The House Of Robles Ch. 13

Chapter 13

Pablo And The Three Sistahs

Pablo's life was in an uproar. He felt as if he was on a runaway locomotive going down the side of a mountain, and it was picking up speed like crazy and heading for a horrific crash. Later, he imagined the news vans trying to get around police officers and cordons of yellow ribbon, with helicopters zooming in on the action. The single, dreadful phrase that kept flashing across his mind was; There Are No Survivors Here.

The forty-four year-old gulped as he stood on the balcony of the hotel where he worked, an entire twenty floors up. Reflectively, Pablo took in the relative serenity of the nighttime San Diego skyline. Until the frequent and disconcerting sounds of an airplane landing broke through his thoughts, anyway. That made him wish that the airport had been moved somewhere far, far away, back when city officials had the chance to do something about it.

Pablo thought back to late during the previous week, when he'd been at home and asleep on the foldout bed in the living room. Someone had climbed into the bed with him and woken him up. Groggily, the man could feel that person's form straddling his waist. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that person was his eighteen year-old daughter Amanda.

"If you try to stop me, I'm going to scream so loud it'll wake everybody in the house up!" Amanda had warned him.

Not wanting to add another incident to his steadily growing and incestuous collection, Pablo had blindly reached out in the dark. His hand had fallen upon a bare thigh. Reaching out further, he became aware of a bare abdomen and waist. That's when he realized that Amanda had climbed onto the couch-bed with him fully naked.

His bitter wife, Lorena, his oldest daughter Vicky and her little baby, and his son Junior were all in the house that night.

Pablo could feel his lips drying up, as if the words were hesitant to escape. Before he could even speak, Amanda started rocking her hips on him.

Through the barrier of his shorts, the reluctant father could feel his cock starting to get hard. He soon understood that a length of it was trapped awkwardly under the weight of his daughter's thigh. Instinctively, he reached into his shorts to straighten it out. Once he'd done this, Amanda adjusted her position as well, so that the covered beast was lying directly beneath her uncovered pussy.

His length grew, his girth widened, as if the cock had gained a life of its own. All of this was happening despite Pablo's best efforts to keep the monster subdued. Amanda's nude form writhed directly over it, defeating any efforts he made to prevent that part of him from waking up. It was taking all of Pablo's effort to keep from reaching out again, from running his hands over the young girl's thighs, or further up to grope at her breasts.

His daughter kept rocking her hips back and forth, sensuously, as if pretending his large cock wasn't merely pressed under her, but impaled deep within her. Amanda's hands stretched out, halting over the broad expanse of Pablo's chest. The young girl remained in this position for several minutes, continually rubbing on him. The sensations boiling within her body, and within her lust-filled mind, eventually brought her to a rising climax. Amanda's hands quivered on his chest, while her thighs tightened on his sides. Her muffled squeaks fought their way past her lips as she struggled to keep the forbidden union a secret from the rest of their family.

Amanda expelled some moisture on him, Pablo felt. Yet she still rocked over him until she was fully drained of orgasm. Wordlessly, like a shadow, Amanda slipped away from him, away from where he slept. In the dark his daughter quietly walked back into her room.

For much of that time, Pablo had been holding his breath. He waited until he heard the soft sound of the door to Amanda's room closing shut. That's when he reached down over the fabric of his moist shorts and found confirmation of his daughter's climax. He couldn't sleep with his shorts all wet from Amanda's cum. Neither did he have any boxers on underneath them. That prevented him from simply removing his shorts and balling them up somewhere. Pablo wasn't about to walk into his bedroom to get another pair, because his angry wife might wake up while he was in there. He imagined Lorena staring at the big wet spot on the front of his shorts. The vindictive woman would have probably laughed in his face, thinking he had masturbated out of sexless frustration. His only alternative, Pablo knew, was to walk outside and into the recreation room, and to don a pair of used shorts from his clothes hamper.

Well past midnight, and he found himself out of the house and digging through his dirty clothes. It was at that point that Pablo decided he had to get out of the house, very soon. He had to do this and before his illicit affairs with his three daughters, and his daughter-in-law, came back to haunt him. He was looking at the ruin of his entire life taking place in the very near future.

