Los Cinco Hermanos Ch. 02

Wherein I meet the rest of the Brothers and get a Royal Fucking

Author's note: this is part 2 of a 12-part story arc which I've put under Group Sex (see Chapter 1). Like all my stories, it begins with character development and in this case, over several chapters. The chapters can have the elements of a number of different categories and I will try to give advance warning. This one is primarily Mature, Group and more introductory background. And a gentle reminder: this is all Fiction – Willing Suspension of Disbelief recommended...

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The drive was long and beautiful, winding up into the Hollywood Hills at night with the lights of L.A. sparkling in a vast net below me. I ended up near the top of Vulcan Canyon Rd., 7999 actually, after cruising such memorable streets as Mt. Olympus Drive, Oceanus Drive, Hercules Drive (passing Apollo, Achilles and Venus Drives) and finally Vulcan Canyon Road itself.

No wonder Jerry had a Greek god's name for his business. This whole area was a mash of Greek and Roman naming.

When we got to the cul-de-sac at the end of the road, I was already impressed. All the way from turning off Laurel Canyon Road, there had been gorgeous homes on both sides, huge mansions with glimpses of tennis courts and swimming pools and terraces – everything needed to advertise "this is wealth". Ahead of me now was a tall stone façade with an iron gate in it, blocking the end of the street. Jerry, in the lead, obviously had some kind of remote control because the gates opened as he approached and the rest of us just followed him through.

Entering his estate – it seemed like the appropriate word – confused me. There was a bit of a drive with manicured lawn and topiary on either side, a large parking lot with several expensive-looking vehicles and a single low building straight ahead that looked a lot like a garage, not a mansion. Jerry pulled into a parking spot and stopped. When he got out, it was apparent he expected us to do the same. So we did.

"Elizabeth," he smiled, holding out his hand. "If you would come with me? The guys have been here before, so they're on their own." I took his hand and let him lead me.

We walked to the low building and entered, and I found out it really was a garage. Apparently, it housed Jerry's antiques and collectibles – the ones he didn't want to park out in the weather. There were easily half a dozen cars under tarps and probably as many motorcycles. But we didn't stop to gawk at them. He led me through the garage to a door in the back that led to a small vestibule with a beautiful view out over the hills. It was also the vestibule for the elevator.

That's right, an elevator. I couldn't believe it. Jerry had a private elevator, and it had to go down into the hill because there certainly wasn't anywhere "up" to go. He ushered me into it and after the guys entered, pushed the button marked "1". I did a double take on the button panel because instead of the normal "1" on the bottom and "2", "3" and so forth going up, this one had a "G" at the top and "1", "2" and "3" going down.

When the elevator stopped on "1" and the doors opened, Jerry took my hand again and led me out into the foyer, then beyond – and my heart stopped. It was literally breathtaking. I had barely noticed that the foyer was done in rich pastels and actually had a cloakroom on the side. I was stunned by the formal Great Room in front of me, done in gorgeous Parian marble with plaster ceilings and crystal chandeliers and gilt-work and God!, just so much more...

Hardwood floors receded to the left while floor-to-twelve-foot-ceiling windows looked out over a terrace a floor below and on beyond, to the hills and canyons now shrouded in darkness, interrupted by pinpricks of light. A broad archway opened up into other rooms beyond on the far side and a monster fireplace dominated the rest of the far wall. I came to an abrupt halt, just to stare.

"My parents were heavily into entertaining," Jerry said quietly beside me. "This was their 'Celebrity Retreat' as Dad called it. To give you the quick rundown so we don't spend all night gawking, this is the first floor. It has the elevator and foyer, as you've noticed, and what Mom called the Ballroom. That would be this one. Beyond that arch to the right is the formal Dining Room. Surrounding it in a kind of L-shape is the combination Kitchen and Breakfast Nook. You can get into them from either the Dining Room or that hallway over to the left."

"Down that hallway are the In-Home Theatre, the Pool Room and at the far end, the Library and Office spaces. Down one floor, to level '2', is the Living Room, six guest bedrooms, the Master Bedroom suite and access to the pool terrace, which has the pool, jacuzzi, barbeque pit, sundeck and so forth."

