though. One, where? And two, can we bring anyone, or is this a girls' night out?"

Ginger and Molly had joined us soon after I'd picked up Dr. Cooke's call, and now I was getting strange looks from all three of the other girls.

"The where I had in mind is Nobu in Malibu, right off the Pacific Coast Highway. An excellent Japanese restaurant," she explained. "And I hadn't thought about additional people, but sure... how many guests did you have in mind? A date each? Or possibly more?"

"There's a couple of ways this can go," I told her. "Hang on a second while I confer with my colleagues, as it were..." I didn't bother trying to cover the phone.

"You, Sandra, and I have an invite from Dr. Cooke for Sunday dinner at Nobu's in Malibu." The wide eyes and raised eyebrows on Ginger and Molly definitely clued me in that this was something special. "Do we want to take along a date each? Or..." and I turned to Ginger and Molly, "are noses going to get out of joint if we play favorites? Any input is appreciated."

"I don't think you want to drag the whole crew down there," Molly was quick to interject. "No dates, or one guy for each of you should probably be the limit. And they should be decently trained in manners. Nobu's gets the Malibu upper crust."

I had a sudden inspiration. I went back to the phone.

"Pam," I asked, "if we wanted to bring dates, would they have to be guys?"

There was a slight pause at the other end, but then she said, "I don't see why that should be a problem. If you do decide to do that, though, please give me a call and let me know. It might change who I bring along."

"Can do," I told her, then turned back to the girls. "Would you two like to go with Sandra and me to dinner at Nobu in Malibu on Sunday evening?" I asked.

They looked at each other for a split-second before Ginger told me, "Yeah, sure! I'd love to go!" and Molly added, "me, too." I told Dr. Cooke that Sandra and I would be bringing a couple of women-friends, got the time she wanted to meet, and hung up.

"Well, this is going to get interesting," I told the group. "I have no idea why she'd invite Sandra and me to dinner..."

"Don't you?" Ginger smirked, and Molly tried to hide the smile. "You're blossoming and you can't even see it... by the way, Nobu is an epicurean delight. One where you can drop $80 on a meal and feel like you got your money's worth. Google 'Nobu Malibu menu' and check it out."

"Oh... and take the Aston Martin Rapide," she added. "It's a four-door and will handle us just fine."

"It's a $200,000-plus four-door," Molly muttered.

"It's still a four-door," Ginger pointed out. "And it's insured."

"Against me peeing on the seats?" I asked. "Doesn't Jerry own anything inexpensive, just for bombing around in?"

"Where would be the fun in that, when you can 'bomb around' and turn heads at the same time?" Ginger asked.

"Oy!" I intoned as I looked skyward and rolled my eyes. "Okay, so being obscenely rich has its upside. Dress code?"

"There isn't one," Molly told me. "You'll see everything from beach casual to semiformal eveningwear. Usually, people dress up a bit more in the evening."

"So something light and dressy, but not stuffy..." I mused. "Looks like I'm raiding Jerry's closets again."

"Me, too, apparently," Sandra chimed in. A few moments later, as we lay basking in the sun, having solved all the world's problems, Sandra piped up again.

"What do you want to do Monday?"

"Not think about it right now?" I answered. "Maybe some of the museums or something. Paul and Ron have to go back to work. Not sure what Jackson's schedule is. Maybe we're on our own."

"Jerry hasn't mentioned a shooting schedule, yet," Ginger offered. "So I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well, I have to study," Molly told us. "Exams coming up. I'm probably out of any daytime plans."

"In that case, how about we worry about Monday when Monday comes?" I asked.

"Sorry," Sandra apologized. "Old habits and all that... we can play her as she lays."

"Yeah, getting' laid..." Ginger smiled. "That's a good way to play it..."

"Not to put too fine a point on it..." Jerry's sudden voice from behind me startled me. I twisted around to look at him. He was decked out in white linen slacks and a shirt, sandals and sunglasses. Sharp.

"However," he continued, once he had all our attentions, "this weekend is the last hurrah, as it were. At least for Los Cinco Hermanos. Anybody interested in another porno shoot, while I've got the hunks here?"

I knew I was hungry for more action. The newly-emerged Beth was ecstatic over the idea. But I wasn't sure about Sandra and I sure didn't want to complicate things at the moment.

"Jerry, how hard is it to edit somebodyoutof a film, once it's been shot?" I was surprised to hear Sandra asking the question.

"You mean take them out completely?" he asked. "Or just blur them so they can't be recognized?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Well, removing someone completely is time-consuming and expensive. It's a lot easier to blur out the features of someone you don't want recognized . Creative use of lighting in the first place can make the editing a lot easier by keeping their noticeable features in shadow," he explained. "Because I'm curious and because I think I know the answer, I'll ask... why?"

"Beth has apparently decided that she doesn't mind showing up all over the internet," Sandra told him. "For her, it probably doesn't matter if she starts a career as an adult actress. Me... I'm not so sure, yet. The idea of doing the film is wildly attractive. It's the sensible side of me that isn't too sure I want it in worldwide distribution."

"Sandra," I asked her, amazed, "are you seriously thinking of doing the shoot?"

"Sure," she told me. "You looked like you were enjoying the hell out of it, and I like getting my ashes hauled as much as the next girl... or at minimum, Sandy does... so why not? I just don't want to risk losing my day job."

"You keep surprising the hell out of me," I told her. "But hey... it's totally up to you. As far as I'm concerned, Jerry, you put together a tasteful script and I'm up for it. And this isn't necessarily the last weekend. Sandra and I are here next weekend, if Paul and Ron are available."

"Actually, that might work even better," Jerry agreed. "I have off-site meetings this coming week – I really do have legitimate business to attend to..." he smiled, "and if you're playing tourist all week, next weekend would be a great wrap-up. Plus, for some reason, Jim Pedersen keeps calling and leaving messages that he needs to meet me for lunch or drinks or whatever. I have no idea what he wants, but I can't keep him dangling."

"You do know he's Sandra's and my Executive VP, right?" I asked him.

"Yeah, and a long-time friend of my father's," he told me. "Could be anything... not necessarily you."

"Gee, that's reassuring," I told him, a bit sarcastically.

"Okay, then we'll plan for next weekend, Saturday with a possible bleed to Sunday if we need to shoot any additional scenes," Jerry decided. "What's on today's agenda?"

"Seeing how much relaxation I can cram into one day," I smiled. "Maybe going in to see Fuzion tonight. We girls just got a dinner invite for Sunday evening from Dr. Cooke. Beyond that, no plans."

"Ditto," Sandra told him. "Although I do have a question."

"What's that?" Jerry asked.

"Do you play tennis?"

Jerry looked a little surprised. "Actually, yes, I do..." he told her. "I haven't played much recently, and I'm certainly not a pro, but I used to be fairly decent."

"Then I challenge you to a match of nude tennis," Sandra told him and my jaw hit the pool deck.

"Nudetennis?!?!" I exclaimed, but she just looked at me and smiled. And I'm pretty sure it was Sandra.

"Hmmm," Jerry mused. "Your flopping tits against my flopping balls. That could be weird. And fun... sure, why not?" he accepted. "When?"

"Oh, later this afternoon, or tomorrow daytime, depending on your schedule," Sandra told him.

"How about tomorrow, midday?" Jerry suggested.

"Deal," Sandra told him and laid back down, resuming her sunning.

I just shrugged and laid back down, too. I had some serious tanning to get in before this evening.

[to be continued]