Pablo's thoughts came back to the present. That was the reason why he was working at the hotel now, late on a Saturday night. One of the other building engineers had taken a week's worth of vacation time from his two to eleven shifts. When Pablo heard about it, he gladly volunteered to change his schedule and take the hours.

He glanced down at his watch. It was 10:57 now. In the past he might have been overjoyed at the thought of leaving his job, but more recent erotic events were beginning to make him dread going back home.

"Pablo, do you copy?" A static-laden voice came through on the walkie attached to the man's belt.

He answered the call. "Yeah, this is Pablo."

"Got a call about a leaky shower head, in room 17-34. Can you take a look at it?"

"If I can do it in three minutes, sure." Pablo frowned. There was no way he'd make it to the room, check out the problem, and hurry back downstairs in time for him to clock out before eleven. "You know how this place is about overtime, right?"

There was a slight pause on the other end. "I didn't realize it was so late. I'll tell you what, go ahead and take a look at the room, and let me know what's going on there. I will clock you out on time, at exactly at eleven o'clock. Then you don't have to come back to the office. You can just drop your radio off at the gate and head on home. Deal?"

"Deal." Pablo agreed, clipping the radio back onto his belt, before turning to head back into the suite he'd been working in.

Since it was so close to the end of his shift, the engineer left all his tools and materials scattered about in the room. He locked up and, ignoring the lazy man's elevator, trotted down the stairwell by three levels to the seventeenth floor. At the correct landing, he checked his watch again. The timepiece told him it was now past eleven. Pablo grimaced because he hadn't even gotten to the right door yet. His many access keys jingled as he strode down the hallway. He reminded himself to turn those in at the security gate, at the same time he relieved himself of his radio. The older man stopped at room 17-34 and rapped his strong knuckles on the door.

The door cracked open a moment later, before a cute black face, female, peered through the narrow opening. Behind the young woman, Pablo could hear a boom-box pulsing out a heavy rap beat. "Hey, you're not Jimmy! Where's Jimmy?"

That was the name of the younger guy who'd gone on vacation.

Pablo answered, "He took the week off. You called about a leaky showerhead?"

"I didn't call nobody, my sister did." The woman said, as if it really mattered. She pulled the door open to allow Pablo inside. "She's right over there."

Pablo went inside. As he'd grown accustomed to doing whenever he walked into one of the suites, he took in the entirety of the room. It was a two queen-size beds deal, with bright white walls, dark red bed covers with graphics consisting of soft yellow blossoms and green stems, and matching curtains. The furniture was made of light oak, consisting of a small, round table and two chairs set by the glass balcony door, a nightstand and lamp between both beds, and against the far wall, a long dresser with an adjustable swivel stand bolted on top holding up a mid-size, flat screen television.

The black girl who'd opened the door looked to be in her early twenties. She was about five feet, five inches tall, with dark black skin and hair pulled back to fully expose her pretty face. The girl wore a pleasant gray tracksuit with a zippered, hooded sweater and form-fitting sweatpants.

In the far end of the suite, two other black girls stood beside the boom-box, set on the hotel's folding luggage stand. The first thing that crossed Pablo's mind was of the front desk getting calls regarding the loudness of the music. Since he was technically off duty already, he didn't allow himself to worry about it.

One of the other black girls was a big-boned woman, in her mid-twenties or thereabouts. She had rich ebony skin and wore a tight black blouse and equally tight jeans that nicely hugged her massive curves. She was performing a dance move, Pablo noticed, while the much slimmer girl next to her was doing her best to mimic it.

This last girl looked to be the youngest of all, with hair dyed in an unusual auburn-red, and light brown skin. This cute youngster was wearing tight bike shorts over her comparably leaner frame, and some kind of snug and colorful blouse. Pablo only got glimpses of it due to her black, hooded and partially unzipped sweater. Pablo guessed her to be either eighteen or nineteen.

"Jimmy ain't here!" The girl at the door called out, loud enough to be heard above the music.

The other girls paused from their dancing. The older of the two women stepped toward the newest arrival. "What you mean, Jimmy ain't here?"

The girl at the door said, "Ask him. I don't know."

The thick black woman walked directly up to Pablo, who was suddenly feeling out of place, but not quite intimidated. She placed her hands on her wide hips, and stared up into his face. "I demand an explanation!"

