Lara knew she was wrong to entice her father, but she couldn't help herself. She was drowning in her own strong feelings being so close to him-and her pussy twitched with a sudden overwhelming feeling.
"Please Daddy, take me!" she pleaded.
"Okay baby, you win. I'll make my little girl feel good all over," he moaned excitedly.
He opened her pants and tore her panties down. As he touched her steaming triangle they both leaped with joy. Her hand reached for his huge cock and she ran her hands up and down ... slowly ... lovingly caressing his balls ... making him feel more pleasure than he had ever felt with another woman.
His little girl would never leave his side now, and he would make sure she got all the love and attention a growing girl needs.
CHAPTER ONE
The freezing wind lashed at the tent. Blowing snow tore at the zipped nylon door, banked up around the sides. Inside, the catalytic heater began to throw off warmth with its eerie glow. The wind keened in the high branches of the pines, moaned in the firs, bansheed through the stands of invisible aspen.
Sam's wife, Val, was all right, sleeping now. He wasn't worried about her. She was tucked in their sleeping bag, a lump of exhaustion. Tammi, his stepdaughter, was still unconscious, cold from being dragged through the snow to the hastily erected tent. Sam knew he had to get her out of her thin clothes or she would die of exposure, dehydration. Her face was pale, her blue eyes closed, her auburn hair floured with frozen snow. The lump on her temple throbbed ominously.
"Heat up, damn you!" he said to the heater, rubbing his wet cold hands. His fingers were like bananas, useless, but he knew he had to undress Tammi, his wife's seventeen-year-old daughter from a previous marriage. Her skin was dangerously pale, bluish in the kerosene lantern's light With numb fingers, he began unlacing her desert boots. They were caked with snow. Fumbling, cursing, he got them off. The willowy girl's socks were soaked through. He pulled them off her feet, sopping. Quickly, he rubbed her feet and toes, her ankles, frantically trying to draw circulation into them. His hands began to warm from the vigorous rubbing. The ends of his fingers tingled with pain.
"Come on, baby, get warm," he said to the unconscious girl.
He knew what he had to do. He hesitated only momentarily, then began to unbuckle her belt. The leather was stiff and unyielding. He had to tug at it to free it from the hooks. There were two of them that went into the belt holes. Her jeans had a zipper. It was frozen tight. He knelt down and began to blow warm air on the zipper, tugging at it as he did so. The zipper began to loosen as he blew on it. He gave it a hard pull and the zipper came loose. He tugged the wet jeans down the girl's legs.
Her pink panties clung to her loins. He removed these, too, exposing the thick patch of coppery pubic hair. Next, he unbuttoned her blouse. He held her limp body up as he slid it from her arms and shoulders. Braless, her young breasts tumbled free. They were cold and as white as alabaster, the nipples shrunken and pale. He knew he would have to warm the girl fast or she was in danger of dying from exposure to the cold.
Sam nestled her in the double sleeping bag and removed his own snow-flocked clothing. He crawled into the sleeping bag with his stepdaughter and zipped it closed. Then he drew the girl to his warm body. The image of her bare pussy grew large in his mind. He had never seen his wife's, daughter naked before. She was even more lovely than he'd imagined. His face had been so close to her crotch that he could have kissed her there. He had wanted to, but he knew that he had to work fast. When he had felt her cold flesh, he knew that she needed immediate attention. Her Circulation was undoubtedly slowed.
Now, he held her close, feeling the terrible chill that was embedded in her flesh. He began to shiver himself. Soon, he knew, his own warmth would begin to flow into her. The sleeping bag would keep their warmth inside, and if necessary, he could breathe with the covers pulled over their heads to make it even warmer.
"Come on, Tammi," he whispered, "warm up. I'll make you warm."
There was no response. The girl was still limp in his arms. She was cold, but not shivering. He wondered if the crash had hurt her internally. There was no way to tell, yet. The crash! It was like a nightmare. Alec Barlowe and his family had been just ahead of them in their Cessna 180. Then, the storm had hit them suddenly. Sam's wings iced up. The Bonanza had begun to fly like a lead airplane. Then, Alec had radioed that he was going down. Sam couldn't even see his plane through the blowing snow. Alec's radio had gone silent. A few seconds later, Sam knew that he was headed for a crash landing. He tried to hold his nose up. He sent out a quick "May Day," and then was too busy fighting his ship to do anymore. It had seemed like hours before they had come to a stop after plowing through the frozen drifts. The plane had bounced like a stone skipping over water for at least five minutes. He could still hear the screams of Val and Tammi ringing in his ears. And then, the silence, Val's soft moans. He had gotten the tent out and up, somehow, then dragged the sleeping bags inside, the lanterns, a rifle, he thought. He had left the other supplies in the plane and gotten Val into a single sleeping bag. Shock had put her under. Or trauma. She might have been injured more than he suspected. But Tammi had been wedged inside the plane. It had taken him more than an hour to free her. Snow had blown in through the broken windows. Tammi was clad lightly and he knew that it had been bad for her. She had not screamed after the last bounce. That's when she must have cracked her head, he reasoned.
Sam began rubbing his hands over Tammi's body, trying to speed up the warming process, trying to hasten the return of life-saving circulation. His hands roamed over her breasts, her tummy, and down her legs, in between. He knew that the genital area was not crucial, but he couldn't help himself. He felt the soft flesh there, the damp pubic hairs. His libido stirred, a dormant beast rising up out of the depths of his subconscious. Tammi, it was true, had had a mild crush on him ever since his marriage to her mother. He considered this a normal attachment. He had neither encouraged nor discouraged it. But he had watched her grow into a sensual and beautiful young lady. Still the crush had persisted. She flattered him, she did many small favors for him. There were times when he was slightly embarrassed by her attentions, but she was always so ingenuous that he considered them harmless.
Still, Tammi's infatuation with him had apparently sunk in rather deep, he now realized. He had kept his distance, but he had repressed, no doubt, his own normal yearnings. The buried thoughts now came back to haunt him. He had been married to Val for four years. Tammi was now seventeen, a young woman. She didn't have any serious boyfriends. Sam had wondered about that, but had not pressed it. Neither had Val, who, while not particularly close to her daughter, cherished her as an only child.
He knew that he was taking advantage of Tammi's condition. He remembered times when she had brushed against him with her breasts. Even recently, she had seemed to be trying to show him that she was a fully developed woman, capable of giving and receiving love. Sometimes, in the mornings, when she would bring him his coffee when he was working at his desk, she would lean over him, her tender breasts touching his shoulder. She always asked him how he liked a particular new dress or an outfit she was wearing. She seemed proud of him and now he was acting like a ... like a cad (he searched for the correct word), a flake. Putting his hand down between her legs.
Yet Sam kept his hand there for a long moment, thinking. His cock began to stiffen slightly. He withdrew his hand and ran it up her leg, to her belly, rubbing the flesh in small circles. Was he warming her, he wondered, or just feeling her up? "Copping a free feel," as the saying went. His hand went up to her breasts again. He squeezed them, weighed each one in the palm of his hand.
A strange sensation began to permeate Sam's senses. He felt furtive, like a thief. An animal lust crept over him as he fondled his stepdaughter's breasts. His penis began to grow and stiffen. Control left him as he became excited at the thought of doing whatever he wanted to do with this sleeping, helpless girl. The forbidden aspects of his actions excited him even more. He leaned close to Tammi and put his mouth on one of her breasts. A sharp tingling pain shot through his loins. He kissed her and extended his tongue to her nipple. He closed his eyes to shut out the obscene thoughts that began to form. Gradually, he felt the nipple respond to his tonguing. It hardened and his scrotum tightened up, the skin of his cock stretching with its rampant growth.
"Forgive me, Tammi," he whispered. "I can't help myself."
It was true. He had gone too far to stop now.
Tammi's breast was the magic talisman that broke the last of Sam's fatherly reserve. He reveled in its young softness, its pliable response to his oral caresses. The hardening nipple was the fuse to his sexual powder keg. Hungrily, he launched his lustful attack on the other breast, crawling over her naked body to reach it, his cock plowing into her leg. The physical contact sent a surge of desire through his body. He began ravishing the other breast and sliding his cock up and down her leg in rapid coital motions.
His hand went to her crotch and began rubbing the pubic area vigorously. His fingers touched the cold and flattened folds of her furrow, tracing their outline as his lust deepened. He forced the girl's legs apart so that his hand could move more freely between them. His finger pried the lips of her pussy open, slid along the velvety inner lining. He felt her body begin to warm up inside the sleeping bag.
He wondered if his decision to crawl in beside her naked body had been for this, instead of for survival. He knew that she was dangerously chilled and that the only way to reverse the coldness of her body was through his own body heat. Sam knew survival techniques. But, he was not so sure of himself now. All of his pent-up sexual anxiety seemed to have broken loose. All of these subtle advances of hers had been spurned, repressed, for all these years. Now he was taking advantage of an unconscious girl, acting out the impulses that he had had to bury all those times. His cock now ruled his head. The intimacy of the sleeping bag had been too much for Sam Cassidy. Tammi's naked body had been too much of a temptation for a man weakened over the years by a girl's childish crush on him.
His finger found the helpless girl's pussy hole and poked inside. She was warm there, and moist. He finger-fucked her passionately, urging forth further lubrication of her love-channel. His excitement intensified as her willowy body warmed to his caresses.
"Oh, Tammi, Tammi," he whispered to her deaf ears, "I want you so much."
In the heat of his passion, Sam forgot all about his predicament. They were stranded in the wilds of the north woods, their airplane smashed, in the middle of a blizzard. All that mattered to him at the moment was gratification of his flaming libido. Tammi had not made a sound, but her breathing was steadying, deepening. Her flesh was not so cold. Her pussy was now hot and wet where his finger probed. He found the tiny clit-button at the top of her pouch and began to massage it with his fingertip. It became tumescent, swelling with blood, even though the girl lay quiet, her mind enveloped in darkness.
Sam crawled on top of her body, releasing her clitoris. He poked his head out of the sleeping bag and looked over at Val, his wife. She had her back turned to him and was dead asleep, doubled up in a fetal position. This was all the assurance he needed. He moved over
Tammi's body like a writhing snake, exulting in the fleshy contact, all of his nerves keened to a razor's fine edge. He knew then he would go all the way. He gulped her breasts, and grasped her soft slender body with groping eager hands. He wanted all of her; she was ripe plunder. He was a man who had broken a window of a jewelry store, grasping at everything, blinded to all reason.
His cock was fully hard and swinging wildly like an animal on a leash. It swung from side to side, touching the girl's inner thighs as Sam moved closer to her pussy. He reached down to steady his throbbing organ. He took a deep breath, fighting for control. His excitements was so intense at that moment that he knew he would ejaculate instantly if he even touched the girl's slick wet hole without getting a firm grip on himself.
He slipped into the ripe peach of her cunt, his cock slithering into warm moist pulsing caverns of endless joy. He shuddered as the pleasure raced up through him, his cock a high-tension wire, singing with the sudden rush of electricity. The smoldering pudding of her flesh caressed his prick as he pushed inward, incredulous at his luck, his good fortune. He was inside her! All the repressed dreams rose up in his mind like a fragrant cloud. Tammi's tender pussy was his now, all his, clasping his organ with its elastic fingers, pulling him inward, alive of its own volition.
"Oh, Tammi, sweet darling," he breathed. "I'm going to fuck you now, baby dearest. I'm going to fuck you even if you don't know it." His breath was hot on her face, his chest crushing her young breasts, flattening them like squeezed sponges. His cock throbbed in his temples. He could hear the blood rushing through it, hear it inside his inner ear, a torrent that had no beginning, no end. He placed his mouth on his stepdaughter's and kissed her. There was no response from the lifeless lips. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, but it was intrusion into a dead world. He withdrew it, and kissed her cheek and neck instead. He nibbled on an earlobe, his cock at rest just inside her steaming love-tunnel. He began to fuck her, his strokes short and controlled, his cock moving so that the head of it slid in and out, just past her pussy lips, where the pleasurable tension was greatest. He slid deeper, and encountered the barrier, the tough, leathery maidenhead. He sucked in his breath, awed by what he was doing, frightened of his dangerous excursion into necrophilia. The girl breathed, but she was without life. The vital signs were in her cunt, the organ responding to the alien presence of his cock with searing secretions, with mindless contractions, with preprogrammed somatic responses.
"Oh, Tammi," he husked. "I'm sorry, baby."
His words fell on deaf ears.
Sam tried to withdraw, but his will power crumpled like the metal girders in a building subjected to intense atomic heat. He couldn't extract his cock from that hot pool where it swam like a blinded beast. It was as if he were held there by some invisible magnet. Something inside him melted, like wax held close to a flame. He knew that he couldn't pull out no matter how hard he tried, how much he willed it. Her cunt held him in its relentless grip. It was a force that held him, beyond his own power.
He put his hands on her damp hair. He opened an eyelid and saw the vacancy inside. He let it fall back down. Slowly, he began to pump back and forth, wanting relief, wanting to feel the exquisite surge of his sperm through his tube. He would not take her maidenhead. He would leave her that much. He hated himself already for what he was doing, for letting himself get so carried away that he had passed the point of no return. He couldn't do a one hundred eighty and leave this tender floating pussy. But, he could leave her something, something for her future. Her virginity.
"You're warm now, Tammi," he whispered. "So warm, now."
Sam was burning up himself. He raised and lowered his loins, feeling his cock slide smoothly into the young girl's lubricated pussy. He wanted to sink himself in all the way, to rupture her hymen and plunge to the core of her sex. Yet he resolved to hold firm in his desire to leave the tissue intact. It was the least he could do. Yet, he was drawn into that pulling magnet of her sex, down into that whirlpool pussy. He wondered, as he stroked her, if he could hold to that resolution now.
It was difficult. The more he fucked her, the more of her pussy he wanted. He fucked her faster and faster, boring in harder than before. "What am I doing?" he asked himself. His cock's head touched her virgin's membrane, withdrew. Again. Than again, harder. He felt it nudge forward, enticingly. It was not so much of a thing. A small fragment of unnecessary tissue.
But, she would know. There would be blood and pain. She would hate him for what he had done. She would never forgive him for taking advantage of her when she was like this. No, he told himself, he couldn't do it. He mustn't do it!
Tammi moaned and Sam's body jerked with fear.
"Tammi?" he ventured. "Tammi? Are you awake?"
Her head tossed to one side and he put his hand on her chin, forcing it back to face him. Her eyes were still closed. She was deep asleep. Yet, something had stirred within her. Pain? It was possible. The hymen had pulled on her vaginal muscles.
But she was still asleep.
Sam took a deep breath and let his fear subside. Slowly, he began to move his cock in and out of her soaked pussy again. He kept the strokes short, for a time, then, helplessly, began to tap at her maidenhead once again. He pushed against it, held his throbbing cock there. He let the warm feeling this gave him wash over him for a long time. The head of his cock was very tender.
"I don't want to hurt you," he told her sleeping self. Physically or mentally, he added, in thought alone.
He slid a long way into her, then.
"Forgive me, Tammi," he whispered into her ear.
He let himself go. He plunged into her with savage-tender force, an ache rising up in him like smoke tendrils from a fanned fire. He battered her hymen with the pain-screaming head of his cock. He plumbed her cunt with his thick rod, delirious with a skull-pounding joy that he had never known before.
With a tremendous ram, Sam broke through the parchment of her virginity, tearing it to shreds as his cock plunged through to the mouth of her womb. In an explosion of blood and fresh juices, his cock barreled to the end of her cunt's tunnel. He was not prepared for Tammi's awakening.
Her eyes sprang open. Suddenly.
Her body bucked as an orgasmic explosion brought her back to life.
Sam groaned with deep pleasure. He felt his lifesperm bolt from its prison sac, shooting up his tube with a wild hot rush. He agonized in the delicious outpouring of the fruit of his loom.
"Tammi!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, oh, oh," shrieked Tammi from a faraway throat. Her loins thrashed with his own in a grinding coupling.
He could almost hear Tammi's heart beating, and his own.
Her blue eyes looked up at his in surprise, wide as cloudless skies.
"Oh, Tammi," he breathed. "I'm sorry for this."
Her arms went around his bare shoulders. She drew him close to her. She thrust her pussy up and up, its muscles quivering.
"Sam-Sam, don't say that! I'm happy. Happy!"
Dumbstruck, he held her tightly, not daring to breathe. The last of his cum dripped into her, spurting spasmodically in quick short blips.
He stretched like a tomcat as her fingernails began to dig into his back.
"Fuck me again," she said to him.
Sam knew that the girl beneath him had become a woman. There was a note in her voice that he had never heard before.
Outside, the wind picked up in tempo and the swirling white snow coiled around the tent, locking in the heat, etching vagrant hieroglyphics on the tent walls, carving the green fabric with sugary scrimshaw over and over as the traces formed and disappeared, formed again and blew away, only to be scrawled again in new and strange curlicue carvings.
Tammi's eyes, looking up into Sam's reflected the same shifting swirlings. They were blue and powdery with the hot snows of her desires.
"I've waited so long for you to do this to me," she said.
Sam felt his manhood returning.
CHAPTER TWO
Alec was luckier in his landing.
His plane glided across the frozen lake, touched down where the visibility was several hundred yards. A snow hump caught one landing gear and twisted the craft into a dizzy spin that tipped in on its nose, bent its propeller. No one was hurt. The clouds descended on the plane and snow blew into their eyes as they made their way to shore. Alec Barlowe, his wife Ginnie, his daughter, Lara, and son, Bruce. They carried the tents and sleeping bags with them, leaning into the bitter wind. Two tents, four sleeping bags. There had been no time to get anything else. The storm hit them hard. They had time to pitch the tents, zip together the sleeping bags. Alec had a flashlight. The rest of the gear was in the plane. The plane was invisible, less than a hundred yards away.
"We'll have to tough it out," said Alec.
"Lara, you and Bruce take the other tent. Zip up good. We'll dig out in the morning. Can you stand skipping supper?"
"Sure, Dad," said Bruce, his words snatched out of his mouth by the wind.
They all looked like Yeti in their thick coats dusted with snow.
"Hit it, kid," said Alec, ducking into his tent, where his wife had already crawled into her side of the sleeping bag.
"Goodnight!" yelled Lara, her voice trailing off into a vacuum where all sound was snuffed out.
The snow came in driven sheets, as the youngsters slogged into their own tent. Bruce and Lara were both dressed warmly, but they shivered inside the tent. He struck a match so that they could see. He was eighteen, his sister, sixteen. Lara was a blonde with smoky gray eyes. Bruce had brown hair and brown eyes, was tall and ruggedly built, like his father. He played football and had been the campus heartthrob for most of the girls in high school. He was due to start college this year, but had decided to wait, until after the hunting trip the Barlowe and Cassidy families took every year, before he enrolled. On campus, Bruce had been called "stud." It was an appellation that aptly described his sexual proclivities. Bruce had discovered sex early, and, with his good looks, he had taken full advantage of the advances the chicks had made toward their football hero. Lara, his sister, worshipped her older brother. Un-like him, however, she had never had any sexual experiences. At least not with another person. She was a beautiful and sensual girl, however. She was merely shy, it was said, and too intelligent to involve herself with the drab horny boys at school. The truth was that Lara had just never been turned on by the boys at school. She had an image in her mind of a perfect lover and none of them fit it. The one who came closest, was out of reach. This was her brother, Bruce.
"Ouch!" said Bruce, as the match burned his fingers. He lit another. "Well, Lara, I hope that sleeping bag's warm enough."
"It should be. I zipped them together."
"Let's get in, then. We're stuck here until the snow stops."
"I'm scared, aren't you?"
"No, not really. We have all the gear we need, out in the plane. Dad's a good woodsman and so am I. I'm worried about Sam, though. I think Dad is, too. He might have crashed, all of them killed."
"Don't say that," said Lara, her teeth chattering.
"Come on, get in the sleeping bag. We'll freeze to death in here."
Lara took off her warm coat and got in the sleeping bag. Bruce lit another match, sighted his path and took off his own coat. He crawled in the double sleeping bag next to his sister. They started giggling a moment later.
"I wish we had the lanterns and the catalytic heaters," shivered Bruce. "This is like being in a deep hole."
"Why don't you run and get them?" teased Lara. "Up yours."
"Up yours, too!" They both laughed.
"I wish this were Tammi in here," murmured her brother. He had already planned to seduce her on this trip. It was something he had thought about ever since she had filled out, ever since she'd been willowy with little bumps on her chest, rounded buttocks, slender legs fading into her loins. "Stud!" said Lara, pouting. "Foxy chick."
"Aren't I foxy?"
"Yes, you probably are. To someone."
His words cut into her. But, they were dangerous words, she knew. She didn't want to think about her brother and Tammi Cassidy. Tammi was a year older than she, and she was a foxy chick. Bruce didn't have to throw her up to her like this, though. She couldn't imagine what they would do to each other, or how they would do it. She just had an obscene picture in her mind: legs at all angles, pubic hairs, organs.
"Anyway, I'm warming up," she said. "It's going to be a long cold night. A three dog night."
"Or, two body night"
Bruce chuckled, thinking of Tammi, then of Lara. The wind howled outside and they could feel its knives cutting into the tent.
Tammi. Lara. His imagination fused the two girls, separated them, brought them back together again. Tammi was out there somewhere, alive or dead. Far away, in any case. Next to him, Lara, another foxy chick. But, his sister.
So what? his mind asked.
So, forget it, man. The cold must have scrambled your brain. Not your own sister. Unh unh. No way. No fucking way.
"What're you thinking about, Bruce?"