"One more floor down are the Gym, Laundry, utility rooms, basement storage, servants' quarters and access to the tennis terrace, which has the lighted tennis court, handball court and putting green. You won't see curtains except for decorative purposes. All the windows are variable opacity LCD panes and are controlled from a dimmer next to the light switch in each room. Feel free to walk around and touch stuff. I really don't care much about it, other than it's the way my mother designed it and I've pretty much left it alone."

"Servants?" I asked. I had stumbled on that one when he'd mentioned it.

"Only one at the moment," he smiled. "Would you prefer 'domestic help'? Or 'caretaker'? Molly is a French Polynesian immigrant on a student visa to UCLA. She needed a place to stay and a job, and I needed a housekeeper. There usually isn't a lot to do, but she lives here as my employee. You might meet her later, although she's probably in her room, hitting the books. I don't insist she be at my beck and call."

"My guess is we'll adjourn to the living room and pool downstairs for the night. If you want to crash, you're more than welcome to take one of the guest bedrooms. Just check to see if it's occupied, first. Dave, Paul, Ron and Jackson are each using one. You can probably figure out which by the mess and the man-smell!" He smiled at this last bit and I had to admit, it was funny.

"I thank you, good sir, you have an amazing place," I told him with an affected slight bow. "I may take you up on that. In the meantime... bathrooms?"

"All over the place," he laughed. "Closest one now is down the hall, between the theatre and the poolroom. I think I'll check on Molly while Dave and Paul grab some snacks and drinks to go downstairs. When you're ready, just take the elevator down to '2' and walk straight ahead when you get there. If you want to give me your coat, I'll take it downstairs for you."

I thanked him, gave him my coat and told them I'd see them in a few minutes. Then I headed down the hall towards the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was lavishly decorated but not ostentatiously opulent. Just very fine materials and very fine craftsmanship. I sidestepped my aversion to touching anything by reminding myself that the facilities were intended to be used and Jerry had said as much.

On the way out, my curiosity got the better of me and I had to poke me head into the poolroom, and saw pretty much what I expected. It was essentially a Victorian billiard parlor complete with mahogany paneling and green-shaded Tiffany lamps. I wasn't going to invade the privacy of his offices. So I had to look into the theatre next.

Five rows of padded leather stadium seating and the biggest screen I'd ever seen outside of Six Flags or a movie theatre. Incredible. There were even places to put drinks and popcorn. I had to wonder... what did Jerry do with all this? And this wasn't even the "main house" he and his sister had grown up in. Maybe he threw his own versions of the Cannes Film Festivals or something. The place was big enough. I thought I'd better catch up with the guys. I felt a little guilty snooping.

There wasn't anyone in the kitchen on the way by and a quick look confirmed all stainless steel and modern appliances, and the breakfast nook – larger than a lot of dining rooms I've been in – had another picture window that looked out over the hills. I made my way over to the elevator and down to the living room, and just as Jerry had said, it was straight ahead from the elevator doors.

A nice fireplace, a couple of "pit groups", huge flat screen TV – everything you'd expect to see but just done up nicer. And three guys evenly spaced out on the couches facing an obviously empty space for me. They weren't going to make me choose someone to sit near. Jerry had pulled off his jacket and Dave had taken off the dress shirt, and they'd all kicked off their shoes, but otherwise they were just like I'd left them.

"A variety of beverages and snacks are available, Elizabeth," Jerry said, rising. As he did, so did the others. I had to laugh a little at that. They were killing themselves to be polite.

"Guys! Take it easy!" I laughed. "You've already impressed me. That's why I'm here... and more than slightly blown away by your 'home', Jerry. I mean, that's the point, isn't it? You're home. You know, when in Rome and all that."

"Well, that'd be a bit of a stretch, Elizabeth," Paul spoke up. "There's relaxed, and then there's relaxed..."

"Okay, let's start with 'Elizabeth'," I smiled. "I liked the way you addressed me so formally and all – played to my romantic notions – but really, a nickname will do. I've had a lot of them, from Beth to Betty to Lizzie to Liza. Mostly they have the advantage of one of two syllables. So, you don't have to be so formal, if you don't want to."

"I happen to like Elizabeth..." Dave started.

"Hey! I like her, too!" Paul jumped in.

"Ditto," Jerry chimed in with a smile.

"And..." Dave continued, refusing to be sidetracked, "I see your point. Which of your nicknames do you prefer?"