Pablo chuckled and gave her one. "Jimmy's on vacation this week. I'm taking over his shifts until he comes back."

The woman scrutinized him closely. "Did he say anything about us?"

Pablo shook his head. "Not a word. You called about a leaky showerhead?"

The woman was still looking him over, from top to bottom, and from side to side. "You look like a Mexican Tarzan. An old one, anyway." She glanced around Pablo, toward the girl still standing at the door. "What's that man's name, that Mexican man that used to come out on Fantasy Island? The one that used to greet all the people when they were first getting there, off the plane?"

"I don't know."

"Girl, you don't know nuthin'." She looked back at the younger one. "I know, that you know, who I'm talking about."

"Ricardo Montanblan, Motablan, somethin' like that."

"Montablan." Pablo correctly pronounced the name and grinned. It wasn't the first time that Pablo had been compared to the famous Hispanic actor, and he was always flattered by it. "I know who that is."

The slender girl by the boom-box added, "He was in that Star Trek movie, too. The Wrath Of Khan."

"Ooooh, I remember that one, girl." The sturdier girl commented. Suddenly, she began looking at Pablo in an entirely different way. "He was deee-lishus in that movie." She took a step back to appraise him again. "I'm Tamisha, but you can call me Tami. My sister at the door is Kanisha, but we call her Lady K. My other sister over there by the music, she's Laquisha. We call her Baby Q, 'cause she's so cute."

Pablo was eager to be on his way. He felt the introductions weren't all that necessary, since he wasn't going to be in the suite for more than a couple of minutes anyway. He again asked about the call. "What was the problem with the showerhead?'

"Oh." Tami said, as she turned and sauntered toward the suite's small bathroom. "Well, let me show you."

Pablo followed. Behind him, he heard the girl at the door, the so-called Lady K, giggling. "We all know what his name is, because every Mexican guy I ever met in my life is named Jose!"

For some reason, the comment irked Pablo. While he tried to keep it from showing, Tami might have caught his adverse reaction.

"He does look like a Jose, don't he? I bet your last name is Cuervo, too. Am I right?" Tami laughed and turned toward the younger girl standing by the boom-box. "Girl, put on something else, something a little more freaky."

Normally, Pablo could take a little teasing, but only from people he already knew. Complete strangers making fun of him was an entirely different matter. It was one of the few instances where he kept a short fuse.

Tami walked into the bathroom and pointed at the shower stall. "See?"

Pablo went a step further, stepping inside the stall to inspect it. He looked at the showerhead from different angles, and at the shiny arm that led back into the wall. There was no leak as far as he could tell. The only thing he could discern wrong was that the grout on the tiled wall would need to be scraped out and replaced soon. He made a mental note of it as he looked back at Tami. "I don't see a leak."

"It was doing this." She replied, reaching into the stall and jerking the handle open.

Pablo barely had time to jump out, right before a torrent of cold water came pouring down in the stall. His shoulder had caught an edge of the burst, prompting Pablo to glare over at Tami. The black woman was laughing uproariously at his expense.

"Well," An irritated Pablo said. "When you see it doing that, you do this."

The man reached into the stall to shut off the water.

A new beat started filtering in through the open door, causing Tami to begin alternately raising her shoulders to it in a simple dance. "Oooh, that's my song!"

Having had enough bullshit, Pablo said, "Well, the problem seems to be fixed now. Was there anything el- urp!"

The reason Pablo's words were cut off was because Tami's hand had reached out to grope his crotch. The ebony fingers soon encompassed the dormant giant between the man's legs.

"What'chu got down there?" Tami asked, as she kept squeezing on his sleeping cock. "You stealing rolled-up towels, Jose Cuervo?"

In all his years, Pablo could not recall such a blatant overture being perpetrated on him. While most of his body was too stunned to react, the affected member did exactly the opposite; it began to rise to the occasion.

"You've got a monster in your pants, Jose!" Tami squealed. A moment later, the black woman leaned back and shouted out the door. "Put the music up, Baby!"

As the volume increased, Tami turned back to look at him. "About once a month we rent a room here and we ask for Jimmy to come by. He calls up some of his friends, and we all have a little party. All night long." She sang the last part.