"Uh, nothing," he replied, too quickly.
"I'm not sleepy, are you?"
"Nope. Just cold."
"Still? I'm warm."
She moved her body over next to his.
Now, he felt the warmth. He moved closer to his sister. He turned to her, slowly. It seemed to him as if he turned in slow motion, like something on a spit. He couldn't see her face in the dark, but he could hear her breathing. Her breath was warm. He felt her turning toward him. Even slower. Hands moved in the darkness. His and hers. Reaching, stretching out. Slowly. Touching.
He brushed his hands over her breasts. He felt them twitch, or thought he did. Her hands came around his arms, touched behind his back. He pulled his sister close. She was like a feather floating to him in the dark.
"Hold me close," she whispered. "We'll keep each other warm."
"Yes." His word was a cotton ball in his dry mouth. Something was happening to him. Something that shouldn't happen at all. He felt his sister's breasts pressing against his chest. He felt their warmth, felt them burning through the cloth, searing his flesh. He felt their yielding, their pliancy, their flowing softness.
Lara nestled against her brother, satisfied that she could exorcise Tammi. A bird in the hand. She glowed with contentment. This was all she wanted. To be close, to feel his arms around her, to hold him with her own arms. It was enough. There couldn't be any more.
Bruce was not so sure of himself anymore. The intimacy of the sleeping bag was doing its work. A seed of incest had been planted. It was expanding in the warmth of their close bodies.
He could feel the seed growing, enveloping them. There was no place to flee. They were trapped together in a survival situation. The cold kept them locked in their cocoon, safe from the frozen white world outside, safe from the wind, the cutting murderous wind that licked at their fragile haven.
"Have you ever done it before?" Bruce asked. He realized how little he knew about his own sister.
"Done what?"
"Made it with a dude?"
"No. You should know that." She felt a stir of excitement, building inside her tummy.
"How should I know. Most chicks your age have already been balling for a year or two."
"Not me."
"How come? You're a foxy enough chick, for sure."
"I just never did. Why?"
Bruce held his breath for a long time before he answered.
"I don't know. Just curious, I guess."
"I know you have. Lots."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Were you going to do it to Tammi?"
"I've been thinking about it. She'd be nice. I think she's still a virgin."
"She is. At least, she said she was, just before we left. I believe her."
"Virgins are nothing anymore. Why miss out on fun?"
Lara felt something pressing against her leg. She didn't move away from it. The excitement in her tummy stirred some more.
"Bruce? Are you-are you getting hot?"
"Can't you feel it? Yes, I'm getting hot, dammit!" He was angry at her, at himself.
"You don't have to get mad about it. I can feel something. Are you getting hot about me or are you thinking of Tammi?"
"Jesus, I don't know! You talk too much."
A long pause.
"I'm getting excited, too," she said simply. "You mean hot."
"Hot. Yes, real hot."
Her words were like balmy ocean breezes blowing from a tropical isle. They were firebirds floating in the sun, golden darts of supplication pulling at his earlobes. For a moment, he could imagine that it was not his sister in the sleeping bag with him, but someone else, another girl, brought magically to his side as if thoughts could transport flesh through empty space. He couldn't see his sister and so he could imagine that it was not she who spoke to him in this way, her voice full of heat and desire. He could feel her squirming, her loins moving in close to his own, her hidden pussy nuzzling close to his equally hidden cock. It was a long unreal moment, a mind-clouding interlude with the wild sounds of the weather blocking out the world, the snow covering up every footprint, every trace of them, outside.
Impulsively, Bruce crushed his sister to him and began kissing her wildly on the mouth. She responded with a passion that took his breath away, pressing her hungry mouth to his, slipping her wet tongue inside his mouth. His cock hardened into steel. He rammed his own tongue into her mouth, sliding over her wet lips. Their moans intermingled as their bodies ground together at the loins.
"Bruce, Bruce," Lara whispered. "I want you."
"Lara!"
She knew that she was wrong, but she couldn't help herself. She was drowning in her own strong feelings. Her brother's body was so close, she couldn't give it up. She could feel its hardness underneath his clothes. Its strength flowed through to her. Her pussy twitched with a sudden and overwhelming yearning.
"Please!" she said. "Take me!"
"Lara, I want to, I-I just don't know."
"Don't think about it. Pretend I'm Tammi!"
"No!"
Then, she was clawing at his clothing, his loins. Her hand found his stiffened cock and squeezed it through the cloth. Desperate, she pulled the head of his organ into the cushiony softness of her pubic triangle, rubbing its head in the soft furrow. She wanted his cock so madly she would do anything to get it! She tugged at it and rubbed it into her cunt, wishing that she were naked so that she could impale herself on it. She fumbled at Bruce's fly, at his belt buckle.
"Damn, Lara, you really are hot!" Her brother was amazed at his sister's transformation.
"Yes, yes, I'm so hot I can't stand it. Bruce, I want you fuck me. Now!"
The seed of incest grew and entwined them in its irresistible coils.
Bruce went at his sister's jeans with his hands. He opened them savagely and his hand groped for her panties. He touched the steaming triangle and his sister leaped with joy. Her hand went inside his opened pants and twisted his cock free, closed upon it. She began moving her hand up and down his swollen shaft, vigorously, excitedly. A feeling of immense pleasure suffused her body. "Let's take off our clothes," she husked. "Yeah," said her brother. Despite the confinement of the sleeping bag, the two young people managed to take their clothes off. They threw their clothing in a heap outside of the bag. Then, they embraced once again, Lara's hand grasping her brother's rigid cock, his hand going to her naked pussy. They pushed close together inside the sleeping bag, their emotions at fever pitch. Bruce's finger found his sister's pussy hole and crept inside, into the warm, moist, pulsing flesh. His sister spasmed as his finger pushed deep into the wetness. She jacked his cock furiously, a tremor flowing outward from her quivering belly.
"Oh, Bruce, that feels so good," she said. "So does what you're doing," he told her. "I'm scared."
"Me too."
But their fear was nothing in the face of their excitement.
Lara closed her eyes as if to reassure herself that she wasn't dreaming. She had waited a long time for moment like this. Oh, she had not thought specifically of Bruce, but he was never very far out of her thoughts. She had envied the girls he'd dated, though. She had thought him a handsome hero and used to watch him cross the campus, secretly, a girl on each of his arms, and had wished that she was one of them. Just to splash in the sprinkles of his laughter, bask in the sunglow of his smile. Just to smell his male sweat, his football leather, his soggy undershirt. Just to be near him! Those were the dreams and they got mixed in with the other ones, where just such a handsome boy swept her off her feet and took her to a big soft bed and made passionate love to her. Just some boy. Or, Bruce.
And now, she was with him and could scarcely control her trembling, the awful quaking inside of her like some great rolling groundswell underneath her, with her teetering there on the brink, wanting to fall off and yet afraid of her breath being snatched away by the wind, of being blown too far off target, of falling too fast and too far, and it was all mixed up in her mind, but she wanted Bruce now, yes oh yes more than anything she wanted him and she could hardly stand it anymore actually holding onto his cock and feeling the rippling veins the throbbing blood pounding through it so nice so sweet and nice and soon it would be inside her and she would be at the end of that terrible first of all....
"Take me, Bruce," she whispered, "take me now, I'm so hot inside I'm hurting for you."
"Yeah, Lara, now. For sure!"
Bruce's need was so great that he didn't care anymore. He wrestled his sister beneath him and climbed atop her, eager to plunge his cock inside that raving pussy of hers. He was sure that he had missed something in his sister somewhere along the line. He felt a pang of guilt tear at him, but it wasn't over the sexual aspects of his present situation. Rather, he knew that he had failed to read Lara's signals, failed to notice that she was becoming a woman. He had been too busy studding to pay attention to her needs. He didn't understand all of it, but he knew that Lara had been holding back an awful lot of stuff for some time. He could kick himself for not having noticed it. Shit! Well, he was about to cash in on that neglect, anyway. Lara was ready to give him everything she had! It was almost too much for his manhood. With the other girls, there had been no qualms. Now, there was an added element to the situation. This was no ordinary chick. This was his own sister!
He spread Lara's legs apart, and poked his cock at her pussy. She almost screamed when he was off-target. She grasped his cock and guided it to the right place. She thrust her pussy forward and upward, impaling his shaft on the lip of her portal. She pulled on his cock and it slid in. She wasn't prepared for the tremendous rush she felt. Her blood boiled and streamed up hot to her face. Her mouth went wet and her cunt thrashed at the intrusion of his pounding organ. A part of it touched her clit and she screamed when the electricity jolted her.
"Oh, Bruce," she wailed, "it's so beautiful!" Inside her, her brother was in control. None of the chicks he had balled had given him anything like this! He hurt all over, as though he had been crushed by some giant machine. He was liquid and lava, all of it pouring into a single bone.
He screamed back at her, but the wind outside, in a sudden boiling rush of snowspume, smothered his words, as he poured himself into her pulsating, snatching cunt.
In the tent next to theirs, his father heard the sound and jerked suddenly awake. Alec bolted upright and looked at Ginnie, his wife. She was snoring. The hackles rose on the back of the man's neck. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and tucked it back in alongside his wife. He cursed himself for not bringing one of the guns and a lantern from the plane. Something was out there. He had to find out what it was.
He put on his shoes and his coat. He listened.
Then, he went outside in the swirling blowing snow. He leaned against the wind and headed for the children's tent. The white blackness dervished around him, blinding him for a moment. But the scream stayed in his mind, and he knew that it had been human.
CHAPTER THREE
Lara screamed again as her brother's cock plunged clear to her maidenhead, stretching it taut as a trampoline, but failing to rupture it. Her scream, however, was one of pure delight, since his shaft had risen upward, crushing the bud-head of her clit and causing another gigantic spasm to twist through her loins like some monster typhoon of the nervous system. She was sure that she had made a mistake: his cock was too big for her and she would split wide open and die like a slashed deer. His prick filled her like a battering ram in a rubber glove. She felt her cunt stretch until it threatened to split asunder. Yet the pleasure was so intense that she knew she never wanted him to stop fucking her.
"Bruce, oh man, what you're touching in there! It's so wild, so great, man I"
"Uh, huh, yeah, Lara, I know, I know!"
"You're the first, Bruce, the very first. I wanted you to be first!"
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He knew he was the first, but he didn't know that Lara had wanted it that way. It had been a long time since he'd cracked a cherry. A coupla years, at least. And, that first time. No fun at all. Messy. The chick wasted, scared, high on uppers, stoned on grass. He had been nervous and so had she and the fuck wasn't all that satisfying, not really, not afterward, at least. He had come too quickly and she hadn't come at all. Since then, a couple of virgins and one of them had been a firecracker. like Lara. Hot all the way, a screamer, a back-clawer, long racehorse legs, nice tits, high-riding ass. He couldn't quite remember her name, but it was on the tip of his mind and it probably wouldn't come to him now that he was buried inside his sister's sweltering pussy, ramming the meat to her, pushing against that locked door.
"You're gonna lose your cherry," he panted.
"I know. I know! I want to, Bruce. I want you to take it." She spoke in a breathless rush, as though she were on a fast roller coaster ride. "Yes, break it. Smash it, brother."
Outside their tent, their father struggled with the zipper on the tent. He could hear the voices but made no sense out of them. The words were mingled with the wind. Snow blew in his ears and took out whole chunks of sentences. Still, there seemed to be something wrong with the children. Yet, something made him stop short of calling to them. Curiosity, perhaps, or something else. A sense that something was wrong. He got a better stance and tugged at the zipper. He listened intently.
Bruce was dumbstruck at the depth of his sister's passion. He couldn't get over the fact that she had, apparently, wanted him to do this to her for a long time. It didn't make sense, but he wasn't going to question it. She was too sweet, too warm, too foxy for him to worry about all the reasons why this was happening. He had concentrated so much on seducing Tammi that he had not thought about a surprise such as this. And, it was a surprise, totally. Her pussy was tight and grasping, better than any he had ever had. Its wetness was phenomenal. His cock slid in and out with perfect ease, throbbing until he thought it would shatter from the vibration. He could feel her leg muscles squeezing his organ, her cunt twitching with every stroke. He squeezed her breasts with his hands and kissed her on the mouth, exulting in the ravishing of his sister's body. His cock pounded against the hymen, weakening it, pushing it inward toward her womb.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"I don't care. Hurt me. Fuck me. Break my cherry, Bruce."
"It's coming loose," he told her. "I can feel it loosening up."
"Oh, me too. I want your cock to go in all the way."
He renewed his effort, ramming against the leathery mambrane. He wanted to rip through it and sink his shaft in clear up to his nuts. He wanted to bang his balls against her plump little buttocks, to roll them in her crack. He humped her hard, the head of his cock so sensitive that it pained him every time he touched the hymen. The pain was delicious, shooting through his prick like needles, fiery needles that burned through his urethra.
Alec zoomed the zipper down and pulled the tent flap aside. He stepped inside the pitch-dark tent and closed the flap behind him quickly. He stood there, listening to the strange sounds that emanated from the sleeping bag. He heard the slap slap slap of flesh and for a long moment couldn't associate the sound with anything he knew. He heard the sucking noises of Brace's cock as it slid in and out of Lara's pussy. He heard the moans of the lovers and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
At that moment, Bruce rammed through his sister's maidenhead, bursting it like a balloon. She screamed and threw her legs up high. His cock shot through the tattered opening and plummeted to the mouth of her womb. "Ah, ah!" he said.
"Oh, Bruce, you did it!" Lara shrieked. "You broke my cherry!"
Alec's forehead was drenched with sweat. He felt a tightening in his crotch. There was no doubt in his mind now. His son and daughter were having sexual intercourse. They were fornicating like a couple of animals! They were fucking! He wiped the sweat from his forehead and staggered back out of the tent. He pulled the zipper back down and stumbled through the snow to his own tent. He wasn't angry, just stunned. He wondered how long this had been going on. But, no, he knew! This was the first time. Lara had said that he had broken her cherry. But, had they fooled around before this? How did such things happen? Had they planned to do this? His mind swirled with disconnected thoughts. In the center of the thoughts, like a growing ball of steel, was his own arousal.
Alec tried to picture the scene in his mind. He tried to see the naked body of his daughter, the widespread legs, the pear-shaped breasts, the risen nipples, the dark valentine of her crotch-and Bruce atop her, plunging his young cock into that pristine pussy, burying it in her virginal sheath. The image was almost too much for him as he fought his way into his own tent. He knew that such things happened-all the time. It was just that he hadn't been prepared for the shock of it within his own family. He could have stopped them, of course, but what would that have proven? He could have raged and stormed and called them all kinds of names, but the damage had already been done. They, his own children, had broken a taboo. No. They had broken The Taboo. He thought of the old joke. The mother, busy at her ironing, hearing a commotion in the other room, called out, "What're you doing, children."
"Fucking, mama."
"That's nice. Don't fight." And here it was. Right in his own backyard. Oh, he could figure out what must have happened. The cold, the double sleeping bag. Fooling around. Then, passion taking over. Lust. His mind burned with the thoughts of his son and daughter screwing out there. He zipped his own tent shut and threw off his coat. Ginnie sat up.
"What's the matter, Alec? What're you doing?"
"Nothing. I thought I heard something. A bear, maybe. I should have brought the guns from the plane."
"Yeah, me too." He crawled in beside her. "Ginnie, let's make love."
"Now?"
"Why not? It will keep us warm. It's going to be a long stormy night."
She reached over and touched his crotch. She felt the hard bone there.
"Sure," she said. "I guess the bad weather makes you horny."
"I guess so. Hurry, will you."
He slipped his cock into her from the rear. She began coming almost immediately. That's one thing he liked about Ginnie. She was always ready to fuck. And so, he guessed, was he. While he fucked her, he kept imagining that it was his daughter, Lara, and that he had just broken her cherry.
Lara thrashed inside the sleeping bag in the after-rush of pleasure that suffused her body following the breaking of her hymen. She felt as though a red-hot poker had been plunged into her vagina and up into her belly. The pain was momentary, however. Following the rupture, pleasure rushed in to soothe the seared flesh. A rocketing orgasm made her body buck like a spurred mustang under leather. She clawed at her brother's back and bit at his lips. Her legs flew out of control. His swollen cock seemed to have assumed monstrous proportions, filling her like a man's arm thrust to the elbow. She skewered herself on the throbbing organ, unwilling to release it even for a second, impaling her cunt on his sleek length while the awesome ripples of orgasm shook through her body.
"Bruce! It's so good, man! I can't stop coming!"
"Good, Lara. I'm giving you all I've got."
He had never experienced such wild delight before. His sister was ecstatic and her sexual enthusiasm made him into a powerhouse of lust. He drove his cock into her pussy with relentless force, his balls whacking against the cheeks of her buttocks like bell clappers. He rammed her sheath up and down, titillating her clit with every savage stroke. The sleeping bag was the only thing that kept him nailed down. They were burrowed inside its misshapen bulk, their heady scents assailing their nostrils. He could feel her pliant cunt on every inch of his thickened shaft as it slid its angry heated course through her lubricious channel. He fucked her faster and faster until time was a blur in his head, until all he could hear were her words, tumbling out of her mouth one after-the other, faster-faster-faster, like his cock sewing her cunt, zip-zip-zip, someone working the treadle on a machine, the needle stitching her up without threads as she poured out everything that had been inside her.
"Oh, Bruce, it's nice, great, just like I imagined, your cock inside me, breaking through, fucking me like this, me coming and coming all over, I'm wet, damn, I thought about doing this for so long, so many times, kissing you, my tongue, putting it in your mouth, touching your big cock, sticking it in my pussy, oh my hot pussy, like that, fuck, fuck, deep, all those damned girls you had, screwing them all. I hated them, I was jealous, I wanted to fuck you too, but I couldn't say anything, I just masturbated every night, thinking of you like this, putting your big cock between my legs, your hot big cock, opening up my pussy like a purse, and I could have died ten thousand times whenever I saw you with the sluts at school and saw you go home with them or drive off with one I knew you were going to fuck them I knew they would get all your hot cream and get their pussies wet and you'd spread their legs and ram your meat into them and I wanted to scream and bite their heads off and slip in underneath and take their places, Bruce, can you hear me? Can you understand what I'm saying? I'm co-co-coming so much now I can't think I don't want to think about anything anymore except now I've got your cock and I don't want to let it go, I can't let it go, I dreamed you'd sneak into my room and crawl under the covers with me and pull down my panties and put your hand on my titties and suck my nipples and put your finger in my twat and then kiss me all over, lick me with your tongue and get me wet down there and then stick your cock in me all at once, bang, bang, in my cunt, in my mouth, my ears, between my tits, all over my body, let it slide over my skin, juicing me all over until I was drenched, can you imagine something like this, it's not natural probably and I don't care anymore not with your cock inside me like this and oh, I'm still coming all over the place, soaked with you and I don't want you to stop until I'm dead, just keep the meat pouring into me, Bruce', my brother, my lover, my sweetheart, my cock, can you hear me can you hear me my heart my life going out like this all over you and the burning between my legs and my nipples hurting so damned good it's the best fuck you've ever had, say it, Bruce, tell me now, isn't it dammit the best fuck the best pussy ever ever ever ... ? "
The hackles rose on the back of Bruce's-neck. He sensed that his sister was out of control. It took him a moment to realize that she was hysterical. She was sobbing and babbling, her naked body heaving against his, the orgasms so quick and together now that there wasn't any break between them. He was frightened and unsure of himself. He was about to come and the hysteria slowed him back down so that he stayed his juices for a while longer.
Suddenly, he slapped his sister hard across the mouth.
"Ow! Bruce! What's the matter?"
"Snap out of it, Lara. You were raving. Hysterical."
She sobbed to herself for several moments.
"I know," she said, finally. "I love you so much. Everything just came out all at once. I couldn't help myself. Oh, man, I really blew it, didn't I?"
"No," said Bruce, soothingly. "You didn't blow anything. I think this was just too much for you."
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"
"No," he said, kindly. "I just think you got carried away, that's all."
"You don't hate me?"
"No, dummy. I-I'm sorry I hit you. I had to bring you out of it."
"Yes, I know. Kiss me, please? Bruce?" He kissed her.
"I'm all right now," she said, and, as if to show him, she began to move her hips back and forth, up and down, slowly. His cock slid back inside, smoothly. "I'm in control of myself, Bruce. See?"
"Yes, Lara, for sure. You're okay now."
"You're not mad."
"No. And, you are the best."
"The best what? Piece of ass."
"More than that. The best."
"The best fuck?" She was teasing him, her voice still quavering from the tears. "Uh, huh. The best fuck. Okay."
"Okay!"
She moved her hips from side to side, then, varying the pitch of them, changing directions. She imagined that she was a stripper doing a slow bump and grind while a single spotlight played on her naked body. She imagined that this was the way that experienced women fucked. It was also immensely satisfying to her. Bruce's cock struck new places when she twisted her body this way and that. She had done it this way in her imagination a thousand times. Lara had lived in her imagination a long time and now some of it was coming true. That's why, she told herself, she had gotten so carried away before. Everything had just come bubbling out of her. She was half-delirious with the sensation of screwing, so new to her, so unlike the way she had imagined it. She didn't know that it could blow your mind, that it left you senseless when you had a real shaking godawful climax like the ones she'd been having. No one had told her that. She had thought that screwing was just some pleasant pastime. The orgasms from masturbating had never been like these. No way. The difference between the orgasms was the difference between "Lightning" and "Lightning bug," as Mark Twain once said in a different context.
