The Compound
Copyright© 2025 by Pete Fox
Chapter 13
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - 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. 3 Parts.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft Mult Teenagers Fiction Historical Sharing Wife Watching Incest Group Sex Exhibitionism Lactation Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism Big Breasts Nudism Politics
Thursday – 2nd Week
Fun Day
Jo looked comfortable in the Adirondack chair, and much sexier than I this morning, with my old Oakley sunglasses protecting her eyes from the early morning sun, a heavy white coffee mug in her right hand.
“Pancakes or waffles?” Kate, my mom, stepped onto the broad porch that encircled the front and sides of my parents’ rustic split-level cabin.
I looked at our guest. Jo smiled. “Thank you, Kate. Pancakes, please,” she answered politely.
“Waffles?” Mom asked. I nodded. Never been a pancake guy. Despite the late night, I felt refreshed this morning.
Wearing a white apron, Mom walked around the deck, checking in with everyone. Sydney was next to Jo, settled on a chaise lounge with a beach towel over her legs. Aviators on, iPod earbuds in, she sipped orange juice and stared into the distance. Beside her, Dad read yesterday’s Wall Street Journal, a cup of coffee nearby, an SF Giants baseball hat, black and orange, 2010 World Series Champs embroidered on the sides, perched on his head. She’d apparently spent the night here at my parents’, along with Tommy and his trial-wives, Gwen and Bethany.
I’d woken earlier to a text message informing me breakfast was at my parents’ house. The four of us quickly showered and piled into Julie’s Subaru. I took the back seat with Jo, feeling every bump as we bounced along the gravel and dirt road.
Last night in the kitchen of Julie’s two-bedroom cabin, having left the party at the Wilsons’ house with Jo and Grace. I poured from a bottle of expensive Scotch, Macallan 18 Year Sherry Oak Cask, a gift from her agent. Nurse Julie wasn’t home; she’d been texting on her work BlackBerry when we left the party.
After we each had a drink, Grace had just a smidgen, making a cute face, and we adjourned to the bedroom. Grace, acting her age, was full of questions about Jo’s movies as we got comfortable on top of the covers. Jo answered all of Grace’s questions as best she could, then shyly suggested I could try putting my cock in her ass, if I wanted. She heard Beverly’s comment about anal. Jo spilled a secret; she first tried anal sex at her private acting high school, a birth control alternative they’d heard of. Since then, she only did it a couple of times as an adult and was open to doing it again, now that she’d met me and felt safe.
Mom called us inside to eat. I could smell freshly baked bacon as I followed Dad inside.
Last night, after we had a long group kiss, touching and rubbing each other, Jo pulled out a little egg-shaped sex toy that she used on Grace. I buried my face in Jo’s beautiful pussy as Grace moaned, the vibrator buzzing.
A slim paperback book, The Arden Dictionary of Shakespeare Quotations, containing lines and quotes from Shakespeare’s plays, lay on the nightstand. Jo suggested we try a game she’d played with theatre friends in London. Find the Bard’s best line to match how we were feeling while in bed having sex. I must have had a wary look on my face. “I’m not a prude, you must know that by now,” Jo said as she tugged on my cock.
Buzzing from good Scotch, among the many lines we tried. I chose a quote from Macbeth, “Come, let me clutch thee,” I said in my best English thespian voice as I pressed my cockhead against her lubed butthole. From memory, Jo said, “I am your own forever,” her small, round ass spread in front of me.
Grace wasn’t immune, coltish legs open, holding the book, the buzzing egg’s tip pressed against her little bud, her face flushed from the liquor and Jo’s oral skills.
“I am thy lady’s,” she said, stumbling over the phrase, out of breath, tossing the book on the bed, both hands reaching for Jo’s blonde hair. “Nice, Twelfth Night, good choice,” Jo mumbled, sucking juices from Grace’s hairy slit, pressing her lubed butthole against my engorged cockhead.
What a night. We slept hard. I sort of woke and checked the time when Julie lifted the sheet, slid into bed next to me, put my hand between her heavy breasts, pushing her thick ass against my groin, and cocked her top leg. I gave her what she wanted, then slept again.
At the breakfast table, Heidi and Grace were placing plates of food on the long table. Tommy pushed himself off a couch where he lay with Gwen, looking at a magazine. Soldier of Fortune, by the looks of the cover, Dad and I both subscribe.
I sat down next to Bethany and across from Sydney. I wore shorts, except for those in the kitchen, everyone was topless, Gwen and Tommy naked.
“How was it, sleeping here last night?” I asked Sydney as I picked up a piece of bacon. She’d pushed her sunglasses up on her head into her freshly braided hair.
Her blue eyes held mine. “Daddy, you know I like to cuddle with Grandpa. Next time, please take me with you, okay,” she said, glancing at Jo. I’d seen hurt in her eyes, I think.
I reached across the plate of bacon, taking her hand. “Sorry. I saw you with Kurt and wanted to let you make your own choice,” I said to my fourteen-year-old. Realizing my mistake now, she was still young.
Now a smirk. “Thank you, Daddy. Kurt offered to teach me how to milk a cow. He’s pulled on my titties so many times; I know he’s an expert and said sure,” she teased, smooth, a foot on my calf under the table, a slight jiggle of her perfect tits just for me. “A girl needs to know these things,” she said, turning to Rusty, the Irish Setter, who was patrolling the table, dropping a piece of bacon in his jaws.
