Chapter 10: California

Karen’s nude body knelt over mine, my erection only inches from her cunt and eager to sink deep into her body if only she’d lower her pussy onto my shaft. She dragged her excited tits across my chest and told me salacious things to arouse me to new sexual heights. “Can you imagine what it would be like to have Lauren with us. Imagine what we could do to her. Maybe she’d kneel in front of you, and you could plow into her hot pussy from behind as she ate your cum from my pussy. You’d be such a stud with the two of us. Maybe Lauren would sit on your face and let you eat her out as I rode your cock ... of she’d fuck you while you ate me out. Maybe you’d line the two of us up side by side on the bed and take turns driving you big hard cock into each of us, trying to make us cum and seeing which of us you happened to favor with your generous load of your white sticky fluids. Maybe Lauren and I would put on a sapphic show for you; the two of us getting in a sixty-nine as you beat your meat watching us lick each other to orgasm with our hot little fingers driving into each other’s pussies trying to find each other’s G-spot.”

“You may not know this, but I wouldn’t mind in the least eating your cum from her pussy – anybody’s pussy. Oh, even better, how about we get Anna here. I think your sister is so hot. Imagine fucking your sister - kissing her passionately – while Lauren and I ate each other’s pussies right next to you on this bed. After you splashed a gallon of cum into her, Lauren and I would eat your juice out of her cunt. Don’t you think she’d like that? I bet we could bring her to orgasm after orgasm. You do it to your sister with your big dick, and we’d use our tongues. That would be so hot.”

“You have this cock that I love so much. You could easily satisfy three hot women with this shaft, driving it into each of us ... fucking us ... loving us ... satisfying every urge we have. Why don’t you put that big shaft of yours into my hot little cunt right now? Pretend I’m your sister. What would it be like making love to Anna? Maybe she’d kiss you like this ... and maybe her pussy would feel like this ... and maybe ... of, fuck. Oh, Jim ... OH, GOD!”

I woke from the dream in a cold sweat, but so unbelievably aroused that I had to masturbate. Karen had said all the things in the dream to me on one of our last times when we made love, and suddenly I could remember the words – the emotions – the passion – the ideas – the arousal. In the darkness surrounding my campsite I gave up my load to the night.

I rode my Harley motorcycle in the arid valley on the eastern edge of the Sierra Nevada’s, admiring mile after mile of the towering mountain vistas. The weather was clear and chilly. When I stopped, I’d camp and practice my guitar, work on my journal, and write my emails to Lauren, Kim, Crystal, Ellen, and Anna detailing the sexual romps in Reno and Sedona. I sent a long email to Tama too, letting her know how things had worked out with Kenesis, and especially telling her how much I enjoyed our precious time together in Sedona. I’d stop in some small town, find a Wi-Fi hotspot and send the emails when I took a break.

As I got closer to San Diego, my thoughts increasingly turned to Anna. We’d had a special relationship as siblings. Sure, we fought and teased, but we both knew there was a bond of love beneath that. In a way, it was deeper and more permanent than the love I felt for anyone else or that I’d even felt for Karen. I think from the time we learned about boy-girl relationships we wanted something more than just the sibling relationship fate had dealt us. Maybe it was only in my own mind that I thought there should be a romantic and sexual side to our relationship. I’d find some way to test the waters on that when I got to Anna’s home.

I’d been a year ahead of Anna in school, and went into Army Special Forces out of college. I disappeared for almost eight years in the Army, and didn’t see Anna except a few times in that period. I think we might have talked on the phone a few times, and I sent cards on special occasions. I missed her wedding; as I recall, I was secretly involved in a small war in Chad.

Anna’s marriage lasted less than seven years. They had two children – a boy and a girl who were now around eleven and twelve. I’d only seen pictures of them, and sent them presents from strange places around the world. I’d been the missing and mysterious uncle in their lives – the uncle who traveled the globe and then the uncle who lived three thousand miles away.

Anna came east alone when our father died, and five years later when Karen and I got married. She returned a couple of years after that when our mother died, and then she came to say goodbye to Karen and help me get through Karen’s death. She never brought her kids – too much hassle she said. She stayed a few weeks each visit, and later I guessed that on her early visits she was escaping from the crumbling relationship she was in. Anna described her ex as a good guy and an impeccable father, just a lousy husband. He still played an active role in the kids’ lives.

