Buck Fever

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Epilogue

Chapter Six

The kids found out how much work it is to harvest meat. Bob mentioned, at the outset, that all their pioneer ancestors knew all about this process, at an age even younger than they were.

First, he made them decide whether to do the job with the buck on the ground, where they would have to pull all the innards out through a slit down the belly. He also gave them the choice of hanging the deer up and letting all that gooey mess just drop out on the ground.

They chose plan B, of course. Without thinking about what would be involved in hoisting a hundred and sixty pound dead weight up into the air.

Once they sweated through that, which involved someone pulling on a rope slung over a tree branch, while the others lifted the weight as well as they could, then it was time to make the incision through which all the unwanted stuff would be allowed to fall. Randy wanted to take a shot at it, so Bob handed him the skinning knife.

Randy found out how tough rib bones are and, when Bob finally told him where the cartilage was, he used a bit too much force and rammed the knife hilt deep into the chest. Then he pulled hard in a downward direction, and before he had any idea what was going to happen, the knife (and his arm) were buried elbow deep in the belly of the beast. When he jerked it out on pure instinct, entrails decorated his arm like bling on a pimp.

Mallory promptly puked, and it was a close thing for Sam, who heaved twice, but got it under control. Randy just stared at the steaming mass that coated his arm.

"Shit!" he expostulated.

Bob calmly showed him how to complete the cut and the pointed out the various organs that began spilling out of the carcass and into a gelatinous pile on the ground.

It took Bob five full minutes to convince the girls to reach, grasp some ribs, and pull to open the cavity so Randy could finish reaching in to cut here and there, until, at last, the final bits fell with a splat on top of the others.

"I am not eating this deer," groaned Mallory.

"You might as well," said Bob. "You're earning the choice bits."

"Please don't tell us we have to eat the heart, or something like that," moaned Sam.

"Best part," said Bob. There were groans all around. He hid a smile. "I'm just saying ..."

"What now?" asked Randy.

"If you're going to keep the head, then we either drag him by that back to camp, or we quarter him here and come back for the head later," said Bob.

"Keep the head! Why?" asked Mallory.

"To have it mounted, so you can put it on your bedroom wall," said Bob.

"Yeah, I can see that happening. There I am trying to go to bed, and this deer is staring down at me from the wall, reminding me that I killed it."

"If you're not going to keep it, then we can cut that off and leave it here. We cut the legs off too, unless you want to keep the hooves to make a gun rack or something like that."

"I'm not even going to ask," sighed Sam.

“Then we skin it, butcher it, and wrap the meat in the hide, using it like a stretcher. It goes in the cooler and ages until we can get home and finish the job, wrapping things up in freezer paper and putting it in the freezer for later."

"Gee, that's all?" Randy looked at his blood and offal soaked sleeve.

"Until we kill another one," said Bob, smugly.

"And you've been doing this every year for as long as I can remember ... alone?" Sam sounded like she couldn't decide if he was a superman, or insane.

"And you've been helping me eat the meat all that time," said Bob.

"You should at least keep the horns, Mal," said Randy.

"They're antlers," Bob corrected him.

"Yeah, the antlers," said the boy.

"We can cut those off with the saw while we're butchering," said Bob.

"How long are we staying again?" asked Randy.

"The rest of the week," said Bob.

"I can't stay like this for the rest of the week. I have to take a shower or something."

"It will have to be or something," said Bob. "We don't have enough fresh water to bathe in."

"He has to take a shower," said Mal. "No way am I sleeping with him tonight if he doesn't."

"What?" Randy perked up.

"Never mind," said Mallory. "It was just an idea Sam and I talked about. Not happening, though."

"Wait!" Randy looked frantic, and not because he was blood soaked. He looked at Bob. "You said, it could be or something. What else is there?"

"Well, there's a pond over that way half a mile," said Bob, pointing north."

"And when were you going to tell us about this?" Mallory sounded outraged.

