Chapter 8

Sam and Randy trudged through the woods. They knew to approach the tree stand from behind it, so they wouldn't be in the field of fire. Both were wearing orange hats, but that wasn't enough to satisfy Bob.

"We're coming in!" called out Randy, remembering a western he'd seen on TV one time.

"They're not up there," said Sam, who got a view of the stand through a gap in the branches around them.

They stepped out of a cluster of young hickory trees and saw Bob and Mallory standing on the ground. Both were looking their way.

"You guys quit too?" asked Randy. "We didn't see anything all morning."

"What's been going on here?" asked Sam, who reached down to pick up on corner of the blanket that was still spread out on the ground.

"Apparently the same thing that was going on over there," said Mallory, reaching to pluck at the corner of the blanket hanging out of Randy's back pack. He had stuffed it in hurriedly.

All four looked around at each other.

"Well ... this is awkward," said Mallory. "I wonder why?" She sounded genuinely curious. "I mean nothing has happened now that hasn't happened before. Why does this feel so..."

"Uncomfortable?" suggested Bob.

"Yeah."

"Because we all know that what we're doing is taboo," said Bob.

"That sounds so terrible," said Sam.

"Other people would consider it to be terrible," said Bob.

"Well, then, other people just can't find out about it," said Mal. "Besides, it's none of their business."

"That sounds fine in theory," said Bob. "But how does that work in the real world?

"We just keep it a secret," said Mallory.

"Okay, let's run with that," said Bob. "Mallory? You feel like going at it with your brother. Where do you do that? When do you do that? How do you make sure your mother doesn't figure out what's going on?"

"We only do it when she's not there," said Mallory.

"Okay, so that's what you do. Take off your pants for me."

"What? Right now? Here?"

"Yes, just for a second. In fact, you don't even have to take them completely off. Just push them down to your knees."

"Why?" she asked, looking uncomfortable.

"You have a pretty pussy and two of us here like looking at it," he said, dryly.

"Three of us," said Sam.

Bob glanced sharply at her, but she was looking at Mallory and ignored him.

"Why?" Mallory insisted.

"I want to show you something," he said.

She undid her belt, opened her pants and pushed them down.

"The panties too," said Bob, softly.

"This is weird," she said.

"Just do it," he said.

She did and stood, hesitantly with her panties stretched from knee to knee, and her pants bunched just below them. Bob stepped closer and bent to point.

"See that stain right there? That's my semen. In your scenario, it would be Randy's semen. It makes a distinctive stain that your mother couldn't possibly miss if she washes your clothes. Does she wash your clothes?"

Mallory swallowed.

"Yes."

"Busted!" said Bob.

"We could come over to your house to do it," said Mallory.

"And wash your clothes before you go back home?" Bob laughed.

"Crap!" groused Mallory.

"This is a lifestyle choice you are making," said Bob. "And lifestyle choices are generally visible to others. Your attitudes are going to change. The way you treat each other and look at each other is going to change. She'll notice all those things. You can't do this and keep it a secret from the woman you live with."

Mallory looked at Sam, who was just standing there.

"You'll have it good," she complained.

Sam looked at her father. It sounded like he was saying that Mal and Randy weren't going to be able to go on having sex. She sensed he was about to say that she and he couldn't have it either. That would ruin everything. She spoke before he could.

"Not really," she said, as casually as she could. "It's not like we're going to act like we're married. I'm still his daughter and he's still my father, and we both have to act that way."

She was relieved when Bob nodded.

"We can't just stop," moaned Mallory. "This is too much fun to just stop doing."

"I can't stop," said Randy with conviction in his voice. "Now that I know what the real thing feels like, I can't just go back to jacking off five times a day."

"Five times?!" chorused Sam and Mal together.

"Ahh, the stamina of youth," sighed Bob, remembering those days. "What I'm saying is that we have to think about this, and do things with intelligence and foresight and an understanding of the perils involved."

"You mean we have to be careful," said Mallory, sounding hopeful.

"Yes," sighed Bob. "We have to be careful."

"I can do that," said Mal, brightly. "It's time I started doing my own laundry. You too, Randy. We need to start doing more around the house to give Mom a break." She blinked. "And show her we're growing up."

"Just make sure she doesn't find out how much you've grown up," said Bob.

