The Shaw Family
Copyright© 2025 by work for nothin
Chapter 5
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A family in an incestuous relationship goes on a camping trip on a hill. While the father and son are out looking for firewood, the mother and daughter disappear without a trace.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Fiction Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter BDSM Interracial Black Male White Male Anal Sex
A soft rustling from the tent broke the serene silence of the camp. Alfred stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He took in the scene before him with a sleepy smile, watching as his wife and children reveled in their newfound intimacy. The scent of sex lingered in the air, a sweet and musky aroma that seemed to have seeped into the very fabric of the earth beneath them.
He sat up with a groan, his cock still rock hard from the erotic display. “Looks like I’m a little late to the morning fun,” he chuckled, his gaze lingering on Claire’s glistening pussy. “But I suppose better late than never.”
Claire giggled, her cheeks flushing with arousal and embarrassment. “We couldn’t wait,” she murmured, her voice a sultry purr that sent shivers down Jake’s spine.
“Let’s not waste any more time, we should get breakfast,” Alfred said, his voice a gruff command that sent a shiver down their spines. “We have a whole day ahead of us, and I intend to make up for lost time.”
They scurried to their feet, the chill of the mountain air hitting them like a slap. They dressed quickly, the mood shifting from one of post-coital bliss to one of purpose. The fire was stoked back to life, and soon the smell of sizzling bacon filled the camp, mixing with the faint scent of their lovemaking.
As they ate, they talked in low tones, their eyes frequently darting towards each other. The incestuous bond between them was no longer a secret, and it hung in the air like a warm embrace. They discussed the day ahead, the hikes they would take, the games they would play. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that the true purpose of the trip was to solidify their newfound love and acceptance.
The food was simple, yet satisfying—eggs, bacon, and toast, all cooked over the open flame. Each bite was a silent affirmation of their unity, a communion that was as natural to them as the act of eating. The sun had fully risen by the time they finished, casting a warm glow over the campground and hinting at the adventures that awaited them.
They packed their gear with a sense of excitement that was palpable, the kind that comes from a night of passion and the promise of a new day. The hike to the edge of the hill was steep, but the challenge invigorated them, pushing their bodies to the limits of their endurance. Their laughter and chatter filled the mountain air, a stark contrast to the quietude of their morning’s activities.
As they climbed, the town of Crestfall grew smaller and smaller, nestled in the valley below like a secret waiting to be shared. Jake couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the place he called home, the place where love knew no boundaries and family was more than just blood.
When they reached the summit, the view was breathtaking. The village looked like a patchwork quilt of rooftops and lush gardens, surrounded by the majestic embrace of the mountains. The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and the distant sound of a babbling stream.
It was there, on the edge of the hill, that they stumbled upon another family setting up camp. Floyd McLeods, Alfred’s old friends from their carefree days, were equally surprised to see them. The men embraced, their friendship as solid as the earth beneath their feet, while the women—Marianne and her daughters, Lila and Tessa—smiled warmly, their eyes sparkling with curiosity at the sight of the newcomers.
The tension was palpable as they exchanged pleasantries, the incestuous bond within the family a silent presence that seemed to charge the air around them. Jake felt his heart race as Marianne’s gaze lingered on him, her expression a mix of knowing and desire. He knew the McLeods were no strangers to the town’s open-minded ways, but the thought of revealing their secret was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Marianne’s daughters, Lila and Tessa, were stunning, their youthful beauty a stark contrast to the mature allure of Claire and Evelyn. The girls looked at them with a blend of curiosity and admiration, their glances lingering on the collar around Evelyn’s neck. It was a symbol of their shared experiences, a declaration of the love and loyalty that bound them all.
The adults quickly fell into an easy camaraderie, their shared history in Crestfall acting as a bridge over the unspoken tension. The children, oblivious to the undercurrents of desire, played together in the sunshine, their laughter echoing through the valley.
“Floyd,” Alfred said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “why don’t we have a little barbecue tonight? Nothing like roasting some meat over an open flame to bring folks together.”
