The Robles Family Ch. 06
Date: 04.12.2009Keywords: Family, Robles, Ch., The, 06,
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Most other guys would be having the time of their lives, Frankie Robles glumly thought to himself, sighing inwardly and tilting his head down slightly in order to gaze towards the swimming pool without drawing attention to himself. There were three beautiful women in it, splashing and sloshing about, their wild antics occasionally sending torrents of cool water crashing down near his position on the low lying folding chair. Not that he had anything against being in close proximity to attractive and scantily clad females, but in this case, he quietly scrutinized behind his dark shades, they were all in some way related to him.
First there was his wife, Carmela, lean and trim at twenty-one years of age and sporting a red bikini that blended nicely with her dark latina skin. Although possessing only a modest B cup, the smallest size of the trio prancing about in the water, her breasts were nevertheless well centered and perky, her waistline was small, her hips smoothly contoured, and her ass, after countless hours spent running on the treadmill, was tight enough to crack walnuts.
Next came his sister Melinda, a year older than his own twenty-one seasons, wearing the predictable black two-piece that she usually wore on such public outings. On display were her formidable C's, barely kept in check by a small patch of fabric across each breast, but ever threatening to spill out on either side as she danced and dove about playfully. Her waist was naturally thick, as were her thighs, but her current job as a stripper kept both nicely toned, and her ass was more reminiscent of J-Lo's than anything else. Note the way she frequently and obviously reached around to adjust her thong.
Rounding out the small group was Amanda, eighteen and owner of a magnificent hourglass figure. Although her bikini was merely white and more generously cut than the others, it tantalized the imagination much more due to the way it clung to her wet skin. Swells of no less than a D rating swayed and bounded back and forth, but only for brief periods of time before she noticed the attention they were receiving from the nearby lechers. Self-consciously, she'd slowly wade back towards the shallow end, showing off her sensuous shoulders and back, skipping up the handful of steps and taking a seat pool-side. In Frankie's opinion, her ass was perfect, thick and juicy, not too small like his wife's, nor too fat like his older sister's.
Of course, such an incredible display of flesh was bound to bring the dogs out, and this time they'd arrived in droves. The small apartment complex was teeming with horny men, the younger ones wasting no time donning their own swimwear and jumping right in, the older ones feigning some excuse or other to abandon their nagging wives and household chores, and stepping outside for 'a breath of fresh air'. No less than five studs (the day's record was eight) were presently out there thrashing about for attention, the light of which the stripper, Melinda, seemed to be basking in. Not totally unexpected, Frankie thought to himself, after considering what she did for a living.
What was disconcerting, however, was the fact that his own wife, Carmela, apparently had forgotten that Frankie was in the audience, for she was taking great pains to take the limelight away from his voluptuous sister. When they were playing volleyball, for example, she was spiking extra hard in Melinda's direction, on occasion showing her up and gloating over her dominance. Then, a playful wrestling match between the two threatened to turn ugly, until several pairs of eager arms and hands reached in and groped the pair apart. Finally, after one of Melinda's boobs finally escaped its flimsy protection, and Melinda herself made such a vain show of harnessing and reigning in her valuable asset, it seemed as if Mount Carmela was about to erupt. Less than five minutes later, and much to the enjoyment of the throng of male spectators, his wife retaliated by mysteriously losing her entire top. Shortly after, it was discovered floating near the bottom of the pool, resulting in an instant frenzy of action as several of the guys set out to rescue it.
Now, one of the things Frankie admired most about his wife was her competitive drive and ambition. She had a great job with great pay, drove a brand new SUV, wore stylish clothes and had leased an expensive condo in a nice part of town. That much was fine with him, save for the mounting credit card bills. But losing her top in a pool full of horny guys?
Frankie realized he had only two options; one, start a huge and very public argument with her right then and there, a fight that was likely to spill over into the evening and probably even as far as the next few days, or two, retreat into Melinda's apartment and pretend the incident never happened. He mulled it over a few minutes, concluding that he could use the ammunition to his advantage some other time, and threw in the towel. Soon enough, he found himself in his sister's living room, impatiently searching around for the remote control, which he then used to help him out of his misery. A baseball game was on, but wouldn't you know it, he caught a total of three pitches before the next commercial break.
