The Compound
Copyright© 2025 by Pete Fox
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Hedonistic prepper nudists, Shoshone trial marriage customs, a group of like-minded families prepare a bug out community in Wisconsin. Government bureaucrats, doctors, former military, farmers, and actors. In the background gain-of-function research, H5N1 influenza, spy games, sex, story progresses to 2020 pandemic over several instalments. Pete, a State Dept employee prepares his cabin and family for what he does not know. Much sex, drama, family fun, 1st POV, NSFW.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft Mult Teenagers Fiction Historical Sharing Incest Exhibitionism Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism Big Breasts Nudism Politics
A Story of Preppers and their Nudist Families
Mazomanie, WI
Family Reunion
I pulled my duffel out of the back of the Beechcraft King Air aircraft that had flown me and my two kids to this small-town Wisconsin airport from our home in Virginia.
Back home, I’m a mid-level State Department employee working in the Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR). Six months ago, I started a one-year hardship tour in East Africa, unaccompanied by my wife and three kids. I had a month back in the States for a mid-tour break for meetings and to spend vacation time with my family. I would make the most of the time.
“Thanks, Chuck,” I said to our pilot as he knelt in the back hatch organizing the luggage.
“Easy flight. Y’all are good clients,” he said, handing my daughter Sydney a large black REI waterproof duffel.
When Chuck wasn’t piloting private clients for a charter company, he flew F-22 Raptors for the Virginia Air National Guard. He handed my son Tommy a large Kelty backpack, and the two lowered a medium-sized wheeled Pelican case to the tarmac.
I shouldered my Gregory daypack and a soft-sided black rifle case - my trusted Weatherby Mark V. Hefting my North Face waterproof duffel, I checked my kids, ensuring we all had our bags.
Sydney’s shoulder-length blonde hair whipped around her face in the wind, eyes protected by gold-tinted Ray-Ban aviators. Like the rest of us, she wore blue jeans and a loose-fitting safari shirt.
Four other passengers were also in the process of retrieving their gear, a family of four that I knew from previous trips to the compound affectionately known as Twin Peaks.
My armpits already felt sweaty as we headed for the parking lot. July in central Wisconsin was warm, in the 80s, and humid. Our white Toyota Land Cruiser, an older late-1990s model, was parked where I expected it.
“Tommy, you drive,” I said.
From my daypack, I took my everyday carry and clipped it to my belt under my shirt, a Sig Sauer P226 pistol in 9mm.
We loaded our luggage, and Tommy retrieved the key from the center console. At sixteen, he was old enough. Sydney sat behind me and handed me a CD.
“Rush, their Moving Pictures album, your favorite,” my daughter said in her sweet voice.
Pulled away from her friends for three weeks, she was being more helpful than usual. I wondered what she wanted. It was approximately a 25-minute drive from the small municipal airport to our destination—our family’s 2000 sq ft cabin in the 70-acre private development.
“Sydney, while we still have a good signal, text your mother and let her know we made it safely,” I said. Good communication was one of the protocols for our particular brand of prepper community. I hated the word survivalist. With my job, being prepared just made sense to me and my family.
The windows were down, and with “Tom Sawyer” booming from the Land Cruiser’s old speakers, we got on the highway.
I was looking forward to taking my clothes off and having a beer before we got busy.
Tommy pulled off the highway and onto a private dirt-and-gravel road. We had three-quarters of a mile to the main gate. A pine board sign, painted in black and red, greeted us. The gate slowly swung open after Tommy entered a 4-digit code on a keypad mounted on a metal post.
Welcome to Black Hawk Commons
Established 1995 - Private
Another mile of dirt and gravel road, and we pulled into the rear of a modern prefabricated A-frame cabin nestled in the rolling hills of the Driftless. An unglaciated region in southwestern Wisconsin with limestone bluffs, natural springs, rolling tree-covered hills, year-round fishing, and ease of access—just a few of the reasons my parents chose this community.
Thankfully, my parents had turned the water and power back on and dropped off the Toyota at the airport.
Sydney was first out, grabbing the door key out of my hand. “I have to pee!”
Through the back door, I turned right and dropped my duffel, rifle case, and daypack on my bed in the master bedroom. Tommy continued into the open plan living area with its vaulted ceiling and loft. The kitchen had a granite-topped island on the right, a modern pot-bellied stove instead of a fireplace, and three beds for the kids, along with other furniture, including a TV and couch.
