Incestous Camping

Blake stood at his wife's grave and fought against the anxious turning in his stomach, willing himself to not vomit. Twelve years ago, his wife Holly had taken the coward's exit, using their car and their garage to asphyxiate her life away. And, now, Blake was holding on by bloodied fingernails. But, he wasn't contemplating suicide. Responsibility kept those thoughts at bay. What tormented his soul, he couldn't put a finger on.

His palms were sweaty, heart racing. The mid summer air was filled with dense humidity, making it almost impossible for him to suck enough oxygen into his struggling lungs. An anxiety attack, his head tormented by circumstances beyond his understanding.

"Dad, why did Mom kill herself?" Blake's daughter, Amber, pulled him out his disturbing thoughts. He was thankful for the life preserver.

"I don't know, honey." Amber asked that question frequently, and Blake's replies were always vague. Barely eighteen years old, Amber was too young to know the truth. Suicide was a permanent solution to a temporary problem, a mental illness. Blake didn't want to tell Amber that there was no mystery to be solved regarding Holly's death. External factors did not force his wife to commit suicide. It was an internal factor, the sickness in his wife's head.

"Red sky at night, sailors' delight," Amber chimed solemnly, looking toward the sunset.

"Light interacting with dry dust particles in the lower atmosphere gives the sunset that reddish appearance, Amber. It's actually a good indicator that dry weather is coming."

"Thanks teacher," Amber mocked, softening her words with a slight smile. She was to begin college in late August.

"I don't think so." Blake had very little respect for the teaching profession. He thought that, by design, the occupation suspended emotional maturity. He had met with too many of Amber's teachers, listened to their Pollyannaish views, and had concluded that they were stuck between adolescence and adulthood, surrounded by their child peers rather than their emotional underlings. In Blake's opinion, they all needed to spend more time around grown-ups.

Blake had been born, raised, and met his wife in the miniscule city of Elmira, New York. And he was now standing in Elmira's Woodlawn Cemetery, a graveyard most notable for being the burial place of Mark Twain. Elmira was a depressed city, and Blake had moved away shortly after Holly's death, finding a better job opportunity and a more palpable climate in Virginia Beach. But, he came back every year to visit his wife's grave, see childhood friends, and take his daughter camping.

As for Amber, she despised Elmira, although she looked forward to seeing her mother's grave. Elmira, New York, was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of New York City. The people were largely conservative Republicans, and Blake knew that the lackluster community bored his young daughter. As for camping, Amber enjoyed that until it came time to actually camp. Sleeping without the security of locked doors scared his daughter, as did the unfamiliar wilderness noises.

Blake was dismayed that dusk was gathering as he turned into Treman State Park and made his way to their designated campsite. To him, dusk represented death, the death of day, the time when he couldn't prevent himself from reflecting on bygone events and gloomily conclude that life was just a meaningless cycle of monotony followed by eternal nothingness. He couldn't turn the tide and . . . and what? What did he want to do? He couldn't figure it out. But, dusk taunted him, drowned him in its death.

It was Independence Day weekend and the campground was filled to capacity. When Blake had pulled in with his registration confirmation two days previous, he had overheard a group of potential campers being turned away, told that there were no available lots. The campsites were fairly close to one another, allowing for very little privacy. The little camp enclaves consisted of a small grassy area for tents, a picnic table chained to a pine tree, and a fire pit. Amber had wanted to stop at Red Lobster for dinner, but Blake refused to splurge, giving her two choices – McDonald's or campfire cooking. She pouted, chose McDonald's.

"I don't understand why we couldn't have just spent tonight at the Holiday Inn that we passed, instead of driving all the way to Ithaca," Amber complained, sliding out of the pick up truck. "It's right on that Water Street in Elmira . . . "

"And I don't understand," Blake countered pointedly, "why we have to camp at a state park when there are mountains are all around us." He waved a hand in illustration. "There's a goddamn swimming pool here for Christ's sake! Besides, why would we stay in a hotel after paying for a campsite?"

"You shouldn't swear, Dad," Amber returned softly.

Amber was dating a good, safe kid from a strict, religious family. Amber's 'dates' consisted of church functions and watching PG movies with her boyfriend's family. Blake didn't believe in God or any of that hooey eternal crap. When his wife snuffed out her life, that was her finality. Weak people needed God, used Him as a crutch to explain away their misery instead of just sucking it up and forging ahead. Blake's beliefs caused him much anxiety and sleepless nights, worried about dying, but he couldn't stop the tide from turning – bloodied fingernails or not.