The discussion didn't end there, of course. The problem of birth control still wasn't resolved. There was argument about whether condoms alone would be sufficient to avoid a disaster. Bob felt like that would be fine, if his lover were someone other than his daughter or niece. Getting a random love interest pregnant wouldn't be the end of the world. But getting either Sam or Mal with child could lead to serious complications.

They went back up into the tree stands until noon, but did more talking than hunting. They kept an eye on the forest, and their guns ready, but they weren't worried about whether anything showed up to shoot or not.

Lunch had been packed in, and they ate it together on the blankets, which now formed someplace to sit on, rather than lie down on. After lunch Bob took them on a hike, looking for sign. They went along the game trail the two tree stands had been set up to surveille, and found fresh tracks. It was determined they'd get into the stands even earlier the next morning.

Back in camp, Bob finally announced that they'd already partaken of Mal's kill. There was only minor outrage, followed by resignation based on the fact that they all remembered it tasting really good. Bob got some more out of the cooler and they put it in the Dutch oven to roast. Cans of vegetables were opened and warmed on the corners of the grill over the fire.

None of them realized, as they saw to little domestic tasks, that something domestic was taking place inside Mallory as well. The stimulation to her body in the last 48 hours had caused her ovaries to release an egg a little early.

It was wending its way down her fallopian tube, headed for her womb.

A womb that was currently awash with wriggling little sperm cells, frantically searching for an egg.

Those with wisdom, (usually meaning older folks), often provide good advice and warnings to those who are inexperienced, (usually meaning younger folks). But youth ignores warnings. Young people don't think anything bad will happen to them. It happens to other people, but not them. It happens to the careless, but not to them. It happens to the stupid, but not to them.

Which is why, when the girls got together and decided Randy needed more lessons, such lessons were planned without giving heed to Bob's warnings about lifestyle changes, and pregnancies and the like. This was different. They were on a campout, away from prying eyes. There would be time for circumspection and additional attention to the potential foibles in their plan to keep having sex.

There were also negotiations, primarily about who would be the one to do the teaching of Randy's lessons. The undercurrent there was that whoever was doing that would not be with Bob, and Bob was high on their "to do" list ... no pun intended.

"You live with him," said Mallory. "You can sleep with him every night if you want to, back home."

"I don't think it's going to work that way," said Sam. "He tries hard to say no to both of us."

"You couldn't tell it by what he did with me," said Mal, grinning.

"You have to get him to lose control," said Sam. "Then he'll do anything you want."

"You sure think you know a lot about his sex drive, for having slept with him only one night," said Mal.

"And you know better?"

"Okay, okay. I want to sleep with him to learn more that I can teach Randy. Why do you want to sleep with him?"

"You're not the only one who's going to let Randy between your silky, soft thighs," said Sam.

"You had him last night," said Mallory.

"Please, Mal. I just know if I can break him down one more time that he'll give in for good. That would be better for both of us."

"Why?"

"Because if he gets used to being with me in bed, he won't think it's that much different when you want to be there."

Mallory stared at her cousin for long seconds. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay. Maybe I can find out if Randy was lying or not."

"About what?"

"Being able to get it up and squirt five times in one day."

As soon as supper was over and the dishes were washed, Sam wiped her hands on a towel and said, "If we're getting up even earlier tomorrow, then I'm going to bed now."

"It's still light," said Randy.

"I'm going to bed," said Sam, firmly.

That put Randy in a quandary. Nobody had told him what was going to happen tonight, but he hoped he'd get to sleep with somebody again. If they were taking turns, and it kind of looked like that, then that meant he'd be with Sam. That suited him fine, because he wanted to show her how much he had learned. What she had glimpsed before, out under the tree stand, had been just a sample. He could go a lot longer than that. He was sure of it. Mal had had two orgasms before he shot off in her, and then two more the next time he got hard and slid into her clasping pussy. Thinking about feeling Sam do that under him produced an instant erection.

"So ... you want me to come with you?" he asked, carefully.

"No. I'm going to sleep, not ... talk."

Everyone present understood perfectly what "talk" actually meant.

The others stayed around the campfire, but it wasn't long before Mal got up and produced a theatrical and obviously fake yawn.

"I'm going to bed too," she said. She looked at her brother. "You come with me. You were slow getting up this morning."

Randy perked up. It was fun being with Mal too. She was very energetic, and he already knew what she liked him to do.

"Sure," he said.