"When you needed to know," said Bob. "Randy needs to know."

It was amazing to Bob how much difference it made in their attitudes when the girls found out there was a way to take a bath after all.

Bob hadn't brought the tools needed to butcher a deer, since he hadn't anticipated needing them that day. So he sent Randy back to the camper to get them and talked the girls through skinning the carcass while he was gone.

Two hours later the meat was packed in the hide, which was tied with ropes that had loops hanging off that could be used as handles. Sam had dug a shallow pit beside the entrails and used the entrenching tool blade to scoop them into their burial hole. The head sat off to one side. Mallory wasn't sure what she wanted to do with that. She was interested in the antlers, but not the rest of the head. Bob said he'd tell her about the options for that later.

An hour after that, with filthy, bloody clothing abandoned everywhere, the hunting party was skinny dipping.

Bob didn't even make them be quiet. They already had a deer, after all.

Another thing that Bob found both amazing and interesting, was that there was relatively little hanky panky while they splashed in the pond.

There were some hugs, and a few kisses as well. At one point the girls swapped partners, kissing each man over and over. It was billed as an exercise in deciding who was the better kisser, but Bob was pretty sure that was just an excuse. Or maybe something to think about more pleasant than what they'd just had to do.

A few feels were copped, but nothing serious. Both males had erections, which got squeezed, but that was about it. If a father experiencing his daughter gripping his boner can be viewed as being "mundane," of course.

Nobody wanted to put on their wet clothing, which had been washed as clean of blood as they could get it so, other than shoes, they wore nothing back to the camp site. Had it been a few degrees cooler, Bob wondered what they would have done.

Once back at camp, though, the girls said they were going to get dressed immediately, even though Randy tried his best to get them to stay au naturale. He finally followed them into the camper.

Bob, deciding it would be a bit crowded in the camper, reached into the bag he'd taken to the tree stand with him and retrieved a T shirt from it. Then he pulled out his long underwear bottoms and pulled them on before slipping into a pair of moccasins. He set to work to get the campfire going again. He stood up after lighting the kindling to find Sam standing to one side, watching him. Mallory and Randy were nowhere to be seen and he wondered briefly if they'd taken up where the buck had interrupted them.

"Aren't you the fashion plate," she said, smiling.

"Yeah," he said. "I haven't had to try impressing a woman for a while. I guess I just got used to it."

"Lucky I'm not after you for your looks," she said, grinning.

He sat down in a lawn chair, which he had decided would hold a lot more than they'd originally thought.

"C'mere," he said, patting his knee.

"That won't hold us both, Daddy," she said.

"Just sit on my knee," he said.

She did, doing so sideways.

"What are you after me for?" he asked, his voice serious. He was remembering what she'd asked him before they heard Mallory shooting the deer. They hadn't had a chance to talk about that since then.

She looked away.

"That's hard to explain," she said, evasively.

"Try," he said, but it wasn't said unkindly.

She still didn't say anything. He let her have time to think.

"It's a bunch of things," she said, finally.

He kept quiet. The ball was in her court now. Finally she went on.

"Some of it has to do with how I felt about you before this trip. Some of it is because I look at you differently now." She shook her head. "I can't do this. I don't even know myself why I'm acting this way."

He decided to dig down farther.

"Why did you ask me if you could sleep with me tonight?"

Again, she looked away.

"Part of it is because I remember how safe and warm I felt when I was a little girl and you let me crawl in bed with you," she said.

"Are you afraid of something now?" he asked.

"No. Not really. I mean life is kind of scary right now, but that isn't anything I can't deal with."

"So ... what's the rest of it?" he asked.

She frowned. "You know, most guys wouldn't ask questions if a girl said she wanted to sleep with them."

"I'm not most guys," he said. He gave a mental swallow and said what he didn't want to say, but knew he should. "I'm your father."

"You think I don't know that?" She looked right at him now. "It's not for sex, if that's what you're worried about."

