Chapter 4

Frank's attention was homed in on Karen during dinner that night.

The young girl sat close to Bret, her thigh pressing his, or a hand brushing over his. Her attention belonged solely to Bret. Frank was aware of that fact whether the others were or not. And her father's attention was on her.

But not now as she was seated there, but on the image of her naked body so willingly receiving Bret's young cock.

It was an image that refused to leave Frank's mind. After returning to camp, he had tried to lose it by reading, then by eating, but the vision persisted, haunted him, taunted him. Nothing he could do would shake the tantalizing picture in his mind's eye.

He said little during dinner and even less as he and Mona retired to their tent. While his wife gathered her towel and soap for her nightly bath in the river, he waited. And when she left the tent, he quickly slipped into his pajamas and stretched out his sleeping bag. He didn't try the book again, realizing it wouldn't help.

Damn, he cursed. His daughter was no better than a two-bit street walker and he couldn't get her out of his thoughts. He couldn't bury the tempting vision of her ripe young body just lying there in the grass, thighs opened and ready to take the thick, long, hard length of her stepcousin's prick.

Lust stirred in him, reawakening in his loins. He felt the throbbing need coursing through his groin. His cock was rising, twitching and jerking with desire - desire for his own daughter - a desire he could never fulfill - a desire that was forbidden to him.

Damn!

He was a haunted man. His carnal lusts had betrayed him. All his life, he had lived as he had been taught by his parents. They had been strict, but they had shown him the path of right. It was a path he had treaded all his life - until now. Now there was Karen, his own daughter, a temptation that rocked his very soul.

The tent opened and Mona stepped in. He looked up. His eyes scanned her body hungrily, realizing that he hoped she was in the mood as she had been last night. But his wife wore a nightgown beneath her robe.

"The water was nice," Mona said, slipping off her robe and moving to her sleeping bag. "You should really try it with me one night, Frank."

"Mona..." His throat was dry, his words sticking in his throat.

"Yes," Mona turned to him.

"Mona, I..." He wanted to say he wanted her, wanted to fuck her, but he couldn't. "Mona, I'm in the mood."

She glanced away. "Frank, we've got to talk, We've got to work out..."

"Mona, I'm in the mood." He repeated. "We can talk later."

"No, Frank! We've got to talk now."

He didn't listen to her. Instead he moved to her sleeping bag. "I'm your husband!"

"And I'm your wife," she said. "Doesn't that mean anything? I'm more than just a hole for you to put your prick in when the mood strikes you. I'm a person, a human being, a woman who feels! Until we get our problems worked out..."