Blake started a campfire while Amber took a shower in the nearby restroom facility. He enjoyed staring into the dancing flames and feeling the warmth; the absorption calmed his restless mind. When Amber returned, wet head, she complained that the inalterable shower water had been cold. Blake told her that showering wasn't a part of 'roughing it'.

"I was talking to the teenagers camping next to us in the ladies' room," Amber said, sitting on the log beside Blake. "They're all my age, and seem nice."

"Oh?" Blake looked over at them. A group of four with one pop up tent. Two boys, two girls – obviously, two couples. Blake and Amber shared a single tent as well. He knew that it looked inappropriate, a grown man sleeping with an attractive young lady. But, Amber wouldn't budge on the issue. It was, in fact, all Blake could do to keep his terrified daughter out of his sleeping bag during the night.

Amber was attractive, very attractive. Long blonde hair and big green eyes, she took ballet lessons and carried herself with long-limbed gracefulness. She had worn a pale pink string bikini swimming earlier that day, and it anguished Blake that his eyes had been irresistibly drawn to the rounded molds of her apple-sized breasts, deliciously outlined by the skimpy top. He tried dismissing the thought of how the visual of his daughter had stirred his libido, caused an erection. He tried dismissing it, but he could not. It lingered in his brain like the ache of a bad hangover.

After brushing her hair, Amber found a stick and roasted marshmallows. She put the fluffy white puff of sugar directly in the fire, allowing the marshmallow to become enflamed. Then, she pulled the burning treat out, allowing the flame to extinguish itself naturally, reducing the outside of the marshmallow to a sweet, blackened ashy substance. Blake watched her. A teenage girl, she was very fascinating to him. In some ways, Amber was a little girl still – she pouted and was terrified of camping. In other ways, Amber was a little adult – she was an exceptional cook and kept their home immaculate. Like Blake, she was at a crossroads in her life. Except Blake couldn't see down his paths of choosing; sometimes, he couldn't even clearly see the crossroads.

"What do you think Jason is doing right now?" Blake asked, referring to her boyfriend. He didn't really give a rat's ass about Amber's stuff shirt boyfriend; he just wanted to divert the thoughts in his head. An all too familiar migraine was rearing its ugly head.

"It's ten o'clock, so he's probably sleeping." Amber spoke around a mouthful of marshmallow, looking toward the teenagers camping next to them. Blake turned in the same direction. The kids were noisy, their slurred voices indicating that they had found some unscrupulous adult to purchase alcohol for them.

"You're a good girl, Amber," Blake smiled, reaching out to gently touch his daughter's leg. "You're not like those kids." Blake sometimes wondered if Amber had been switched at birth, because she was such a wide-eyed innocent. Holly had been a nasty, lustful creature. If Holly wasn't cheating on him, they were engaging in partner swapping.

"They invited me over," Amber said, a pleading question in her tone.

"No." Blake replied pointedly, giving his daughter a stern look.

"You're no fun, Dad," she folded her arms and pouted, kicked dirt in the fire. "You're just like Jason!"

"I'm nothing like your stuffed shirt boyfriend," Blake returned. "I'm just not going to give you permission to get shit faced."

"Fine! I'm going to bed then!" Amber stood up and stalked angrily into the tent.

Blake didn't enjoy being the fun police; it bothered him when Amber asserted her independence. His little girl was growing up, but that didn't bother him. It was . . . It was . . . It was policing her activities. It was being the adult. It was the knowledge that Amber's little friends viewed him as an authority figure. When Amber had been a little girl, it hadn't bother him to be viewed as the adult, because . . . because . . . because . . . He couldn't finger on it! Why the hell did it bother him now?!!

As he struggled getting the lid off a bottle of Advil Extra Strength, he felt the loneliness creeping in. When Amber had been younger, she used to look up to him like a God, her sole provider. Now, she had ballet and all her extracurricular school activities. He sometimes didn't see her until well after seven o'clock in the evening. The stillness of the house sometimes encapsulated him like a tomb. Oh, he dated and had girlfriends, but he never once considered getting married again. Perhaps, in his mind, he was still married. Or, perhaps, he was traumatized by Holly's suicide. Either way, he was lonely and wished Amber was six years old again.