"That doesn't make any sense at all," he said.

"Why not? It's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"

"Look, Sam. I want you to talk to me and tell me how you feel. That's all. I don't want you to be politically correct, or sugar coat things. I just want to know what you're thinking. And I hope you'll let me communicate the same way."

She sat and thought for a while.

"Listening to Mal last night drove me crazy," she said, softly.

"Jealousy?"

"I didn't think so. But it was obvious she was having a great time, and for me, it wasn't that way."

"It helps if you really like the person you're doing that with. Really like him."

"Oh, I love Randy. Really. He's said he was going to marry me since we were four or five. And that was fine with me. Of course there have been times since then that I felt differently, but most of the time I can't think of another boy I'd even think about letting touch me. There's only one other man I love more and that's you."

"So what was wrong last night?"

"I think part of it was because I've been telling him no for so many years that when I finally let him do it, I felt like I was doing something wrong. I didn't think it would, but it did."

"That's normal. Sometimes newlyweds even feel guilty about having sex on their honeymoon."

"I've always felt like it would be wrong to let him do that. That's why I never did."

"Wrong because you're cousins?"

"No. I don't care about that. But we were too young. And I might get pregnant. And we'd get in trouble if anybody found out. There were lots of reasons."

"And you let Mal bully you into letting him, and, because your heart wasn't in it, it didn't work," said Bob.

"Something like that. Except I wanted to do it. I really did."

"Because you were mad at me," suggested Bob.

"I didn't think so then ... but ... now I think you're right," she said.

"And you want to sleep with me tonight so Mallory can't?"

Her eyes opened wide.

"No! I wouldn't do that. She really loves you!"

"So are both of you going to sleep with me tonight?" He wanted to grin, but didn't, just to see what she'd do.

"Mal told me you might really be a pervert," said Sam. "Was that what she was talking about?"

"No," said Bob. "Never mind. So why do you think you want to sleep with me?"

"I want to be close to you. I want to feel special. I want to feel like Mal sounded like she felt last night. It's hard to explain."

"I think I understand," he said. "But you said it wasn't for sex, and that had a lot to do with what Mal sounded like last night."

"I know that. But I also know we shouldn't do that. Kissing you is one thing, but that? Before this week, I would have said, 'Ewwww' at the very idea, but now I don't feel that way any more, and that's what I don't understand. I just know we're not supposed to do that kind of thing."

"Like you knew you weren't supposed to do that with Randy in the past," he said.

"Yeah. Like that."

"Okay, then, we won't have sex."

"I can't believe you even said that," she sighed.

"Me either," he said. "But things have changed. That was then and this is now."

"Okay. So I can still sleep with you tonight?"

"Sure. There's always room in my bed for my little girl."

"You want to know something crazy?"

"Sure."

"I actually kind of feel like a little girl right now. Isn't that crazy?"

Unwanted, the vision of Randy on top of Sam, plunging his teenage boner in and out of her no-longer-virgin pussy rushed into his head, reminding him that she was no little girl.

"Life is crazy," he said. "Now, get up so I can start cooking. Go tell Mallory to stop fucking Randy and remember what I told her about birth control this morning."

"What?"

"Just do that. It will be funny," he said.

She was almost to the camper when he called out a final comment.

"When you tell her to stop, don't use the word 'fucking'. I made her promise not to use that word anymore."

Sam just rolled her eyes and opened the door to go in.

While Sam went into the camper, Bob hurried to open the cooler and slice off four slabs of fresh deer meat. Digging into the other cooler, he got out the makings for hobo stew, wrapping tin foil around a slab of meat with a potato and carrots on top of it. He had tossed all four packets into the coals of the fire when the kids trooped out.

"We weren't having sex!" said Mallory. "We were talking!"

"I bet you were talking about having sex," he said, smiling.

"I told you," said Sam. "He knows what we're thinking. I don't understand how, but he knows."

