The Compound
Copyright© 2025 by Pete Fox
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - 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 Game of Tub Swap
At the cabin, in the office, my sat phone chirped on the desk, notifying me that I had a message. My wife has a satellite phone for emergencies, but the message was not from her.
“Call me ASAP. S,” Sarah A. It was an hour old.
A work friend, she was on different projects and continents. Sarah was a super-smart analyst, often seeing connections others didn’t, mostly working on South Asia these days.
“Kids, I’ll be out back,” I said. Sydney and Tommy ignored me as they dug into the ice cream.
I grabbed a beer and took the phone out back for a clearer line of sight. Taking a seat in a camp chair, I returned her call.
Sarah answered on the third ring.
“Hey, I see from your locator you’re in Wisconsin, at Black Hawk Commons.”
“Yes,” I said, waiting for the ask.
Sarah got to the point quickly. “We got a hot tip from an asset. A senior official at Infectious Disease—NIAID (National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases)—in the current administration is having an off-books meeting with someone tomorrow from the CCP (Chinese Communist Party) at the Cedar Falls Campground near you. Can you get pictures? No, we didn’t bother asking the FBI.” Cedar Falls was a nudist campground.
Agreeing to give it a go, I closed the sat phone. I didn’t like the CCP fucking around in my backyard. I already had a working plan in my head. My years at the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) before moving to the State Department gave me a specific set of skills, useful for this kind of operation.
Sydney was on the couch, naked, an empty bowl of ice cream on the floor, a Japanese manga book in her hand.
Tommy came out of the office. “Dad, I’m going to ride my bike over to the Johnsons’ and see about that tree trimming project.”
“Fine. Just be back by 17:00. We’re going to the pool tonight after dinner,” I said. I didn’t think he was interested in tree trimming as much as Gwen and her sisters.
Sydney smiled without looking up from her book as Tommy went to the garage in search of his mountain bike.
“Anything we need to talk about, kiddo?” I asked.
“No, Dad. The hot tub game should be fun,” Sydney answered, not looking up. I could never figure out the backward-reading manga books.
“I’m going to borrow your fanny pack,” I said.
“Sure, Dad,” she said, head in the book.
If I were going to be ready for tomorrow, I had work to do in the office. I couldn’t just bring a camera to the pool at the nudist club next door and take pictures.
Sydney and I lay on our bed for a nap together before dinner. “Honey, tonight is just a game; you can control things,” I said. I felt protective, while also thinking of what I was going to do with Devorah and the other girls.
My daughter’s head rested on my shoulder, her hand on my chest. I stared at the fan blades, slowly pushing the air around above us. Her hips pressed against mine. I touched the soft white flesh on the side of her breast.
“I know, Daddy. We played this game last year, remember?” Sydney replied, fingers playing in my chest hair. “No one hurt me.”
My wife and I had these talks before we did a couples’ swap. I was treating my fourteen-year-old like an adult today.
“I need to ask, are you still a virgin?” I said, watching her face.
Sydney pushed up on an elbow, my hand cupping her firm breast. Her blue eyes met mine.
“Yes, Daddy. My hymen broke, the doctor said, not sure when,” I nodded, understanding, “but not from a boy,” she added.
Letting go of her breast, I pulled her head to my chest and kissed her silky hair.
“Good to know,” I said. It was nice to know she was still my little girl. Both of us were apparently looking forward to this evening.
The game was just that, four or five men with daughters, nieces, or granddaughters socialized in the hot tub while the girls moved to different laps. The game was that whatever happened under the bubbling, chlorine-treated water stayed there. No questions asked after.
The girls had a say too and received their partner’s undivided attention. I had gotten to know some sweet kids and my kids’ friends since we started the game three summers ago.
We had a busy morning, starting with exercise, gardening, and an hour spent on the rifle range, before I allowed us to hit the pool. Now we napped and woke to the sound of the screen door as Tommy made his entrance. “Dad, I’m hungry. Are we going soon?” Thank goodness we had a prepaid meal plan; teenage boys were expensive.
I smoked a Cuban cigar and drank bourbon from a plastic tumbler at the pool bar. As my dinner settled, I watched the Compound community members socialize in and around the pool. Young, middle-aged, and older, most were naked on this warm July evening. A good-looking group who enjoyed a bit of hedonism but were strongly family-oriented. There were a few singles who had skills the community needed. I’d helped screen the backgrounds of many of them. No one was allowed to buy property or use the RV pads without passing both the membership and security committees.
A sign on the hot tub’s handrail reserved it for a private party at 7 p.m. for an hour. The corkboard at reception now had twenty family photos on it. It was sure to double by the weekend’s start. My son was in the dining room, French doors open to the pool, setting up a board game with his friends. Ben ordered a drink at the bar. The bar clock showed five minutes to 7 p.m.
Black Hawk Commons was just a name, taken from an 1832 Indian war of the same name, and Commons reflected the community nature of the development. “Compound” was the name members used, as the community regularly socialized at the meeting point of the two main roads, where they had the community center and other facilities, the compound. Community is an important part of the prepper ethos: strength in a well-prepared, cohesive group. Swapping among families was a side benefit for some. Maria waved and shook her beautiful milk-filled tits at me as she entered the pool with Carlos.
I finished my drink and pushed off the barstool. “Thank you, Natalya,” I said to the attractive bartender. Her family was longtime members. Sydney was sitting with Devorah on a chaise lounge. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Join me in the hot tub,” I said. Both girls, despite their best efforts, looked nervous. They had their hair up to keep it out of the water. Devorah smiled at me, her braces making her look even younger.
I met Ben at the hot tub, conveniently located in a corner of the pool deck near the sauna. The wall timer maxed out at fifteen minutes before needing a reset.
“Devorah said she’s starting with you. Does that mean Sydney and me?” Ben said. His body was typical of a forty-something Jewish dad. He had some chest hair, exercised, and his hair was receding. He looked like a doctor who did research.
I looked around. “Yes, sure.” Sydney had heard.
“Beverly’s husband, Stanley, joined us with his youngest daughter, Bethany, catching me by surprise. Fair-skinned with auburn hair, her slender frame showed small breast buds with slightly widened, pink areolae and sparse pubic hair along the pubic mound, as she stood nervously by her dad’s side.”
“I brought Beth, she’s old enough. Gwen wanted to play board games,” he said. Not a bad-looking man, a mid-level DHS law enforcement manager, he’d been in shape when younger, arresting white-collar criminals. His cock was above average, according to my wife.
As I used the short steps to enter the warm water, the fourth father and daughter joined us. Kurt and his large family were regulars at the Compound. They parked their trailer in the RV park while waiting to buy land. His busty daughter Jane fit the mold of a farmer’s daughter. Her blonde hair was in two braids; she was a thick, strong-looking, yet attractive seventeen-year-old.
We all knew each other and shook hands. Ben reminded us of the rules, not that they were complicated.
He looked at the four girls. “This game started as a chance for dads to mentor each other’s daughters while enjoying the hot tub. For you, it’s a chance to ask another dad questions or talk about what’s on your mind. You know the rest, if you don’t like something, you can say no,” Ben said.
All nodded. I took one last look at Sydney as I settled on the bench seat in the round hot tub that could seat eight to ten. Kurt sat on my right, Ben on my left. Stanley, with Jane in his lap, sat across from me. We would move clockwise, meaning I had Beth next. She was young.
Devorah settled onto my lap as Jane turned the timer to the max and slid into Stanley’s lap. In less than a minute, a bubbling jet hit my back, and the water rolled with white foam.
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