When he finally crawled into the tent, Amber was where he half-expected her to be, curled up on his sleeping bag. Amber had learned a little trick. If she slept on his sleeping bag, he would have to lay close to her, in case she woke up frightened. Blake lay down beside his daughter on the air mattress that she had purchased specifically for this trip. Amber, she wanted to camp with as many creature comforts as possible. He sighed deeply, the aching in his head gone, but he felt emotionally and physically spent.

Amber rolled over and pressed her head into his chest. "Good night."

"Good night, baby." Blake didn't like it when Amber fell asleep snuggled against him, because he knew they'd awake in some inappropriate, incestuous embrace. And, Blake couldn't really object, because his daughter probably wouldn't understand.

It grew silent in the tent, and Blake began drifting into a drowning sleep. His thoughts were haunted. Downtown Elmira was becoming a ghost town of vacant stores and mom-and-pop shops, shops predestined by the lack of commerce to be temporary. The nearby mall was rapidly becoming a vacant building as well. He wished that he hadn't come, wished he were in Virginia Beach. Then, Blake thought about his childhood and wished Elmira was as it had been in his youth, with consumers shopping downtown at Izard's Department Store and Woolworth's. He really wanted that – for his hometown to be young again.

In the tent next door, Blake heard the teenagers' voices growing louder. They had gone into their tent quite a while ago but were obviously still awake. As he listened more intently, Blake noticed that only two of the teenagers were talking – a male and a female. They were laughing, humorously agitated about something.

"You're moving my mattress!" A male voice carried loudly.

There was no corresponding reply to the outcry and conversation stopped in the neighboring tent. Fully awake now, Blake laid still and listened. He could hear rustling and fluctuating human sounds. The noises didn't appear to be fully annunciated words, merely sounds. Blake thought that perhaps . . . He didn't want to jump to perverted conclusions, but he held his breath, trying to figure out exactly what was going on next tent. After a few minutes, Blake's assumptions were confirmed when his ears boldly picked up what he thought he had been hearing.

"Uhhhh," came a very long, passionate female sigh. "Uhhhh . . . "

Blake lifted his head, heart pounding fast. [b]They were fucking in the tent next door!

From a campsite across the road, a catcall echoed mockingly, "Uhhhh . . . Uhhhh . . . Give it to her good!" Blake couldn't help but laugh, and Amber snickered a little as well.

The same voice that had complained about his mattress moving now objected, "I'm going out to the car to sleep, give you two some privacy!"

The sound of the tent zipper followed, and Blake heard two voices – one male, one female – laughing. The grass and gravel sounded out their footsteps heading to the vehicle. A car door opened and closed. Then, all was still again. Blake wondered if the licentiousness behavior had stopped. Inside his pajama bottoms, he was throbbing uncomfortably. Damn horny and drunk teenagers, he thought angrily.

Then, from the neighboring tent, the female cried out her passionate lust. "I want you! . . . I need you!" A male's voice followed, too low and husky for Blake's ears to decipher what was said. "I want it!" The female begged with wild abandon.

"You two should be charging by the minute for the live pornography!" A taunting male voice called from across the road. A female followed with "I don't know if I should be appalled, masturbate, or introduce myself and ask to join them!"

"Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah . . . " Blake could hear flesh slapping and the sloppy wetness of the girl's pussy. The female was now undeniably being fucked! Blake could hear the mattress inside the tent being manipulated by the male's pussy pounding.

"Huh . . . Huh . . . Huh," the male puffed his exertion with each rapid stroke.

The catcalls were coming from several campsites now. But the couple appeared to be too into it to care, especially the female. "Good . . . Oh, it's so good!" Her voice was strained with orgasm. "I love it!"

Blake enjoyed listened to the lusty girl getting exactly what she had begged for. But, he didn't enjoy being painfully erect next to his daughter, throbbing. Still, Blake was twisted enough to acknowledge that part of his arousal came from the fact that Amber was overhearing the fuck.

"Oh fuck me!" The girl screamed at the top of her lungs. "Your horse cock is hitting my pussy in all the right spots!"

"Huh . . . Huh . . . Huh." The male continued to puff through his rapid movements. The girl had the noisiest pussy Blake had ever heard, so incredibly wet, like she had dumped a full cup of fluid into her cunt.

Then, the neighboring tent was abruptly silent. Blake listened futilely for more sloppy sex sounds. For all her begging, the female had only received a few minutes of penetration, and Blake felt a smug satisfaction knowing that he could have done better. The zipper on the neighboring tent was pulled down and Blake soon heard two male voices conversing near the teenagers' parked vehicle.