"So, talking about it is better than doing it, right?"

"Mallory, I know that's not how you feel about this. Why are you trying to snow me?"

"I told you," said Sam again, sounding triumphant.

"Oh, go away," groused Mal.

"Uncle Bob?"

"Yes, Randy."

"Is what we're doing okay?"

"You mean you and my daughter, or you and your sister?"

"Both," he said.

"Understanding that this is a very unusual situation, I would normally recommend to any young person to wait until they were over eighteen to start thinking seriously about having sex. I'd also tell you having sex with your sister is a bad idea. But I also have to take into account the background that the three of you share. To that end, I am trying to convince myself that, if all of you are willing participants, and you understand and are willing to live with any unplanned consequences, then what consenting almost adults do on this campout is their business."

"That means he's okay with it," said Mallory.

"That means I'm pretty sure I can't do anything about it," said Bob.

"What are you cooking?" asked Mallory, when she saw Bob poke one of the hobo stew packets with a stick.

"Hobo stew," he said.

"What's that?"

"Meat, potato, carrots and a little onion, wrapped up in that tin foil. It's baking in the coals."

"Sounds good, but won't it burn? It's right in the hot part of the fire."

"That's what makes it work," said Bob. "It's like baking a potato, except you put other stuff in with it."

"I hope it's done soon. I'm starving."

"You can help make the cobbler we're going to have for dessert," he said.

"How?"

Bob sent the other two off to bring in more firewood while he taught Mallory how to make the crust and mold it against the bottom and sides of the cast iron Dutch oven. Then he opened two cans of cherries and dumped them in while she made another layer of crust to lay on top.

Five minutes later the Dutch oven was buried in coals right next to the hobo stew.

Supper was a big success. When the kids peeled the foil open and found steaming, tender edibles inside, they dove in without asking what kind of meat it was. Bob didn't tell them. He had already decided to wait until later to inform Mallory she'd already eaten some of her kill. The cobbler, when it was dragged from the fire and opened, bubbled merrily through fissures in the top crust. It, too, was perfectly done and soon it was half gone.

"Anybody want to roast marshmallows again tonight?" asked Randy, who scooped another spoonful of cobbler in his bowl.

"I'm stuffed," groaned Mallory.

"Me too," said Sam, patting her stomach.

"None for me," said Bob. "We have an early day tomorrow. I'm going to hit the hay."

"How early?" asked Sam.

"We need to be up around four and in the stands by five," he said.

All three teens made noises of discontent.

"You wanted to come," said Bob, cheerfully.

"Randy, we need to talk," said Mallory.

"What about?"

"Sam isn't going to sleep with you tonight."

"Oh," he said. "Can I ask why?" He sounded more concerned than upset.

"Of course," said his sister. "Because I'm going to sleep with you tonight."

"I can live with that," he said. "I was afraid maybe she was mad at me or something."

"I'm not mad at you, Randy," said Sam.

"That's good. I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"I'll try not to disappoint you in the future by getting upset about anything," said Sam, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I love you. You know that. And if you're mad that means I did something wrong or hurt your feelings or something. I don't want to do any of those things, especially hurt your feelings."

"You didn't hurt my feelings. I'm sorry if I've been a little distant today. I've just had a lot to think about."

"You're telling me?" said Randy. "A lot has happened. This has already been the best week of my life and it isn't even half over yet."

"Do all men think with their balls?" asked Mallory.

Randy looked at her with confusion on his face. Bob just said, "Yes, Mallory, we do."

"I'm going to bed too," said Sam, standing up. She looked at her father.

"Us too," said Mallory, who also stood and reached to tug at her brother's jacket sleeve.

"Dishes first," said Bob.

All three teens groaned again.

There was almost no sound as the four of them removed clothing and crawled into bed. Again, the only light inside the camper was provided by the night light, but as the fire had been down to just coals when they ate, and was emitting even less light as they heated water to wash the dishes, their eyes were already mostly adapted to the darkness when they had entered the camper.

