The Compound
Copyright© 2025 by Pete Fox
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - 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
Run, a Little More
Breakfast was fruit, a banana, as I filled my water bottle.
“We are leaving in five,” I said.
Tommy groaned, next to him Gwen pulled the sheet over her head as he slid out of bed. Sydney came from our bedroom, pulling her hair into a ponytail, already wearing her running shoes. I tossed her an orange as I filled her and Tommy’s water bottles.
We all gathered at the training field, a big piece of grass with a soccer goal at one end. Devorah and her parents are in the back row. By count, we were about forty men, women, boys, and girls. Naked except for athletic shoes, hats, and a few camelbacks. Yoga-style mats were laid out on the grass for those who didn’t want to get their asses dirty.
Forming two rows in a U around Carlos, a tough-looking retired US Marine Corps drill instructor. His fifty-year-old body was cut and toned, his cock thick and intimidating. A round brown Campaign hat on his head, a whistle hung on a lanyard around his neck.
His deep voice boomed out. “Good to see you all this morning for a little fun. We will warm up with calisthenics, then do an easy 2-mile trail run. Hoo-ha?”
“Hoo-ha, Drill Sergeant!” We all yelled back in unison, many of us flashing back to our time in uniform. Meeting at 07:00, morning exercise was not obligatory, but for those looking to get in shape, it was an attractive option. The price, pain. The benefit is a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment after the workouts.
Carlos blew his whistle, and I dropped to my backside on the foam sleeping pad and elevated my legs. Sydney and Tommy were on either side of me, faces serious.
Devorah was walking after the first mile. I saw her thick butt falling back and told my kids to keep going.
“Can I run with you?” I said to Devorah. In the cool morning air, she was sweating, her conical tits bouncing until she slowed on an uphill.
“Cool, yeah. You don’t have to. My dad’s with Mom up front somewhere.”
I could tell running was not her thing, but she was trying.
“How about some Army cadence?” She nodded, one foot in front of the other. “Here we go,” I said.
“C-130 rollin’ down the strip, 64 Rangers on a one-way trip, mission Top Secret, destination unknown...” we sang, one foot in front of the other. I set an easy pace.
We finished near last, singing an Airborne cadence is something all Army soldiers learn at some point in basic training. Sydney swung back for the last one hundred yards and ran alongside us, adding her voice.
“ ... C-130 rollin’ down the strip, stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door, count one-thousand, two-thousand, three-thousand, four...”
At the finish line, Drill Sergeant Carlos gave me a nod of approval, despite the Army song.
Devorah, two heads shorter than me, gave me a sweaty hug, breasts to stomach. “Dad says we’re playing hot tub swap tonight.” She leaned back as I swept damp curly hair out of her eyes.
“You bet me and you to start, okay?” I said. We high-fived and drank water.
We grabbed free coffee from the community center, then took the Gator back to the cabin. Gwen had been dropped off on the way down earlier. I laid out the plan for the day, a mix of work and fun. They both groaned when told the first task was yard work before it got too hot. The promise of going to the gun range, followed by the pool after finishing the yard work, did the trick. I had good kids.
Used to being busy and on the go at work, it was difficult for me to just sit by the pool. I had an Alex Berenson John Wells paperback in front of me. Behind my Oakleys, I was watching a woman breastfeed her young child nearby.
Dark-haired with a natural tan, she had the body of a swimsuit model; she had once been. Towel over her left shoulder, the child sucked from her engorged tit. It was one of my kinks. I kept my book at groin level, hiding my boner. Gunny Carlos’s twenty-year-old wife and new son. She smiled in my direction.
From under a wide-brimmed straw sun hat. “Hi, Pete,” Maria said in accented English, shifting her hips. No visible pubes.
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