On each of those visits, we spent hours talking, even sitting up all night a few times with two bottles of wine reconnecting with each other. Those nights were so intimate. I learned a lot about my sister that I didn’t know. More than once, she’d curl up against me and we’d hold each other, more like boyfriend-girlfriend than siblings. Maybe we were each too shy to risk taking the first step to a deeper relationship.

Since Missouri, I had shared with Anna the same erotic details of my sexual adventures that I wrote to Lauren, Kim, Crystal, and Ellen. She hadn’t asked; I just started to send the emails to her. Anna made no mention of the sexy parts of my emails when she’d email her news, yet I could tell she’d read them. I’d decided to take her silence on the subject as acceptance; however, only a week or so earlier, Anna had told me on a call to keep sending them to her – that she liked them. She’d been so explicit in her interest that I found myself pleasantly shocked, and I again felt that intimacy with her that I’d only fantasized about. Her interest also gave me hope of deepening our relationship sexually.

I’d traveled over 12,500 miles on the Harley on this road trip. I stood in Anna’s driveway and for a moment admired the bike that had become a part of me in the seven months since I started. The bike wasn’t as pristine as it had been after I’d rebuilt it from the ground up; for instance, the nasty scrapes down one side reminded me of the tornado in Kansas that I’d been lucky to survive.

I had resisted anthropomorphizing the machine by giving it a name or talking to it. Yet, as I turned to go to Anna’s front door, I patted the bike, and said aloud, “Thank You.” The bike had carried me from deep grief to acceptance, and from some degree of naiveté to sophistication, and from loneliness to love. What more could I ask?

Anna stood on her front step as I walked up to the house. I could never sneak up on anybody when I arrived on the Harley. She had a smile from ear to ear. She said, “You did it. I am so proud of you.” With that, she held her arms open to me. I walked inside them, and we kissed. At first, it was the polite smooch that distant relatives give each other, but then, Anna pulled away from me, looked me in the eyes, and pulled my head to hers so we could kiss in a new, emotional, passionate, and enthusiastic manner. Sparks flew from the nails in my western boots. This was better than the kiss she’d left me with in Dillon about eight months earlier.

Anna held my hand as she led me around her house, babbling about how suddenly the place was paid for, and she knew it was my doing, and she had all this money, and why did I do that too. I allowed her to vent – she was ebullient and happy. She explained that my nephew and niece were with their father on a weeklong school trip to the Bay Area, and would return seven days hence. Anna also told me she’d taken the week off to be with me. I got a summary of their lives since I’d seen her last – two normal, healthy kids I’d finally get to meet. Anna hugged me a lot.

She knew it was my first time in San Diego, and she wanted me to see all the touristy things before I settled in for a while. I got a travel log as we walked back out to my Harley. Anna helped me carry my gear inside the house. I opted for a sofa bed she had in her basement playroom instead of displacing the kids from their beds. Anna seemed embarrassed that she couldn’t offer me better accommodations. I made a note to offer her a larger home sometime soon.

I told her, “I want to be with you. I don’t care about the bed; I’ve slept on lumpy ground out in the open many nights on this trip, so this is much better than any campground, especially since you’re here.”

Finally, Anna started to run out of steam, and the steady stream of talking slowed. She took a deep breath, and then offered me some wine. We each got a glass of Chardonnay over ice, and we went and sat in her small backyard. I could tell that Anna’s initial nervousness and excitement about my arrival had finally worn off.

In a worried tone, she asked, “Jim, why’d you send me all that money ... and pay off the mortgage? Are you that flush with cash?” Anna was genuinely concerned that I’d overspent on her behalf.

“Yes, I have a healthy bank account – very healthy – several million. Before it evaporated, I wanted to do something for you and the kids. You can call it guilt money for not being around doing the duties of a good brother and uncle.” Anna’s jaw dropped.

“Well, I’m awed by your generosity, and you didn’t...”

“Nonsense, you’re part of me – we’re part of each other, the same blood. Anything I’ve got, I’m ready to share with you. The money is the easiest; but tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

Anna said in a furtive voice, “I may want more than you’re prepared to give.” I could tell my sister’s statement had nothing to do with money.