Had there been any disinterested observers, they might have noted that, in addition to the lack of chit chat, the pairs for this night did not let their eyes stray from their partners. That disinterested observer might have expected both men to eyeball both naked girls, but they did not. Eerily, it was as if each couple was alone in the camper.

That lasted only until each pair was actually in bed.

There, again against what most people would have wagered, the talking started up again. And, it being very quiet in the camper, it was impossible that each couple could keep everything they said private from the other.

The first voiced heard at a level loud enough for everyone to hear was Mallory, who said, "Slow down, Randy! This isn't a race."

"I wish I'd have thought to say that," whispered Sam, who was cuddled up with her father. They were stretched out in the cab-over sleeper, rolled up against each other face to face. Somehow, her head had gotten oriented with her face even with his chest, but rather than scoot up, she just pressed her face into his skin and draped her arm over his rib cage. One of his arms was stretched out just above her head. He had placed it there in anticipation of her lying on top of it, and when she ended up in a different position, he just left it there for personal comfort. His other hand found its way to the roundness of her hip.

He was erect. That had happened as he watched her get undressed, thinking about what might happen when they were in the sleeper. Oddly, he didn't have firm plans about that. She had said, "Not for sex" and in an incomprehensible way, he felt like he could live with that. He had also agreed they wouldn't have sex. Just being together on a vastly more intimate level seemed like it would be enough to satisfy him. He had always liked cuddling with her mother.

He thought of Valerie briefly. She wouldn't have understood how this could happen. Nor would she have been able to do anything other than scream about it. But she had abandoned them, abandoned him, left his bed. She no longer had any say in who filled it.

He gave a mental grimace as he realized that line of reasoning wasn't valid. Valerie was still Sam's mother and even a mother who abandons her daughter has the moral right to object to the father abusing said daughter.

Except this wasn't abuse. There was not, in fact, even a shred of abusive behavior involved. Bob hadn't enticed her, or threatened her, or cajoled her. He hadn't tricked her or drugged her. He hadn't even seduced her.

He was not actually quite sure how to characterize what was happening.

For the moment, though, what was happening was "nothing", understanding that all such terms are relative.

He pushed all thoughts of negativity out of his mind. He might not know exactly what was happening, or why, but what he did know was that it wasn't negative. Not for any of them. And right now, they were the only four people in the world.

Such is the Daoist acceptance of changing circumstances.

"Randy!" came Mallory's plaintive voice.

"What?" Even at the other end of the camper, Sam and Bob could hear him panting.

"There are two of us here," Mal said.

"Duh. I know that. I can feel you."

"All you're trying to do is get off. You're always impatient about that. But you can get off any time. We both know that. Right now you need to pay attention to what I need."

"Oh. Okay."

Sam snuggled, rubbing her breasts into Bob's chest.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she whispered.

"Me either," he said.

"I never wanted to do this with you before," she said.

He couldn't think of a reply that seemed appropriate to the situation, so he just kept silent.

"But right now I can't believe I haven't been doing this with you for years."

"Really." It wasn't a question. Rather it was an expression of surprise.

"Really," she sighed. "I love this."

"I'm glad," he said, stroking her hip. His fingers ran over the edge of her butt cheek in the process.

"It felt crazy when Randy was touching me last night," said Sam. "But right now, it feels like this is the most normal thing in the world."

"I've always touched you," said Bob.

"Yes, but not sexually."

"True," he said.

"That's better," came a long, extended sigh of appreciation from Mallory. "Keep doing that."

Sam's hand left his ribs and strayed slowly to search for his erection. She kissed his chest while she did so, and despite the fact that her hand seemed to move in a slow and almost hesitant manner, Bob somehow knew that it wasn't because she actually was hesitant. She was just taking her time.

