Chapter 5

The truck did warm up and we stayed in it for the next two hours. The conversation went on and time mediated my anger. Before it seeped out of me I yelled at Karla about the possibility she was pregnant because of her little ‘urge.’ She ended up crying again, which made me feel bad.

As odd as it sounds, we talked everything out. I learned a lot about how the girls felt about me - in ways I hadn’t been aware of before this. They liked me a lot, in a manner most people would call a crush, except it had been going on for longer than most crushes last.

After Karla stopped crying she didn’t say anything for a long time. Sam picked up the ball and ran with it. When Karla did speak again, it was to blurt out, “I’m not sorry it happened!”

Eventually I said we couldn’t stay in the truck all night. That brought up sleeping arrangements again, and both girls, apparently having learned nothing whatsoever during the conversation, tried to get me to sleep with them again.

I finally took control. An hour later, the two girls were in the zipped-up bag, huddling for warmth, and I was in the other bag, right next to them. I draped my parka over my exposed head and shoulders. It wasn’t too bad.

This time the next day’s clothing was in the bottom of my bag.

If it sounds to you like I had things under control again, you’re misguided. Or misinformed, perhaps. You may object to being called misguided or misinformed, but don’t be, because I was both of those things, too. And it’s nice to think that maybe somebody else out there is going through what I went through.

I continued to think I was in control when I woke up. I had a firm plan in mind. I prepared breakfast, expecting the girls to get dressed and be hungry. Instead, they stayed in the bag, huddling. It was obvious they were awake, but any reservations about cuddling with each other naked had disappeared. I could hear little whispers. But they didn’t show any indication they were going to get up. So, being in control, I exerted some of that control.

“Get up!” I ordered in a stern voice. “You have twenty minutes to eat, and then we’re going to pack up and go home.”

I finally got some response. I expected them to be cowed, especially Karla.

Not so much.

Sam got out first, oblivious to the cold. She looked like some kind of sea nymph who had slipped into the tent through the hole in the ice. Her summer tan was already fading and where her swimsuit normally covered her, her skin was milky white. Her nipples were erect, but it was pretty close to freezing, so that was to be expected. She looked a little bluish, but that could have been my imagination. Or maybe it was because the rising sun was up and part of the dome of the tent was blue cloth.

I had slept with this woman/child; two nights, in fact. She had masturbated on my thigh and then with her hand, lying next to me in the sleeping bag. I had done the same thing. I’d felt most of her body against mine. I say most, because her twin had a very slight advantage over her. I’d felt the inside of Karla’s body against me.

But in all that time, I hadn’t really had the chance to really look at her. While she was nude, I mean. My eyes had seen her naked flesh while I stripped off wet clothes and stuffed her in the sleeping bag, but those images hadn’t made it all the way into the cognitive center of my brain. I remembered seeing her breasts, pale mounds that my hand would almost cover, but that was it.

Now, as she stood on top of the sleeping bag, sorting out the clothes she was about to put on, I really looked at her for the first time. She looked like the girls you see playing softball, or maybe a young woman in one of the various events in the Olympics. She had muscle, and it was obvious, clearly visible. At the same time she was the epitome of femininity. There was a grace to her movements that made her look like getting dressed in a tent was something she did every day. I saw only one tremor, obviously due to the cold, as she spread her long-sleeved shirt and put it on, covering her beautiful breasts. Once deprived of those beauties, my eyes slid downwards. Her dark pubic hair had been trimmed to a V that looked so crisp, it might have been drawn there, except that the hairs softened everything. That V, however, was only an inch tall. It was tiny! I got the impression it had been left there precisely to draw the eye, rather than for the usual reasons a woman shaved.

“You shave?” It was out of my mouth without conscious thought.

She stopped moving and just stood there, bottom-less, facing me with no embarrassment whatsoever.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” she said, in a low, passion-filled voice.

Wow. Sam had cursed at me! That was a first. She’d been angry with me before, over this or that, and we’d had arguments aplenty, but she’d never taken that tone of voice with me. It left me speechless.

With something like dignity, she reached for her jeans and stepped into them. You might notice I didn’t say she put on panties first. She pulled them up and wiggled her hips into them. I was transported, as if by magic, back to a time when I watched my wife do exactly the same thing, in exactly the same tent. Except I got to see it twice, then, because my wife put on panties, too.

But you get the idea.

I staggered a step and dropped the bacon I had been about to put into the pan on the stove.

“What’s wrong?” Sam’s voice was dramatically different as she jumped towards me.

“You just reminded me of Cathy,” I said, unable to utter anything except the truth. “I’m okay.”

“Shit!“ yelped Sam, stepping back. “This is going all wrong!”

Karla stuck her head out of the sleeping bag and sat up. She tried to fold the bag around her naked shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Everything!“ shouted Sam. She turned to face me. Her jeans were on, but not zipped or buttoned. Pale, white skin glowed between the dull brass teeth of the zipper. I tore my eyes off of her mons and lifted them to her angry face. “We’re not going home, Bob! We’re just not!”

“Sam,” said Karla, looking worried for some reason. “Calm down.”

Sam whirled to face her sibling.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. You ruined everything. We had a plan, Karla, and you decided to go off on your own and now he wants to go home! This is all your fault you ... you ... you... slut!“

And with that she burst into tears.

