Chapter 7

The orphan’s name was Wanda. She lived off her dad’s stored survival food until she realized there wasn’t enough to feed her through the winter. She came into town to try her luck at prostitution, hoping to either make enough money for supplies or to get a cowboy to take her with him. Holly gave me a big, wicked grin when I told her Wanda looked like she was nine.

Holly brought Wanda over to where I was sitting at the edge of the beer tent. I was surprised at how intelligent and how mature Wanda seemed. I said, “Wanda, what would you have done if a cowboy took you up on your offer?”

Wanda giggled like a little girl and said, “I would have fucked his socks off and made sure he didn’t try to steal the money back. I’ve never done it, but I dream about doing it every night. I’ll bet I could have, too. I might look like a kid, but daddy taught me all about sex and reproduction so nobody could lie to me or fool me into doing something I didn’t want to do. Even though dad kidnapped me, I liked living with him a lot better than being with my mom. I was planning on having dad show me how to do it next year, or for my sixteenth birthday at the very latest.”

A quick visit to a vet’s office, a story about a sled dog that doesn’t travel well, and the sedative required was in my jacket pocket. Wanda was hungry enough to accept Holly’s dinner invitation. When we lifted off from the air strip to go back to the experimental site, Wanda was sound asleep, packed in a sleeping bag, stuffed inside an Army Surplus canvas duffle bag with a tent and ground tarps for extra padding. A rancher got himself a deal on a super-modified Gator. There was no trace of Wanda and no clues to follow.

We hauled all the supplies to the dwelling dug into the side of the hill. We had reinforced the wall and door to hopefully deter a bear. We also had heavy nail strips all along the south side. We planned to use the dugout as our primary supply storage area. Because of the way we dug into the side of a hill, the temperature should stay above freezing with minimal heating.

Holly was acting very pleased with herself because we had snatched Wanda. I decided to let Holly go so I could see what was on her mind and how far she would really push the young girl.

Holly kept Wanda tied up a lot of the time. She did a lot of whispering in the girl’s ear what she wanted to do to her. I established myself in Wanda’s mind as the guy in charge and the one keeping crazy Holly from hurting her or raping her. Of course Wanda was always telling me how if her dad was still alive she would already be getting nailed every day, so maybe Wanda wasn’t really afraid of getting raped.

I never saw Holly do anything to the girl when Wanda was under-age. Of course, I had to go outside to do experiments, clean snow off solar panels, take temperature readings, and check on the other structures at the site, so who knows what Holly may have done to Wanda when I wasn’t there?

We slept naked in the same bed to help keep each other warm. I know Wanda wanted to do more than cuddle with me after about the first month of Holly threatening to deflower the girl with a foot-long dildo and me rescuing her. She wanted to do everything Holly and I did together.

Wanda claimed to be fourteen. I didn’t believe she was that old and so I didn’t touch her, but I didn’t see any reason why Wanda shouldn’t watch me fucking Holly. After all, she needed to learn that sex felt good and that taking a cock up her puss wasn’t going to hurt, in fact it would feel so good, she’d love it.

So, like I said, I don’t know how old a girl needs to be before she can actually have penis in vagina sex with an adult male, but Wanda sure wanted to have sex with me. She was just as horny as Holly, and she got very jealous of Holly getting pounded several times a day. We all slept naked, and from having Wanda cuddle up against me, I can tell you that I think it probably would have worked. Wanda really didn’t seem that much smaller until Holly was about six months along, and then my pregnant fifteen-year-old girlfriend seemed enormous. She was still horny as hell though, and we tried any new position we thought of to make it more comfortable for her to get all the fucking she needed.

We had several blizzards in a row that led to zero current produced by the solar cells. The wind generators were all working. I found out that I needed to have the automatic braking turned on so the generators would shut down if high winds struck while I was asleep. If the RPMs got too high, the generator would shut down and a heavy-duty braking system would stop the shaft from turning. The propeller blades would feather, hopefully before there was a system over-speed that caused damage. With the big arctic storms, there could be several days when the wind generators had to be shut down and the solar panels didn’t produce any current. More than once, we were glad we had the wood stove.

The cabin was weather stripped and insulated much better than most native peoples’ homes, but we still had trouble keeping it warm without using wood. I decided we needed to move. We switched things over and brought up the tire house. It was better, but there were still drafts that made living there uncomfortable. We all observed that burning wood gave us an emotional boost so we felt happier as well as warmer when we had a fire burning.