Finally, she released her grip on Pablo's cock. Tami pressed her body tight against his and started dancing. Her melon-sized breasts were rubbing all over the front of Pablo's uniform.

"Ya wanna fuck me?" Tami sang, her voice and body moving in tune with the rhythm of the song, while her eyes stayed locked on Pablo's. "Ya wanna fuck me? Ya wanna fuck me, all night long?"

The way Tami's eyes were riveted on his, the way her teeth pressed down on her bottom lip and mouthed the word 'Fuck', and even the look of her dark chocolate skin, were bringing Pablo to a rigid peak. He had to clear his throat just so he could speak. "I've been sweating all day, I've got to get cleaned up first."

"I know y'all Mexicans ain't that smart, because you're standing right next to a shower." Tami teased back.

Pablo glanced at the open door. Past it, he could see the other two girls dancing again.

"Don't you worry about them." Tami said. "They know what's up. They're both big girls."

Pablo looked back at Tami, and at her thick and pouting lips. He'd always heard that black women could be wild, but he never imagined that the rumors of their boldness could be true. He started unbuttoning his shirt, as the brazen woman went back to groping his member.

"This ain't no Wrath Of Khan you've got going on down here." She commented, before bursting out laughing again. "It's more like the Wrath Of Kong!"

Pablo tossed his work shirt under the long expanse of the double sink. Next, he pulled his wife-beater over his head. Once that was gone, Tami's eyes were staring lustily at his upper body. Her open mouth was damned near close to drooling.

Even though he was tickled by the attention he was getting downstairs, Pablo had to step away from it nevertheless. He set his radio and keys into a back corner of the sink, where he hoped the items wouldn't later fall off and get damaged, or somehow get wet. After this he crouched down to unlace his steel-toe shoes. Once they were loose enough, he kicked them under the sink as well. His work pants and white cotton briefs went down together. Once he'd straightened up, the older man was fully naked.

His cock stretched out haughtily, like a big, ripe cucumber. The charmed Tami couldn't keep her eyes away from it.

Pablo stepped over to the shower stall. Since he knew what he was doing, he expertly positioned the single knob to where he knew he'd produce a warm cascade of water from the showerhead. A moment later, he stepped into the tiny, pleasant waterfall, and thought of how he'd lucked into the erotic situation. This time, he well understood, he didn't have any of his family members around him. This time he could relax and not feel guilty about things later.

"You gonna fuck up my hair right now, Jose, after all the time I took in fixing it up." Tami whined. When he looked over, he could see the young woman shucking off her pants. Her black blouse was already gone, and a moment later, he was looking at hanging double E size breasts, and size forty or forty-two hips. Thankfully, Tami's stomach, while extra thick, did not stick out like a beer belly. Her body stayed a constant width from her armpits down to the large swell of her hips.

Tami hopped into the shower with him, smiling mischievously. The first thing she did was to press Pablo against the tiled wall. Pablo felt a rush of cold from the contact behind him, but the warm water soon cleared that up. A second later, black hands were roaming all over his body.

The eager woman ran her palms up and down his arms, over the bumps of his manly chest, down his waist and all over his cock and balls. Tami paused to smirk at him, before she started the sensual revolution all over again. It was a mad frenzy from her new lover's point of view, as if the black woman only had a limited time to soak up his being. It was such a brazen invasion, and so incredibly different from Pablo's usual exploits.

In trying to match Tami's zeal, Pablo reached around and grabbed two big handfuls of delicious chocolate ass. The nude man leaned his head closer to kiss her, finding her to be coquettishly evasive. When he tired of her playfulness he released her butt in order to grasp her by the neck and upper back. When Pablo directed her mouth onto his, he again found that fierceness within her, as if her lips represented an army that did not want to be conquered. When she finally did begin to kiss back, Tami's mouth fought against his, surprising the older man with their intensity and fire. The man found he had to increase his own actions and push back just to keep his head from being pressed against the tiles again.

They became two caged and violent animals, as they danced within the confined space of the shower stall, as each tried to dominate the other. Hands wrestled for the best positions, groping when they were free, grasping tightly when they were not. Tami's legs frequently drew up against Pablo's legs and conspired with her arms in order to help keep him pinned against the wall.