"Bawdy wench," I told them with as straight a face as I could. I let it sit out there for a second because their expressions were too precious to pass up. "But that's three syllables," I added, "so I guess for everyday utility, Beth is fine."

"And what did you mean by 'there's relaxed, and then there's relaxed', Paul?"

He looked down, momentarily embarrassed, but Dave jumped in to save him.

"Maybe you should know some background of Los Cinco Hermanos," he offered. "Why don't you get comfortable and we'll tell you. What would you like to drink?"

"More of the Yellow Tail Zinfandel, if Jerry's got it," I told him. No reason to switch drinks at this point. And I sort of wanted the buzz back, especially if I was going to do something outrageous.

"He's got it," Jerry said, getting up and walking into another room. By the time I'd kicked my shoes off and had settled into the ridiculously comfortable couch, he was back with the bottle and a partially filled glass. He gave me the glass and put the bottle on the coffee table. I took a sip and waited.

"Okay, I brought it up, so I'll start," Dave told me.

"Back in High School, the five of us guys got to know each other under some rather strange circumstances," he started. "We were all dating the same five girls. Rotationally. I started with Peggy. When she left me, it was for Paul. Then she left him for Ron, then Jackson, then Jerry. Then back to me. In the meantime, Paul had started with Diane. She went from him, to Ron, to Jackson, to Jerry, to me. And then back to Paul. Same for Ron and Leslie, Jackson and Kayla and Jerry and Sue. We didn't have a clue, but apparently the girls were comparing notes."

"I was at a basketball game with Peggy, the second time around, and she told me, 'you guys are so alike, you could be brothers'. I was obviously confused."

"'What guys?' I'd asked and she'd told me about Paul and Ron and Jackson and Jerry. I didn't know if I should be outraged or complimented by her playing around with that many guys and coming back to me. In fact, I didn't know what I should feel."

"'Look,' she'd told me, 'how about everybody get together this weekend at my place – my parents won't be home – and we can explain it to you guys. Just so nobody goes raising the homicide rate.' I figured what the hell? I could hold my own in a fistfight, if it came to that."

"Well, I did as she suggested. Not only me, but the other girls had talked the other guys into showing up, too. There was a bit of macho posturing before the girls laid down the law. To shorten the story, they spelled out for us how very alike we were... in build, in temperament, in ethics and so forth. And as we sat there getting this laid on us, we started looking at each other in a different light. Then the girls hit us with the coup-de-grace. They had decided they didn't want to play favorites, and they wanted to get laid by each of us. Sequentially. You can imagine the shock value for hormone driven teenagers."

I suppose I did look surprised by Dave's revelation, but I didn't interrupt. I'd never been in a situation like that, high school or otherwise, and part of me was curious as hell.

"So let's just say that it was one hell of a night," Dave went on, "and that the sun was rising before they were all satisfied. A night we'll never forget."

I looked around surreptitiously to see Paul and Jerry nodding in agreement.

"So after that, the five of us started drifting together – and comparing notes as well. Hey, what was good for the goose and all that. And we found out there were a lot of other things we liked, besides sex. Jerry made it possible for us to do a lot of crazy shit together, from four-wheeling in the Sonora Desert to hang-gliding in the Sierra Nevada mountains, to sailing a catamaran to Catalina Island. And a bunch of other cool stuff."

"The short of it is, we did a lot of things together. Some pretty intimate things, as well. Intimate as in spending two weeks at a nudist camp together, to intimate as in... well, maybe you get the point. Let's just say we figured out that jealousy is stupid and cooperation reaps major rewards. Our 'relaxed' around each other is pretty, um... au natural, if you know what I mean."

I was starting to know exactly what he meant, and those butterflies were warming up the conga line again. I drained my glass and filled it halfway. In vino, fortitudo. A bit of fortitude was in order.

"I hope this isn't bothering you," Dave offered.

"Absolutely not," I assured him. "I find it very interesting. I've never been to a nudist camp. You say the girls laid it out about how alike you were. Did they happen to get into any um... comparative anatomy along the way?"

"Oh, yeah," Jerry laughed aloud. "They did. And yes, we're all five very alike. In how we're built and how we use it. Why? Curious?"

I slugged down my wine and refilled it before looking him steadily in the eye. Or as steadily as I could at that point.