Sydney exited the bathroom, smiled, and let us get a look. My naked daughter was a very attractive young woman.
“How do I look, Daddy?” she asked, and gave a turn to let me see her ass. At 5’4”, she had an athletic build with a toned physique, a soccer player’s strong, shapely legs, narrow hips, and a firm ass. Her teenage breasts were apple-sized and pink-tipped, with a light tuft of blonde pubes between her legs. I was often reminded of my wife Heidi when I looked at her.
Tommy sat on a stool and was taking off his clothes, eyeing his sister.
Sydney had tan lines, as we all did. The white patches looked better on her.
“You look good,” I said. “But you need to work on your tan.” She looked like her mom, with her chest and blonde hair. She made my cock stir the same way. Not that I had any plans to go down the dark hole those thoughts suggested. But I was a guy and had guy fantasies.
“I will, Daddy,” she said.
“Help your brother unpack. Then we’ll take a photo on the porch while the sunlight is good,” I said.
The photo was a tradition, part of community life, for the message board. Tommy set up the Canon SureShot using a small tripod. All three of us were naked on the screened porch. I was in decent shape. I had been in the Army and stayed fit the best I could by going to the gym.
“Dad, sit in the middle,” Sydney said, taking charge. The picture mattered more to her as people in the community would see it. I sat on the wicker loveseat and stuck out my right arm as Sydney tucked herself tight.
Her warm skin felt nice, her boobs had moved past a training bra and were rushing towards her mom’s C-cup.
“Hold on, Dad.” Unashamedly, Sydney put her hand on my dick and adjusted it. Damn, now it was reacting. “That’s better.”
The kids had been raised in a nudist household. However, practicing outdoors was a rare treat the last few years. My wife took things a step further with sex education, using all of us as teaching moments. So, my daughter suddenly touching my cock wasn’t a huge deal to me.
I reached down and ran a finger through her soft blonde pubes. “It’s coming in nice,” I said, as she opened her legs wider.
My finger continued up her toned stomach. She had flat, quarter-sized nipples on apple-sized breasts. Hard to my brief touch. I took a deep breath and looked at the camera.
“Your touch felt nice, Dad,” she said. Her blue eyes had followed my hand, trusting, her breathing changed even as I pulled my hand back, my own heart racing. It had been six months since I last touched her.
No words came to me, my throat dry.
I have an average-sized cock, nothing to be ashamed of, and I have trimmed my dark pubes. It had gotten thicker, blood flowing, as we sat waiting on Tommy. No small talk.
“Dad, ready?” Tommy said. I nodded. My arm over Sydney’s shoulders, hand close to her pink-tipped boob. The red light flashed faster, the timer ticked down, and I smiled. Tommy had a visible chub as he sat next to me.
Next, we took stock of what we had. It would be a week before my wife and youngest daughter joined us. My wife knew bonding with the kids was important to me and gave me some space with the two oldest while they went and visited her parents. Sydney took inventory in the pantry while Tommy and I checked the cabin’s detached garage, which also doubled as a workshop, making lists.
My parents had jetted off to Panama for the week, after opening the cabin and dropping off the Toyota. My dad, the Ambassador, was being paid to speak at a Bitcoin conference. I didn’t know much about it, but it sounded fishy. Dad and Mom would pick up Heidi and Grace at Chicago International Airport on Sunday and bring them to Black Hawk Commons.
In the village, pop. 1,652, we had Subway-style sandwiches and went to the small grocery store. Sydney, doing her best to act like her mom, shopped healthy yet fun. Things for breakfast and lunch, coffee, milk, plus ice cream, hamburgers and buns, diet soda, and beer for me to name a few items that filled six paper bags. Though I brought a couple of bottles of good sipping whisky for the evenings.
We dropped our groceries off back at the cabin. Leaving our clothes, carrying towels and books, we jumped in the Gator ATV, having decided to head down to the pool. First stop was the reception desk at the single-story community building. A wood and limestone structure that blended in with the surrounding pine trees. It was used for communal dining, meetings, and housed the Commons’s business office. There was also a swimming pool, a large sauna, a sand volleyball court, and an armory in the inner compound.
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