Bruce liked what she was doing with her body. She seemed to be in control of herself. No strain. like body-surfing on a slow rolling wave. like hang-gliding off a cliff when the breeze is just right. He could enjoy his sister's love now that her hysteria had subsided. No other girl had given him a ride like this. He was floating, stroking fine. In control.
"This is nice action," he told her.
"I'm glad you, uh, like it. I, uh, am coming again, Bruce. It's coming, now, there! Oh, Bruce, if you knew what you were doing to me. It's ah, soooooo nice!"
She passed from her previous state into euphoria. The slow action, the grinding hip action, twisted his cock against her clit so that it lingered there for a slightly longer time with each stroke. The jolt slammed her like an electric shock. Her pussy convulsed like some speared sea anemone, the flesh writhing in undulating convulsions. Her sexual torment was exquisite in its complicated mingling of pain and pleasure.
He couldn't hold himself back any longer.
The eruption of his sperm came at one of Lara's peaks. He held onto his sister when the flood tide commenced rushing through his cock.
"Now!" he yelled. "Oh, Lara, it's shooting up now. Into you! Man I"
"Give it to me, Bruce," she screamed, her body grinding up into his. "Pour it into my cunt!"
She thrust her hips upward and held them there as his cock sank into her warm, wet womb. She shuddered as his flow of milky seed shot deep, spurting into the core of her cunt like hot cream.
"That's what I want!" Lara exclaimed. "That juice, that fuck-juice. Shoot it all up into me!"
Bruce groaned as his cockhead became supersensitive. He held tightly to his sister's naked body, letting his seed spurt out. He fell on her, exhausted, his chest flattening out her taut breasts. She held him to her, kissing his forehead, his damp hair.
They lay there for a long time, letting the tide subside.
"Bruce, that was so beautiful. More beautiful than I imagined. Did I make you happy?" Her voice was soft, like the snow that was falling outside now that the wind had died down.
"Yes, Lara, for sure. I'm very happy. You're some foxy chick all right. The best. The absolute greatest."
"I love you, Bruce," she said.
And, after that, there was nothing else to say.
CHAPTER FOUR
The snow continued to fall all night. Huge, multifaceted flakes drifted down quietly, unceasingly, until the north land was a rolling blanket of ermine. The wind had done its drifting work, and the final snowfall had sealed all the mounds, hills, valleys and peaks, softening the contours, gentling the swept, barren land. The work had been done in darkness; in silence. The morning reflected that mystery. The sun was not visible, yet its light opened up the day, measured the horizon, tabulated the night's work and gave Alec Barlowe, the first up, a glimpse of winter.
Alec had a compass bearing in mind. The last one he had registered when Sam looked like he might go down, too. He feared the worst, but, as a woodsman, he held out hope. The storm had hit them suddenly, and at the same time. If Sam had gone down, and he was sure he had, he wouldn't be far beyond them. It was too bad he hadn't come down on the lake. Beyond the flat expanse of snow stretched a thick forest of pine, mostly, and other trees, bad for a plane to come down in, no matter what the weather.
He trudged, from his tent to the downed plane, packing the snow down hard with each careful step. He and Sam Cassidy were partners in a very successful construction business. They worked together as a team. They played together, socialized together, enjoyed each other's family and company. It would be sad if Sam had bought it out here in the northern wilderness. They must be near the Canadian border, Alec figured. He had only a vague idea where they might be. Minnesota, Canada. Either one.
The snow was trackless at that hour of the dawn. Alec had not slept well. After making love, hastily and guiltily, to Ginnie, he had tossed and turned all night, unable to get the images of the evening out of his mind: the plane crash, Bruce, Lara. When he had slept his dreams had been vivid, disturbing, jolting. Shreds of them lingered on in his mind now as he made his way slowly across the lake. Once everyone was up, they would unload their gear and set up a permanent camp. He smiled wryly at the thought. What was permanent these days? Now? But, they would have to get comfortable and stay alive. It was a matter of survival now. This was the first snowstorm, not the last. He looked up at the slate clouds hanging low over the lake. It could snow again at any time.
As soon as the camp was shipshape, he would have to organize searching parties to find Sam and his family. He would have to set up procedures, signals. He didn't want anyone else getting lost. Getting out of this depended on everyone's sticking together, working together. He was not worried about himself or about any of the individual members of his family. It was the unit which had to function as a whole. He had already decided to divide his own family into two teams. These would consist of Ginnie and Bruce as one, and he and Lara as the other. This way, there was strength in each, as well as wisdom. By the time he reached the plane, he had his plans formulated.
The cabin door was jammed open and snow blocked the entrance to the plane. Alec dug and scooped the snow away. Luckily, not much snow was inside the craft. He found a small primus stove, dug out a kerosene lantern, a rifle case and rifle, a box of ammunition, an axe. He would send someone else out for the coffee, tea, breakfast stuff. By the time they all made several trips, the path would be packed down and the going easier. He dug out his favorite pistol from under the pilot's seat. This was a Ruger .30 caliber Blackhawk, with the eight-inch barrel. It resembled one of the old west pistols such as the Colt Peacemaker .45. Alec strapped the holster on and spun the cylinder. The six-shooter was full. He grabbed the other things and set off for the tents.
It was not as cold as it had been last night. He figured the temperature to be around thirty-two degrees above zero. By tonight, they would be set, no matter what the weather. Alec knew he could depend on himself and on his family. There was only one thing that still disturbed him. This was what had occurred last night between Lara and Bruce. Now, in the clear light of day, he was able to think about it more rationally.
Last night he had been too quick to conclude that the youngsters had planned their tryst for a long time. Now, he was not so sure. In fact, he was almost positive that their sexual act had been spontaneous. Oh, maybe the desire had been there, hidden, but it had not been triggered prior to last night. The proximity was one factor, but only one factor. Alec searched his mind for answers, parallels.
The traumatic shock of the plane crash itself was one possibility. The isolation, another. The fear of dying, or of the unknown. All these things could have pushed Bruce and Lara over the brink, into an incestuous coupling. It made sense to their father. He had heard some tales of the London Blitz, of strangers fucking in bomb-shattered buildings at the very height of the Nazi destruction. Raping soldiers, from all sides, were common occurrences in captured towns. Then there was the case of the man and woman being trapped in an elevator. The man had fucked the woman royally while both their lives hung in the balance. And then there was his own experience.
It was in Korea. He and his company had been passing refugees from Seoul all morning. The civilians were badly frightened. He and the other soldiers were jumpy, depressed. Then the shelling had begun. Both soldiers and civilians had scattered like chickens as the heavy mortars rained down on the road. He found himself in a ditch with a young Korean girl, smothering her with his body. When he looked down at her, he saw that her skirt was pulled up and she had no panties on. He had stared at her pubic triangle for a long time, examining the thin hairs that straggled over her mound and lips. The slit was very well defined, dark skin slashed with pink. Her doe eyes looked up at him, wide and fearful. He put his hand on her pussy and her eyes glittered. The shelling continued, the small arms fire rattling over their heads as they lay in the ditch. He eased his finger inside her pussy and he worked it in and out as he opened his fly, freed his hardening cock. The girl began to respond as he stroked her clitoris with his finger. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The sounds of the shelling drifted into the back of his mind. He moved on top of the young girl and she grasped his cock, helped slide it into her wet sheath. Wordlessly, he fucked the young Korean girl. Soundlessly, she quivered and thrust her tiny pussy upwards so that his shaft sank in deep. Her cunt was so small that it was like fucking a fist-so tight he thought his blood vessels would burst. He touched her breasts under her blouse. They were small, too, little cones of flesh that were no more than bumps on her chest. He didn't kiss her, he just looked down at her youthful face and watched its passivity change subtly as he stroked her tight pussy in slow motion. The only contact of flesh was at her vagina. He didn't know if she had an orgasm or not. Her face was a mask that flowed with dark shifts of coloring. Sometimes she looked like an Indian, at others, a Chinese, then Korean, Caucasian, Japanese. She seemed to be a composite of all tribes, all women.
Her pussy had squeezed him so tight that it didn't take long for him to shoot his wad. He never varied his rhythm, still kept his pumping in slow motion. The final convulsion was strong, however, and he dumped all of his seed in that tight purse of a pussy. The girl stared up at him, her eyes focusing precisely on his, glittering for a moment before the fire went out. He withdrew his limp and dripping cock, tucked it back in his trousers. It took him a long moment before he knew that the shelling had stopped. Men were on the move. Shouting.
"Cap'n Barlowe! Cap'n Barlowe! Are you hit, Cap'n?"
He had lifted his helmeted head and looked out over the road. It was pocked with shell holes and the smell of cordite hung in the air like a stench. He stood up and looked down at the girl one more time. Her lips moved, but he could hear no sound. He tipped his helmet to her and climbed out of the ditch without a backward glance.
He had learned a great truth that day. Sex wasn't obscene. Nothing about it was obscene. It was just there. It was war that was obscene. The same values that were held so high in civilian life didn't apply to the heat of battle. War stripped everything down to basics. So did survival.
Alec was sure that his son's and daughter's act of incest was somehow related to his own experience. The had coupled out of fear, out of a struggle for survival. Look at poor Lot and his unfortunate wife. Lot's daughters, who screwed him in secret. Screwed him for survival. They might have been the last people on earth after the holocaust. The Barlowe family was in a similar situation, for all practical purposes. They were cut off, isolated. This white world was the only world for them. It could remain that way for a long time.
Alec's face was grim as he strode back to his tent, his trousers wet and packed with snow. He went inside and woke Ginnie.
"Time to get up," he said. "We have a lot to do."
"Umm," said his wife, stretching. "I enjoyed you last night. The way you screwed me. You're an impulsive bastard."
"I know," he grinned. Things were getting back to normal. Ginnie always awoke in a good mood. Especially if he'd fucked her the night before. This morning she had a fresh glow to her face. She still looked very young, very sexy. Her body was still firm, the legs strong and comely. Her breasts had not sagged. That was a outdoor girl for you. She kept herself in shape and he appreciated that.
Ginnie got up and he told her what they had to do. Together, they went back to the plane. They took as much food back to the tent as they could carry. The path was worn down so that the going was easier. While Ginnie arranged the foodstuffs inside the tent, he took the axe and went to cut firewood.
"Wake the kids, will you?" he asked her, before he left. He couldn't face them just now. He knew, but Ginnie didn't. If she found out, well, they could discuss it. Calmly. If she didn't, then no harm done. He chastised himself mildly for being a little bit cowardly, but he rationalized that he was doing the right thing.
By the time Alec had cut enough wood to last them a day or so, he was hungry. Bruce helped him carry the wood to camp. They shoveled a spot for a fire. Ginnie had coffee ready for him and he drank it eagerly.
"Well, we have good refrigeration," she told her family. "If you and Lara will bring the cooler up from the plane, I can pack it with snow," she said to Bruce. "We've got eggs, bacon, and steaks in there."
"Good," said Alec. "I'm starved. Bacon and eggs would straighten me out."
Lara was still sleepy, or else still in a state of rapture, Alec noticed. She seemed to be wandering around in a daze. She walked oddly, too, and he guessed that she might be a little sore this morning. He avoided looking at her after awhile.
Ginnie combed out her sandy hair, washed her face with snow. She looked at her husband with clear, hazel eyes. "Well, what's the program, Alec, after breakfast?"
"Get the plane fully unloaded, then start to look for Sam and his family."
"Any ideas on where they'd be?"
"I'll break out the compasses. I took a heading before we went down. Sam would've kept to that heading. It's just a matter of time. We'll work in two teams. You and Bruce will make up one, Lara and I, the other." He lifted his head and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. He straightened his mustache which was damp from perspiration. "You and Bruce can take the first jaunt, blaze your trail as you go, check your compass all the way. Pack along food, guns, hatchet, pup tent, the featherweight sleeping bags."
"You make it sound like an expedition."
"I don't want you to get caught out there without shelter," he said. "You want us to go first? I was going to make the camp more livable."
"No, Alec. You're right. How far do you ' think they might be?"
He looked off toward the pines, north. "I don't know. Impossible to say. Take a .22 along and fire two-shot bursts at half-hour intervals. If Sam's alive, he'll home you in on him. Three shots, fired close together, will mean you're in trouble. He knows the routine.
We've worked it out before in case any of us got lost on these hunting trips."
"Yes, I remember," Ginnie said. She was a crack shot herself. "We might bring back a rabbit or two for the pot."
He grinned at her.
"Be snowshoes this time of the year. Hard to spot."
"I've got sharp eyes," she said.
"Yes," he replied, and wondered if she meant anything else by that.
Ginnie looked at the sky.
"Is it going to storm again?"
"I don't know. It could. Look, if you don't make it back tonight, I won't worry. Bruce is a good man. You're okay, too. If you haven't located Sam by late afternoon, start back, but make camp in plenty of time if it looks stormy. If you're not back by tomorrow afternoon, Lara and I'll come looking for you. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough," she said.
"I don't think it's going to storm today, if that helps."
"It helps. Now, I'd better get us fed. It looks like a long hard day."
They both laughed and got busy getting things ready. Alec got his fire going and kept it above the snow. It would burn to the ground, thaw it, and he could dig a pit, making it more serviceable. That was one of the things he planned to do that day.
Later, after the dishes were done-washed with snow and ashes and put away-Bruce and his mother began packing for the trek in search of Sam, Val and Tammi. They checked their signals again, said their goodbyes, and Alec waved to them. He caught the last look that Bruce shot in Lara's direction, but didn't see her face. He and Lara watched the pair until they entered the woods and disappeared from sight.
"Well, that's that," Alec said, and turned to. begin his chores. "I hope they find them."
"I do, too," said Lara, with feeling. "I just hope they're all right."
The day passed quickly. Alec finished unloading the plane. He cut firewood and checked the lanterns for fuel. Lara checked the catalytic heaters and put one in each tent. Her soreness had worn off and she felt exhilarated, working out in the fresh air. She wished that she had been the one to go with Bruce. Well, maybe he would be back that evening and they could fuck again. She hoped so. Neither she nor her father ate much at lunch, and when the sun began to fall in the sky, the wind came back up, and the clouds blackened.
"Looks like another storm coming in," Alec said.
"It's getting colder, too."
"We'd better fix a stew and get to bed early tonight. Your mother and Bruce won't be back. It's getting too late."
"I hope they don't have any trouble."
"I'm not worried about them. Your mother's a smart gal and your brother's pretty smart too. They know what to do."
"Yeah, I guess so. It just feels funny without them here."
Alec broke out a bottle of good bourbon while Lara lit the Coleman stove inside the tent, out of the rising wind. She turned the flame low and put on the pot of beef stew. She knew there was no rush. Her father would have several drinks, drinking slow, then would be hungry. The food would be ready when he was. They talked, and every once in a while he or she would go out in the snow with his glass and fill it up, and he'd pour bourbon over the snowball and he had his bourbon and water. His manner got mellow and he offered Lara a drink and she just sipped it, feeling it burn all the way down to her tummy. The time passed and his talk grew more intimate. Lara began to feel vaguely uncomfortable. He was talking about sex and how wonderful it was, especially after one had just discovered it, and he offered her another drink, and this time she took more of it to calm her nerves. She was so jumpy, and her father kept talking and talking about sexual discovery and how wonderful a thing it was.
Lara felt her father's breath on her neck.
She had been sitting next to him, listening, sipping at the bourbon and snow water. She looked at him, stunned, then moved away. Her father grabbed her arm.
"What's the matter, Lara? Don't you like intimacy?"
"Dad, please! You've had too much to drink."
"Have I? Maybe. I just wanted to know your feelings on intimacy. Family intimacy."
"I don't have any feelings on the subject," she said calmly, though her heart was pounding.
"Oh, I'm sure you do. Intimacy with brother, with father, with everyone."
He knew! Somehow, her father knew what had happened last night. Her blood ran cold as the realization sank in.
"Please, Dad, don't talk that way. Aren't you hungry?"
"I can't get it out of my mind," he said, not listening to her. "You and Bruce. My own flesh and blood. Fucking like two little foxes. like a whole bunch of little foxes. It sounded to me like you were enjoying it more than Bruce."
"Dad! Stop it!" She felt on the verge of hysteria.
"Lara," he said, looking at her. "Let's not cock around any more. Look. We're here by ourselves. Nobody here but us. I don't mind a little incest-as long as it's in the family." He laughed at his own feeble joke. "Come on, honey, be nice to your old dad." He went after her, then, and took her in his arms. He began kissing her on the mouth. Lara started to protest and then his tongue went inside and her knees went weak. Something burned hot in her belly and she felt his hand go between her legs. She stuck her tongue in his mouth, and when the contact was made, she melted like a piece of hot wax and she was pushing her crotch into her father's, feeling the hard ball there, pressing against the sensitive lips of her pussy, and she knew that it was all over. She couldn't resist anymore. She could only respond.
Lara, suddenly, desperately, wanted to fuck her own father!
CHAPTER FIVE
Ginnie saw the dark clouds first. She was breaking trail, while Bruce, laden with the heavier pack, followed in her footsteps. Their snowshoes packed the snow down tightly, but they couldn't make much time. Their legs grew weary, trudging through the thick trees. Ginnie stopped and sat on a stump. She took the .22 automatic out of her holster and fired off two shots. Bruce dropped into the snow beside her and slipped out of his pack. They listened.
There were no answering shots.
She reloaded the clip in the Ruger and sighed. Looked at her watch. It was too late to start back. She checked the compass again. They had been following the same heading, blazing a trail as they went. It was slow work. Exhausting. She could see her breath. It was like smoke. Neither she nor Alec smoked and she was grateful for that. They had their health, and that was everything. Business had been good. They didn't want for money. They had two fine children, both nearly grown now. They lived a good life. And, now, this had happened. It was discouraging. Yet, she didn't feel hopeless. Only frustrated.
"Bruce, we'll have to make camp here. I'll set up the tent, if you'll get us some firewood. I think there's another storm coming."
"Okay, Mom. Looks like it." Bruce was cheerful. "I'll have us a fire in no time. You picked a good spot."
They were in the open, but there were trees around the clearing for shelter. While her son went to cut wood, she cleared a spot for the pup tent, ran the line between two trees, secured each end. With a knife, she cut pine boughs for a mattress and for insulation between the snow and the tent floor. The nylon tent was easy to pitch. When she had finished, she put the sleeping bags inside. These were lightweight, down-filled, and didn't take up much room. She cleared another spot for the fire and then took the nylon-stocked .22 rifle out of Bruce's pack. She checked the magazine. It was full of long rifles.
"I'm going out to see if I can bag a rabbit," she called to Bruce. She couldn't see where he, was, but she could hear him chopping.
"Okay. I'll have things fixed up when you get back."
The sky darkened and she knew she would have to hurry. When it started snowing everything would white out. She wouldn't be able to see a thing. She looked back at the tent. It was well sheltered in the pines. They would have plenty of water from melted snow. They had dried, lightweight food. Fresh game, though, would stretch their larder. She didn't want to return to Alec until she had found Sam and Val. like her husband, she wasn't used to failure. She was plucky, always had been. That's why she and her husband were so compatible, she thought. They both had the same constitution, both liked the same things.
Ginnie had been raised in a small Illinois farm community. From her father she had learned to hunt and fish and to be self-sufficient. She had also learned independence from him. Her mother had given her the gift of compassion. In Ginnie, the melding of the two qualities were the secret to her charm, of her compatibility with Alec Barlowe. She had met Alec in high school, married him after they both graduated, waited for him, pregnant, while he went to Korea, and had given him a son on his emergency leave return when his father had passed away, and a daughter on his last return for discharge. They had both worked hard, along with Sam Cassidy and Val, to build a business. Sam was as much a part of the family as Bruce or Lara. The two families, in fact, were virtually inseparable.
She thought of these things as she still hunted in the silent, snow-filled woods. She saw a set of large rabbit tracks, and other tracks crisscrossing those. She followed the rabbit tracks. They led into a clump of brush. She circled and the tracks didn't lead out on the other side. She checked the terrain, figured the path the rabbit might take, and kicked at the brush. There was a scrambling noise and then she saw the huge snowshoe bolt from cover, its fur mottled brown, mostly white. She brought the rifle to her shoulders, took aim, led the animal slightly and carefully squeezed off a shot. The rabbit screamed and tumbled in the snow. She ran up to it and was ready to put a bullet in its head. The rabbit was dying, however. Quickly, she bent down and pulled her sheath knife. She cut its throat and the snow was stained red with blood. She made an incision from it vent to its chest, careful not to penetrate too deeply and rupture the intestines. She cut inside around the genitals and picked up the rabbit. She gave it a fling, holding onto his forelegs. The entrails came out cleanly. She stuffed the cavity with snow after checking to see that the lungs, windpipe and organs were removed. She hefted her kill. He would weigh at least five pounds, perhaps more. She carried him back to camp, then cut off the head, feet and tail. She made a two-inch incision it its back and then peeled the hide off in two directions. She made sure there was no hair on the flesh, then put the meat in snow to cool.
Bruce had the fire going and they set a pot on to boil, filling it with snow. She put in dehydrated vegetables, seasonings, and then put the rabbit in, after cutting it up into pieces. The stew smelled good. They ate supper as the first snowflakes began to fall. The wind rose as they finished cleaning up their camp dishes.
"This is going to be a worse storm than the other one," Bruce said.
"I think you're right. We'd better get in our tent. Load the fire up as high as you can, first."
"Okay, Mom," he said.
The wind was howling like a banshee when they finally zipped themselves inside their tent. A Coleman lantern hung from the top of the tent and provided some warmth. They each slipped into their own sleeping bags. Bruce zipped the tent flap tight. Their faces were green from the reflected light. Both were full from supper.