Some serious alcohol was in order, Frankie mused, scurrying into the kitchen to raid the fridge. After discovering nothing more potent that a couple of fruity wine colors, he reached in with impatient resignation and liberated the nearest one, then grumbled his way back into the living room.
Being a devoted sports fanatic, Frankie soon became absorbed by the action on the screen, and several innings later he heard his older sister's voice approaching the open doorway. One of the horndogs outside was telling her to hurry back out.
"Don't you hear that?" Melinda asked, pulling her long, black hair back into a ponytail.
"Hear what?"
"Your phone, dummy." She stated, rolling her eyes at his ignorance. "It's over there on the counter."
"Oh." Frankie answered, glancing towards the singing device. "It's Carmela's. She must have changed the ringtone again."
"Are you going to get it?" Melinda asked, but by then she'd reached the counter and had already picked it up. "Hello?" She paused to listen. "Yeah, she's right outside. Let me go get her." She strolled over to the door. "Carmela, you've got a phone call!"
Frankie's attention became divided between the new pitcher's warm-up tosses and Melinda's big butt standing in the doorway. Her thong was nearly invisible.
Carmela soon walked up and took the phone, but by then, Frankie had lost interest and was back to watching the game. Several minutes went by before he heard his wife's concerned voice, the same nagging voice he always got at home, and he tried his hardest to block it out.
"Frankie, I'm talking to you!"
"What?" He asked, impatiently.
"I said, have you seen my purse?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "No!"
By then he noticed that Carmela was quickly getting dressed.
"What's going on?" Frankie asked.
"I was supposed to go to this important luncheon with my boss, and I forgot all about it." She replied, dropping down beside him on the couch and struggling with her sneakers. "It's the Nakamura account."
"The what?"
"I told you about it the other day." She persisted. "Don't you remember? I got in touch with this group of Japanese businessmen, from an affiliate of Seiko, and set up preliminary negotiations for their IPO."
Frankie looked back at her blankly.
"Just forget it." Carmela shook her head. "Are you sure you haven't seen my purse? Melinda, have you seen my purse?"
"It's in here somewhere." His sister called back.
"I need to go home and change right away!" Carmela was starting to sound frantic. "Do you have your keys on you?"
"Yeah, but I didn't drive, remember?"
"I know that." Carmela hissed back. "But I can get in the house with them, can't I?" She turned back to address his sister. "Melinda, can you give me a ride home? This is really important!"
"Sure." Melinda nodded, hurriedly drying herself off. "Just give me a couple of minutes to change, okay?"
"I'm going home to change into something more professional, then I'm taking your car to the meeting." Carmela stated. "When you find my purse, you can just get my keys and drive yourself home in my car, okay?"
"Okay."
As soon as Melinda appeared in her dry clothes, Carmela bolted upright and hurried to the door. "See you later." She called back.
Melinda followed close behind, shaking her head at their hasty exit.
A few minutes after, a dripping wet Amanda stormed inside. "What the hell?" She asked in disbelief. "Both of these bitches are just going to run by and say they're taking off? They leave me with a swimming pool full of perverts, and then, they don't even bring me a towel? What the hell's up with that?" Even before Frankie had a chance to explain, Amanda had slammed the door shut behind her and trudged her way into the bathroom.
"Uh, have you seen Carmela's purse? She needed the keys to her car, but since she didn't find her purse, Melinda gave her a ride."
Her muffled voice came through the bathroom door. "Under the sink."
"What's it doing there?"
The door swung open. "Melinda told me to hide it somewhere, in case anybody came inside and saw it." Amanda stepped out, drying her hair and shoulders with a large peach toned towel. "Shit." She halted in mid-stride.
"What?"
"My clothes are all wet. Remember you guys threw me in the pool, when I said I wasn't going in?" She rubbed her head vigorously, then made an abrupt about face and walked towards the single bedroom. "I'll have to wear some of Melinda's clothes until I can dry them." She paused. "Shit!"
"What now?"
"All those assholes are still out there." She explained. "If they see me walking to the laundry room, they're going to follow me. Wait, maybe you can dry my stuff.."
Frankie scratched his head in reluctance.
Amanda shook her head and frowned. "That won't work. Melinda's got the key to the laundry room on her keyring.
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Keywords: Family, Robles, Ch., The, 06,