I responded in an equally hushed voice, “I may surprise you.” In just those two sentences, my heart started to beat more rapidly. We were at the precipice I’d dreamed about over and over.

We were both silent as we digested the tone and implications of those few words.

Anna finally shook her head as though to clear her head; she spoke more openly, “Will you take me to dinner ... on your motorcycle?”

“Certainly; what’s your pleasure?”

“This’ll sound strange, but I want to go to someplace where you’ll be recognized – where people will make a fuss over you. I want to watch my ‘new’ brother in action.”

Despite that tall order, I agreed, but warned her that I’d been many places where I’d not been recognized and thought I would be; I feared she’d be disappointed by the lack of people’s reactions about my stardom.

I rummaged through some of the boxes I’d shipped to Anna from around the country, and found some of my clothes that were nicer than what I usually wore while riding the bike. I took a quick shower and changed into clean jeans, handsome western boots, a white peasant sport shirt, and a western cut men’s jacket. I added some of the native jewelry I’d bought in Taos, and pocketed a silver and turquoise necklace to present to Anna over dinner.

Anna wore a pair of jeans that made me blink twice to be sure they weren’t painted on her body. Her top somehow amplified her breasts, and positively presented cleavage a normal brother isn’t supposed to notice. She wore a small vest that further emphasized her best features. My eyebrows went up, and I smiled. She said with a grin, “Exactly the kind of reaction I’d hoped for.” She kissed my cheek, and I felt the kiss long afterwards.

I passed her a leather jacket and helmet, and I put my own on. A few minutes later we were on our way to a well-known waterfront restaurant west of the airport called the Blue Wave. The ride took about twenty minutes, and Anna hugged me close the whole ride, even rubbing my sides with her hands occasionally in a most affectionate manner.

We’d called for a reservation, and so we got a superb table with a view that looked out across a huge marina. I’d requested window seating with a couple of space heaters to keep my ‘date’ warm. To facilitate ‘being recognized,’ I just happened to mention that the Jim Mellon making the reservations was the same Jim Mellon that was a country music star. I figured I’d milk the system just this once. When we got to the restaurant, I found several unusual conveniences. The valet that parked cars had created a special ‘motorcycle only’ spot for me. He looked exceptionally pleased as he led me to the nearby spot. He promised to watch the bike and not let anyone touch it. I shook his hand, thanked him, and gave him a twenty.

As we got off the bike, a couple of camera flashes went off. Three members of the paparazzi were there. I took Anna over to them, and she shook their hands too. They asked a few polite questions, but seemed slightly disappointed to find out that the woman I was with was my sister. Not much news there. We did pose for some photos, and Anna got very excited over the whole activity.

I felt skittish talking to the paparazzi after weeks of being stalked and even shot at by Bart Kenesis. I felt certain he’d no longer bother me, but he had left an unpleasant after-taste I had to get over about the press. Terry reminded me frequently that a country music artist needs to get their name ‘out there’ to sell albums and generate interest in concerts and things like movies. He had a saying, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ Well, almost; we never let the Branson photos see the light of day to test that hypothesis.

Inside, we had the best table in the house, and the most solicitous service I’d had anywhere. Soon, a buzz seemed to go through the restaurant. I’d experienced it a few times before. I’d been recognized. Without looking, I pointed out the change in ambience to Anna, and she acknowledged the turning heads and hushed voices. Other diners at nearby tables started to ‘eye’ the two of us. I would politely engage their stares and nod back at them in a friendly way. I taught Anna how to do the same, and she got a chuckle out of mastering the technique so that she could get a smile from the person watching us.

One shy teenage girl approached the table just as we’d gotten our wine. She asked for my autograph, but I explained that I couldn’t do that, or soon I’d have everyone in the place at our table. She seemed to understand and looked disappointed for a moment. At that point, I pulled an empty chair from the table and invited her to sit with us for a minute with a welcome that would look to others as though she might have been my niece. She sat, and we had a few minutes of nice conversation. We learned she was visiting from Denver with her parents, and had to fly back the next day. I invited some questions from her, and tried to lighten the mood with some laughs. Eventually, she thanked me profusely for talking to her, excused herself, and walked back to her parent’s table standing a little taller. I’d noticed another teen I took to be an older sister taking a video of her with us, so she had some ‘proof’ positive of her interaction with us. I excused myself from Anna for a moment, walked over to the parent’s table, shook everyone’s hand, and told them what a nice daughter they had, and how I appreciated her friendship. The teen gave me a hug before I went back to the table with Anna with a big smile and a warm heart.