"I'm beat," said Ginnie.
"Me, too. Do you think we'll find Sam and them tomorrow?"
"We might. If it keeps snowing, we might have to stay here until the storm clears."
"Yeah, I suppose so. Well, goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight, Bruce."
She reached up and turned the lamp out. The tent was plunged into darkness. The tent was stretched taut enough so that it didn't whip much in the wind. Their choice of site gave them shelter from the brunt of the winter gale that drove the snow across the open places like whipped dust.
Bruce fell asleep immediately. His mother dropped off a few moments later. The snow continued to fall, banking against the tent, providing insulation inside for them as it rose along the sides of the canvas. Ginnie looked up into darkness. She saw the rabbit's eye, dull with pain, one eye only, staring up at her from where it had fallen. She closed her eyes and the image went away. She burrowed into her sleeping bag and began to think of Alec. She missed his warm body next to hers. She thought of the previous night and how good it had felt for him to enter her from the rear that way-like a stranger. But his cock had gone so deep and touched her clit so much that she had climaxed more than she had in a long, long time. She could still feel his cock going up into her that way, his loins pressing against her sensitive buttocks, his hands reaching around her and squeezing her breasts. She fell asleep, thinking of that, a longing deep inside her, articulated by the wind that sniffed outside the tent and keened through the treetops, sounding so far away.
Bruce thought it was Lara. He moved in his sleep and reached over and pulled at the figure next to him. He was not awake, not asleep, but in that half-world of somnolence where the dream is still connected to a fragment of reality. He thought his sister was with him and he wanted her. He unzipped his own sleeping bag in the dark, then unzipped the other one. He felt the soft flesh. His hands roamed over the clothing, feeling the breasts, searching for the crotch. He pulled the head over to his and kissed the ear. He was sure, in the cobwebs of his mind, that Lara was in the tent with him. But, the sleeping bags were not zipped together. How did that happen? He couldn't figure it out. The dream was too complex, the reality too far away.
He unbuttoned the jeans and laid the flaps back. He slipped his hand inside the nylon panties, finding the mound, the bristling hairs. He rubbed the sex-cleft, his finger searching for the hole. He slid his finger inside and oozing wetness drenched the probing digit. His cock leaped into stiff attention, struggling for space inside his own jeans.
"Lara," he whispered. "Wake up. I want you, babe."
The shape turned toward him. "Alec?"
Bruce's blood froze. The cobwebs in his mind blew away. Geezus, this wasn't Lara! It was his mother. He tried to pull his finger free from the suddenly red-hot pussy. A hand clasped his wrist.
"Don't, Alec. Leave it there a minute."
Bruce was sure that the pounding of his heart could be heard for several yards. What have I done? his brain shrieked. Oh, she would kill him when she found out!
But, Ginnie's mind was clearing, too. She climbed upward out of sleep, struggling to get her bearings. She tried to peer through the darkness. Then, it was no longer necessary. The finger inside her wet pussy wasn't Alec's. She knew that now. It was Bruce's I
"Bruce?"
"Yes?" His voice was quaking. "What're you doing?"
"I-I uh, was dreaming, I guess." She still held on to his wrist. His finger was rigid, frozen inside her cunt.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"No, I uh, yes, I mean, I didn't. Mom, turn loose of me. I-I'm sorry. I was dreaming."
Ginnie wanted to release her grip on his wrist, but she couldn't get the action connected with the thought in her numbed brain. Her son's finger was pressed up against her clit-bud and alarm bells in her head were drowning out all signals. Her instincts told her to quickly pull his finger out of her pussy. But something else, a competing instinct, told her to ignore the previous warning. Then, too, there was the incredible warmth seeping through her vagina, permeating the walls of her cunt, creeping up into her belly. The warmth was a new sensation to her, clinging, cloying, deliciously wicked. She hesitated just long enough to have her will power dissolve in a cloud of desire.
"No," she whispered. "Don't stop, Bruce."
"Mom!"
"Shut up! Just-just keep doing what you were doing. Dammit!"
There was a hardness to his mother's tone that shocked Bruce. He knew she was an independent woman, had been that way long before Women's Lib got a foothold on the American male's bloated ego, but her sharpness took him by surprise. Her voice had changed, somehow. It was deeper, huskier, more authoritative.
Bruce felt the tension rising in him from his mother's words. The tension stretched his mind taut and he could find no words to express the way he felt. He could feel her breath on his face, could sense her body poised and waiting. Waiting. His hand trembled, inches away from her forbidden genitals. He could not bring it to move. Whenever he tried to touch her in her most intimate spot, it began to twitch in uncertain movements, as tense as he was.
Ginnie could feel the tension in the darkness. She responded to it decisively.
"Bruce! Don't think about it! Just do it! Touch me! Do what you were doing before!"
"I-I can't," he pleaded. "I-I'm too scared."
"Bruce, don't think! Just go ahead! You started something. Now finish it!"
"Geez, Mom, you don't know! You just don't know!" He was close to whimpering. His hand continued to twitch and tremble.
"Come on, Bruce. Be a man!"
Before he could say anything more, her hand went to his crotch. They worked quickly at his jeans. She opened his fly and her hand dove in like a cormorant after a fish. She grasped his young stiff cock in her hand and squeezed it. She felt it ripple to a blue-veined hardness. She squeezed the growing organ again, harder. Her eyes squeezed shut at the same time as if she could lock out the thoughts that now intruded on her mind. They closed tight, even though she could not see anything anyway, as if to hide from herself what she was doing to her own son.
A surge of desire shot through Bruce's loins. His hand suddenly returned to normal. Tentatively, he reached for his mother's pussy. When he touched the warm pneumatic lips, his cock leaped in his mother's hand, stiffening more with a fresh shot of rushing blood. Tingling shoots of pain prickled the head of his prick as his mother squeezed the shaft just below it. He rubbed her pussy, afraid to do any more than that without further encouragement.
"Put your finger inside me," his mother whispered.
Bruce's ears burned red from her words, but he slid his finger down her crease and slithered it into her juicy hole. It was his mother's turn to respond, and she did, thrusting her cunt forward until she was impaled on Bruce's finger.
"Slide it in and out," she said. "Push up with it until you touch the ... there! Oh, Bruce, don't stop doing that. You're touching my little boatman. I'm co-coming!"
Her hand slid up and down his cock, riding over the distended veins, squeezing the shaft just below the crown. Bruce thought he was going to spurt all of his seed out right then. His nervousness had switched to excitement and he gloried in the forbidden flesh of his mother's soaked pussy. He moved closer to her, his cock straining to rub itself raw in the tangle of her pubic hair, to bury itself in the pliant meat of her sex-furrow.
"Wait!" his mother said urgently. "Not like this. Not sneaking in the dark. Bruce, I want you to do it to me. Up front. Isn't that the way you kids say it? Natural. Open. Can you? Will you?"
"I-I don't know, Mom. I'm embarrassed. I'm shaking like a leaf."
"So am I, but that doesn't mean we can't. You've got me all hot and bothered. You're excited, too. It would be criminal to stop now."
Bruce couldn't say anything. His emotions were all tangled up like spaghetti. He was apprehensive. This wasn't anything like balling his sister. This was his own mother! He was choking on her scent, hurting from desire for her. Her pussy seemed so enormous, so tantalizing, so mysterious that he was overwhelmed by the offer she was making him. It would be something strange and wonderful to screw his own mother! It would be something marvelous and exciting. But, could he handle it? He didn't know. It all seemed like a crazy dream to him. It all seemed unreal.
His mother scooted down in the sleeping bag, suddenly, and she put her mouth on the crown of Bruce's cock. She flicked her tongue out over the flared bulbous head and then clasped it with her lips. She drew his cock inside her mouth and suckled it with an urgency that surprised her. She held his organ tenderly in her hand and suckled it delicately, wanting to show her son how much she yearned for him. She grabbed his hand and pushed it between her legs, shoving his finger deep inside her.
Bruce could not resist his mother any longer. Her mouth on his cock imparted such an exquisite sensation to him that he knew he was helpless before her own lustful desires. His cock throbbed uncontrollably, engorged with his own pulsating blood. Rudely, he shoved at his mother's face, unable to stifle the surge of desperate need that flooded him. His mother moaned something and relaxed her lips, allowing his cock to slide deep into her throat. He pumped his cock into her mouth and put one arm around his mother's neck. He knew he would explode if he didn't stop, but couldn't overcome his powerful desire. Her mouth was warm and wet, her lips soft and yielding on his sensitive stretched skin. Her tongue curled as it rushed to and fro inside her willing, sucking mouth.
Ginnie came up for air, gasping. She clutched her son tightly to her.
"Oh, Bruce, you want it too. See? Let me make love to you. Let me suck you and fuck you. It will be just between us. No one will ever know."
She kissed him on the mouth and he could taste his own pre-coital fluids in her saliva, salty, lemony. He became even more excited as her tongue found his and caressed it, coiling and flicking.
"Yes, Mom, yes. I want it. I want you. I want to fuck you."
"Light the lantern. Quick. Do you have matches?"
"Yes. Yes!"
He lit the lantern and looked at his mother, who was taking off her clothes. He took off his own, his temples pounding with the same rush of blood that coursed through his peter. He had never seen her fully naked before. His breath was taken away. Her athletic body was youthful, her breasts firm, her hips provocatively flared. He looked at her pubic area as she smoothed out their sleeping bags. It was cold, but the lamp brought warmth through into the tent. He didn't feel cold at all as he went to her, wanting only to consummate this daring and illicit act of incest.
"Take me," she said, grasping his cock once more. "Kiss me and fuck me."
"Yes, Mom, yes!"
He rubbed her pussy and stuck his finger back inside its juicy depths. She spread her legs and her eyes locked on his, glazed. He kissed her breasts and shook all over as the nipples came up rubbery and soft. He switched from one to the other as she pulled on his cock, her fingers like hot coils around his organ.
"I can still taste you," she breathed. "I want you to put you big cock inside me. I want you to look at me while you do it."
She pulled him over on top of her, then, and he looked into her eyes. Her hand pulled his cock to her cunt and rubbed its head up and down her sex-cleft. She held it tightly against her hole and pushed upward.
Bruce's cock disappeared inside his mother's pussy.
CHAPTER SIX
Lara gasped as her father's enormous cock sank into the moist pudding of her pussy.
"Ah, ah," her father sighed, as his shaft burrowed past her labia into the warm, yielding flesh. He was instantly sober.
"Daddy!" Lara whispered as his prick penetrated into the lush pulp of her vagina. "Oh, Daddy, it's so good." She wanted to cry for joy. She threw her arms around her father and crushed her breasts against his chest. She could feel her cunt stretching as his cock immersed itself in her steaming depths, but there was no pain. Only happiness. She pushed upward with her pussy so that his cock leaped to the mouth of her womb, pressed against her trembling clit. Mouth to mouth. Her body quivered as she held him there, his organ a sunken dirigible floating in a pulsing sea. He didn't move for several seconds and she could feel the impulses from his throbbing cock. It was like dynamo inside her, huge and electric, sparking, rocking at its fleshy anchor. She thought she must be coming, because her legs were lifeless, weak, her belly full of buzzing bees, her mind full of rainbows.
"Lara, my sweet darling, I'm so hot for you. I can't help myself. You're so good. It's so good inside you."
"Daddy, daddy, daddy."
"Oh, baby!"
He pulled his cock away from her womb slowly, then. It slid along on silent runners, tantalizing her sensitive nerve ends. She quivered and bit her lip as the flow of sensations rippled through her body. There was no comparison between her father and her brother. Bruce was young and muscular, a breathtaking stud. Her father was big, strong and manly, using a more controlled and mature technique. Her excitement with Bruce had been overwhelming, explosive. With her father, she was singing inside, joyous, enraptured beyond belief. It was as if Bruce played an electric guitar and her father a harp. Both of them filled her with music, but the instruments were different.
It wasn't that Alec Barlowe had a special technique. Rather, he was more than a little mystified by his daughter. He was slightly awestruck, besides, at the striking turn of events. He was slow and easy with Lara because he suddenly realized that he knew nothing about the feelings and reactions of young girls. It had been too long since he had experienced the same bittersweet poignancy of early sexual intercourse. He treated Lara, at first, as though she were a China doll, brittle and liable to break at the slightest roughness. This is what Lara interpreted as maturity, but it was more fear than anything. Alec was also struck by the tight elasticity of his daughter's cunt. His cock had never been squeezed so excitingly, yet it moved unobstructed through her lubricious canal with ease. Ginnie, his wife, was not all that loose, and she could do things with her pussy that were very gratifying. But, Lara's pussy was naturally tight, the muscles firm, the elasticity not so broad as her mother's. Alec could almost see Lara's young cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing it, pumping it up like a balloon. He knew that this was only his imagination working, but he was so erotically aroused that a hundred such images danced in his mind. He pictured the opening to his daughter's pussy like a tiny puckered mouth with the tongue rolled up and peeping out. The rosy colors were inflamed by his cock, the mouth sucking on his organ intensely. He could see that sucking rosy little mouth in his mind, see his cock going into that pressure chamber of heat and wetness. It was a jolting experience for Alec Barlowe, who had thought he had tasted all there was to taste of sex.
He began kissing his daughter, pressing his lips on hers, running his tongue inside her. mouth. She eagerly accepted his tongue and slid hers alongside it, her mouth wet and hot from this unexpected intrusion. Her breasts pressed up against her father's chest and the hairs tickled her nipples until they stiffened from the excitation. And, still, there was his cock, slipping in and out of her rosy sheath, blazing a path of arousal as it plumbed the depths of her steaming cunt. She pushed up as he dove down and sheathed the organ so deep that she felt it had pushed through into her belly.
"Oh, daddy," she sighed between kisses, "I'm so hot. You've got me so hot."
"You darling, you sweetheart. Your pussy's the sweetest thing that's ever happened to me."
His mouth tasted of whiskey and she felt intoxicated from its fragrance. Her pussy was twitching uncontrollably with spasmic convulsions. She dripped fluids that ran out over her pubic hairs and onto her flesh. He touched the trigger of her clit almost constantly and she shook every time his cock slid over its sensitive tip.
A whole new world of sex had opened itself up to Lara. First her brother had gratified her deepest wishes and now her father had extended that gratification in this sudden turn of events. She thought that she must be the luckiest girl alive, especially under the circumstances. They had crashed their plane, but no one was hurt. They were miles from civilization and yet her own father was balling her. She felt like Eve, the first woman. And, though there was no garden and it was cold outside, she was happy. Her father's cock was a raging probe inside her pussy and she could think of nothing she would rather have at the moment than that. She had lost count of the times she had climaxed. Each orgasmic spasm seemed to blend into the next one. Each one took her breath away, and each one made her body feel as though it had been drenched in a warm bubbling spring. She didn't care if they ever got rescued as long as her father would fuck her like this. She wished someone had told her how good it was to have your pussy stuffed full of cock. Well, maybe someone had, but she hadn't believed it. There was just no way to describe how she felt. The words were all crude and inadequate. Yet, it was true. Her pussy felt stuffed full of cock. She felt its slippery bulk sliding into her pulpy mass of flesh and it seemed that all of her nerve ends must meet inside that small region of her body. Lights flashed on and off in her brain every time it moved. Electric blips stabbed light into the dark fabric of her brain's screen. Yet, with all its delight and bulk, the cock teased her to surrender more of herself to its probing, to beg her to scream for more of it.
"More, more," she said, surprised that the thought had found words of its own volition. "Give me more of your cock."
"Yes, god yes!"
Alec shed the last of his reticence then. He no longer feared the fragility of his daughter now that he knew she was as eager to be fucked as he was to fuck her. He plunged his cock into her oleaginous cunt with a forceful thrust and was rewarded with a responding push upward from Lara's loins.
"Like that?" he panted.
"Yes, like that!"
Her cunt was tight around his cock. It was like being jacked off with a powerful hand encased in a rubber glove. The sensation was exquisite. Her pussy was as hot as a furnace as he drove into it, faster and faster. He could feel the flesh retreat and regroup as he advanced and retreated. And always, there was that tight-fisted clutching of her cunt on his organ. And her juices, drenching his cock. Her body rubbing against his: soft young breasts, a gently curved tummy, legs that enticed his imagination to new erotic heights. Young flesh. Illicit flesh. Sweet flesh. All his. In more ways than one. Lara thought of dancers she had seen on television. She had always admired their agility and the way they could kick and move their bodies to complicated rhythms. Now, she knew the sensual experience of that apparent ' freedom. She was doing the same thing with her body, while pinned down, while being fucked. She knew exhilaration each time she spasmed and each time her loins twisted and rose to meet her father's down-thrust. She was a dancer, herself, wilder than any she had seen on television. Her back bowed and her legs moved, her feet pointed like a ballerina's. The toes curled into jelly beans with the excitement flowing through her body. She threw her head back as her father's cock sank to the limit. She could feel his balls whacking against the crack in her buttocks and she knew her juices were creaming his genitals. The dance was frantic and limited, but a powerful exhibition. She wanted to crawl inside her father's skin, to make his cock a total part of her. The cock! That was the thing! It was the utmost of the ultimate! Everything! It slithered in and out of her like a banana in its stripped skin. She danced, in her mind, and her body thrashed with orgasms that whipped her breath away even as the wind blew outside the tent, snatching at the walls of her private sexual pavilion with sucking sounds. She knew where the dancers got their techniques now. It would be nice, she thought, to whirl and spread her legs like that, on TV, only with a cock inside her, like now, and then she would be like those dancers, only more energetic, more graceful, because that's what the cock did to her, her father's cock, her brother's, any cock, actually, it was just the sweetest, and too much, too far out for words, and oh, she was coming again, and again, now, now, now, like a spurting stream, like a flame, like a TV tube burning up in a jet of hot white flame....
Alec whicked his cock down into the viscid vagina of his daughter with vengeance. The sucking warmth drove him to a sexual frenzy.
"Now, Lara, now!" he yelled. "I'm going to shoot my cum in you-all of it!"
"Give it to me, daddy," his daughter gasped, excited by his words. "Shoot it in me!"
"Yes, yes, yes," he said, his loins tightening, his scrotum boiling with milky seed. "Here it comes!"
Lara threw her slender legs upward and ground her cunt into her father's crashing loins. She sucked his cock deep inside her pussy, and when he exploded his yells were lost among her own wild shrieks.
"Oh, daddy, thank you, it's so good, it's so hot, I can feel it, oh, I love your fucking, daddy, love it!"
Her father shuddered as he released the last of his spurting seed inside his daughter's cunt. He kissed her breasts tenderly.
"Thank you, Lara," he said, finally. "You've made me very happy."
"I'm happy, too," she said sincerely. "I didn't want it to stop."
"I'll want you again. Soon. Lord, you have a marvelous pussy!"
"Plunge it in all the way," Ginnie begged. "I want it all at once. I want to feel your cock clear up in me."
Bruce rammed his throbbing cock deep into his mother's soaked vagina. He almost ejaculated at that instant. His blood pounded in his prick and it felt as though it might burst open with the pressure. He had to collect his wits before the throbbing in his temples steadied and calmed. His mother took a deep breath and then shuddered. He knew that she had climaxed. Her belly quivered against his like a rubber sheet shaking in the wind. Her pussy was incredibly warm and wet. It seemed to him that his cock was floating in a sun-baked sea, nibbled at by burning waves. He knew that if he moved, he would explode his seed. The plunge had been so quick that he wasn't prepared for the exquisite sensation. He waited for the feeling to subside, afraid that he would embarrass himself by coming too quick. Seconds went by. Moments. Hours. And, still, that warm sea floating his cock, lapping at it with hungry hot tongues.
"What's the matter?" his mother asked.
"I almost came."
"I did. It was wonderful. When you've got control again, move your cock very slowly in me."
He felt a tautening again as though his skin was being stretched out to dry. He relaxed to keep the pump from exploding. He found that he could exercise control by simple concentration. It was a startling revelation to him. He was so excited about fucking his mother that his senses were scrambled. An electric wire had been touched to his prick. It burned and it hummed. It made him supersensitive to his mother's flesh. But, he felt that he was in control, even though it was precarious.
Bruce began to move his cock inside his mother's vagina. A fat sausage in a kiln, a swelling loaf in a 450 degree oven. She squirmed with delight as his prick slithered through her hot tunnel. He himself was conscious of a beginning delirium, a knife-like sensitivity to her now that he had gotten in motion again. Her cunt was thick and rich with boiling juices, the flesh firm and tender at the same time. He probed inside that rosy cauldron with slow thrusts, careful not to raise his blood pressure too high. He didn't want to fail now that he had attained what must be the ultimate in a young man's sex life. He felt this awesome sense of entering into a world of mystery, the arcane vault of sexuality.
"It's perfect, Bruce," she said. "You do it beautifully. I can feel your cock filling me, every inch of me. Ah, that's nice. Do it slow. Do it deep like that. Deep in your mother's cunt."
"It feels good to me, too."
"Yes, it would. I hope it does. It must be wonderful for you. It's the sweetest thing that I've ever felt. Oh, you're going deep now. I'm coming again, a slow coming that makes me want to faint. Oh, Bruce, my darling, you can't know what you're doing to your mother!"
"I know, I know."