The catcalling continued, "Is this going to be a double feature?"

The carnal couple didn't reply to the taunts, and the female's voice wasn't heard from again. Blake wondered if she had fallen asleep or if she was too embarrassed to acknowledge what had just transpired. Maybe, Blake thought distastefully, she was just a stupid slut, waiting for something more to be put inside her. Some girls were like that, Blake knew, easily manipulated – especially young ones.

With a low agonizing moan, Blake closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had such a painful erection. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until it was remedied, and he formulated his masturbation plan. He'd wait until Amber's breathing indicated that she was sleeping. Then, he'd carefully maneuver away from her and jack off in the men's room. He didn't dare move at that moment, with the head of a rock hard erection protruding from his pajama bottoms. And, Amber . . . She'd undoubtedly accompany him to the restroom, terrified to be alone in the tent. It wouldn't do him any good to be walking up to the bathroom beside a pretty, young lady, with his cock head sticking out!

"Dad?" Amber whispered unsteadily. Blake didn't reply, hoping Amber would fall asleep faster if she thought he was already sleeping. "Dad?" She whispered again, a little louder. Again, he didn't reply.

Blake felt Amber move away from him. She appeared to be fiddling with something, and Blake wondered what she was doing but kept his eyes closed. "Yes," he heard Amber whisper in a low, sensual tone. "Yes . . . " The mattress was moving in a rhythmic manner. "Ooooo . . . Yeah."

His daughter was finger-fucking herself!

With eyes firmly shut, Blake reached out a hand, wrapped it around his daughter, and drew her to him. He wasn't sure if his hand hugging her waist was meant to prevent his daughter from masturbating or a sexual advance. Either way, Amber tensed, quickly drew her hand away from her crotch. For a moment, she lay still. Then, "Dad?"

"Mmmm . . . " Blake opened his eyes, feigning husky drowsiness, "I had the strangest dream . . . "

"Really?" Amber choked.

Blake kissed the top of his daughter's head, keeping his embrace firm. "Hey, Amber, I'm sorry for falling asleep. Do you want to – need to – discuss what they were doing?"

Amber laughed in a mysterious fashion, "No, Dad. I definitely don't need that!"

"What does that mean?" Blake's eyes narrowed, heart pounding unsteadily with genuine surprised. "Are Jason and you having sex?" When she didn't reply, Blake sighed with frustration. He wanted to punch himself in the face for being such a . . . such a . . . such an ADULT! Why couldn't he just go with the flow, be one of those open-minded parents who bought booze for minors and smoked pot with them? And, why did the thought of his beloved Amber taking a cock into her tiny body fill him with such sexual desire and repulsion? "Do you do it a lot?" Blake was immediately horrified that the question came from his mouth.

"No," Amber replied with unabashed disheartenment. "His parents are always around, and he worries about me getting pregnant."' She was quite for a moment. Then, "Dad?"

"Hmmm?"

"If I tell you something, you promise that you won't be mad at me?"

"What is it?"

"No. You have to promise that you won't get mad at me first."

Blake hesitated. How could he possibly promise an involuntary reaction? He wished he had that kind of control over his emotions! He made the promise anyway.

"When Uncle Larry visited last month, I had sex with him." She spoke in a hurried whisper, cringing in her father's arms.

"Why?"

Amber squirmed a little. "Because . . . the boys my own age. It's so difficult to find someone to do it with . . . Uncle Larry wanted to and . . . "

Uncle Larry was Holly's brother, on his third marriage. Every June, he used Blake's Virginia Beach home as a free hotel. Apparently, his overweight brother in law was using his daughter as well. Blake made a mental note to swing by Larry's on his way home and beat the fat fucker to a bloodied pulp.

Blake held his daughter for a moment, stroked her long hair. Her nightgown was hiked up around her waist; she was void of panties. And, she made no movement to cover herself. Blake debated about what he should do. He thought about the teenagers in the next tent over and about his own childhood that had slipped into . . . He didn't want to think anymore. Sighing deeply, he moved his erection slightly toward Amber, testing her reaction to it. She gave no indication that she felt his slight jab, and Blake grew agitated. He gave his daughter a strong thrust, keeping his erection against her uncovered cunt. Then, he began circling his hips, spilling pre-cum onto his daughter's exposed belly. Amber silently circled her naked cunt in time with him. Through his pajama bottoms, Blake felt the heated wetness of her sex.