Chapter 1

Life throws us curves, now and then. Our family was no different than any other. In our case, the most serious curve was the tornado that spread our house over two counties, and took my wife, and my children’s mother away from us. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the company I had worked for was gone too. The whole town was destroyed, for that matter.

Family tried to help, but very few families can take in an adult and three teenaged kids. It’s too much. So besides losing their mother, the kids got separated from each other and me too. I had a sister named Sarah, and she took Lynne, my thirteen-year-old daughter. Scotty went to my best friend, Don, from my Army days. Scotty was fifteen and good with tools, and Don owned a mill-working operation where Scotty would be able to explore and learn about the business. He had a dream of owning a woodworking shop. For my middle son, Shaun, my mom and dad were the answer. Shaun was always their favorite anyway, even if they’d never admit it, and Dad could always use help on the farm.

As for me, I went back to Glenndale and worked for those who were rebuilding the town. There were places to live if you weren’t too picky. Tornado damage is really interesting, in the same way a Great White Shark’s teeth are interesting. You don’t want to see it close up, or in action. I stayed in half of a house that was left. It was like some giant axe had cut the house in two, and then half of it had been removed by trucks, right down to the bare pad underneath. What was left were three bedrooms at one end of the place. Six of us lived there, with a generator for support. There was no shortage of refrigerators, lamps and anything else that used to belong in a house.

Eventually my insurance money came through. But rebuilding was a long, drawn out process. Rezoning was going on, and everything had to be cleared away before plans could be made. There weren’t enough architectural companies in the whole state to come up with that many house plans, and even if they did, there weren’t enough skilled construction workers to build them. It was going to take a long, long time. I was willing to help, but I couldn’t just build a new house. Not there, anyway.

So I banked the money, putting most of it in CDs and bought a motor home to live in until things could get worked out.

A year later, I still couldn’t build. It was summer, and I missed the kids. The motor home was a used Four Winds Hurricane model, which seemed awfully ironic.

It set me back almost thirty grand, but that was a fraction of the insurance money, and it would let me live a lot better than I had been living. It was a Class A gasoline model and was pretty amazing inside. It had ducted air conditioning, a split bath with a garden tub, a three burner stove and three beds, if you folded out the full size couch. The kitchen also had a built in microwave and wall mounted oven, as well as a booth that would seat four to eat. There were two slide-outs and it even had a patio awning. With captain’s chairs for the driver, navigator and another passenger, it was as comfortable as being at home in a recliner.

As soon as I took delivery, I knew I had to go get the kids and go on a road trip. We’d been separated too long.

I collected Scotty first. He made a big deal of being fine, but I could feel the relief in his arms when he hugged me. Driving something that big is really different, and I usually was pretty happy if we could get up to sixty for any period of time. It took us two days to get up to Wisconsin to pick up Shaun, who was also obviously glad to see me. A day and a half later, we pulled up to my sister’s place and Lynne came running out. I think it was Lynne who reminded me of how long we’d been apart. My thirteen year old, flat-chested, tomboy was gone. In her place was a fourteen year old bombshell, with flowing hair, and makeup on and more curves than a road in the Ozarks has. As she ran towards us, Scotty said “Who’s that?” and then “Wow!” Shaun just stared.

Meanwhile, I noticed that the breasts she’d grown during the last year, were bouncing up and down as she ran towards us. They were soft too, as they crushed against my chest.

Before the tornado, they had all three fought all the time, complaining about each other and vying for privilege and status within the family. That was all gone. Lynne was crying outright as she went from me to her brothers, hugging both of them for all she was worth. My sister walked toward us, a little teary-eyed herself. I got a hug from her and was mildly astonished that her chest felt just like my daughter’s against mine.

“What the hell did you feed her?” I asked weakly.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she,” sighed my sister. “I’m sure she’s got my genes.”

I patted my sister on her round, firm ass. “We’d better hope not,” I said into her hair. “You’re a slut, baby sister.”

“I was a slut,” she said, slapping my own backside. “Those days are gone. I’m a staid old fuddy duddy these days.”

“Is that why Frank always sounds so happy?” I asked her, Frank was her husband, and he did always sound happy.

“He’ll be happy to get a rest from your daughter,” said Sarah. “She’s learned how to tease, and it drives him nuts.”

“She teases him on purpose?”

“No. It’s just in her blood. She really is like me when I was her age.”

“Then we’re in big trouble,” I said. Many was the time my sister came and crawled into bed with me because she was scared of a storm, or of the boogey man, or of whatever. She really was scared the first time or two, but neither of us expected how I would eventually calm her down.

After that, the storms were just an excuse. What she really wanted was me on top of her, pinning her to the bed while she had orgasms.