He felt the tension and suppleness of his mother's athletic legs. They were just another tactile sensation that was exciting to him. Her breasts were living delights pressing against his chest, the nipples rigidly mobile as his body movement rubbed them back and forth. He took one of her breasts in his mouth and suckled it, his tongue teasing the nipple. His body seemed to fit naturally into the cup of his mother's thighs. She sighed as he sucked her nipple, her tummy quaking gently with excitement. His cock took longer strokes now and he knew that he could easily last the distance even though his emotions were intense, more intense than they had ever been. This was no young girl he was fucking, but a mature woman. The difference was in the way she anticipated him. She rose with him so that he remained sheathed even as his cock moved along her furnace-hot channel. When he dipped, she pulled back and then rose slightly so that his cock's head burrowed into the mouth of her womb. She worked muscles in her thighs that squeezed his prick. When she spasmed, he had to catch his breath and concentrate to keep from ejaculating. It was a thrilling experience for Bruce. He showed his love and admiration for his mother by sucking her breasts vigorously, first one, then the other.
Ginny was intoxicated with her son's body and cock. She hovered on the verge of delirium every time it slid across her clitoris, every time it kissed her womb's mouth, every time it moved even a few inches. Years seemed to drop away from her, like a husk. Her veins sang with new young blood as though she were being rejuvenated by this divine, magical rod that buried itself in her pulsing vitals. Her heart leaped in her breast and she held her son very tightly to her, marveling at his vigor and the way his vitality communicated itself to her. His hot cock was so marvelously exciting that she searched for parallels and antecedents. But there was nothing to compare her feelings with, after all. She was young again and her body tingled with the weight of her son's, with the energy flowing from his organ. She wished that she could take his cock in every one of her body's orifices, in her mouth, her anus, her ears, everywhere. Its long sleek bone seemed to touch more of her than Alec's cock ever had. It was enough, and yet not enough. She wished she could suck it and have it in her vagina at the same time. She treasured it and she showed her adoration in the way she undulated her body underneath her son's.
"You're quite a lover," she husked, as the wind gathered force outside their pup tent. "You make me as giddy as a young girl with that cock of yours."
"You're the lover, Mom. I've never known anything so good."
"Thank you. Thank you for saying that, Bruce. Now, fuck me for all you're worth. Don't think about anything but that. Fuck me as if I really were a young girl. I feel young!"
That was all that Bruce needed. He wanted to drive into his mother's cunt, but had been afraid to come too quick. Now that she had urged him on, he rose above her like a stallion, ramming his cock into her, deep and fast. They tossed and writhed with heat as they both fucked each other furiously.
They both accepted the inevitable. They had come together accidentally and neither of them had wanted to go back to the time of innocence. They had wanted each other, mutually, and this was the culmination of that primal desire. Ginnie accepted it as readily as did Bruce. There was no going back. They had stepped over the line. They had made their decision and they would stick with it, defend it, if necessary. They didn't rationalize this in so many words, but the feeling was there-the awesomeness of what had happened to them.
Ginnie's orgasms were violent and multiple. She bucked and thrashed with the energy transmuted to her by her son's powerful, throbbing cock. His organ seared into her flaming channel again and again, faster and faster until she was no longer sure of when he was going in or when he was coming out. She screamed into the black of the tent's darkness and her hands flailed at his back as he reamed her cunt with his relentless rod. Her legs fluttered out of control as he drove between them, his loins slamming into her pubic nest.
"So good, so damned good!" he moaned.
"Come, come," she pleaded.
"I am, Mom. I'm coming riiiiighttttt now!"
She held on to him tightly as he loosed his seed into her, a great cry issuing from his lips.
"Yes, son, yes. Perfect. I'm getting it all."
He whimpered as his sperm spurted into her. He crumpled against his mother and she held him against her. He was once more the helpless boy. But she was a satisfied woman, still aching for him even as his tumescence receded.
"I love you, Bruce," she whispered, and wind gusted at their tent with a sudden keening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sam Cassidy looked up at the fierce sky. Soon, he knew, there would be no delineation of heaven and earth. He pulled the hood of his snow-parka closer around his face and turned away from the brunt of the swirling snow to view the fast-disappearing landscape. Tammi and Val stood a few yards away, also clad warmly in parkas, and waited for Sam's decision.
"You'll have to go back," he said into the teeth of the wind. "It's going to be a big blow. Bigger than the last one!"
"What about you?" shrieked his wife, Val, her words muffled by the gusting wind.
"I should go on. I don't know."
"Come back with us, Daddy," said Tammi. "It's no use trying to find them in this."
Sam reflected on his daughter's words. He looked down at the frosting compass in his hand. There was the rule in the north country, especially during winter, never to travel alone. Yet, he knew that he had to find Alec Barlowe and his family. They might be injured, or dead, but he had to know for sure. He shrugged his shoulder in the rifle sling, adjusting the weight of the 30-30 Winchester Model 94. It was loaded with seven 150-grain bullets. He carried a day pack on his back, filled with matches, food, a small pan for warming snow or making tea or coffee, rope, lightweight space blanket. He wore a pistol, a .30 caliber Ruger Black-hawk, and a Buck knife. He had on thermal underwear, thermal socks and good lined boots. Still, it was a risk to go on.
"The trail back's pretty clear," he told Val. "You and Tammi can make it, if you leave now. I think I ought to go on."
"But, how far can you go?" Val asked. "You didn't bring snowshoes."
"I don't think they could be very far from us. I'm pretty sure they went down on the same glide path we took. I'll hole up tonight and get an early start. I can stay to the ridge. The snow will blow off it for good footing."
"Daddy, I'm scared," said Tammi. "You'll be all right So will I."
"Let me go with you," Tammi said. Val looked at her husband. She nodded. "Will you be all right, Val."
"Yes. I'd feel better if both of you went."
She carried a rifle and pistol as well. Sam smiled. Val was a woman to ride the river with, like Ginnie, Alec's wife. Both women were crack shots and didn't quail at danger or hardship.
"Do you want to come, Tarn?"
"Yes!" she shouted as the wind increased in velocity. "But, let's hurry."
"Okay, Val, I'll blaze the trees with the small axe Tammi's carrying. If we don't get back by day after tomorrow, come looking for us. But only if the storm dies down."
"Be careful, Sam. You too, Tammi."
Val waved and started back down the well-marked trail. When she turned to look again, her husband and daughter were out of sight. She had two hours of hiking ahead of her and she hurried, She was careful to keep her face, inside the parka's hood and to use a free-swinging gait that wasn't overly tiring. The snow blew at her back, which made the going easier. It would be rougher on the rest of her family, she knew. She carried a stainless steel Ruger .22 magnum on her hip and a Winchester .243 on her shoulder, scoped. She knew that Sam was a good enough woodsman to survive, and her only concern was to get back to camp and keep it operating until he returned. She hoped that the Barlowes were alive and not seriously injured.
Sam was pleased that his daughter was all right. The swelling at her temple had gone down. She seemed to be none the worse for the blow on her head. He thought, with more than a trace of male chauvinist porcinity, that she might have been brought back to normal by having had sex with him. He had heard of cases where amnesia victims had needed a severe emotional jolt to bring them back to full possession of their faculties. Tammi had been unconscious and her orgasms had brought her back to reality. She seemed fine. What was nice about it was that Val didn't suspect a thing, and Tammi had been really cuddly since then. Oh, not in the physical way, but Sam could read the signs of change. He had seen the way she looked at him. Their eyes had met on several occasions. They had touched, when Val wasn't looking. They had unloaded the plane, made a secure camp, and during all of this activity, Tammi had made a special point of being close to him. He felt proud to be so favored by a young girl. At his age, he was grateful for the attentions of a Tammi. He had almost completely forgotten that he had taken advantage of an unusual situation to gain those attentions. Because she was his stepdaughter, he felt little or no guilt at having "seduced" her. He would have been surprised if someone less emotionally involved than he had accused him of "rape." At any rate, his rapture was so great that it would not allow such a thought. He had already dictated a memo to himself: Sam, you helped your stepdaughter survive during a very difficult time. You took drastic and unusual methods to accomplish this. You succeeded. You shall be honored in the hall of fame created to honor those men who transplant hearts and arteries and kidneys, for those who contribute to mankind in brilliant and exotic ways.
He slogged ahead of his stepdaughter, thinking these thoughts. He thought of another night with Tammi, who was obviously dazzled by him. He felt good, even though he knew the snowstorm was building to dangerous proportions. He checked his compass frequently, following a southerly direction. He, like Alec, had checked his airplane's compass prior to crashing. Every so often, he blazed a tree on two sides with the small hand-axe that Tammi carried.
Ordinarily, he would have loved weather like this. It was something, to sink your teeth into the wind and defy the elements. It would have been a good time to hunt, to think, to match your wits against nature's. But now, the wind was a dry crackle in his ears, the snow blowing against his eyes an irritating dust that kept him from seeing ahead. He was hunting, but it wasn't the same. Now, he was searching for friends and he dreaded finding them buried under the white mounds that tugged at his boots. The landscape looked like a multitude of graves, secret silent places where bodies could sleep. He kept his fingers working inside his gloves so that they wouldn't freeze up on him. The storm beat at his back and he knew he would have to make camp within the hour. People died who didn't respect nature. They went too far, stayed on the trail too long. They got to the point where their fingers couldn't build a fire.
"We'll have to stop soon," he told Tammi, when she caught up to him. He hadn't realized that he had been walking so fast.
"Yes," she said. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
"When the wind is up like this, it stays up. Let's go another half hour or so, but if we find a good spot before then, we'll hole up."
"Like bunnies."
"Yeah, like snow bunnies."
Sam clicked off the time in his mind. Val would have made it back to camp and she would be secure. He knew he didn't have any worries in that direction. She was a good shot and knew how to build a fire. The camping equipment was top notch and there was plenty of food and water. No, he wasn't worried about his wife. Just about Alec and his family. He also thought about Tammi, and couldn't help anticipating what he knew would happen. They would be together again, in the double sleeping bag. This time, she would be awake. He wondered if she would have second thoughts about sex with him. He dreaded that. It was tough to grow old, but tougher still to be rejected by a younger woman. And Tammi was a woman. He thought of her that way now. A woman grown. Ripe, luscious, desirable. More than that. A chance for him to regain his lost youth. A chance to taste the delights of a girl not yet spoiled by all of civilization's cancers. He wanted Tammi, more now than he had before. He had made love to her, but it had been almost necrophiliac. Until the end. He wanted to know her responses, to gorge himself on her, to have her give herself fully to him.
The wind shifted and wiped away his thoughts. Now, the snow was blowing directly into his face. A circling wind meant that there would be quite a storm. He had to think about a camp, now. And nothing else, for a time.
He blazed still more trees and his visibility lowered. Finally, they came to a grove of trees where they could pitch their tent. A deadfall offered protection, shelter.
"We'll stay here," he shouted, feeling the words twist away in the air as they left his mouth. "It's going to get worse, now."
"I know," Tammi yelled, and her words splashed against his face like hard marbles, driven by the bladed wind.
They worked quickly in tandem, to pitch the tent. Sam chopped pine bows and built them around the tent to add more shelter from the wind. He checked his compass a last time and then ordered Tammi to crawl inside the makeshift tent. They had dug down several feet and the snow was banked up high on the sides. Space blankets were used for a double flooring, the double sleeping bag over that. When they both got inside, it was relatively quiet in the shelter and very warm.
"We'll eat a dry supper," said Sam.
"I'm not hungry yet."
"Better have something now. You never know when you'll have the chance again. I think we're okay here, but out here in the wilds you eat when you can."
They shared a tin of biscuits and chewed on some pemmican. The primus boiled snow water for their tea. Feeling nourished, they got in the sleeping bag and listened to the wind blow for several moments.
"Tammi?"
"Yes?"
"I want you again."
"I know, Sam. Why do you think I wanted to come along."
"I thought you might be angry at me for taking advantage of you. It wasn't really the gentlemanly thing to do."
"No, I suppose it wasn't. I only remember a little bit of it. The end, I guess. I never felt anything like that before."
He could feel his skin prickling.
"That was an orgasm."
"I know what it was, but nothing prepared me for it. I saw clouds and rainbows and felt rockets and stars exploding. I felt loved and loving, bigger than life. I wish I could explain it all."
"You don't have to," Sam said quietly, taking her in his arms. He tasted the tears on her cheeks.
"I want you to do it again to me," said Tammi, her voice choked with emotion. "Everything you did while I was out of it."
"I will," he said. "And more."
"God, I've waited for this. Every minute has been agony. I couldn't look Mom in the eye and I tried to hide my lust for you. Sam, you opened up something in me. You put something in me that wasn't there before. You made me into a woman. I understand a lot of things now that I didn't, before. At least I feel on the verge of understanding them."
"I think I know what you mean." He was undressing her, anxious to get at that young luscious body again. Tammi was working at his clothing, talking in that same dreamy way, exciting Sam with her husky tone of voice, the half-child, half-woman words she spoke.
He moved their guns over to the side of the tent, wrapped in a space blanket, but loaded.
"I want to kiss you," he said, "down there."
"My pussy? Yes, there. I'd like that."
"You have a very beautiful one."
"You make it beautiful, our eyes. Your touch. Your kiss."
"Tammi, what do you think of me?"
"I don't think of you as my father. I know Mom wanted me to when you got married. I tried to, I really did. I guess it worked, sort of, but not very well. I always looked up to you, and I thought you were very handsome, masculine, really nice. I still do, but I don't want to think of you as my father. I suppose I never did, really. I want you to be my lover. I want you to kiss my pussy. I want you to fuck me. I wish there were nicer words to describe what I want you to do to me, but there aren't. Or, if there are, I don't know them. Are there? Oh, Sam, I don't want to talk, it just keeps coming out of me. I want you to kiss me between my legs, put your tongue up inside me, your cock, do it all, now that I'm awake and full of you and your smell, your big tough body all to myself."
"Those are pretty strong words for a young girl."
"Woman. Make love to me, Sam." He understood.
Her legs quivered as he slid down them to put his face between them. He put his nose into her bush and nudged the flesh just beneath her mound. He put his hands underneath her buttocks, kneading them, pushing them upwards. He heard her sighing as he put his tongue to her furrow, licking the pubic hairs along the sides, dipping into the dampening crease, lapping the silken inner lining. Her pussy was even sweeter than before. More alive, muskier. His cock hardened to a steel bolt straining at its mooring. His thighs yearned for her, but he was orally stimulated by his stepdaughter, as well; her pussy was a chalice with which to sip the headiest nectars. He sniffed deeply and began to drink from that golden chalice.
His mouth and tongue felt the pulsing, willing flesh. He tasted the seeping juices, smelled the thick poignant aromas peculiar to a youthful cunt, like acorns in autumn, fresh onion shoots in late spring, early morning mist rising from a forest pond. His tongue moved through the tiny drawstringed opening in her sex-cleft and into the billowy-fleshed pumpkin of her cunt. He tasted her youthful nectar, tasted the sea, the shore, a clam, a salad of crustaceans, a blue sky, and tangy salt air.
Yes, his stepdaughter was sweet indeed. He gulped her in and he swelled with his desire for her.
Tammi felt herself blossoming out like some magnificent desert flower. She could feel the soft rain falling on her flower flesh, the sun-tongue licking at her soft fragrant leaves, steaming off the delicately wrought beads of dew. She felt herself opening up, the lips of her pussy splaying, the flesh beyond curdling and flowering, turning into a multitude of shapes and colors, like a child's kaleidoscope filled with shifting shards of pasteled glass.
She put her hands out and placed them on Sam's head. She ran her fingers through his thick red hair and dreamed of him through new eyes. She felt his tongue go up into her once-secret lair and tingle every fiber of her. Lightning danced on hills in her mind. Rainbows arched over green, rain-drenched fields, and motes of sun glistened on silver streams coursing through endless summer lands.
She came, then, with a rush of light and darkness, with a rush fif hidden rivers.
Sam heard her cry out and he stopped his lapping, listening to her convulse in the throes of her orgasm. It was as if the night had opened up its secrets to him, yawning with sudden flashes at its darkest core. He felt Tammi's young body ripple around him, felt the soft flesh of her inner thighs quivering against his ears. He pulled on the popsicle-like tip of her clit and felt her shudder again. More openings, more flashes. The clit swelled between his lips, the veinules filling with engorged blood. He leeched its juices with his mouth and sucked them into his throat. She quivered once again. He shuddered with her, close to his own climactic moment.
"Now," she sobbed. "Sam, I want you inside me. Put your cock in where your mouth is. Hurry!"
He hurried, caught up in his own overwhelming lust.
He slid up her trembling body. He felt her legs move wider apart. He reached down and touched her wet cunt with his hand. He found the soaked opening and guided his cock to it. He slid the swollen member inside. It throbbed like a dynamo. Flesh swarmed over it and absorbed it. He oozed deeper inside the pneumatic chamber.
"There, baby," he said.
"Oh, Sam, it's so fantastic. I'm opening up so wide for you. Your cock is, um, ah, oh, I can't say, it's just there so good!"
"You don't have to say anything. Just respond as you feel it. Do whatever feels right to you."
"And, that's all there is to sexual intercourse?"
"That's all there is to the motions of sex. The emotions are what people do to each other on different levels, the thing that raises them above the lower animals."
"Eight now I feel like a lower animal."
"That's good. So do I."
For emphasis, Sam shoved his cock in hard and deep. Tammi's breath expelled in a rush. She threw her legs up in the air and shoved back. She let her body go and she knew she must be hurting Sam, but she didn't care. She kept coming and she didn't care about anything. Later, she couldn't even hear her own screams anymore. There was just one big symphony and it was the wind, her cries, the singing of her body as it thrashed with pleasure. Still later there was a silence, and she knew that Sam had climaxed. He stayed inside her a long time and they both fell asleep like that. And slept until the dawn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam broke camp before dawn and he and Tammi were on the trail as the first light seeped into the landscape. The wind was down and the snow fell in large lazy flakes the size of dollars. He continued to blaze their trail and follow the compass heading he had decided upon as the most-likely for encountering the lost Barlowes. Their rifles were slung on their shoulders, muzzles downward, to prevent snow from clogging the barrels. He had taught Val and Tammi this, since snow could obstruct the bore and when a shot was fired, the barrel could explode.
The two crossed several game trails, but their minds were not on trophies or camp meat. They stuck to the high ridges where the drifts were not so deep, always angling on the compass setting. The sunless sky was gray, without warmth, the light neutral. Tammi stepped in Sam's footprints so that the going was easier.
Every so often, Sam would stop and scan the open places with his binoculars. He checked clumps of trees and underbrush, high mounds of snow. As it was, he almost missed Ginnie's and Bruce's tent. The binocular lenses swept over the thicket of trees twice before he caught the tent's shape.
"Tammi, I think some of them are over there," he said excitedly, pointing on a line nearly exact with his compass reading. "There's a tent in there or my name's not Sam Cassidy."
"It's too far for me to see anything."
"Well, keep your fingers crossed. We'll be there soon. Pray that they're alive!"
It took them twenty minutes to reach the tent. There wasn't a sound and Sam feared that the occupants were dead. It was already after ten in the morning. He handed Tammi his rifle and began to scoop a path to one end of the tent. He noted the good shelter where the tent was pitched and wondered if Alec or Ginnie had chosen the location. Either one would have been capable, he knew. Suddenly, he sensed that something was wrong here.
"See if there are any more tents or signs of life around," he told Tammi. He wanted her out of the way in case his discovery turned out to be grim. He also knew that this one small tent couldn't house a family of four, not unless they were stacked in there like cordwood. Whoever had pitched it in this spot, however, was a crackerjack woodsman. Or woman. It was snug and secure from the elements and taut as a drumhead. The banking snow was to the north where the cold winds originated. The tent would not suffer that onslaught, he knew.
After Tammi left the scene, he opened the tent flap and peered inside. He saw two heads just barely sticking out of the double sleeping bag. He recognized it, with relief, as one of Alec's. He also recognized Ginnie's sandy locks and Bruce's brown hair on the two heads. For a minute, he thought he must be mistaken. Alec's hair was blonde. It should have been Alec's hair he saw. But it wasn't. He looked again, then crawled inside to reach them, still afraid that they both might be dead.
He tugged at the sleeping bag's zipper on one side. It sizzled downward and he started to reach inside to shake Bruce, who was nearest him, when he stopped his hand. Something didn't ring right, but it took him a half a second to realize what it was. He pulled the top cover up higher so that he could see the two sleepers. They were embracing, obviously, and both were totally nude!
"Jesus Christ," Sam muttered to himself. He could see that Bruce's penis was still inside his mother's cunt. He stared at her pubic triangle and saw the boy's cock was locked inside it like a chunk of meat in a fox trap. He let the sleeping bag fall back down and began to shake Bruce's shoulder.
"Wake up, Bruce. Ginnie, up and at 'em. It's me, Sam."
He was relieved that they were alive, but puzzled by the stark reality of the situation. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but none of them made any sense. Where was Alec? What was going on here? Where was Lara? Had the father and daughter been killed in the crash? Were Ginnie and Bruce half-crazed, out of their mind's with grief? This was incest, stark and simple. And then he thought about himself and Tammi. What was that? Not incest, exactly, but on the border, certainly. Taboo as hell. Did the wilderness do this to people? Make them shed all of their civilized robes and cultivate savage passions? It could be. Survival brought out many things in people. The struggle for survival. Were Ginnie and her son victims of the kind of despair that occurred in people during disastrous times? Were they following an instinct to propagate their kind as though they were the last humans on earth?
"Wake up, dammit!" he yelled, surprised at the power of his outburst. Ginnie shot up, first, blinking and frightened. Bruce came to, a second later, groggily lifting his head.
"Sam!" Ginnie exclaimed, not bothering to cover her naked breasts. "You-you're alive!"
"What?" Bruce asked, stupidly, still wrapped in sleep and the shrouds of dream. "Sam?"
