Sacred Glen

This one was inspired, in part, by several of the entries to the Literotica Halloween contest.

As always, all characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

They'd come from the east, from where the sun dwelled, on ships which rode the wind and with wonders unimaginable. The priest, like his people, had been mesmerized, questions forming only after The People began begging for the stranger's drink that made them say and do things sacrilegious, only after the diseases spread, only after the strangers defiled the sacred glen.

The People were dying.

They'd been born when the Spirit of the glen passed through a man, a man both good and evil, into the womb of his daughter, who was pure and full of love. She, The Progenitor, bore the first, then more children came and they, like this verdant land, were prolific and made many children, and The People multiplied and thrived.

He had spent weeks in the temple reading the ancient inscriptions, searching for the words that would awaken the Spirit, entrusting his daughter to his novitiates, heeding them to keep her from the strangers. Now in the glen, her by his side, he said the words, but when the Spirit flowed through him he saw the world as the Spirit saw the world and knew his daughter was no longer innocent, that she and the novitiates had been seduced by the strangers. She had drank their liquors, shared her body.

The priest died that night. His daughter called together the novitiates who, respectful of the old priest, immolated him in accordance with the rituals.

Awakened, its calling unfulfilled, the Spirit waited in the glen. Occasionally people entered, but they, like the priest and his daughter, were both good and evil and did not interest the Spirit.

Then she came.

* * * * *

"Daddy, it's beautiful."

Aaron Voss smiled. While his daughter was a young woman, when excited her voice rose in pitch and bubbled with the enthusiasm of a twelve year old girl. She was standing at the crest of a ridge - she'd rushed up to see what was on the other side - the family trailing behind. Aaron looked to his wife, who slipped her hand from his and said, "Go ahead dear," and he trotted to the top, the pack on his back no impediment for the experienced hiker.

As he did he thought of the resemblance of his wife and daughter. California beach girls, taut fit bodies, long athletic legs. His wife Abigail, called Abbie, had long ago trimmed her reddish-blonde hair to a sensible shoulder length, but Deborah's wavy hair still hung to the middle of her back. Their round faces featured hazel eyes that glittered when excited or happy, which was almost always, long lashes, arched brows, straight noses, wide cheekbones. There were differences, his five foot nine inch daughter had several inches on her mother and had developed the full round bosom Abbie had always said she wanted, but to see them was to know they were mother and daughter.

He reached the crest. His daughter gave him a hug and repeated, "Isn't it beautiful?"

It was Edenic.

* * * * *

Since discovering the Native American sites near her home in Las Cruces as a child, archeology and anthropology had fascinated Deborah. When asked what she wanted for her eighteenth birthday she said for the family to explore a little known site in the Honduran jungle: the remains of two villages of a tribe that had called itself The People and disappeared with the Spanish incursion. The trip would require several days of hiking and camping, but the outdoors had always been part of her family's life. Her parents, inveterate tinkerers, held several patents for camping gear that generated the royalties that allowed them to focus their considerable attention on their children. Home schooled, Ben the eldest, and the two sets of twins Becka and Charity, Christian and David, found college undemanding, with Ben, an aspiring architect, graduating in three years as valedictorian.

In four days of hiking and exploring the family found the two villages and a third, previously unknown, but not the temple assumed to be near-by. Now returning to the river - they'd rendezvous with the boat tomorrow - they'd been looking for a place to camp when Deborah impulsively decided to look on the far side of a near-by ridge. Her instincts, as usual, were impeccable; the small valley was paradisiacal.

No one finding a reason they couldn't - there were no posted limitations and the government issued map contained no restrictions - they erected three tents in the glen, one for Aaron and Abbie, another for the girls, Deborah, Becka, and Charity, and a third for the boys, Ben, Christian, and David, cooked dinner, told stories, thanked Deborah for choosing such a wonderful present they could all enjoy together.

Sleep came quickly; it had been a strenuous four days.

And the Spirit, seeing that the youngest one, the one they called Deborah, was pure and good and full of love, flowed through them.

* * * * *

Aaron was dreaming. The kids were off exploring and he was on his knees behind his wife, holding her slender hips, driving himself into her. She came, came again, then he did, and as his dream body jerked forward so did his sleeping body, waking him.

As his disoriented mind returned to reality his wife whispered, "Hey honey," and he said, "I was having this dream, sorry to wake you."

"You didn't, I've been up. I was dreaming my husband was making love to me," then ran a finger on his erection and said, "The way you were moaning, it seems you were dreaming the same thing."

"Yeah, I was, how weird is that?"

"Not very," she said, working her hand inside his boxers, "We've gone without for four days, what was the last time that happened?"

Slipping a hand under her white tee-shirt to her braless breasts, finding her nipples hard, he said, "Last time we went camping with the kids."

She peeled his boxers down his legs saying, "Four days is way too long. It's two in the morning, if we're quiet we can get away with it."

He pulled her tee-shirt over her head, leaned in, licked her breasts, said, "You sure? I'm not my cleanest, only been bathing in streams."

Twisting her hand on his shaft, pre-cum dripping from him, she said, "You'll owe me a trip to the spa," kissed him, straddled him. With a fingertip he traced a line from her neck between her breasts, over her stomach, stopped at her panties, circled around to her back. She leaned forward and looking in his eyes said, "Falling in love with you was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He said, "You, the kids, I'm the luckiest man in the world," lifted his head, his lips grazing hers, then capturing her lower lip between his, stroking it with his tongue. She lifted a leg and worked her panties off; he caressed the hollow of her thigh, pulled her close, kissed her mouth, neck and collarbone, licked her nipples. She reached for him, placed him on her sex, whispered, "Let me," rolled her hips on him until he was all the way in, withdrew, did it again, kissed him muffling his moans, reached back and massaged his balls.