Suddenly she was shivering like crazy. She was barefoot, but that could wait. The first thing I did was get her into her parka. She didn’t help at all. She just blubbered. Meanwhile Karla got out of the sleeping bag like it was on fire. It’s not that hard to put a parka on a girl, even if she’s not helping, so I had a chance to contrast and compare, so to speak. Karla wasn’t covering anything up, either. Her body was slimmer looking, without the muscle, but was otherwise just as feminine. Her breasts were a smidgen bigger than Sam’s, maybe a B cup that was dreaming of someday filling a C cup.

What blew me away, though, was that her pubes, which were half a shade lighter than her sister’s, had been cut to a perfect heart shape.

I had an epiphany. For things to be that neatly trimmed - on both girls - it wasn’t a self-done operation. And, since there was no way Gloria had coiffed her little girls’ pussy hair ... they had to have done each other.

It was interesting, to put it lightly, but I could (and would) think about that later. Right now I had a hysterical girl to get warmed up, something she seemed to be in a habit of needing, and a deteriorating situation to bring back under my control.

Karla reversed and pulled up the opening of the bag to actually crawl halfway into it, leaving her naked butt out in the cold. Her split peach pussy lips were clearly on display below her butt crack. My cock had pierced those pussy lips, but they looked completely virginal. Before I could reflect on that longer, she emerged with her own clothes and, quite efficiently, got dressed. She put on her socks first, something Sam should have done and, in the process, sat with her legs spread, giving me a shot of her pussy from another perspective. Her sexual lips were no longer tight together. They didn’t look quite so virginal. I couldn’t help but remember that I had ejaculated into that pussy the night before. There was no visible evidence of that, other than that her plump labia were parted enough to expose a slit of darkness, as if I’d cracked them, broken them, so that they no longer closed properly.

I only had a glimpse of all that, though, because it only took Karla maybe ninety seconds to get fully dressed - including her parka.

Then she rummaged through the bag again and found Sam’s socks.

“Sit her down,” she ordered.

Somehow that got mangled into Sam and me lying on the rumpled sleeping bags, with my arms around her. She was no longer sobbing uncontrollably, but was still obviously distressed. Karla went to work on her feet, putting her socks on, while I held her and did the things an adult always does when a child is that unhappy.

I whispered that everything was okay, and then predicted that everything would be okay. It’s like the adult is actually saying, “Nothing is okay at all, but maybe, if we’re lucky, things might be okay again some day ... hopefully soon.” But we have to insist that things are fine already.

At least she stopped shivering.

It took four times as long for Karla to get Sam’s socks and boots on than it did for her to get herself completely dressed, but finally Sam was fully clothed. I started to let go of her, but her hands grabbed at my parka. She was just sniffling now.

Karla, more pragmatic than I’d have given her credit for being, picked up the bacon, dusted it off, looked at it critically, and then dropped it into the pan. There was an instant sizzling sound, and a hint of the aroma that would soon fill the tent.

“We can’t go home,” she said, calmly, as she turned to look at me. “Mom would ask too many questions.”

My own plan began to fray around the edges.

“We have to get you the morning after pill,” I said.

She blinked and then, for some reasons, smiled!

“That won’t be necessary. The danger is minimal right now.”

“Famous last words,” I said.

“You did not get me pregnant, Uncle Bob,” she said, firmly.

“And that’s another thing,” I said. “You call me Uncle Bob sometimes and I feel like I’m your uncle. How could you do that?”

“You’re not our uncle,” said Karla. “We didn’t commit incest, so just get that out of your head. This isn’t the end of the world, Uncle Bob.”

It was just habit. The “Uncle Bob” thing, I mean, but it was also funny, considering what had just preceded it.

I did not, however, laugh.

Sam finally let go of me and sat up. Her sniffles had faded away.

“We can’t go home,” she said. “Please!”

“What’s this about a plan?” I asked.

Sam looked at her sister. Karla shrugged. Apparently Sam was still unhappy with her.

“You tell him,” she snapped.

Karla sighed. She used the fork I’d laid beside the pan to flip the hunk of bacon over so the other side would thaw and cook. She teased two strips away from the ‘cooked’ side and they sizzled nicely. I sensed information was forthcoming, and didn’t rush her. She finally decided the bacon was as good as she could get it at present.

“When Sam told me how fantastic it was to sleep with you, I had to do it, too,” she said. “We didn’t plan for it to go as far as it ... went.”

“Slut,” muttered Sam.

“Knock that off!“ I barked. “You got her into this. And you told her to explain it, so shut up and let her explain it!”

Sam actually winced, but subsided.

“She’s right,” said Karla, who wasn’t upset at all. “I am a slut. I’ve wanted to do things with boys for a long time. I was too scared to, though. It was making me crazy. But it’s different with you. You’re not scary at all. Before this, I used to think about you sometimes, when I was...” She let the sentence die and I saw color stain her cheeks. Her twin sister, apparently being on the same wavelength, said what Karla couldn’t say.

“She masturbates every day, sometimes two or three times a day. She even masturbates in the bathroom at school.”

“Sam!” wailed Karla, obviously feeling like she’d been stabbed in the back.

“It’s normal,” I said. “Get over it. Go on.”

“What?” Karla’s face showed shock.

“It’s normal. It happens to guys, too. You’re full of hormones. So it’s not the end of the world. If you’re really worried about it, talk to your mother and have her take you to a doctor, but he’ll tell you the same thing. Teenagers get horny and masturbate. You were saying that while you were masturbating, something happened?”

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