Once she found it, a sound issued from her throat that made Bob's nut sack tighten. She'd gripped him in the pond, but only briefly, teasing, rather than seriously.

Now she touched him seriously.

"This made me," she whispered.

"It did," he said. "I'm really glad about that."

She squeezed it, and now wiggled up until her face was even with his. This entailed her figuring out where to put her right arm as she lay on top of his left one. Her left hand never let go of his bone, though.

Mallory started making noises.

"She's going to cum," whispered Samantha. "I know those sounds."

"So do I, now," said Bob, and then wondered if that was wise.

"You rang her bell last night," said Sam.

"I tried," he admitted.

"I was so jealous."

"You don't need to be jealous. You know I love you more than anything else in this world."

"Yes. I do. But I wanted to feel like she was feeling, and I don't think Randy knew how to do that."

"Of course not. It was his first time too, remember?"

Her hand squeezed his rod again.

"Of course I do. But Mal kept moaning and screaming for what seemed like an hour. Randy only went a minute and then he was done."

"He can be taught how to improve that," said Bob.

Mallory had her orgasm. It sounded different than when she'd been under Bob, mostly because this time she cursed like a sailor.

"I think that's what Mal's doing tonight," said Sam. "We talked about all this today and she said she had some ideas."

"And how about you. Do you have any ideas?"

"About this?" she squeezed again. "About us?"

"Yes."

"Oh, yeah," she said. "But they're so new it's all jumbled up in my head."

"We don't have to do anything," said Bob.

"Yes we do," she said. "We at least have to do what we're doing right now. I don't think I'm going to be able to live without doing this from now on."

The idea that his daughter might start sleeping in his bed with him on a regular basis made his nut sack tighten again.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?"

"Your cock ... your penis ... it, like jumped."

"It was approving of the concept of making this a habit," he said.

Her response was to kiss him again. It was very much like their first lover's kiss. It lasted a long time and there was a lot of movement and tongue involved. He hadn't just lain with a woman and made out with her like this for a very long time, much longer than when he'd last had marital relations with Valerie. She'd been more interested in having a lot of sex, rather than slow, intimate sex.

He'd always suspected that was one reason she'd been drawn to Brad. He was a satyr himself, at least according to a comment Lucy had made one New Year's Eve, about two years after Brad and Valerie had run off together. Lucy had had a snoot-full and had been sitting on the couch with her head laid back. Bob had toasted her and sighed, "Happy New Year. Not like the old days, huh?" She had muttered, "You got that right. If this was the old days, Brad would have nailed me at least three times already tonight, and been waiting to hit it again as soon as the ball dropped."

She'd asked him to dance with her, and as he did so, the image of Brad "hitting it" with her caused his penis to inflate. He'd contrived to stumble and pulled away, saying he was too drunk to dance and would probably step on her feet.

That subject hadn't come up again, at least not that frankly. Lucy and Bob had always been close, and when their mates deserted them, it was only natural that they rely on each other in moving forward. And, because they already knew each other so well, their relationship had already been close to that of a married couple. Except there was no sex. There was the normal intimacy of hugs and warm words, but their relationship was appropriately chaste. He'd felt urges to try to make things less chaste, but the desire not to wreck the friendship was stronger than his lust. He could always just think about something more while he stroked his member until it erupted. He avoided telling Lucy he wanted more because he was sure she didn't. She was conservative ... correct ... a straight arrow.

Which was why Bob knew what Lucy's opinion would be if she knew he was lying naked with her niece, said niece's hand wrapped firmly around his leaking erection while she kissed him like they were married.

But Lucy wasn't there. And what his sister-in-law didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

So he kissed her niece back ... like they were married, and didn't think about why he was characterizing Sam as Lucy's niece, instead of as his daughter.

There were more curses from the rear of the camper, loud enough that it distracted Bob and Sam from their incestuous kiss. Both moved to look out of the sleeper. What they saw was Randy, on top of his sister, pounding her for all he was worth. Her legs were wrapped around his back as she thrust up at him.