"Actually, yes," I admitted. "I think any red-blooded woman would be. Especially after the impression you made on me on the dance floor. All of you." I paused for a moment before I added, "I heard there was a hot tub around here. Shall we?"

"Sure," all three of them said, knocking back their drinks and setting the glasses down. As one, they stood up.

"Cool," I smiled. "Where are the suits?"

"Suits?" Jerry asked with a slight smirk.

"Oh." I suddenly realized the jacuzzi was going to be a suit-free zone. I finished my wine – more than a little tipsy at this point – steeled my resolve and began taking my clothes off. I had just finished shimmying out of my panties when I heard, "Hi!" – and it wasn't Dave, Paul or Jerry.

"Yeah, I'll second that," another voice said. I turned slowly to look, fighting the embarrassed panic.

Two young men, one Hispanic, one Black, were standing just inside the doorway to the terrace with nothing on but towels draped around their necks.

"Greetings, gentlemen," Jerry interjected smoothly, tearing his eyes away from staring at me, as he, Dave and Paul had been doing. My impromptu strip had gotten their attention.

"Beth, I would like you to meet the other two of Los Cinco Hermanos. On the left is Ron..." and the guy in the light brown skin, black ponytail and abs to die for nodded, "and on the right is Jackson." The bald black man that looked like a football player nodded.

"Guys, this is Beth, our houseguest for tonight. We met her watching Fuzion and tempted her to come out and sample our hospitality. We were just going to head for the jacuzzi."

"Is this where I apologize profusely for walking in on you guys?" Ron asked, not moving and looking very undecided about what kind of gaffe he'd just committed.

"Naw, man," Jackson told him, unslinging his towel and moving forward. "This is where you offer the lady your towel and pray nudity doesn't offend her." And he did exactly that. Handed me his towel, that is, which I took reflexively and sort of hugged in front of me. Jackson turned to Jerry and politely ignored me.

"Didn't know you were back, man," he told him. "Down in the hot tub, didn't hear you. Ron and me figured we'd snag a couple more drinks, play some video games and crash if you weren't back soon. Hope we didn't screw anything up."

I finally got my courage back.

"Oh, no, you didn't screw anything, yet... I mean, up, yet," I managed to smile at them. "I've been hearing about the legendary Cinco Hermanos, and honestly, I'm intrigued. I really do intend to take my wine and head to the jacuzzi, and I'm sure nobody would mind if you pulled a U-turn and joined us." I looked over to the others and they still seemed distracted by my state of undress. Well, good for me.

The imp in me won out, at least for one round, and I picked up my glass, handed the towel back to Jackson, and walked for the door. As I passed Ron, I told him, "nice abs." When I got to the door, I looked back to Jackson and told him, "nice ass." Then I headed out onto the terrace. Wherever I was getting the guts to do this is beyond me. Maybe too many years of keeping tight control and a bottle of Zinfandel had something to do with it.

I heard a hurried and hushed discussion behind me as I walked out onto the terrace. Like everything else, it was beautiful and it was immaculate. I headed over to the jacuzzi, which was actually an extension on the end of the pool, found the timer switch and turned it on. As the pumps cranked up and the bubbling began, I eased myself down into the hot water... and immediately felt like limp fettuccini. The hot water jets started working their magic almost immediately.

I took a sip of my wine, set the glass away from the edge, sprawled my arms out on either side and closed my eyes, feeling very, very good. I was doing something totally insane and it felt good. Maybe this wasn't a dream after all.

I reevaluated my thoughts as first one, then another, then three more hunky naked male bodies eased themselves into the spa with me. This had to be a fantasy.

"If I'm dreaming," I told them with my eyes still closed, "please don't wake me up. If I'm not... well, it'll be a first."

I felt a body move in next to me in the water, and then strong arms support my back and shoulders. And then I felt the kiss.

I should have been ready for it, but I wasn't. Part of me tensed up at the craziness of leaving myself so vulnerable. Another part was doing cartwheels. And the part that was supposed to be in control and wasn't, returned the kiss. It lasted for several seconds.

"Mmm..." I breathed as we broke it and I kept my eyes closed. "Dave." It was an educated guess, based on my previous kiss with him.

"I told Ron and Jackson about you not necessarily being out here for sex tonight," his voice murmured. "I told them it's just a fun, relaxing, fantasy vacation for you and we're here to pamper you. We said 'no means no' and we meant it. Just thought you'd like to know."