Floyd chuckled, his burly frame shaking slightly with the motion. “You always did know how to throw a good party, Alfred. We’d be delighted to share our campfire with you and your ... lovely family.” His gaze lingered on Evelyn, and Jake could see the hunger in his eyes.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of hiking, exploring, and setting up camp. The families mingled, sharing stories and laughter, their shared secret a silent bond that grew stronger with every shared glance. The children, free from the confines of the village, played together without a care in the world, their innocence a stark contrast to the adults’ hidden desires.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the air grew cooler, and the scent of cooking meat filled the camp. The men had worked together to build a makeshift spit, and the sizzling of the flesh over the fire was a tantalizing promise of the feast to come. The women had gathered berries and greens for a salad, their conversations a mix of small talk and veiled innuendos that had the men’s cocks swelling in their pants.
The campfire grew, the flames reaching for the night sky as darkness descended. The light flickered over the faces of the families, casting shadows that danced like the spirits of the mountain.
Alfred leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye as he began to regale the group with tales of his and Floyd’s youthful adventures. The children, huddled around the fire, listened raptly as their fathers spoke of distant lands and daring escapades. Each story was a thread woven into the tapestry of Crestfall’s rich history, a legacy of love and camaraderie that stretched back generations.
“Remember Uncle Jerry?” Floyd said, a warm smile on his face. “The man could track a rabbit through a hurricane, and catch it with his bare hands.” The children giggled at the thought, their eyes wide with wonder. “But he was always the first to share his catch, a real man of the village.”
The adults grew quiet for a moment, remembering their lost companion. Uncle Jerry had been a staple of Crestfall’s communal life, a man whose laughter could warm the coldest of hearts and whose appetites had been as voracious as the mountain lions that prowled the forests. His passing had been mourned by all, but his spirit remained, a silent guardian watching over their unconventional love.
The whispers grew bolder as the night deepened, the stars above a silent witness to the tales of passion and love that had taken place under their watchful gaze. The children, too young to fully grasp the depth of their fathers’ friendship, were content to listen to the tales of bravery and mischief, their imaginations running wild with the possibilities of what secrets the grown-ups kept.
The stories grew more intimate, the whispers of love and lust weaving through the air like a seductive melody. The adults shared knowing looks, the firelight playing over their skin as they remembered the nights spent in each other’s arms, their desires as boundless as the wilderness around them. The children, sensing the shift in the air, grew quiet, their eyes flicking between their parents, unsure of the secrets being shared.
As the embers of the fire turned to ash, the whispers grew softer, the stories becoming more personal, more sacred. The adults leaned in, their voices low, their eyes filled with a hunger that went beyond the physical. They spoke of the moments that had brought them to this very spot, the moments that had defined their lives and their love for each other.
The night grew late, the stars wheeling above them, and the children began to yawn, their eyelids growing heavy. The adults knew it was time to bring their stories to a close, the fire’s warmth a gentle lullaby that promised more adventures to come. They tucked their offspring into the tent, the soft sounds of their breathing a testament to their innocence and the unspoken bond that held them all together.
With the young ones asleep, Alfred and Floyd leaned back against a log, their eyes reflecting the dying embers. “You know, Floyd,” Alfred began, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the night, “there’s something to be said for the simplicity of our lives here in Crestfall.”
Floyd nodded, the fire casting flickering shadows across his weathered features. “Aye,” he agreed, his eyes on the dark horizon, “nature provides all we need, doesn’t she?” He took a sip from his flask, the whiskey warming his throat. “We’ve never wanted for much, not really.”
“And yet,” Alfred mused, “some folks think we’re poor for not having the trappings of the outside world. But look at us—our bellies are full, our hearts are warm, and our loins...” He let out a low chuckle, his gaze sliding to Marianne, who sat across from them, her legs curled under her. “Well, let’s just say we’re not exactly lacking in that department either.”
Marianne’s cheeks flushed, but she met his gaze with a knowing smile. She reached over and took Floyd’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s true,” she whispered. “The wealth of the mountain is in our hearts, in our love for each other.”
The two men nodded, their eyes meeting over the fading fire. They knew that their town was not for everyone, that the outside world would judge and misunderstand them. But here, in the embrace of the wilderness, they were rich beyond measure.
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