While we were living in the tire house I started doing work on the dugout so we could move there. We were lucky because the weather got cold quickly and stayed cold, but none of us felt good about our safety if a bear woke up early and tried to get inside. The dugout was setup so only a steel door was at ground level. I used lots of nail strips to make it difficult for a bear to get to the door. There were no windows at ground level. There was a sheer rock wall along the south side of the hill. The windows were twenty feet above ground level, so even a brown bear couldn’t reach them.

I put the spring water through a filtration system and fed it through a clear tube under a U.V. light and into a storage tank. The water went through an ozone saturation system before going on to any of the other systems. Of course, water for drinking, cooking, cleaning, and washing was kept scrupulously clean and tested every day. Waste water fed into the septic tank system I had installed during the summer. I installed a closed loop system that took water into an electric water heater and it was then pumped through a system of tubes under the floor. That system seemed to keep the dugout more comfortable and feeling cozy. I setup a way to exhaust some of the inside air and draw in a certain volume of outdoor air per hour. I setup the pipes carefully so the intake wouldn’t get buried by snow and critters couldn’t get in via the vent or intake. One of the good things about electric heating for a basically air-tight living space is that there are no fumes or possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Keeping the batteries in a separate building also protected us from being overcome by fumes from batteries in the various states of charging, holding a charge, and discharging brought on the various chemical reactions required. Data collection was very important because we needed detailed records of how temperature affected battery performance. We needed to find out how many charge/discharge cycles a battery could provide before individual cells needed to be replaced. We also needed to know if it was more advantageous to replace a battery bank as a unit. In other words, did old cells cause replacement cells to degrade faster? We had to keep each bank under load so we could collect meaningful data. This meant we were always busy and never had time to be bored.

On the other hand, Holly was pregnant, and she was not at all shy about having a hormone driven, intense need for frequent sex, so work was always a lower priority than giving Holly the orgasms she needed to be comfortable and happy.

Wanda was intensely interested in our sex life and watched everything we did, asking questions, frequently at just the wrong moment, to make sure she understood why as well as how. The girl had a unique attitude because she was very intelligent and had completely thought through how to survive by becoming a prostitute. I wondered how she had been exposed to the information that led her to the conclusion that becoming a hooker was the only viable way to earn enough to provide for herself. I suppose the internet is the logical explanation.

One-night Wanda was being particularly cuddly with me. Holly seemed to be satisfied and in a state of bliss, so I tried to get Wanda talking. It was obvious she didn’t want to “tell on” her daddy, even though he was dead and couldn’t be apprehended or punished.

Wanda said, “Living the way we did, I never saw another man and dad very rarely saw another female. He was home schooling me and I had access to a full library. I sometimes strayed from his lesson plans and read about the psychology of love and sex. I was convinced that a celibate life was not good for either of us, both physically and mentally. I am not vain, but I did recognize that I was physically pleasing enough to attract dad’s attention at some point, probably after I was a little older and had big enough boobs to look more like a woman and less like a child. Intellectually I recognized it would be my job to overcome societal and religious objections to us having a sexual relationship before we could experience the mental and physical benefits of giving each other orgasms. I determined that even though I was ready and willing, if I tried to initiate a love and sex relationship with dad when I was too young, it might make any subsequent attempts doomed to fail.

I wanted sex with dad to start that day, not because I was in love with him, but because I recognized it would be good for our mental and physical health. I knew dad wouldn’t take my mental capacity seriously if I proposed this as a logical and necessary course of action as an under sixteen-year-old girl. More importantly, I thought my body wasn’t sufficiently sexually attractive to arouse an adult male to the level of lust required to discount and ignore several thousand years of anti-incest propaganda. I looked in the mirror and imagined that when I was sixteen I might have the swelling breasts and curving hips that would make daddy need to mate with me urgently enough to ignore the cultural prohibitions.

“I was already horny enough that I thought I’d die if I had to wait several years to feel dad’s dick smoothly sliding into my vagina, filling me and making me feel complete as a woman. I hoped I would have enough curves to get daddy’s attention soon. I resolved to begin my seduction efforts slowly and covertly. If I experienced serious resistance, I would pretend I had been joking and not try anything again until he stopped being on guard all the time. My logic was that I’d probably have had my first period soon, so I would get a heavier dose of puberty hormones so I’d grow noticeably bigger breasts, and be unignorably more womanly. I would launch an all-out attack and keep the pressure on dad to give me what I believed we both needed until he capitulated and fucked me.

“I didn’t care whether he was worn down and gave up or if his eyes realized my more mature figure signaled I was a more adult person with sexual needs. I reasoned that he had given himself the responsibility to satisfy me, when he kidnapped me. I certainly wasn’t above using guilt to get dad to do us both a favor and screw me and eventually breed me.