"Yes, it's me. We've been looking for you. Where the hell are Alec and Lara? Are they alive? Jesus, I have a million questions."
Ginnie flushed as she realized that her son was still coupled to her and that they both were bare-assed naked. She pulled the sleeping bag over her, but immediately saw, in Sam's eyes, that the gesture wasn't necessary. He knew.
"Wait a minute, Sam. Alec's alive. He's back in camp with Lara. We're all alive. We were out looking for you, too!"
"That's right," said Bruce, coming awake. "Are you all okay?"
"Yeah. Tammi's with me. Val's back at our camp. Shake a leg. I'll call her. Meet you outside."
He gave Ginnie a look and she raised her eyebrows in a shrug as if to say that she could explain "things" to him later, in private. He nodded almost imperceptibly and backed out of the small tent. Outside, he called to Tammi.
"They're here. Alive! Come on back." He saw her thread her way through some pines heading in his direction. Suddenly, he was aware of how cold it was. And the snow was still falling, heavier than before. He wondered how far away Alec's camp was and if they could make it before another day had passed. Maybe he should send Tammi on with them and go back for Val. He had a lot of decisions to make and wished he didn't have to make any of them.
To top it off, the sky looked nasty. The gray clouds had turned ugly and black. The snow-flakes were bigger, they fell thicker. He sniffed the air and felt the subtle change. There was a wetness to the air, a heaviness that seemed oppressive. The wind kept shifting, circling. Sam felt the temperature dropping, almost imperceptibly, but nipping at his nose and exposed spots of skin. He shrugged inside his warm jacket, but a coldness persisted.
He knew he had to evaluate the situation and decide what to do. There were so many people involved. Individuals, but also parts of families. Part of one family, in a way. It was tough to think when his insides were tight with so many things. Two planes wrecked, situations developing, family members scattered, survival important. He thought in jerky sentences, incomplete sequences. And, always, there was the sky, lowering, settling blackly on his already overburdened shoulders.
He watched Ginnie as she emerged from her tent. He had to admire her. She was every bit the controlled woods-woman as she stood up, holding her rifle. He saw her mouth move, giving orders to Bruce. The tent went down, the two slung their packs on their backs, and walked to meet him, rifles on their shoulders, over the pack straps.
Now, he had to make the decisions. He thought hard. He looked at Ginnie's curvy body, visible even in her cold-weather clothes. His eyes shifted to her son, tall, husky, very much a man already. Instantly, as the wind started to rise from nowhere, he knew the right answer. He had to talk to Ginnie, alone. Val had to know that the Barlowes were all right. He had to reach Alec. Only in this way could the two families rejoin each other, hope to survive.
Suddenly, Sam made his decision. He would have to trust his stepdaughter, but it was the only way. He called the others into a huddle.
"We'll pack our gear and split up," he said. "Ginnie and I'll go to Alec's camp. Tammi, you and Bruce head for our camp. Just follow the blazed trail. You should be able to make it by morning. Stop early and make camp, don't try to push it. I'm trusting you. Bruce, you'll see to it that everything goes okay back at our camp. Tell Val that I'll be back for her in two days. I think it's best if we bring our stuff to Alec's camp, but I'll check with him first. We've got to stick together if we're ever going to get out of this. Okay?"
"I'm ready to leave whenever you are, Bruce," said Tammi.
"I'll get my stuff. Mom, anything you want?"
"No, I'll be fine with just my own gear. Take the tent. We might be able to make it back to Alec before dark. If not, we can sleep in Sam's tent."
"Good," said Sam. "Let's get going, then. We've all got some hiking to do."
He waved goodbye to Bruce and Tammi and then set off, with Ginnie leading the way. He knew there was going to be one hell of a lot of snowfall before they'd all be together again. He wondered how far it was to Alec's camp and if they'd reach there before nightfall. Ginnie, he saw, kept checking her compass. When he looked at his, he saw that they were headed on the same bearing that he'd been on. He would have found them eventually. It was nice to know that somebody was searching for them, though, even if it was only another stranded family. He watched Ginnie plodding ahead of him and was filled with admiration. She was quite a woman. Never complained about a thing, and she was able to hold her own with any man, hunting, shooting, hiking. He also realized how desirable she was as a woman. The roundnesses of her ass bounced ahead of him and he thought again of what he had seen earlier-Ginnie fucking her own son! Suddenly, he wanted Ginnie more than anything. He was amazed at the intensity of his feelings. He wanted to put his cock in that place where her son's had been that very morning. His mind raced to try and figure out how he would betray his best friend, by fucking his wife. Maybe, he thought, looking up at the sky, nature would be of help to him once again. The clouds were lower, the snowflakes falling more heavily. It looked as though they might be another night on the trail. Even now, Ginnie's feet were slowing down as the drifts got higher and wider. Sam had a definite hard-on. He was hard put to follow her with this added handicap. And always, there was that fine ass of hers not ten paces in front of him I
Bruce was still excited and stimulated by the memory of Ginnie. Just thinking of her luscious, mature woman's body, naked against his, was enough to bring his cock to a rise in his jeans. But his mind gradually drifted away from the older woman as he realized that he would be alone with Tammi for several hours, perhaps for several days. Her cheeks were rosy from the wind and she looked very appealing in her fur-lined parka. Her figure was still visible, curvy and lean, under the heavy winter clothing. He still had a hard-on, but the impetus was from Tammi, not Ginnie, as they followed the trail through the forest, checking the blazes as they headed on the compass direction that Sam had showed him before they all had split up. The heading was the same as he and Ginnie had been following, so he was already familiar with it.
The two young people stopped for a snack break a little after high noon. Neither was very hungry. Both were thirsty from the exertion. The snow continued to fall heavily, but at least the wind had not come up yet.
"This is where we camped last night," Tammi said, pointing off the trail. Bruce followed the line of her finger to the trees. It took him several moments to discern any difference in the landscape.
"You've got good eyes," he told her.
"Right now they're rather tired from looking for blazes in this snow."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Do you think we'll make it to your main camp by tonight?"
"It doesn't seem possible. The drifts are getting worse. You have snowshoes, but I don't."
"Want to wear them?"
"No, but you'd better break trail this afternoon, Bruce."
"All right. I've got the heading, anyway. It just looks like this snow's not going to quit."
His prediction proved to be true. By late afternoon, Bruce and Tammi were exhausted from fighting the heavy snows. Some of the blazes hadn't been cut high enough and drifts had obliterated them. The compass helped, but they spent valuable time trying to find the trail Tammi and Sam had come over earlier.
"We'd better make an early camp," Bruce told Tammi, later. "This shif s not going to stop and the wind's coming up again."
"I think you're right." Tammi took off her sunglasses and the driven snow, fine as dust, stung her eyes. There were long shadows, variations in the light, really, and she was tired, hungry.
"We'll find a spot," said Bruce.
They went on for some distance until Bruce found a place where several trees had fallen, making a dome-like shelter where their branches met. He pointed and they went inside, out of the wind, began to unpack their gear. In no time, he had their tent up, the sleeping bags zipped together, and a spot cleared for a camp-fire. Wordlessly, the two gathered firewood. Bruce chopped up kindling with the hand-axe, shaved a starter stick with his knife. When the fire was blazing, and they were both warm, Tammi began to melt snow in a small aluminum pot. She added dehydrated food as the water began to boil and soon had a rich stew simmering.
"I zipped the sleeping bags together," Bruce told her as they were finishing up their meal. The stew was augmented with crackers and hot chocolate.
"I know. It's the only way we'll get through the night. It's going to be cold."
"Yeah, I just didn't want you to be surprised when you crawled into bed tonight."
"Why should I be surprised? I saw the funny look on your mother's face when Sam found you this morning. I saw Sam's look, too. You must have slept quite close last night."
Bruce knew he was blushing.
"I-I, yeah, well, we were asleep when you guys came up on us."
"It must have been more than that," Tammi said simply. "But I don't want to pry."
"Yeah, well, there's nothing to pry into."
"If you say so." She knew he was lying.
"Don't you believe me?" He was immediately sorry he had said anything. He should have let the subject drop. Now he'd opened it up again.
"No, I don't believe you, but why should you tell me the truth? Did you make love to your own mother last night?" Bruce blushed again.
"Dammit, that's none of your business! Did you make out with your stepdad?"
"Yes," she said. "It was beautiful."
Bruce lost whatever was left of his composure then.
"Geez, you did? I mean, you and Sam? I don't believe it!"
"I don't lie," she said. "Like some people."
"Okay, okay. It's just that I can't imagine, I mean, well, your own step ... that is, with Sam."
"You mean you can't imagine a pretty young girl letting a dirty old man do something to her that a young man has wanted to do for a long time. You're a fucking hypocrite, Bruce. I imagine you and your mother did something last night and Sam found out about it. That's why all those funny looks this morning. So, that was okay, because you got something out of it. But you can't imagine me doing anything."
"Aw, Tammi, let's not go into all this."
"Well, we're going to sleep together tonight. You might get ideas. Don't you wonder if I'm going to be willing or put you down or anything? Come on now, be honest. You were thinking that, weren't you? Whether I'd ball you tonight or not?"
"Christ, you really are blunt, aren't you?"
"Honest."
"Okay, honest. I'll admit I did think about the possibility of getting it on with you, Tammi, but I sure wasn't going to force myself on you."
"Look, Bruce, I dig your attempt at honesty. I wanted us to talk this way so that there would be no misunderstanding, no bullshit. I've fallen pretty hard for my stepdad. He's taken me where I've never been before. I'm so strung out on him right now I can't get him out of my head. So, I don't know if I could open up to you or not. I just didn't want you to get your feelings hurt or anything."
"I can dig that. I think I know how you feel. Some pretty mind-blowing things have been happening to me, too, lately. Not only with my mom, but with my sis."
"You're kidding!"
He looked sheepish.
"No, I'm not. It-it just happened, that's all. Lara and I were in the sack the other night, after the crash, and bang! Next think I knew we were balling. I went right through the top of my skull. Then, last night, one thing led to another and I was screwing my old lady. I'm so fucking mixed up now I don't know what's happening."
"You poor guy," she said soothingly. "And here I was giving you a bad time without even knowing where your head was at. Talk about cultural shock!"
She put her arms around him and he looked up into her blue eyes.
"Don't worry about tonight," she said. "We'll just let things happen. Naturally. Okay?"
"Okay," he said, but he wanted her already and he knew it showed in his eyes.
When they crawled into the sleeping bag, later, he wondered what had happened to Tammi's shyness. It wasn't evident in the way her hand reached through the dark and pulled his cock out of his jeans and squeezed it.
CHAPTER NINE
"Sam, if you breathe a word of this to Alec, I'll blow your fucking brains out!"
Sam knew that Ginnie wasn't kidding. Her voice was as hard-edged as a knife. He nodded, peering at her shadowy face as it danced above the roaring campfire. The hackles still stood up on the back of his neck after listening to her story of the night before. He had never heard anything so erotic in his life. His pants were stretched tight where his cock throbbed, fully hard, along his leg. He could picture the strapping Bruce mounting this beautiful woman, see his hard cock slithering into her sopping vagina.
"It's a hell of a story, Ginnie," he said, finally, "but this is as far as it goes."
"Well, you had to know. You saw us. I'm just glad it wasn't Alec. He would have gone out of his mind."
"It could have been a shock. Are you ever going to tell him?"
Ginnie stared into the fire, her hazel eyes glinting with gold flecks. She took a deep breath and her wide shoulders seemed even wider. But, Sam detected a frailty in her that he'd never suspected, a tenderness. Christ, she was one hell of a woman!
"I don't know. It's something I would have to think about. There have never been any secrets between us. This is a pretty big one. It happened and I can't change that. It could be ugly, but I don't want it to."
"No. It shouldn't be ugly." He was thinking about himself and Tammi. He couldn't confess that to Ginnie, though. Not yet. Incest. He said the word in his mind. Its twin sibilants hissed in his mind like a snake. Incest. Was it all that uncommon in modern society? Somehow he doubted it. The taboo was a senseless one when you came right down to it. It was strong, but not stronger than sexual desire itself. In certain southern families, among the poor folks of the backward hills, incest wasn't even a concept. Not the taboo part anyway. Brothers fucked sisters, fathers fucked daughters, uncles went after boys and girls of the family with a comic lust that was often mixed with moonshine.
"A penny," said Ginnie, when he hadn't spoken in some time.
"I was just thinking about incest," he said. "Wondering why it's illegal and immoral."
"And not fattening? Yes, I've been thinking that all day. It's another way for a person to go astray, feel guilty about something. Our society's riddled with guilt triggers. We seem to be programmed to feel guilt about a lot of things. I don't want to feel guilty about Bruce, but I suppose I should. I do, but if s only because of Alec. If Alec approved, then there would be no need to feel guilty. I don't give a damn about society and its narrow-minded, archaic sex laws. Out here, in fact, there is no society. Maybe that's it. Maybe if it had happened in my own bedroom back in Illinois, I would have felt despondent over my actions. As it is, I only feel, well, a deep feeling of having entered a musty old room and found unexpected warmth."
"It's too bad such personal experiences can't be catalogued by some famous writer and put into a book. like that one Studs Turkel did about working people. Make them realize the feelings of people who step over the line, the incest line."
"Yes, that would help, I suppose. I don't want to feel terribly alone in this, but I do."
Sam wanted to tell her that she wasn't entirely alone, but something told him that this wasn't the time or the place. Their families were very close and he didn't want to destroy that. Right now, he was in a slightly superior position as far as Ginnie went. He didn't want to relinquish that. He had thought about what it would be like to fuck his best friend's wife, but that's as far as it had ever gone. Now, there was an intimacy between them that had never been there before. He didn't want to lose that, either.
"I doubt if you're as alone as you think you are," he said, hoping he hadn't given too much away.
"What do you feel right at this moment, Sam."
"Horniness, I guess."
"Yes, I can see that. You have another leg growing down between the other two. I can see the ridge from here."
"Well, I'm not going to blush. After all, I did see you and Bruce in a rather revealing pose and your story has enhanced that image."
"I'm horny, too. I don't think I could face Alec right now. No, I couldn't, but I do want sex. I need it. I need another kind of sex. Would you mind?"
"A sort of substitute for Bruce? Or Alec?"
"No, not really, but maybe. Maybe something to come between me and Bruce, to help me wash him away. It's a terrible thing to ask."
"You're not exactly a seaweed, you know. I've seldom met anyone more attractive than you. I've always thought you must be a very special person."
"Because of Alec."
"No, because of you. Alec was just lucky. So were you. I love Alec, in the manly sense, I hope. I love his wife, too, not in the romantic sense, but in the sense of admiration. Not very well put, I know, but it's difficult."
"Let's not think of substitutions, Sam. I think we would both like to know more about each other. We can't go anywhere. No one's going to come up on us, tonight. I'm attracted to you, too. Always have been. Anyone who loves Alec would have to love you as well. You're both pretty great guys."
Sam was moved. He showed his feelings by standing up and going to her. He took her in his arms. They kissed. The kiss was a long, lingering, exploring touch of lips.
"Take me, Sam, quick, before I change my mind."
"I won't let you change your mind."
Inside their tent, they undressed quickly. They found each other in the dark. Ginnie's hand closed tenderly around Sam's rigid cock, as his hand went between her legs to fondle the hairy flesh of her pubic triangle. He rubbed the furrow and then plied his finger between the folds, searching for the opening. Ginnie stroked up and down, her fingers tight around his cock. He felt it swell as the veins began to throb with rushing blood.
"This is a part of you, Sam, that I never knew before. Nice."
"Ginnie, you make it rough on a friend."
"I know. Let this be between us. Don't let Alec come between."
"Can we ever look him in the eye again? Can I?"
"I don't know. This is our time, not his. I think he would understand. If he didn't, then he may not be the man I think he is."
"You have a good point. I don't want to think about it right now. You're driving me nuts."
"I'm going to go down on you. Maybe you won't have to think about anything else. Let me be the aggressor, the one who makes love to you."
"For a while, Ginnie. Yes, make love to me. Then it's my turn."
She moved, then, and he felt her mouth nibbling at his genitals. She licked downward along his swollen stalk and her tongue flicked against his balls. She took one of them in her mouth and sucked it, tongued it. Then, she laved the other one with her wet mouth and tongue, her fingers squeezing the sensitive head of his cock. He felt a sensation shoot up his spine, numb his brain. He found one of her breasts and began to massage it, touch the nipple.
Ginnie was right. He forgot all about Alec in the next few minutes.
She managed to open her mouth wide enough to suck in his scrotum. Sam felt the mass of flesh go inside her hot mouth. She salivated over his nuts until he felt the heat rise up his prick to the eyehole. It was like getting a warm bath, except that her tongue was a magic stimulator that teased the scraggly hairs on his sac and made the bag tingle. She was gentle; he only felt her teeth once' in a while, brushingly, as they slid across the loosening ridges of his sac.
Her mouth and tongue sucked and swabbed his scrotum while Sam fondled her breasts. He had never had a woman do such marvelous things to his genitals. His admiration for Ginnie rose even higher as her talented tongue slipped over his balls, leaving no area untouched. He must somehow get Val to do such a thing to him, without revealing where he had gotten the idea. Val had sucked him off many times, but she had never displayed such finesse with her mouth and tongue. Ginnie was a virtuoso in her oral performance, but Sam didn't realize that this was not the extent of her sexual prowess. A moment later, he found out just how far his friend-and-partner's wife was prepared to go.
Ginnie slipped her tongue underneath Sam's balls and slid it into the crack of his ass. She licked around his ass-hole as he squirmed with serendipitous pleasure. Then, her tongue shot into the puckered hole and Sam's flesh jumped with delight. She reamed his bunghole with a savage energy, slithering the wet tongue inside. Sam's cock stretched to the breaking point.
"Jesus, Ginnie, you're fantastic!" he moaned.
And then she was all over his cock, swallowing it, her tongue a pressure tab along its swollen length. She sucked him deep into her throat and he had to fight in order to control a premature ejaculation. Her head moved very fast as she bobbed on his well-primed prick. He began to fuck her in the face, his hands grasping her breasts, squeezing them hard.
"I can't stand much more of this, Ginnie," he told her. "You're amazing!"
For an answer, she released his cock from her mouth and climbed on top of him. She reached down for his cock and shoved it into her burning cunt. She fucked him furiously for several minutes and realized that he was about to come, so she changed her rhythm to slow long strokes, giving him time to catch his breath.
"I want you to fuck me, Sam, like you've never fucked anybody before."
"Christ yes!"
"Everywhere. Anywhere. Fuck me until I scream, and then keep on fucking me!"
Ginnie thrashed over alongside of Sam, lying on her stomach, pushing her finely sculptured ass up into the air. "Climb on," she said. "Fuck me like a dog!" Sam slid onto her and shoved her soft buttocks against his crotch. With his hand, he poked his cock up into her twitching snatch. He pulled her hard against him, burying his shaft deep into her blazing cunt. He fucked her fast and deep, while she quivered and squirmed, oohing and aahing, her body jerking out of rhythm whenever an orgasmic spasm ripped through her flesh.
Sam took an animalistic pleasure in fucking her this way, but he wanted more. Ginnie seemed to be out of her mind from the repeated climaxes. She cried out as though in some kind of ecstatic trance.
"I want to fuck you in the ass," Sam said, daring to be bold in his wishes. "Yes, yes, fuck me there!" Ginnie cried.
"Stick it in my ass, Sam, oh, yes, please do it to me there I"
That was all he needed to know.
Sam pulled his cock free of her soaked pussy and slid it in between her buttocks, smearing the flesh with fluids. He pulled the cheeks apart and pushed downward. His cock slithered up to the hole and he pushed inward.
"I'm virgin there I" Ginnie said. "And I want it so bad I can hardly stand it! There, you're there. Now push in, easy, oh, that's it, Sam."
He felt his cock slide in through the tight opening. Ginnie gasped as another orgasm shuddered her body. He pushed harder and his cock immersed itself in the narrow channel. He slid his cock in and out, wetting the passage, smoothing the way. Ginnie moaned with pleasure. He buried his organ between the cheeks of her ass as she pushed upward.
"Ummmmm, ooooohhhh, ahhhhhh, Sam, it's so good!"
"Yeah, Ginnie, oh yeah I"
As her muscles loosened, Sam stepped up the rhythm of his thrusts. In and out, he plunged, faster and faster, until they both were mindless with ecstasy.
"Oh, Sam, you're giving me so much pleasure! I'm burning up all over!"
He poured it on then, until Ginnie was a shaking rag doll beneath him. She sobbed and moaned, her writhing body skewered through the ass-hole by his spearing meat. He slipped his finger underneath her and shoved inside her cunt, triggering the clitoris. That was when she began to buck and roll with climactic convulsions.
Finally, he slipped his cock free of her clutching anus and turned her over on her back for the last segment of their sexual session. His cock was almost raw from rubbing in the tight channel of her ass, but he plunged it into her gaping slobbering vagina, the soothing oils soon assuaged the flesh. He held her tightly against him, her breasts cushioning out against his chest.
"Sam, I'm coming so much, so much!" she told him. "Fuck me, man, fuck me hard!"
It was not difficult to do what she asked. Sam's emotions, like Ginnie's, were at a fever pitch. He bored into her with renewed power, exulting in the sheer joy of sexual contact, of flesh blending into flesh. Ginnie was a marvelous and inspired contortionist, always twisting her body so that there was a maximum of contact. At times, there was a subtlety of pressure from one of the muscles in her vagina, and Sam was experienced enough to know that this was deliberate on Ginnie's part. He reiterated in his mind that she was one hell of a woman.