Anna glowed after I returned, “You made her whole day – her whole family’s day. She’ll remember sitting with you the rest of her life. They all will because you did something so special for them.”

I shrugged and said, “Maybe she’ll become famous and remember to be especially pleasant to a young teenager some time. Besides, she was a nice person; you could tell in the first thirty seconds. The whole family is nice.”

Our conversation drifted a little, and then Anna said, “You’ve had a fabulous trip, and you’ve found a lot of love during your travels.”

I told her, “Anna, when I started, I hurt badly from Karen’s death. Finding love again was the farthest thing from my mind. I didn’t even think I was worthy of anyone else embracing me in their thinking that way. I felt beaten down. One by one, I found beautiful women who helped me see my worth as a human – as a lover – and even as a mate. At least five women deeply love me: Lauren, Kim, Crystal, Ellen, and Summer in her special way. I hope you feel the same way.”

Anna grabbed ahold of my hand and squeezed it tightly, “Oh, Jim. You never have to question my love for you. It’s deeper than you’ll ever know – and I’ve always felt you were worthy of being loved, from my earliest memory about you.”

She brought my hand to her mouth and kissed my palm and wrapped the kiss in my fingers. I glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone had caught our tender moment, but no one seemed to be staring at us at that instant.

Our appetizers arrived, and our direction of conversation changed. Anna and I talked about my road trip, and rehashed many of the phone calls I’d had with her about getting through my grief over losing Karen. She commiserated with me, and applauded the little ceremony I’d created where I left an envelope of her ashes in each state. On the other side of things, I got Anna talking about my nephew and niece, how her ex was behaving, and how her career was going.

After the starters had been bussed away, I reached in my pocket and pulled out a small bundle of light blue tissue paper – a Native American silver necklace made with an elaborate filigree and exquisite inset turquoise. I made a little fuss over laying it out on the table in front of Anna. Her eyes got big and verged on teary.

I told her, “I bought this for you in Santé Fe because I love you. I’ve always thought you were worthy of love too. Tama, the woman I told you about made it by hand. I thought this was her finest piece of art.”

Anna choked up a bit. I stood, picked up the necklace, walked behind her, and put the necklace around Anna’s neck fastening the clasp. I stood back and smiled, “You look stunning. Of course, you looked stunning before the necklace, but it completed the picture perfectly.” Now, all eyes in the place were drawn to Anna’s gorgeous cleavage because of the gorgeous jewelry. I kissed her forehead in a brotherly manner and sat down, although my instincts were to lavish far more impressive kisses on my sister. I think she wanted something more significant too.

After more thanks for the gift, Anna thought for a moment and said, “Tama is the one from the sweat lodge, right?”

I nodded.

“Crystal, Tama, and you made love together?” She already knew the answer, but I guess she wanted to hear me say it aloud.

“Yes, we shared ourselves with each other. It was erotic, tender, lusty, spiritual, and amazing. Tama is a full-blooded Native American, and she has such a wonderful and open disposition. She’s also a shaman, and believes I have leanings in that direction too.”

“I’ve heard the term, but what does it mean; what can she do?”

I explained, “She has innate skills that enable her to go to the boundary between this human realm and the spiritual world. She can feel and see things in both dimensions, see the future sometimes, and has a unique way of seeing the past because of that. She can also heal. In Sedona, she showed Crystal and me how we could sense ... well, let’s just say spiritual things. Crystal and I are beginners compared to Tama’s skills, and she doesn’t think she’s all that advanced. She’s working on perfecting her new skills, particularly sensing someone’s future.”

“And, you made love to her?” Anna’s rhetorical question sounded as if I’d done something sacrilegious to an angel.

“Many times.”

“And Crystal?”

“Many times, as well.”

Anna went silent, and then our entrees arrived. We ate, talking about the food, commented about the lights in the marina and the mass of boats, and made notice of how some people were noticing us. Towards the end of that segment of the meal, Anna said, “Does it bother you that Crystal is bisexual – that she has sex with women?”