Those around us laughed, hearing her comment, including my dad. The conversations got louder as we ate, slurped juice, and drank more coffee. Heidi sat on my right, her hand in my lap under the table. We were able to joke about Ben. Jo told another Hollyweird story, and Julie was telling Grace and Gwen about her busy night, sending a patient to the hospital with possible appendicitis. I understood Sydney slept with my parents last night, which didn’t mean sex; Mom had her rules. At the same time, Tommy and his wives used a guest bedroom. Julie had a late call out, which was clear. She’d slid into bed with us about 1 a.m. by my watch. The only person I missed seeing this morning was Tanya.
After breakfast, I found my dad in his office, brushing his dark blue Union officer’s uniform coat. The silver eagles on the shoulders and nine brass buttons down the front are the only decorations. On the desk, next to dad’s ancient IBM Selectric typewriter, was a tall black felt Hardee hat adorned with a brass infantry bugle badge.
“What are you up to, Dad. Another Iron Brigade battle?” I teased him. As a member of the 2nd Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, a Civil War reenactment group, he was always attending events during the summer.
“Next battle is in August. Your mom and I are going to Madison tomorrow and will be back Saturday for the fashion show. I’m working at the Veterans Museum as part of their Civil War program. 150 years since the start of the war, a lot of interest. Wisconsin boys were in the thick of the fighting from the beginning. I’ll do a little show and tell with some of the boys,” Dad said, proud of his adopted state’s history.
“Cool. You know we have a lot of those types of events in Virginia, both sides from now and for the next five years,” I added as Dad hung his coat up with his sky blue trousers. I knew there was a black belt, a saber, and a working Colt Army replica pistol to go with it. And a lot of other period camp kit he had to have stored at home. I had a gray uniform back in my closet at home in Virginia.
“What’s on your mind?” Dad asked, clearing a stack of papers off his antique leather office chair.
I reached over and shut the office door, taking a seat. “A friend put me onto something last week, and I’ve investigated. Influenza experiments, called gain-of-function research. I was told there was a breakthrough earlier this year at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where you teach,” I said. Dad waited; I continued. “There were reported Chinese agents next door at Cedar Falls ... Sarah at CIA put me on to them,” I added, opening the door to our long conversation. As a government consultant, he still maintained a Top Secret/SCI clearance and knew more about the dark underworkings of world governments than I ever would.
Dad reached down into the little half-fridge by the desk and pulled out two cold cans of Old Milwaukee lager. It was just after 10 a.m. We sat in comfortable office chairs for an hour and drank another beer each, talking. Mom’s knock brought us out into the nearly deserted living room. The first thing I saw was Heidi and Jo sitting in the middle of the couch. Two beautiful women, heads close, mason jars with a fruity-looking drink in hand, talking, smiling, conspiring. I was ignored when I returned to the kitchen.
On the granite countertop sat a tall glass pitcher of what looked like sangria, a fruity alcoholic cocktail perfect for a hot day. Mom handed me a package of German sausages. “Both of you, go outside and fire up the grill. It’s not as hot as it was yesterday,” she said, picking up a mason jar garnished with a piece of strawberry. Both of us received a playful slap on the ass as we headed for the back steps, each with a fresh cold beer in hand. Mom went to join the girls on the couch.
I love bratwursts, my mom knows that, and grilling got us out of the house and gave us more time to talk. I had a pool date with Natalya later today; she wanted to discuss her future, fun. Later, I could introduce her to my dad, a retired US Ambassador.
Natalya
I chose to sit at a round metal table with an umbrella for shade in the same spot I liked near the sauna, where I could see the pool and tiki-style bar with its rattan and bamboo tacked onto an oak bar that could sit four. A bit out of place in rural Wisconsin, a good fit for a swimming pool surrounded by naked people, sunning themselves and socializing all day. No one I knew was here yet. Natalya was handing over her bar duties to another girl. Tommy and Sydney were over on the athletic field playing in a pick-up soccer game, the heat wave of the first part of the week having broken. Grace was hanging out with her bestie, Bethany. I left Heidi asleep on the couch in our cabin, too much sangria and late nights perhaps.
I looked up when a shadow passed over my Vince Flynn novel. “May I sit down?” Natalya asked, setting two red-and-white cans of Schlitz beer on the table. I smiled and set my book aside.
“You may,” I said, pointing to the empty webbed chair across from me.
“I keep a few cold ones mostly for guests who know to ask,” she said, deftly sliding the pink bikini bottoms she wore for work down her legs. No pubic hair, smooth as a baby’s bottom. Natalya set her canvas messenger bag on the table after stuffing her bottoms inside. When working, she went topless like everyone else.
Laverne and Shirley’s beer. Pabst Brewing had restarted the original formula a few years ago. I popped the top; she joined me, opening a second can of beer. Pushing her sunglasses up on her head, she leaned forward. I really liked her dimpled chin and smart smile.
“So, we talk, then we can go?” she asked, right to the point. “The Hemingway Room is open. I asked Aunt Sharon to reserve it.” Natalya sat back, holding her beer. Petite, with straight shoulder-length brown hair, small boobies on a nearly flat chest, at nineteen, the Baylor co-ed was in her prime and looked great, that proverbial girl next door, without her clothes.
“Yeah, we can talk, then see what we feel like doing,” I said. I would have helped Natalya either way. Trading sex for help with a job was a little below me, most days.
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