Ginnie herself was on the brink of delirium. Her clit was throbbing and raw from the constant rubbing, but she wanted more of his cock. She switched positions constantly so that she could feel it in another place. She twitched the muscles in her vagina in order to squeeze the organ. She had lost count of the number of orgasms she had had, but she wanted more. She seemed to be drowning herself in pleasure in order to forget that she had coupled with her own flesh and blood the night before. She was insatiable in her deep hunger for sex and she was grateful that Sam was man enough to give her what she wanted. He was even more of an athlete than she had imagined. The future was dim and hazy, only the present mattered. She drenched herself in sexuality and emerged from her bath, renewed and fresh, her sexual dimensions broadened even more than she could have imagined two days before.
She felt Sam rushing to his own climax.
"Let it come I" she screamed. "Shoot your cum into me, Sam!"
"Yeah, Ginnie. It's coming now! I can't hold it back any more!"
"Yes, give it all to me. Bury your cock deep. Fuck me right up to the last!"
He rode her to the limit of his endurance. He felt his sperm rumble loose in his sac and shoot up his tube. He plunged his cock deep into her sucking pussy and the gizm flashed through the eyehole, spurting into her womb's mouth with intense pressure. He sobbed and clutched at her flailing body. Her nails raked his back, but he was hardly conscious of them. His loins shook and quivered as his sac drained itself of milky juices.
"Oh, Ginnie, I'm finished," he sobbed.
"You were tremendous, Sam," she said, breathlessly. "Hold me tight until it's all over. I want the last drop of you."
He held tightly to her, but there was no more to him. His cock was so tender that he could barely stand it. Her womb seemed to be sucking at his organ. Her muscles still gripped him. They lay there for a long time, gasping for breath, relaxing. Later, he rolled off her, and they breathed in the darkness, side by side, her hand on his crotch, his between her legs. They were both very wet in those places.
"It's sad, isn't it?" Ginnie said finally. "Afterwards, I mean."
"Yes. The Spanish call this the little death.' It is like a death. And you can't remember how wonderful it was."
"That's why you have to keep doing it, again and again."
"Yes, and not always with the same partner."
"Do you think that, really? Have you had many women?"
"No, not many. But good ones. Yes, I think man is polygamous by nature. He can live with one woman, though, but he is better off with more than one. Sex can become boring if it's done just one way all the time, with one person for a partner."
"Yes, I think you're right. You're very good for me, Sam. I need to think about so many things now and you're a big help to me. I was faithful to Alec. But, in my mind, perhaps I wasn't. I wonder if I subconsciously wanted my son to fuck me. Maybe that's why it was so easy."
"That could be. And, maybe he wanted you, too."
"I think so. Deep down, we both wanted each other. We wanted sex together. Oh, Sam, is it so awful what we've done? What we've all done?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I can't judge anymore. I'm part of it."
"Who can judge then? Alec? Bruce? Lara? Val?"
"The Indians said that you shouldn't judge a man unless you had walked in his moccasins. I think that was pretty good advice. No one can judge us, unless he or she knows the same things we do. Unless that someone has had the same experience."
Ginnie sighed deeply.
"Thanks, Sam," she said quietly.
And the wind came up, then, howling ferociously around the tent. Neither of them wanted morning to ever come.
CHAPTER TEN
Bruce pushed his finger inside Tammi's cunt. She was already wet, as though she'd peed in her panties. He was excited; her hand around his swelled-up cock exerted a soothing sensual pleasure. The wind had come up from the north and they knew they would be completely alone throughout the night. He rubbed his other hand over her young pert breasts, wondering how they had felt to her stepfather the night before.
He couldn't get Sam out of his mind. Sam with his mother. Sam who had balled his own stepdaughter less than twenty-four hours ago. Sam was a presence there in their tent, even though his name had been mentioned no more. Still, Bruce found himself wondering if he could satisfy Tammi as Sam had. He had been the first, she had told him, and the first man was always the one most loved, most remembered, so he'd heard. He didn't want to think about Sam anymore. He was too eager to fuck Tammi. If he couldn't be first, as he had planned all summer, then he could at least be a good second.
She seemed even .more exciting to him because she had fucked her stepfather. He couldn't get that out of his mind, either. He wondered if he seemed the same way to her now that she knew that he and his mother had gotten it on last night. There was something sexy about fucking someone that you knew had been fucked by someone else. like with his mother. His father had fucked her for years. He was probably the only one. And then him, her own son. He had been where only his father had been before. It was like being a part of a deep dark secret. It was a revelation.
"Do you want me very much?" he asked Tammi.
"Yes. You're making me hot with your finger up there."
"I like your hand on my cock. It feels good."
"You've got a nice one. Big. It's both smooth and rough. I never thought much about a cock before, but now I'm thinking about it a lot. It's really something almost miraculous." She tenderly felt the bulk of his shaft as a blind person will feel an object. Bruce felt his flesh tingle all over his body.
"Your pussy is nice, too. I feel the same way about it. It's such a mysterious thing to me, still."
"I guess we take a lot of things for granted. Kiss me, Bruce. Make me hot for you."
He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, his finger working inside her cunt, feeling for the little button of her clitoris. He wondered what had happened to the shy Tammi of last year, the one he'd been afraid to approach with his sexual desires. She was gone, now. She said words he never could have placed in her mouth, words he never dreamed she knew. Well, the shy ones often turned out to be the most lusty after they lost their cherries. At least he'd heard that somewhere. Her tongue was not shy. She wrestled with his own, inside her mouth, her hot breath blowing against his open lips. She smelled fragrantly sexy, inside the sleeping bag. Her pussy was wonderful to touch, inside and out.
In the dark, further revelations.
Tammi was not skinny. She was tall and willowy, but not skinny. She was lean in the right places, fleshy in other right places. Her legs were nice, more than nice. Her pussy seemed to nestle between them like some bony box, the fleshy furrow sensuously supple. He felt her slim buttocks, the flat tummy, the taut, upright breasts. Tammi was a girl who was becoming a woman, the kind of woman you see in high fashion magazines. She was graceful, he knew that, but her grace was a result of her long slender body. There seemed to be no end to her and Bruce couldn't wait to climb on, push his cock between those sweet legs and sample the pussy that Sam had evidently found so irresistible.
"Do you want me, now?" he asked her.
"Yes. Now. Don't be rough with me, Bruce."
"I won't. You're too sweet for that."
He mounted her, then, and had trouble finding his way. He felt her pussy again and pushed his cock close to it. Tammi reached out and grasped his cock and took it to the opening. He felt and heard her legs slide wider apart. She slid his cock down from her mound, between the lubricious lips to the portal of her sex. He pushed inward, sliding past the opening. Tammi let out a long, satisfied sigh. He pushed deeper and she sighed again. His cock ached with desire, its blood-engorged bulk delving deeper into her mysterious cunt.
"Ah, perfect," she said.
"Beautiful, Tammi."
He slid in and out, testing her emotions with his cock. He wasn't rough, but smooth and considerate. So far, however, Tammi had not responded the way that he felt she should. She was reticent, as though her former shyness did extend to the sexual act. Bruce was frankly disappointed. Yet, the feel of her pussy on his cock was more than pleasant. She was wet enough and that, he thought, should mean that she was full of desire for him. Yet, she lay quietly as he stroked her quim, not a muscle moving. He pushed still deeper and lifted upwards, hoping that his prick would press against her clit. He still had not gone in all the way, because of the way he was fucking her, but he knew there was more to her, much more.
Tammi knew she was holding back with Bruce. She despised herself for taking such perverse pleasure in this attitude, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of loss. She wished that Sam was with her, not Bruce. Yet she wanted the sex. Her body was aflame. Her senses had reeled the first moment he had entered her. Her cunt wanted his cock inside it. He wasn't Sam, though, and she ached for her stepfather. She was even jealous of him, wondering if he was close to Ginnie at this moment, perhaps nestled next to her, naked, in a double sleeping bag. So, she held back, not giving Bruce anything more than her body, and hating herself for being this way. Well, damn him! He wasn't even a man, and he had probably made it with his own mother the night before. What kind of woman was that? To let her own son fuck her?
In asking those questions, Tammi only added to her own confusion. Who was she to criticize? Was it any less wrong for her to fuck her stepfather than it was for Bruce to fuck his own mother? In her confusion, her questions only tangled her mind up more than it had been. Her questions had no solid answers, so she continued being perverse with Bruce trying to make love to her.
At the same time, her flesh was screaming at its confinement. Every stroke of his cock seared a new path through her consciousness. She tried to block Bruce out, but his enormous young prick kept piercing the fabric of her resolve. She couldn't admit to herself that this cloying, grasping smoke rising in her throat was lust. She couldn't face the fact that she wanted Bruce as much as he wanted her. Yet, each time his cock plumed the channel of her cunt, the lust grew stronger, more undeniable. Every time she felt his cocktip move closer to the mouth of her womb, she felt less sure of her resolution to give Bruce as little of herself as possible. And now, with his cock pressing upward against her clit-bud, she was no longer able to stave off the swelling tide of orgasm that had threatened to break her down, completely. Stroke after stroke tantalized the sensitive tuber at the top of her sheath, and when the dam finally burst, Tammi was overcome with shame for her selfish, uncompassionate behavior.
Her body jolted into action as the first orgasm shredded her senses. She screamed loudly and her back arched as her legs flew up in the air. Her cunt thrust upward, causing Bruce's cock to ram down to the core of her cunt, clear to the limit of his cock's length. Her mouth snapped open and her eyes glazed with a delirious film. The darkness of her closed mind, burst open like a seed, strobed with lightning. Her tummy shivered like an electrocuted jellyfish.
"Oh, Bruce," she cried, "fuck me now I I won't hold back anymore! I-I can't! It's so incredibly beautiful. Let me have all of your cock. Please!"
Surprised at the sudden change in Tammi, Bruce was dumbfounded. He knew she had had a powerful orgasm, but he didn't know the cloistered thoughts that had preceded it. Now, though, Tammi had metamorphosed into a savage, wanton woman. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, and she was biting him on the shoulders, her entire body convulsed with jolting spasms. Unable to speak, he drove his cock into her, hard, wanting to keep her in this state of ecstasy for as long as he could. He loved her body twining around his. Her little hard cunt was slamming up into his loins, as though she had a motor on her ass. It was flat-out fucking for several minutes, with both of them going at it like two unleashed greyhounds after a rabbit.
"I'm begging for it now, Bruce. I'm sorry I held back on you, just don't stop fucking me. I'm praying for it, give me all the cock you've got!"
"Yes, man, yes!" he yelled, realizing that a dam had burst inside Tammi. She was wild! Her body was a thrashing dynamo. He had to hold on tight to her. She kept threatening to uncouple them with the fury of her gyrations. There was no stopping her once she let herself go. She was a bundle of pure energy, a sheaf of lightning bolts, a surge of cosmic force butting up against his own pile-driving prick. He buried his shaft in her warm, willing cunt, and she begged him for more. He twisted his cock every direction, up, down, sideways, and still she leaped up on it as if it were trying to get away. He humped her fast and slow, and still she orgasmed in a full-blown betrayal of flesh and desire. He sucked her tits and stuck his finger up her ass and she came at him like a tigress, pleading, urging him on in a series of guttural spittings.
"Cock, fuck, shit, Bruce, lay my ass, fuck my cunt, stick your prick way up in there, take my pussy, man, wail on it, bastard, big-cocked mother-fucker!"
Amazed, Bruce raped her repeatedly with his ravaging cock. She twisted beneath him in unbearable throes of agony and delight, while he rode her through the highs and lows in unrelenting motion. The sleeping bags tangled about them, but they ignored it and smashed into each other like two knights in armor clashing on the field of battle. They rocked and moaned, pouring themselves into each other with reckless abandon. They were stud and mare, two animals bent on primitive pleasures, howling like banshees, crazy rocking kids fucking to the inexorable beat of their own pagan rhythms. They were silver and gold, rainbow colors in a forge, blue and brilliant, fiery red, hissing platinum, cherried steel. They fed on each other like insatiable vampires. They burned like streaming skyrockets arcing into the blue-black sky. They steamed like falling stars curving down through far reaches of space.
It was over in a thundering rush, as Bruce felt his manly juices spew forth from his cock, filling the bowl of Tammi's cunt. He moaned with a mixture of defeat and triumph as he shot into her, stream after spurting stream of milky, hot sperm. She cried in exultation and sadness, clutching his young muscular body to hers.
"Don't go away," she sobbed. "Don't go away too quick."
"No, no, I won't."
"I need you, Bruce. God, I need you so damned much."
He listened to her sobs and wondered what they meant. There was nothing left inside him. She had drained it all away. He was no more than a husk, lying atop her still trembling body while she exorcised herself of all the demons that had lurked there a short time before. It was a sobering experience for both of them. Sex, which had seemed so simple a thing before, now loomed awesomely above them both, as complex as a snowflake or a universe.
Later, they were able to talk about it.
"I'm so mixed up, Bruce."
"About what?"
"Oh, Sam, me, you. I never had sex before. Not with anyone. Then, I got knocked unconscious in the plane crash and when I woke up, Sam was making love to me. I went crazy then. I went crazy last night. And tonight."
"So, you're just excitable, that's all."
"No, Bruce, it's more than that. I want it. I want it all the time. I think about it all the time. That's not normal."
"I don't know. I think about it a lot, too. Ever since I found out about it."
"Yes, but you're different. You don't go out of your mind when you ball like I do."
"How do you know, Tammi."
"Well, do you?"
"Sort of. I guess everyone does. I mean, when they have an orgasm, it's a mind-blowing experience."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, sure. The first chick I ever made it with just went completely ape when she got off. She screamed and cried and I thought she was half nuts."
"Really?"
"No joke, Tammi."; "What about your mother?" He paused, trying to think of how it had been.
"Well, she was different. She was excited, but more, I don't know, controlled. Everyone's different. Believe me, you don't have anything to worry about."
"What am I going to do with Sam? I mean, what if my mom finds out?"
"I guess that's something you'll have to face when it comes up. I wouldn't go looking for trouble if I was you. She may never find out. For sure, Sam's not going to tell her. You aren't, are you?"
"No, but I feel like everybody must know when they look at me." Bruce laughed.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"You. you're like everybody else. The first time a guy jacks off, he thinks it shows on his face or something. Girls think they walk different after they've lost their cherry. It's just a lot of bullshit. Sex doesn't show. Not in the way you mean."
"I guess I do sound silly."
"Not any more than anyone else."
They listened to the night wind as it prowled around their tent, listened to it high in the trees and far off in the valleys where deer crossed a frozen stream. Somewhere, a lone wolf raised his snout to the sky and howled mournfully. Tammi shivered, naked and frightened. She huddled closer to Bruce in the sleeping bag.
"Bruce, do you want me again? Ever?"
"Yes. Sure."
"I mean like I want you?"
"Yes, that much. More than that."
"Now?"
"Whenever, Tammi. Why? Do you want me again?"
"Yes. I want to see if I can be more-more controlled. like Ginnie." Bruce didn't laugh this time.
"Tammi, don't worry about it," he said. "I don't want you to be like anybody else. Just be yourself. You were fine. You're not frigid anyway, and more chicks are frigid than the other way around. Start to worry when you can't get excited."
"Do you mean that?"
"For sure." He put his arm around her and drew her close. He leaned over and kissed her. Gratefully, she kissed him back.
"I guess I worry too much. I'm just so new to this sex business. I thought maybe I was going overboard."
"No, Tammi, I think you're just a normal, healthy young girl who's going to have a ball balling. And I'm glad I'm around to catch some of the action."
"You're a funny guy, Bruce."
"Oh? You think so?"
"Yeah, so easygoing. Doesn't anything ever bother you?"
"Sure. I'm wondering how we're all going to get out of this.mess?"
"You mean ... "
"I mean rescued, Tammi, nothing else."
But she was sure that he meant more, much more. She reached over, then, and put her hand on his limp cock. She needed reassurance again. And the desire for sex was rising up in her, strangling her once more with its musky smoke.
"I want you again, Bruce."
He put his hand between her legs. She was still wet. His cock began to stiffen in her hand.
"I want you, too, Tammi. I guess we're both pretty normal."
This time, Tammi laughed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The wolves came just before dawn. There were thirty or forty of them in the pack, jaws slavering with hunger, shadowy bodies gaunt from starvation, their eyes slanted and piercing. They walked on silent paws, slashing through the powdery snow, their nostrils distended. They snapped silently at one another in their hunger, their tempers drawn to a fine edge. They loped in over the hump in the land and then sat for a time, looking down at the tiny camp, their tongues lolling out of their mouths in obscene laughter.
Val heard them before she saw them and her blood ran cold.
They started howling just as the eastern sky lightened. Then they were snarling and running through the snow. She watched them come, frozen to her spot in front of the tent.
"Sam!" she screamed, knowing that he was miles away. "Sam! Help me!"
She realized, then, that she had to move fast. She snatched up her rifle out of the tent and worked the bolt. She wished now that she had had time to build a fire. It was bitter cold and the oil had congealed in the rifle's action. Frantically, she pulled on the bolt. It slid slowly back and a shell jacked up into the chamber. She wondered where she had put the box of .243 shells.
The wolves were close. They fanned out before they reached the camp and she thought there must be thousands of them. She trembled as she looked at their vicious, patient faces. They snarled at her. Some of them sat on their haunches, regarding her. Others circled behind her. One dashed close and then dashed back again. The wolves fell silent. She saw their fangs and their oriental eyes. She knew what they had come for and she began to pray.
If she could find the extra shells ...
A wolf, bolder than the others, leaped at her back. She almost felt its breath on her neck. She turned just in time and the wolf sailed by, but the others had moved in closer. Val gasped for breath, realizing that she had to have something in back of her, something solid. She started to move toward the tent, but the circle of wolves tightened, still closer. Another one darted in her direction. She put the Winchester to her shoulder and sighted down the barrel.
She was glad she didn't have the scope on for this kind of shooting. She squeezed off a shot. The wolf twisted in the air, yowling. The others were on him in a flash, tearing and ripping into his flesh, slashing his throat open until the snow was red with blood. The snarling, snapping beasts made short work of their dead companion and the snow was roiled with crimson when they finished.
Val watched them devour the wolf with horror-stricken eyes. Her stomach squirreled, queasy, but she kept her eyes on them, certain that her turn was next if she dropped her guard.
"Go away!" she shouted, waving her rifle at them. "Shoo! Get away from here!"
She might as well have been talking to the wind. The wolves didn't budge. If anything, they had come closer, until the nearest of them was no more than thirty paces away. She wondered what Sam would do in a situation like this.
"Damn it! Where are those shells?"
She wondered if she had put them under the sleeping bag. Yes, but where? At the front of the tent or the rear? Maybe she would be safe in the tent. She started edging backwards toward the flap of the opening. The wolves seemed to move with her. She stopped. They stopped. She moved, they moved. It was unnerving. There were probably only a few shells, three or four, left in the .243. She couldn't remember if she had loaded the clip full. It held five rounds. She carried the Model 70 in .243. If the box of shells was on this side of the tent, she had a chance, a bare chance, to dash in and snatch them up. It was worth a try. If she had to go to the rear of the tent, the wolves would slash through it like paper.
Coolly, Val decided on a bold move. She picked the farthest wolf and drew a bead on his chest. The white badge on its chest made a perfect target. She looked over the leaf rear sight and set the bead in the hooded ramp on the front sight square in the middle of the wolfs patch. She took a breath and squeezed the trigger. The Winchester cracked and the wolves jumped. The one she had hit, shot backwards, tried to get up, then fluttered dead, its lungs exploded by the hollow-point slug.
When the wolves descended on their dead brother, she dashed into the tent. She flipped up the sleeping bag quickly, searched frantically for the box of .243s.
"Where the hell is it?" she shrieked.
She heard them, then. She turned, just as one of them hurtled through the air at her. She brought up her arm and white teeth flashed. There was a quick searing pain and then there were wolves at her legs. Another leaped for her throat. She couldn't bring up her arm again. She dropped the rifle. The wolves swept over her, growling and whining. She felt pieces of her being torn away, but then she was far off and everything was muffled and she couldn't see anymore. There was a curtain being drawn down over her eyes. It was red, then pink, then it went black, and everything went suddenly quiet.
"Was that a shot?" Bruce asked, suddenly stopping in his tracks.
"No, I don't think so. More-likely a branch snapping under the weight of the snow."
"Yeah, Tammi, I guess you're right."
"You're very jumpy this morning," she said. "You've spooked at everything along the trail."
"It's so quiet after that damned storm last night. It is spooky!"
"Well, if we hadn't left when it was pitch dark, it wouldn't have been."
"How far is your camp from here, Tammi?"
"Not far. Listen. I thought I heard something else."
Bruce listened and looked at the girl at his side. He shrugged.
"I didn't hear anything," he said.
"It sounded like somebody screaming."
Bruce listened again. There was a deathly stillness over the snowy landscape. They had been following the compass line for hours. It was shortly after dawn now. When the wind had stopped, he had decided that they'd better make tracks. They couldn't hole up in that spot for too many days. He also thought they might have trouble with drifting snow, but he had seen that the path Sam had followed had been good. The ridges were swept practically bare and the going had been easy. He had to admire Sam for that, among other things.
"I still don't hear anything, Tammi. It must be your imagination."
"Bruce, I'm scared. Mom's there all alone. Something could happen. I think the camp's just over that next rise."
He looked at her face. Her concern was genuine. He set his jaw and took her hand.
"Okay," he said. "Come on."