“Just get an industrial size barrel of salt peter,” said Sarah, grinning. “Put it in everything you feed them. Take an extra dose yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Wanna go camping with us? We’re going to the Grand Canyon.”

She looked over at my sons, both strong and tall, with broad shoulders.

“I’d come back pregnant with triplets,” she laughed. “No thanks. You go off and have a good time. You all deserve it.”

And with that, I called what was left of my family together, and we got into what was now our home, and which contained everything on earth we owned.

Then we headed west.

Scotty had gotten his driver’s license while he was with Don. The Hurricane was a bit much for him, initially, but he sat and watched how I drove and we talked about it. There would be places he could practice. I anticipated he’d be able to handle daytime driving, at least on the Interstate.

But until that happened, the kids spent their time in the back, catching up on what each of them had been doing for the last year. It made me proud that they got along so well. There was no yelling, and no complaining as I drove along. And I wasn’t left out. At various times all three of the kids sat in the navigator’s seat, next to me, and we talked as what I called “the bus” glided along towards our first stop as a camping family.

I had an itinerary all planned out. There are a number of motor home clubs, and they have parks all over the U.S. that are designed specifically for motor homing families. It was one of those where we spent our first night, parked with about thirty other big motor homes, most of which were a lot fancier than ours. But the people were very welcoming. The camp office had a store, where we could get milk, eggs, canned food and the like, sort of like a convenience store, except they also had lots of other things, like coffee pots, and jack stands and leveling pads and a hundred things I didn’t even know what were used for.

The kids, though, noticed the swimming pool and hot tub right away. It was early June, and still cool, so the consensus was hot tub. The kids were already changed by the time I got back from registering. I didn’t think anything about that at the time, what with only one bathroom, and it not really large enough to change clothes in comfortably. The boys were pretty quiet, too, kind of wide-eyed as I climbed in, but I didn’t think anything of that, either. This was an adventure, after all. I wasn’t to find out until much later that Lynne had just stripped down to the buff to put on her bathing suit, and that the boys had been treated to that view without a word.

Her bathing suit, on the other hand, I did notice. Big time. One look at it reminded me that I’d left my cute little tomboy daughter with a slut. I hadn’t thought about it that way when it happened, but that’s what I did, cutting to the chase. And my sister had... advised... my daughter on things from a slut’s point of view. I knew with unshakable surety, for example, that Sarah had helped Lynne pick out this bathing suit.

It was red. The top was a band of cloth about three inches tall, that wrapped around her chest, covering the middle portion, from top to bottom, of my daughter’s breasts. Remember those breasts that hadn’t been there when I dropped her off? The ones that were bouncing around as she ran towards me when I picked her up? Yeah... those breasts. The top did nothing to cover the bottoms or tops of those breasts, just the middle, where the nipples were. And those nipples were clearly visible, poking through the cloth. There was a string that went up around her neck, apparently to keep the whole thing from just falling to her hips if she blew out all her breath or something, but all that did was make the viewer - the male viewer - hope that she blew out all her breath, and that the string failed. The bottoms were made of two pieces of cloth that were sewed together over her mons, and went up to glide over her hips to a back that looked exactly like the front. That left the bottom of her glutes exposed, like the bottom of her breasts were exposed.

She saw me looking and posed with a saucy look on her face.

“Like it? Aunt Sarah says it sets off my skin tones.”

What it set off was every bit of her that was female. I was looking at her skin, but not for the tones, believe me.

Of course I felt bad about that. It was a little confusing, to be honest. I knew she was my daughter, but she looked a lot like my wife. That was still a soft spot in my heart. I hadn’t had a woman since losing Roxy... hadn’t even been interested in a woman since I lost her, and the sudden appearance of her daughter, looking so much like she had, not to mention hotter than a two dollar pistol, made it hard on me not to think what I was thinking. I tried to work up the breath and control to suggest that the suit was a bit too brief, but she didn’t give me time.

“Come on guys!” she squealed. “Last one there has to clean the toilet!”

Then she was bounding off across the park, looking like a human elk, leaping gracefully over obstructions, just the picture of health and happiness. I almost laughed as the two hyenas in the family tore off after her, howling and chasing the prey.

I don’t know for sure what happened at the hot tub. Nobody came and talked to me about it directly, neither the kids, nor the camp employees nor any other guests. But something happened, because when the kids got back, they had a low opinion of the place.

“The only people here are geezers,” complained Shaun as soon as he tromped up the steps into the bus.

“Yeah, and they’re grumpy too,” added Scott as he came in next.

But it was Lynne’s entrance that gave me a clue. She had her towel wrapped around her like it was much colder than it was. And she wasn’t bubbly happy any more. I guessed that some “geezer” had commented on her swim suit and suggested it was inappropriate for anyone who wasn’t trolling for johns. Or something like that. Maybe it was some casual comment between geezers involving the word “slut.” When a young woman is stretching her wings, and somebody clips them, it can be a pretty unhappy experience.

