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Best to go late to avoid other people....or is it?

I needed to vagabond alone. To experience. To think. To write. And yes, to fuck other people.

I sucked and fucked everyone goodbye in Sevilla and took buses and trains around Europe. I got by with English and guidebooks. I stayed in touch with 'home' by cell and WiFi - I had top-rate tiny Sony devices in my duffel. I had a real passport, and phony I.D. and money cards.

University towns were always fun. I was a daring, exotic American girl, not difficult to know and fuck. I only had to use my mini-taser a couple of times.

My favorite layover was my return to the Amalfi coast, east of Napoli, south of Pompeii. I rented a room in a hilltop village accessible only by bus or burro. WiFi was at a bistro across the square. I snagged English tourist girls and local studs. And I spent lots of time watching the Tyrrhenian Sea's moods and rendering fantasies in a few words.

I processed. I did not try to write hit songs. Hit songs were not what filled my notebooks before, only words that came to me. I let more words come.

===== [Labor Day 2003]

It was time to go home for now. A trans-Atlantic hop. A cross-country ride in an Amtrak sleeper car, with few guys and girls suitable to fuck. A layover in Manhattan, Kansas, to not tell too many lies to Gram and Gramp, Mom's folks who had sheltered me for so long. They were excited but puzzled by the new grandkids. They would visit soon.

Train to Denver, to Albuquerque, to Barstow, to San Bernardino. Shuttle to Palm Springs and a taxi to Mom and Dad's place - my home before. Before everything.

The house was calm. Jeri had taken Katrina to the Rancho. Teresa took Erina and the nanny to San Diego. Mom's job at the tribal office let her haul Ashur to work, sling him in a rebozo, nurse him - Indians are good about that. Dad still bureaucrated taxes. Both found their jobs rewarding. Whatever.

We celebrated that night. Home-delivery pizza and home-made strong drinks; lounging naked in and around the pool; sucking and fucking Dad and Mom. I had been right to run from this life, back then, when I was much too young. I was right to be here now.

Ashur, ten weeks old now, was asleep. Dad and I lay beside Mom in their bed, kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. I nursed Mom and fingered her labia. Dad slid down, suckled me, pressed gently into my pussy. I slid further and kissed his face, his nipples, and his cock. Dad had a great cock!

I moved back up to Mom's breasts, and down to her flat abs (she worked out), her inny navel, her curly black pubes, her puffy dark pussy. I pushed Mom up in bed and crouched between her legs with my tongue deep in her vagina, my gateway to the world. Dad moved behind me, spread my cheeks, and slid his great Dad cock deep into me. He fucked me nicely while I ate Mom. We set a good rhythm.

All was right in the world. I would think about Rancho Relaxo tomorrow.

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CAROLE

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I was glad to only be senior wife and not housemother or mother. Or nanny, but I did pull nanny-like shifts. I would delay seeking that library job; I was busy enough here at Rancho Relaxo.

Anny's contractors had done wonders - once she horse-whipped them into shape. Do not fuck with welders, who must pay close attention to details. Each task was done right or was done over until it WAS right.

They were mostly finished when we flew back from Auckland the first time. The place gleamed on our second return. Every woman had her own space. Chambers grew in the main house and sprouted around. This could be a medieval nobleman's ever-swelling villa.

All the babies! Pam's twins. Anny and Jeri's daughters. Lorna and Mari's sons. And, with the sexplay around here, more could be expected. Anny would have to add the extension's second story if the dorm space filled up.

But all that disappears at night when my girls - our women - are home and in bed with me and Stan. I missed them so much when I was a distracted semi-mom. I miss them now I'm their Mommy, with their Daddy, but they're off making music and magic and money.

Come on,

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