I responded naturally, “No, far from it. I like it. She’s broadened my horizons about sex so much – along with others, as you probably know. Neither of us gets jealous about our relationships with others, even when they’re occurring right in front of us. I wrote you one time about my new views on this. The more people you love, the more people show up in your life that love you back, and you can never have too much of that.” As an afterthought, I asked, “Do you like having orgasms?”

Anna giggled, “What a question to ask your sister! Of course, I love them. What woman doesn’t?”

“Well, I love watching two women make love and giving each other orgasms; I’ve learned from watching because they know things about their anatomy that most males don’t. Kim also taught me what to study when I watched a couple making love – moves, techniques, erogenous zones, pressure points, romance, and the attentiveness. I’ve learned that instead of getting climaxes from a cock inserted in your vagina, which many women don’t, you get them many other ways – fingers, tongue, pussy-to-pussy, or an erotic toy. How do you get yours? Boyfriend?” I had been curious about Anna’s social life and hoped my blunt question would get answered.

Anna smirked and blushed. In a low voice, she whispered, “Vibrator. No boyfriend – no one even close to fulfilling that role. It’s been that way for a while.”

I pushed with a lewd grin, “Do you enjoy sex often, even alone?”

Her blush deepened; Anna whispered, “I’m embarrassed to admit I jill off almost daily, sometimes more frequently than that.” She got embarrassed and threw a playful punch at my arm, “My God, why am I telling you this? My brother!”

I told her in a low voice, “You need a ‘fuck buddy’ ... of either sex.” I laughed as I teased her. She shook a spoon at me in a challenging gesture, but nodded in agreement.

Once we were back at Anna’s home, she pulled the draperies closed as I relaxed on the sofa per her instructions. Anna puttered around the kitchen and came back into the living room with two demi-glasses of liqueur; she set them on the coffee table. She flipped off all but one of the lights, and dialed in KSDS on the FM stereo. Some really mellow music came from the speakers: Slow Dancing by Johnny Rivers started playing. I think the song is one of the most romantic ballads ever sung, and I felt in that mood with Anna.

I stood and held out my arm to her in a gesture that indicated ‘Let’s dance.’ Anna came into my arms. She snuggled into me, and I protectively enclosed her. We started swaying slowly, the pretext of dancing clearly an excuse for close contact by the two of us – really close.

I could smell Anna’s natural aroma, a scent I’d known my entire life. Her hair against my cheek felt so soft, and the skin of her cheek on mine felt so right. My heart surged with feelings of love for Anna.

After the song had played and another slow number began, Anna looked into my face and whispered, “Kiss me.”

I did. We did.

Our bodies still swayed, but our lips were locked together in a dance of love. Our tongues flitted into each other’s mouths, probing and amplifying our kisses and the emotions we were turning loose.

After a couple of minutes of our French kissing, Anna pulled away and fanned her face with one hand. “You ... you’re ... hot ... and ... you’re turning me on.” She seemed mildly embarrassed.

Anna turned to the coffee table and said, “I brought us some liqueur, to thank you for dinner, and to celebrate your arrival and the end of your road trip.” She held up a small glass to me and held her glass in the other hand. “In one of your emails, you mentioned that you do something creative and sexy with liqueur. I thought maybe you could show me.” She knew from the context I’d written in some emails that what I did was sexy and arousing. I saw her coy look at me.

I reached out to her and took both glasses. She looked puzzled. I set one back on the table, sipped from the one I kept – Benedictine and Brandy. I moved to kiss Anna again. Anna allowed the kiss, and when my tongue probed deep into her mouth she even opened further in invitation and to promote our mutual desire. At that instant, I jetted the liqueur from my mouth into hers in an erotic act. I felt Anna’s body swoon into mine. The arm she had around my neck pulled me closer. She kissed back, her tongue rapidly probing into my own mouth, not so much to savor the rich liquid, as to express her passion. Her hips pushed into my groin, and I knew she could feel my swelling sex. She pushed harder and kissed even harder and more passionately.

“Again,” she whispered when we came up for air.