In any case, the party mood was gone. It had been a long day for poor old dad, so I told them I was going to sleep. That brought up the topic of the other sleeping arrangements. There were two bedrooms, each with a queen bed, and then the couch that was a hide-a-bed. I claimed one bedroom, pronounced the other one was Lynne’s, and that the boys could sleep on the couch.

That got some comments from the boys, who weren’t excited about sleeping with each other.

I said, “Okay, Lynne, honey, which brother do you want to sleep with?” I was joking, of course, trying to use levity to point out the obvious difficulty. My dear, darling daughter, however, did not play along.

“I don’t care,” she said, carelessly. “As long as he doesn’t snore.”

It was actually the vehemence with which the boys argued for the privilege that caused me to stick to the original plan, though I did massage it a little.

“You guys get the couch tonight, and Lynne gets it tomorrow. You’ll switch off and on after that. That’s fair.”

There was some grumbling, but not much, and not loud. The kids said they were going to stay up and play cards, something the whole family used to do frequently before the tornado. I lay in bed, drifting off, listening them joking with each other and talking softly. It made me feel like we were a real family for the first time since nature had torn our lives apart.

The next day we drove to Kansas City, to the Worlds of Fun theme park there. They have places with hookups for motor homes to park. The kids went crazy, riding rollercoasters, mostly (they have four or five there) and generally acting like they were ten, instead of teenagers. The boys flirted with girls they met in line. Lynne flirted with boys too. I rode some rides, but mostly just watched them having fun. It was good for my heart to see them laughing and smiling. I really wished Roxy was there, but I figured she was watching from somewhere, and that helped a little.

They were exhausted that night, and we weren’t in a hurry, so we stayed there. This time they didn’t stay up, and everybody went to bed around nine. I woke up around midnight, and saw a light on out in the common area. I didn’t think about Lynne being out there on the couch, and just got up to go turn off the light.

She hadn’t folded out the couch. Rather, she was just stretched out on the cushions, reading a book. She looked up at me when I walked in.

“Hi Daddy. I couldn’t sleep.”

I had stopped, and was just standing there. She had on the exact same style, color and cut of babydoll pajamas that Sarah used to wear when she came and wormed her way into bed with me. For a second I thought they were the same babydoll pajamas. But they couldn’t be. They’d be thirty years old by now, and falling apart. These looked fresh and new. I realized she’d had help from Sarah on sleepwear too.

If this was what she’d been wearing around in front of Sarah’s husband, I could understand why he needed a break. The jacket was completely transparent, and yet somehow white. The bra under it bulged with breasts that filled it to overflowing. Her brown nipples were clearly visible through the cloth. Her panties also did nothing to obstruct what was in them, and I swear they were cut purposefully to create a camel toe. Her dark pubes puffed the cloth out, but they were pulled up tightly enough that her young pussy lips were clearly displayed.

But there was nothing artful about it. She was just a girl, lying on a couch, dressed comfortably, reading a book.

“You’ve sure grown up,” I breathed.

She smiled, but only briefly. “I miss mom,” she said softly. Suddenly her eyes glistened, and all thought of her sexuality fled my mind. I sat down on the edge of the couch beside her.

“I know, Baby,” I said. “Me too.”

“There are so many questions I have,” she said, her voice quivering.

“What about?” I asked, ready to dispense wisdom.

“Growing up, I guess,” she said. “Girl stuff.”

“Sarah couldn’t help?”

She smiled again, only briefly. “Nothing against her - I love her and she was great - but she’s a slut, Dad. She gives terrible advice.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to hide a smile.

“As far as Aunt Sarah is concerned, the sooner I get pregnant and start popping out babies, the better.”

“Did you ask her why she didn’t follow her own advice?” I asked.

“Yeah. Turns out she has something wrong with her, and she can’t have children. She said she’d take my first three to adopt and raise.”

“She said that, huh,” I said, smiling.

“The sad thing is I don’t think she was kidding, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She tried to get me to shave off all my pubic hair, so I could wear a bikini even smaller than the one I got!”

“Well, you don’t have to do that,” I said firmly.

“I know that,” she said, as if I were a half wit. “But I get these weird feelings about boys, and I can’t talk to her about that, because she’ll just tell me to go have fun, which is what the boys want to do. And that’s another thing. Boys are still stupid, but it doesn’t make me as mad as it used to, and that doesn’t make sense!”

“Well, the feelings are normal,” I said. “That’s what she’d tell you.”

“That doesn’t really help all that much,” she said.

“Actually, it does,” I countered. “Just remember all girls have those feelings. They’re normal. There’s nothing wrong with you for exploring them and thinking about them. It’s not naughty or forbidden or any of that crap. Just be yourself.”