They slogged through the snow, trying to hurry. They broke out of the trees at the end of the ridge and saw the camp below them. Then they heard the snarling.
"Jesus Christ," Bruce exclaimed, and un-slung his rifle. He jacked a bullet in the chamber and began picking targets, cracking off shots.
That's when Tammi saw the wolves scattering in all directions. That's when she began screaming hysterically.
"Stay here!" Bruce ordered. "I'll go down and check. Keep your rifle ready."
Tammi was sobbing. He looked at her and saw that she hadn't heard a word he said. She just stared straight ahead and down at the camp, screaming and sobbing. He slapped her, hard.
"Snap out of it!" he commanded.
"M-my mother's down there!" she shrieked.
"Dammit, I know that! Just stand here. Get your rifle ready. Shoot those goddamned wolves if they come this way. I'm going down to check. Have you got that, Tammi? Do you understand?" He realized that he had been shouting at her. But, every second was precious now.
"Yes. Hurry, Bruce. Oh, Mom, please be all right!" She took her rifle from her shoulder and worked the action. A bullet slid into the chamber. She checked the safety and clicked it off. Bruce floundered down the hill. God, it was quiet. He looked, she thought, like someone in a dream landscape. He was running fast, but the snow held him to a slow-motion sequence. A wolf came out of the tent and she saw Bruce shoot it dead. Others came out and she put a hand to her mouth. "Good lord, don't let my mother be in there!"
Bruce waded into the pack, swinging his rifle like a club. There were yelps and howls. He drew his pistol and began snapping off well-aimed shots. The wolves that were left scrambled for safety. He fired after them, reloading and firing again, until they had disappeared. Then he looked into the tent.
"Poor Val," he said. "Jesus, how am I going to break this to Tammi?"
He stood there, numbed, for a long time, trying to make sense of Val's death. He ground his teeth down and tightened his fists around the rifle and pistol. He wanted to go on a shooting rampage and kill every wolf, dog, coyote, bobcat and wolverine he could find. Then, he realized that this was nonsense. The wolves had killed because they were hungry. There was nothing personal in it.
Bruce stepped out of the tent and closed the flap. He had already seen a camp shovel inside.
"Bruce!"
He could hear Tammi calling from the knoll. "Stay up there, Tammi! Don't come down!" . "What is it? Where's my mother?" Jesus, there was just no gentle way to break it to her.
"Oh, no!" she shrieked and he saw her running down the hill. He raced to meet her. When he met her, he swooped her up in his arms.
"Tammi, don't. This is no good. Get a grip on yourself. Your mother's dead."
"I want to see her. She's not dead! You-you just think she is. She just needs help."
"Goddammit, Tammi, she's dead! The wolves got her. It-it's not a. pretty sight. It's horrible, in fact. Don't go in there!"
His words sank in. She began sobbing and beating on Bruce's chest with tiny, frustrated fists. He let her vent her anger and fear on him, patting her head with one hand after holstering his pistol.
"Tammi, I'm terribly sorry. Look, we'll need wood. Lots of it. I-I've got to bury her, your mother. It's got to be done. The wolves may come back. We'll need a fire. A big fire. Can you do that for me? Please?"
"Yes, yes, I can. I will. Oh, Bruce, what am I going to say to Sam when he comes?"
"We'll talk about it later. Get the wood. Don't look at the camp. Just get all the wood you can, Tammi. I love you."
"Thanks, Bruce. Is-is she very bad? Did--did she have pain?"
"I don't think so. There were a lot of them. Later, huh?"
She slung her rifle over her shoulder and went back up in the woods. She was already unfastening the hand axe on her belt when Bruce turned to go to the tent. He got the shovel and picked a spot some distance away. He knew he probably wouldn't be able to dig into the earth itself, but he could bury what was left of Val Cassidy deep in snow. He dug long and hard and wide. He unzipped one sleeping bag and wrapped Val's body in that. He carried that out to the deep ditch and placed her gently on the bottom. Then he began shoveling snow over the sleeping bag. One casualty, he thought. How many more before this is over? .
Later, he helped Tammi drag wood down to the campsite. They didn't see the wolves anymore, but he built the fire big, some distance from the tents. He checked the stores and then found out where the plane was from Tammi.
"Are you hungry?" he asked her later.
"No, not a bit." She looked out at the marker Bruce had stuck up on her mother's grave, part of a tree that resembled a crooked cross.
"Want to talk?"
"Yeah, I guess so. I can accept my mother's death after awhile, but not now. I didn't actually see her."
"You must accept it. I didn't want you to see her. Don't you want to remember her the way she was when she was alive?"
"Yes, that's best, isn't it? How long had she been dead?"
"Not long. I guess you did hear shots. And screams. They didn't, well, they didn't do what you're thinking to her."
"Thanks, Bruce, I guess that's what I wanted to know."
"I am sorry, Tammi, really."
"Did you mean what you said before? That you loved me?"
"Yes. I love you. I mean it. I love you very much."
"Then, I'll be okay, Bruce, because I think I love you, too."
"Well, you shouldn't have to think about that right now, either. Let time help you sort everything out."
She realized then how much of a man Bruce was. He put his arms around her and she put her head on his shoulder. She felt his strength as they gazed into the blazing fire. At that moment, she didn't care if they were ever rescued. She just wanted to stay close to Bruce, to be comforted by him.
Later, he threw more wood on the fire and then led her into the tent, not the one where her mother had been killed, but into her own tent. Tomorrow, he could recheck everything and see if he'd cleaned up enough. Tonight, Tammi, his Tammi, needed love, not the physical kind, but the kind a father, or a friend, could give.
Late the next day, Tammi and Bruce heard shouts. They were in the woods cutting larger wood with the big axes.
"It's them!" Tammi exclaimed. "They're here!"
"I think you're right."
"Here we are!" she yelled, as the two of them raced out of the pines.
They saw the foursome coming to the peak of the knoll, Alec, Ginny, Lara and Sam. Sam waved to them. Bruce and Tammi both waved back. Then the others waved. But only one group was smiling. Sam knew that something was wrong the minute he didn't see Val with the youngsters. He started to run and Tammi met him halfway up the slope. She began crying and trying to tell him everything at once, but the words got all tangled up and Sam couldn't make any sense out of it.
Bruce told him.
"We got here seconds too late. The wolves killed Val. She's buried back there. I'm sorry, Sam."
"Val? Dead?" He looked stunned, and then he hung his head in grief. Tammi knew that it was her turn to soothe him and she led him away from the others, calmer now than she'd ever been in her life. Bruce told Alec and his family what had happened.
"Poor Sam," said Ginnie.
"Tough break," said Alec, meaning much more.
"How horrible!" said Lara. "Bruce, I'm so glad you're safe."
"We didn't have any trouble with the wolves. I killed some. Val had killed a couple, I think. There wasn't much left of them, but there was plenty of blood and fur. Com on, let's let them talk it all out. You can get shed of that gear and relax by the fire."
Alec followed his son, proud of him, somehow, even though a life had been lost senselessly. Later, Alec took charge of the stranded party with a firm hand.
"We're going to leave here in the morning," he told them. "I think we stand a better chance of being rescued by that lake where our camp is. You agree, don't you, Sam?"
"Yes. I think Val will be safe here from what Bruce told me about her burial. She won't mind staying here awhile."
"Good. We'll take all the food we can, and secure this camp with a note inside as to our approximate location. In case some trapper or hunter stumbles onto it. Ginnie, you can write that tonight. We'll go back to the other camp and start tramping out a big SOS in the snow on the lake. We'll take your radio back, Sam and see if we can't get one of them to work. I can switch parts and maybe we can come up with something. We can fish through the ice back there and vary our diet. We'll split up into hunting parties so that we can keep our larder full of fresh game."
"Do you think we might be here a long time, Dad?" Bruce asked.
"Maybe. Maybe for the winter. We can all survive, though, if we don't panic. Val shouldn't have died, but she did. I don't think anyone's to blame. She was a good shot, a sensible woman. What happened could have happened to any of us. I figure Val was searching for more shells for her rifle. If she had known where they were she wouldn't have turned her back on that killer pack. Anyway, let her death be a lesson to all of us. Stick together, no one out alone. Got it?"
They all nodded their assent.
"Now," said Alec, sadly, "Let's have a drink for Val and then go to bed. Sam? Will you break out a jug? This is your camp."
Sam grinned. He knew now why Alec was his best friend, and always would be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ginnie knew that she would have to be the one to tell Alec. They had been at the lake camp for over a week since leaving Sam's old camp, and the sexual tension hung in the air like a rubber sheet on a line of white bed linens. Alec had been acting funny lately, too. Sam was not exactly morose, but he acted like a fifth wheel. He looked at her so sadly sometimes that she wanted to cry. Lara, Tammi, and Bruce all walked around as though they were on eggshells. Ginnie put it down to her own guilt, to a touch of paranoia, because she didn't know the extent of the others' sexual involvement with one another. Her naivete may have been a blessing in disguise, however. Alec was feeling guilty over Lara and was about to burst with that guilt when his wife told him her story.
"So, one thing led to another and Bruce and I made love," she finished. Alec sat up. They were in their own tent with the lantern shining brightly. The tents had been re-pitched, in a circle, so that they all faced one another, Indian style, but still gave privacy to the occupants.
"Jesus Christ," he said. "You mean you screwed your own son?"
Ginnie thought there was a twinkle in his eye, but she knew she must be terribly mistaken. Yet, there was a tone to Alec's voice that didn't ring right. He seemed to be mocking her. Not angry, just mocking.
"I don't think it's all that funny," she ventured.
"Funny? Is this your confession, Ginnie? That you committed incest with a great big, strapping, helpless hulk of a boy? That you soiled, no besmirched, the marriage bed by taking your own son under the coverlets and initiating him into the forbidden rites of love? What do you think this is, a fucking nudist picnic?"
Now, Ginnie was sure that her husband was mocking her. Puzzled, she sat up and stared at him.
"What the hell's going on here?" she asked.
Then Alec roared with laughter. He reared back and let out guffaw after guffaw, slapping his knees, rolling around on top of the sleeping bags. Finally, tears rolling down his face, he looked at Ginnie, a sober look appearing in his hazel eyes.
"Ginnie, you sweet precious fool! What in hell did you think I was doing back here when you were losing what was left of your virtue to your son? Do you think you're the only one with sin?"
"I don't get it, Alec. You surely don't mean ... why you were here with Lara. Oh, no!" She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. Alec winked at her. Then, Ginnie broke out in uncontrolled laughter.
"I don't believe it! Alec You and Lara! Oh, yes, I'm a fool. But, you're the biggest one. On the way back here, I had to sleep with Sam, remember? Well ... "
Alec didn't laugh this time.
"Sam? My best friend?"
"Yes. Sam. And, don't look so goddamned prudish. He's still your best friend. These things happen."
Alec looked sheepish.
"But, Sam?" He paused for a long moment. "Yes, of course, Sam. And, why not Sam? Are we, any of us, so pure? We're in a survival situation. Sex is part of survival. Sure, Sam. Good old Sam. You gotta keep warm. Why, we're both damn fools. Sam's been moping around here with no wife, and there're all kinds of comforts he's been missing. Hey, why don't we get him to sleep with us tonight, a three-way deal?"
"No deal, Alee. And how about Bruce and Tammi? They've been making it."
"And Lara and Bruce have been, too," said Alec.
Ginnie's eyebrows went up at that.
"No! Really? How did you find out?"
"Uh-uh, I never reveal trade secrets, Ginnie. All right. Look, we've all been keeping this shit locked up inside ourselves. Don't you think we'd better level with each other. All of us?"
"Maybe. It might help clear the air. I've been so tense this week, I thought I was going to crack like a piece of china. What ever you think best."
"All right. Let's not do this half-assed. Everybody's down, right? Right. Let's throw a little surprise party. Tomorrow night. We'll make our announcements at that time, and see that everyone's paired off. If anyone wants to do any switching at the party, then let it happen."
"Alec, I don't think I can wait till tomorrow night."
"Come on, Ginnie," he said lewdly, "I'll give you a preview."
Two days before, Sam had bagged an elk. Ginnie had shot a deer three days ago, a six-point buck that hung next to the elk on a big hickory limb. The next day, Alec and she cut steaks from the deer and seasoned them. She broke out a couple of packages of dehydrated mashed potatoes, dried mushrooms, two packets of wild rice, several bottles of burgundy, some good bourbon, and a can of peas. They told everyone they were going to have a party in their tent. They were very mysterious about it, and everyone's spirits were raised. Sam and Bruce gathered lots of firewood, Ginnie, Lara, and Tammi made festive preparations. It was a measure of excitement in their lives, since .they had seen no plane come over and Alec hadn't been able to get the radio working right.
That night, everyone drank, at Alec's insistence, and they all pestered him with questions as to the point of the occasion. He was elaborately evasive, and until the delicious supper was over, he didn't give them a hint. When everyone had finished, he stood up. Ginnie passed a bottle of Drambuie around and told everyone to pour a drink and be prepared for a toast, as well as a speech, from Alec Barlowe, president of the North Woods Social and Booze-Guzzling Club.
"Here's to all of us," Alec intoned, "the last human survivors of an ill-fated hunting trip.
Here's to the memory of Val Cassidy and to the perpetuation of the species Baridy, or Cassilowe."
Laughter. Sam wore a puzzled look on his face, but he drank his toast, and waited for the rest of it.
"It has come to my attention," continued Alec, his throat burning from the quaffed Drambuie, "that some members of this club and party have engaged in illicit sexual relations. Now, don't panic. There will be no recriminations. Instead, we honor these indiscretions on this north woods night by baring them, minus their juicy details, in the hopes of a greater sexual understanding between all of us.
"To wit, that one Ginnie Barlowe did have sexual relations with her only begotten son, Bruce, and that she did, thereupon, willfully and wantonly then fuck one Sam Cassidy. Again, to wit."
Sam went white, then began to chuckle. Bruce got the point and laughed. Tammi went rigid until she saw the twinkle in Ginnie's eyes. Lara looked confused.
"To continue," said Alec, "and that Bruce thereupon did also engage in highly illicit sexual explorations with his sister, Lara, and that Lara did thereupon wantonly screw her selfsame father, one Alec Barlowe, cad, no, make that supercad, and that Bruce did get to begat-ting at Tammi, and that Tammi, god knows, may have done all sorts of wild things. Therefore; I do propose that we hereupon shed our collective guilt and get with it. Partner up, or whatever, but let's not go around like a bunch of clods, when some of us, at least, have stepped over certain boundaries that do not here apply."
"Here, here!" said Ginnie. "Another toast."
The bottle was passed and Alec sat down.
"What I'm trying to say, is," he said, "that we came here for an orgy. If you feel you don't already know everyone well enough, say so, and we'll invite the bears in here to join us."
"Wait a minute," said Sam. "It's my turn."
He stood up.
"Alec, Ginnie, members of the club. I have an announcement, a confession, rather, to make. To wit. That I did, indeed, have illicit relations with my best friend's wife. But, more than that, with another young lady who, if she wishes, may remain anonymous. I have not had the pleasure of the other young lady's company, I might add. I toast you all, however, and I'm all for this orgy, whatever it consists of."
There was wild applause as Sam sat down.
"To start things off," said Ginnie, "Let me be the first to bare my bosom."
Ginnie quickly stripped off her clothes and began parading around the warm tent, her breasts flopping as she walked.
"You weren't kidding, were you, Dad," Bruce said.
"Nope," said Alec, beginning to strip. "It's going to be a real old-fashioned, or new-fashioned orgy. Now, as you would say, get with it, lad!"
Sam stripped his clothes off. Tammi joined Bruce, eagerly, and Lara, feeling awkward, finally took her own clothes off.
"Remember, no inhibitions," said Alec. "This is a one-night dealie. Let's not have any wallflowers. Lara, come here."
"Bruce, you take me," said Ginnie.
"That leaves us, Tammi," Sam said, tenderly.
Ginnie took Bruce's cock in her hand and began to stroke it. She went to her knees and took his organ in her mouth and began to suck it. Everyone watched as sexual desires were aroused. Alec massaged his daughter's pussy, then placed her hand on his cock. Sam began kissing Tammi's breasts. She took his cock in her hand and rubbed it against her pussy. Soon, everyone began to relax and concentrate on his or her partner.
Bruce mounted his mother a few moments before his father climbed atop his sister's sensuous body, his cock arcing into her young pussy like a scimitar. Sam brought Tammi down to the sleeping bag and began licking her pussy.
"I know you want Bruce, but this is for fun," he said.
"It's okay, Sam. I want you, too. Really, I do."
"I want you, too, Tam."
She writhed with pleasure as his tongue slithered inside her warm wet cunt. He buried his head between her legs for one last drink, heady with desire. He loved Tammi more than ever now that he had lost her mother, but he wasn't going to kid himself about it. All of this was unexpected, but somehow inevitable. Their passions had been choked off for too long after Val's death. He had been surprised at a lot of the revelations this evening, but not shocked. Alec had done the right thing, somehow. This way, everything was brought out in the open, put up front, as the kids would say. They were all one big family, cut off from everything, but not from each other. Yes, somehow, this evening was right for all of them. The air was cleared. He thought these things as he slid up Tammi's young body and entered her, probably for the last time, too.
Later, Sam found himself with Ginnie, and he was again a man, after giving Tammi everything he had. Still later, he found himself in the delightful arms of Lara, who was drunk with desire. She made him even more of a man than he had been. He sucked her titties and played with her pussy until he was rock-hard. Then she guided his cock into her vibrant cunt and he warmed to her energetic body, her electric flesh. It should be this way, all the time, he said to himself. It should be this way among all people, everywhere.
Bruce had fucked his sister and ended up with Tammi, the best of all. He knew that now. He loved her more than ever. She was warm and sweet to him, glowing beneath him as he plumbed her precious love-pit with his swollen member.
"Bruce," she said, "I told you once that I didn't know if I loved you yet."
"Yes, you said something like that."
"Well, I know now."
"And?"
"And I love you. It sounds like an old Beatles' tune, but it's true. I love you more than I thought possible, more than anything in the world."
"I'm glad. I'm happy. I love you, too."
"Still?"
"Forever."
Alec looked down into his wife's eyes. They were so much like his, hazel, full of gold flecks, dark like an eagle's.
"It's come full circle," he said. "Back together. You and I."
"Yes. It's wonderful. You're the best, Alec The greatest. No other man can satisfy me. Not in the deep, long-lasting way that you do."
"You're my woman, too, Ginnie All the way."
"No regrets?"
"None. How about you?"
"Ah, no, none, really. What dull lives we led, though. Nothing will ever be the same."
"Never, Ginnie. Maybe better, but never the same."
He sank his shaft into his wife's cunt and she came for the thousandth time that night. But this one was for Alec and for herself. It would take her hours to stop shuddering.
Weeks went by, weeks of serenity and pleasure. Then, one day, a plane circled the lake and the lost party waved until the plane dipped its wings twice, then flew away.
"We're going to be rescued," said Alec
"Yes," said Sam. "I have mixed feelings about it."
"So do I," said his partner and friend.
"I'd like to buy this land here, build a place," Alex said solemnly.
"Why don't we? It's a great idea. I'll look it up the first thing when we get back."
"Do that, Sam."
The helicopter arrived the next day. It landed on the edge of the lake in a whirl of snow. The sky was overcast and it was evident that a storm was brewing. Alec and Sam walked out to the chopper, ducking their heads under the whirring propellers. It was a Canadian craft, large enough to take two passengers at a time.
"Higgins here," said the pilot. "Is your party all right?"
"One dead. The rest of us are okay," said Sam.
"I can take two out at once. I think we can get four of you away today. How many in your party?"
"Six," said Alec
"Let's get cracking," said Higgins, the rotors whirring above his bubble.
"Sam, you and Lara go first. I'll check with Ginnie about the rest of us. Okay?"
"Fine with me, Alec. Send her over. I want to talk to the pilot."
Alec knew what he meant. On an angle from their camp, Val lay in a cold snowy grave. Sam would want to make arrangements to get her body transported, later on.
"Ginnie, they're going to lift out Sam and
Lara first. The chopper's from Calgary, it appears. They can come back for two more today. The storm's building pretty fast."
"Let's send Bruce and Tammi out next, then."
"All right." He called Bruce over. Tammi followed. "You two will go on the next flight."
"No, Dad. You and Mom go next. Tammi and I will be okay. Please."
Alec exchanged a look with his wife.
Ginnie shrugged.
"Okay, son. It'll look like hell, though." Bruce laughed.
"Don't tell me you're going to start worrying about public opinion, Dad?"
"No, I guess not," Alec grinned.
They watched the chopper bear away Sam and Lara. They waved. Two hours later, the craft returned and Alec and Ginnie were airlifted away into the teeth of the new storm.
Bruce put his arm around Tammi's waist.
"Well, there they go," he said. "It may be some time before we're rescued. That storm's right down on top of us. Let's get in the tent before it blows us away."
Tammi gave him a squeeze as she put her arm around his waist. They walked back to their tent.
"Wouldn't it be something if we didn't get out until spring?" she asked.
"I wouldn't mind, would you?"
"Not if you make love to me all winter."
"I'll do that," he smiled. "Come on. We can eat later. Let's practice up for the next orgy."
"Oh, Bruce, you're a case!"
He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then he began to undress her. The catalytic heater winked at them from the corner of their tent, throwing its warmth over their naked bodies as they made love.
"You know something," he said, later. "I don't care if they never rescue us."
"Neither do I," said Tammi.
And the wind laughed as it flapped against their tent, unable to break in on their warmth.