I took another sip of the liqueur, and we kissed with renewed passion. The liquid kisses between us were like throwing gasoline on a fire, and the fire was the latent passion that had burned between the two of us for decades. In those kisses, I knew we’d set free an avalanche, and there could be no stopping where it would take us.

I briefly whispered, “Anna. Are you sure you want to go this direction?” If Anna had any reservations, I wanted her to voice them or act on them. I didn’t want to take advantage of her in my own desire to make love to her. She kissed me back and in a hushed tone said, “I’ve never been surer of anything in the world. I’ve wanted to be with you ... forever.”

We repeated the liquid kisses several more times, and then Anna unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it from my upper body. I tossed it on a chair. She kissed around my bare chest, even using her tongue on my nipples. She kissed the gunshot wound I’d gotten in Alabama, and my other scars – badges of honor she called them.

I placed my hands on the vest she still wore, and removed the outer garment. The buttons of her blouse opened easily, revealing more of her deep cleavage. We were staring into each other’s eyes or kissing often as I undressed her. The blouse joined my shirt, and seconds later so did her bra. Anna’s breasts were full and excited and the most wonderful things I’d ever seen. Our chests pressed together, skin on skin. While our kisses might be excused, I knew most people would consider this kiss and skin contact taboo. Our sexual contact excited me like few other things I’d done in my life.

Instead of lunging for a tit with my mouth or groping her with both hands, I picked up the demi-glass of liqueur we hadn’t consumed. I held the glass above her extended breasts and let a few drops splash onto her chest and form a few rivulets that ran down the upper curve of her breasts to her nipples, and then dripped on her abdomen as she moved to catch them there.

I said with a touch of humor, “Oh, dear, I spilled some of my drink.”

In the spirit of things, Anna smiled coyly and responded with mock concern, “Well, you’ll just have to clean it up. Might I suggest you just use your tongue since it seems to be handy and nearby?”

I allowed my tongue to venture onto the forbidden landscape of her taut breasts. I lapped at the few drops, and when I reached the nipple of each breast, I sucked hard and bit gently. Anna moaned and cradled my head. She whispered over and over, “Don’t stop. Don’t ever, ever stop! Oh, God, Jim, I love you so. I have waited all my life for this to happen – for this night.”

I made love to her breasts for quite a while, our bodies often swaying to the music of a torch song. Sometimes, we’d stand apart just enough so her erect nipples grazed my chest; sometimes, just enough so we could stare into each other’s eyes, reading each other’s hopes and desires for our future together perfectly. Time ceased to have any meaning or relevance; all that existed was the two of us, our love, and the passion we felt. We were connected on so many levels my heart soared. The arc of the next hours of our lives lay before us, visible and inevitable – so taboo, so wrong, and so right.

We undressed each other the rest of the way, slowly as though we were savoring each second of our ‘new’ time together. Even when we were nude, we resisted taking a fast sexual trip to bed and to orgasm. We danced some more. I can still recall the Placido Domingo and John Denver song Perhaps Love playing as we danced, kissed, and enjoyed the long-overdue tactile sensation of our naked bodies rubbing together, Anna’s erect nipples stroking across my chest and my erection caught between the two of us. I had never felt so in love with anyone in my life.

Eventually, Anna led me to her bed. She lay down and looked up; I stood above her holding the small glass of liqueur I’d brought from the living room. She laughed as I drizzled a half-dozen more drops of the liquid into her pubic hair.

Anna said in a mock parental tone with a spreading smile on her lips, “Now, James, you’ve made a nasty mess again. I hope you intend to clean up your spills, right now.”

I just nodded as I knelt at the foot of the bed and maneuvered Anna’s legs over my shoulders. My tongue made contact directly on her clit. Anna’s eyes closed, she moaned, and she climaxed instantly. She’d been primed for my touch for years. One of her hands just held my head still, neither pulling me to her cleft nor pushing me away. After thirty seconds, she relaxed again and even gave my head a little gesture to her dripping cunt – still sweet with the liqueur. I feasted on Anna’s pussy, lapping up every drop of liqueur and then savoring her natural juices that flowed with love and excitement from her body. Anna responded by coaxing me to bring her to further orgasms. As I did, I learned about each of her erogenous zones, testing them individually before I thought I might try them in a concerted effort of pleasure.