"Harder you prick!" she squealed. "I'm gonna cum again. Don't you dare squirt yet. I'm not finished!"

"Shit," whispered Sam. "I've never seen her like this."

"She and I had a long talk last night about the importance of good communication between lovers," said Bob.

"She sure took that to heart," said Sam. "But how can he still be going? Last night we barely got started and then I thought he was having a seizure or something."

"I think you drive him a little crazy," said Bob, patting her ass. "And you made him wait so long that once he had the green light, he burned rubber, so to speak."

"Oh," she said.

"His relationship with Mallory is different," said Bob. "And she's demanding things from him that you didn't know you could last night."

"This is all so much more complicated than I thought it would be," said Sam.

"Adult relationships are incredibly complicated," said Bob. "That's why all us adults want all you kids to wait to have sex until you reach adulthood."

"Are you saying you still want me to wait to have sex?"

Bob smiled in the dark. He knew that was a rhetorical question.

"It's different when the couple already know each other intimately before they have sex," he said.

"I know," she said. "Now ... where were we?"

They re-oriented. Sam got her hand locked around his rampant prick again, having lost that grip while they looked to see what the fuss was with Mal and Randy. This time, Bob put a hand on one of her heavy breasts and this time, while their tongues dueled in sensual play, he worked on the nipple until it was long and firm.

"I like that," she whispered into his mouth as each took a breath.

He pushed her away and she rolled onto her back. She didn't complain, knowing somehow that this was for her own benefit.

When his mouth descended on her nipple and he gently suckled it, she moaned.

He lifted his lips from the turgid nubbin.

"Has Randy ever done this?"

"Yes," she panted.

"Mallory?" he asked, with sudden inspiration.

"Yes," she admitted without shame.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," she huffed. "You're almost as good at it as Mal."

He went back to work on her nipples, moving from one to the other while his fingers moved to her abdomen and traced figure eights around her navel. Eventually he moved his fingers past the narrow strip of pubic hair she had left when she got ready for her own bikini. Her legs opened for him and his fingers found already wet, slippery labial folds. He only briefly teased her clit, getting a frantic sound from her throat.

Before he penetrated her, he moved his lips to hers again. Some dim part of his mind didn't want her to make noises, like Mallory was making noises. Perhaps that part of his mind didn't want the others in the camper to hear her pleasure. It was too private, something only he and she should share.

When he did slide his finger deep into her for the very first time, putting pressure on her clit as he did so, air whistled through her nostrils as her chest heaved. Her hips bucked up off the bed, welcoming his finger as it went in and searched to find and rim her cervix, like it had searched for another cervix the night before.

Her strangled groan as his fingertip pushed at the tightly closed mouth of her womb couldn't be muffled.

For some reason, he was suddenly in a hurry, at least insofar as coaxing an orgasm from his daughter.

He didn't have to coax. All it took was sliding his finger in and out several times and using the pad at the bottom of his fingers to maul her clit, and her body convulsed like she was a bull rider at a rodeo.

Her mouth slid off of his as her face assumed a rictus most observers would have interpreted as caused by pain.

Then her face relaxed and she rolled, grasping at his shoulder as, with his finger still embedded in her, she pushed her face into his chest just below his chin, and sighed.

"Oh, Daddy."

"I love you, Princess," he whispered.

She raised her face, still panting deeply.

"I don't want to be your princess any more, Daddy."

He didn't know what to do with his finger, which was still clamped firm by her now sticky pussy. He wiggled the tip without conscious thought.

"I want to be your queen, now," she said.

A strangled cry filled the camper, wafting from the rear to the front.

It was Randy's voice, and he sounded like he was dying.

But both Bob and Sam knew he was only shooting off in his lover, filling her young womb with his virile spunk, breeding her at the urge of Mother Nature, who didn't care whether she was his sister or not.

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