Baker Family Fun
Copyright© 2025 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 6: Escaping
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 6: Escaping - Siblings Emma and Mike Baker, high school students, live in a tiny city apartment with their two parents. Surprise! After three years of exile there, they're returning to their suburban house, and reconnecting with their next-door neighbors and friends, Dora and Paul Lincoln. All four are similar ages, but puberty has changed them. A lot. Their four parents are reconnecting too. The Lincolns have added a pool, and some pineapple-themed decor. Hmm.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Aunt Nephew Group Sex Swinging Anal Sex Double Penetration First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Voyeurism Nudism Slow
While I was growing up, I took an interest in maps. On family outings, they’d give me the dog-eared road atlas and ask me to navigate. For example, using two Interstates and one US highway would bring us to our favorite beach on the ocean. More recently, Dad would give me his fancy phone and I’d navigate for him that way.
My route to Great Aunt Dorothy’s house was simple: take a nearby state highway west to the US highway and follow that north to her small town and her address. For a long section, a railroad line paralleled the highway, so I could walk along the track’s parallel service road and not deal with heavy traffic.
For the first few miles, my mind was focused on the navigation. I wondered why I didn’t spend more time thinking about my situation in general, and the last few days in particular.
However, I also had a feeling of freedom, because being on my own meant my sister and my friends could enjoy themselves and float around in that big swimming pool without Mike the anchor chain dragging them down.
It occurred to me: this must be what suicide feels like, where all the things that burden you are finally ended. As unhappy and anxious as I was, I didn’t want to end my life. I still nurtured a little hope that some day—years from now—a woman might overlook all my flaws and accept me as a partner.
On this late June evening, twilight stretched until nearly nine o’clock. The moon had been up for a couple of hours, and I had no issues seeing where to step. My coat was keeping me warm, and I intended to walk as far as I could this evening. I worried that by midday tomorrow, the coat would be too warm, but I had no place to put it.
I thought, “So that’s why the homeless people push around shopping carts.”
I reached the US highway and turned north. Fairly soon, side streets with sidewalks were no longer available, and I switched from walking along the highway to walking along the service road for the parallel railroad route.
Without a watch or active phone, I didn’t know the time. When it “felt like” midnight, I ate some of my food and drank some of my water.
An hour later, I spotted a campfire about a mile ahead. I wasn’t going to risk an encounter, so I moved over to the far side of the highway. Close enough to stay oriented, but far enough to keep out of headlights.
Whoever was at the campfire didn’t notice me, and I resumed my journey after I was far enough to feel secure. Back on the railroad’s service road, I was making good progress. My sojourn near the highway showed how far away Dorothy’s town was.
I planned to stop and sleep, but thinking about my heavy clothing made me anxious to finish walking before the midday heat (or afternoon thunderstorms) got in my way.
A brief “breakfast” at dawn used up the last of my food and water, but I felt confident I could reach my goal. About mid-morning, I walked into my aunt’s town.
An abandoned and dilapidated station beside the tracks still existed, decades after the last passenger train used these tracks. Past the station, the “Second Avenue” street sign oriented me. I shifted over to Sixth Street and located Dorothy’s house.
I rang the bell, and the curtains in the door parted briefly, then the door opened slightly (on a short chain). I heard her voice ask “Can I help you?”
“Aunt Dorothy, I’m your great nephew Michael Baker. We were here two years ago for a visit. Can I come in?”
“Of course, of course.” The door closed momentarily to release the chain then swung open and she embraced me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. My vision is weak and you’ve changed, you’re taller than I remember.”
I stepped in and closed the door behind me.
Ironically, I told her I’d grown because of my “clean living.”
“Can I take off my coat?”
“Sure, just put it on that peg behind you. It’s just you, nobody else?”
“Just me. Auntie, I’m really thirsty, can we go in your kitchen and get a drink?”
“Sure we can. Just follow ... no, first take those boots off, please. They look pretty dirty.”
“What was I thinking? I do that right now.”
“The kitchen’s down that way, you’ll find it.” With that, my aunt, or great aunt, disappeared down the hall.
When I found her, she had prepared a tall glass of lemonade with ice cubes, which I pounded down quickly. She watched me carefully.
“You came here by yourself? Do you have a car?”
“No, ma’am. I have a driver’s license, but not a car.”
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