Bob mused as he watched the two enter the camper. He wasn't sure what was going on. Ostensibly, Sam had taken his talk to heart, and was going to avoid compromising her safety. He felt an ache in his balls, which seemed to be unhappy with that choice. Mal? He wasn't so sure about Mal. He decided that wondering about it would do no good. He'd find out soon enough when he went in. Either the middle bed would be made up, with somebody in it ... or it wouldn't.

He thought briefly about rigging a tarp and sleeping under that. But he had no sleeping bag, and no mat. Sleeping on the hard, cold ground didn't appeal to him.

If Sam was in his bed, he'd just have to play it by ear. Maybe she'd be asleep already.

His balls ached again, and he sighed.

She wasn't asleep. He knew that as soon as he climbed up into the sleeper. Her breathing was that of a person awake.

But her back was to him, and she did not turn over when he lay down beside her.

It was dark, and his eyes hadn't adjusted yet. Behind the curtain of the single window in the front of the sleeper, he could tell the sun was just setting, but that minimal light was behind her, so all he could see was her silhouette.

He reached, tentatively, and felt a bare shoulder. She didn't move or give any indication she felt that. He moved his hand to her waist, and then thigh, feeling only bare, warm skin. She still feigned sleep.

She hadn't acted like she was angry with him, hadn't shot him any dark looks. And he was pretty sure he hadn't said or done anything to hurt her feelings. Sure, he'd had sex with Mal again, but he got the distinct impression that, as far as Sam was concerned, what was Sam's was Mal's, and what was Mal's was Sam's ... including him.

He shifted closer to her, putting his front against her back. It wasn't spooning, but it was close.

Slowly, he slid his hand under her arm to cup one soft, round breast.

She not only let him, she lifted her arm a little so he could get his hand where he wanted it.

Where she wanted it.

He'd been half hard ever since determining Sam was in his bed again tonight. Now his erection completed. He could feel it move between her butt cheeks.

That's all he did for a while, just fondle her breast gently. He waited ten minutes to let his fingers steal to the nipple, and begin to tease it. It was already hard.

She shifted, as if moving during sleep. What was this game she was playing?

A sudden sharp scent reached his nose. He hadn't smelled that scent in a long, long time. It was the scent of a woman deep into sexual arousal.

He thought to tease her some more and slid his hand down across her belly, intending to just barely invade her slit and toy with her clit.

She shifted again, rolling slightly toward him, again giving him room.

She was so wet when he got there that his finger slipped a little too far. The tip went around a corner of sorts and slipped into her vaginal mouth.

Suddenly she turned completely, to face him.

"I don't want your finger in me," she whispered.

Her hand found his raging hard on.

"I want this," she finished.

Everything he'd warned her about fled his mind as the opportunity to be that happy again was presented to him. He would, in fact, think about those things in the next few hours, but what would be uppermost in his mind was that Mel's and Sam's periods seemed to be synced. He'd heard of that before, best friends being on the same sexual schedule. The point was that if Mel was safe - and the odds were in favor of her being safe - then Sam was probably safe too.

That was the primary thought process that convinced him to give her what she wanted ... his long, stiff, spurting prick, in her velvety, nubile, teenage pussy.

If you've ever watched a movie where there was a scene in the jungle at night, and somebody was hiding from someone or something, you might have heard a sound track of what the jungle sounds like at night. It's a noisy place, with hoots and shrieks and howls and mating calls. Predators grunt as they jump their prey, or snarl a warning to others to leave them alone. There are clicks, and drips and the sound of vegetation rubbing against other vegetation in the wind. The point is, the jungle is a very noisy place at night.

The interior of that camper, that night, might have resembled an odd kind of jungle. There were fewer inhabitants, and vastly fewer types of life forms present, but it was still a noisy place, with many of the same sounds one might hear in that jungle setting. From the soft slap-slap-slap of bare skin impacting other bare skin rhythmically, to the moans, squeals and loud mating calls of what was clearly some kind of primate species, the noise was pervasive and relatively unceasing for the first two hours of full dark.

There was a lull, then, a period of silence as if prey were being consumed, or actual sleeping might be going on.

But then, later, the sounds started up again. It happened all night long. One would have thought there was a stiff wind gusting outside the vehicle. It swayed for a while, and then settled, only to sway again.

When the alarm went off, the denizens of that tiny jungle made other noises. The alarm clock was attacked. The nocturnal beasts inside prepared for the sleep cycle that was daytime.