“Dad had his accident before I could get past his initial defenses and his inaccurate perception of me as an overly romantic little girl.

“You, on the other hand, are a whole different kind of man. Holly tells me you have no fear of the incest taboo and are skeptical about the whole ‘age of consent’ idea. I’ve felt your eyes on me, and I know you have looked at my body the way a man looks at a woman he desires. Since we aren’t genetically related, I’d just like to point out that I’m very much like Holly, in that I don’t consider a man not offering me a choice as chivalrous. Treating me like a person with a brain, telling me if you are interested, and letting me choose how I want to react to your interest is the way I’d like to be treated.”

I grinned at Wanda and said, “I agree. My considerations are that it is possible your first shot of puberty hormones may have given you feelings so strong your intellect might have been influenced to a level of impatience that leads you to be reckless. You have adult mental capacity, so your self-image may have led you to over-estimate your physical capabilities; not through hubris, but through lack of experience. My reluctance to open a discussion where both of us would clarify our thoughts and feelings about our current status comes from a desire to prevent a situation where you experience pain, and for whatever reason, decide you need to continue the activity to conclusion. I have a personal code, much like the Hippocratic Oath’s exhortation to ‘First, do no harm.’ I found that in training trophy wives it was best to ‘First, cause her no pain.’ I want to be the man who gives a girl her first overwhelming physical pleasure that results in her sexual awakening and subsequent insatiable hunger to be touched and penetrated and to enthusiastically copulate with me joyously and frequently.”

“Holly told me that was why you didn’t just take me. My pride is hurt that I’m not sexy enough to make you lose reasoning ability, and just take what you want, but I do respect you because you are able to master yourself. At some point, you will want me enough to accept my open invitation to take me for your own. Knowing you want me enough to have to explain yourself to me and exercise self-control does soothe my bruised ego,” Wanda said.

“I’m afraid if I accepted your invitation we might find ourselves in a bad place because both of us want things to work, but it might turn out your pussy is just too small to let me inside. I’d want to stop when it started to hurt you, but if I was out of control, I might not be able to. Your brain might be saying, ‘I’m sure it will fit eventually. I want it so much, I’ll just wait a little longer and let him try to shove it in me.’ Meanwhile, your body is in pain, so that it takes longer when you are big enough, for your body to relax so I can put me inside you without hurting you. That’s why I think it is best to wait to try until we have experience together with petting and me fingering you. If you are really wet and I can get three fingers inside you without hurting you, then the part of me you are craving should fit inside you without any pain. If we rush and I hurt you, it will end up taking longer,” I explained.

Wanda promised she would not try to seduce me until she was able to pass my three finger test, but I knew she was going to be tempting me and trying to make me lose control from that moment on. I knew it would be a monumental struggle for me, because my brain was telling me that as long as a girl wants sex, it should be her right to get what she wants. On top of that, I agree with her that meddlesome people shouldn’t be making laws that affect her life when what she wants won’t hurt anyone, except the brief, minor pain of losing her virginity.

That night Holly fucked me really hard. She talked a lot about what we were doing and how good it felt. She talked a lot about how hard I made her cum. I could tell it was for Wanda’s benefit. I suppose Wanda’s hands were busy under the covers. I don’t know. I was too busy trying to give Holly the best fuck she ever had. I got into the spirit of things and did a lot of talking too about how hot and wet and tight Holly’s pussy was. I didn’t want Holly dwelling on sex with underage girls because I was already having a tough time not giving a very willing Wanda exactly what she said she wanted. After all, I had no proof she was under-age.

Holly really gets off thinking about what it would have been like if we had gotten together when she was younger. It helps her cum so hard, I can’t tell her, “NO.” After all, my primary pleasure comes from watching, feeling, and hearing a girl cumming on my pistoning cock. After Holly came, she went all soft and dreamy. I spermed her pussy, and was just easing down next to her to go to sleep, when Holly barked at me, “Daddy, stop being an asshole to Wanda. She’s so horny for you she’s going crazy. We are out in the middle of nowhere, so no one would ever know. It wouldn’t be molesting her, dad, because she wants you to do her.”

I frowned and said, “I’d know. I don’t want to take a chance that Wanda only wants to fuck because you and I are so good at making each other cum. I’d hate for her to find out in five or ten years that she really wasn’t ready for sex and she did it out of something like ‘peer pressure’ then regretted it and that her brain got permanently messed up because of me.”