They made love with oft-practiced skill, pacing their movements, dragging it out, letting it build. When it was time he grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, his shaft and head dragged over her g-spot. She tensed, came, felt him his body tense and jerk as his thick warm seed coursed into her body.

Afterwards, bodies limp, they looked at each other, smiled with joy in their eyes, kissed.

Their children - who'd woken from their own erotic dreams - had listened to them. Each considered masturbating, but they were sharing tents. All returned to their dreams.

* * * * *

Abbie, the first one up, reviewed the map while brewing coffee, then cup in hand leaned against a tree, marveling at the beauty of the place, thinking about how wonderful the sex had been last night.

Looking up into the canopy she saw what appeared to be a giant cocoon, far too large to support its own weight. It was not one cocoon, however, but scores of interconnected cocoons, a mammoth colony with several large colonies hanging from it, supporting each other, giving the totality unworldly strength.

She was making a sketch of it when Aaron, emerging from the tent, said, "God your beautiful."

She kissed him, said, "Good morning my love," and gestured to the tree. "Take a look at that."

He did, saw what she saw, refilled her coffee cup, poured one of his own, looked at her sketch, pointed out a few things she'd missed, then hearing the children turned to the tents and said, "Morning, your Mom fixed coffee."

While friends gave them the credit, Aaron and Abbie simply considered themselves blessed. Six healthy happy optimistic children, each other's best friends, and who'd never given them any real trouble. Ben, like Deborah, took after Abbie, tall, slender, and blonde, while the two sets of twins, the girls Becka and Charity, the boys Christian and David, resembled their father, brown hair, stockier, more heavily muscled.

As the kids emerged Abbie, who always thought her children beautiful, saw a little something extra, sort of a glow. Thinking it meant last night's lovemaking had not disturbed anyone she said, "Everyone sleep well?"

And although their sleep had been interrupted by erotic dreams and their parents, each nodded yes, for despite the four days of hiking each felt a bit more vigor, bit more pep than usual.

Abbie said, "I figure it's two hours to the river. If we give ourselves four we'll need to leave here in three hours."

Deborah said, "While we were working our way down the ridge last night I saw a grove of trees I didn't recognize. I'd like to take a look."

Ben said, "I'll go with you. How about you guys?"

David said, "Christian and I were thinking about exploring the valley floor," then turned to Becka and Charity, "You guys want to come?"

The twin girls looked at each other, said, "Yes."

Ben said to his parents, "How about you?"

At the thought of getting some private time a look passed between Abbie and her husband and she said, "We'll hang here, break everything down, get lunch ready."

Aaron and Abbie didn't know it, but their children knew that look, seen it a thousand times. With so many of their friends' parents ranging from disinterested to disgusted with each other, or single, or part of blended unhappy families, that their Mom and Dad dug each other was just plain cool.

* * * * *

"Do you recognize the trees?"

"No, I'll pack some leaves, bring 'em home, try to figure them out," then pointing to a bush, "I recognize that."

"What is it?'

"A species of blueberry."

"Are they safe?"

Popping one in her mouth she said, "Whoever heard of death by blueberries? Want one?"

* * * * *

The Spirit dwelled in the glen, and everything in the glen, but most strongly in the life of the glen so as Ben and Deborah ate the Spirit's life-force entered them. There would be changes, some soon, some taking longer.

* * * * *

They feasted on the berries, picked enough for the others, and found a spot where the sun poked through the forest's canopy. Ben sat against a tree, his sister leaned her body on him, his arm, draped across her chest, nestled between her breasts. They were quiet, enjoying each other's presence and the wild sensual beauty of the place. Deborah, sun on her face, feeling safe and loved, slipped into a light nap, dreaming that her family was in this beautiful place on a day just like this one, that they were naked, and her father's penis - vibrant and beautiful - was hard. She opened her eyes, shook her head, the silken hair of her ponytail playing on her brother's skin, and said, "How long did I sleep? Is it time to get back?"

Ben said, "I'm not sure, you drifted off so quietly I didn't notice exactly when," lifted his arm to check the time and said, "We could hang a little longer, but they should be done by now. It'd be decent to help them clean up."

Deborah said, "You're sweet to think about them," stood, extended her hand, helped her brother up, and said, "You should have heard them last night trying to be quiet," then seeing the expression on Ben's face added, "You were awake, you heard them, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I'd figured they didn't do it while were camping, but I guess they just wait until the middle of the night and try to sneak it in."

"Yeah, aren't they cute?"

Holding hands they worked their way across the face of the ridge, saw that the tents had been broken down, saw their father and mother, shirts and socks on, otherwise naked. Re-living last night's dream Aaron was on his hands and knees entering Abbie from behind.

Aaron and Abbie had gone at each other the second the children disappeared, packed, checked the time, figured they had time to do it again. Pre-occupied they didn't see their eldest and youngest child stop, gape, then silently move up the ridge and behind a row of bushes where Deborah exhaled, sat on a rock, and said, "That's the first time I've seen two people having sex."

Ben, a bit surprised, said, "You've never watched porn?"

"No. What's it like?"

"Porn or sex?"

"Sex silly."

Ben sat by his sister, slid his arm around her shoulder, said, "Isn't that a question for Mom?"

Deciding to tease her brother she said, "Okay, I'll ask," stood, and saw her parents through the brush. Past her initial shock, with no risk of interrupting them or being discovered, she saw what they were doing was wonderful, full of love and beauty, as if this fecund place was manifesting itself in them. Last night's arousal returned.

Meanwhile Ben, mind turned inward, contemplated his sister's question. He'd had a few one night stands, far fewer than been offered, and been in love, seeing the same woman his first two years in college. His sister was asking about the second kind of sex. Deciding to try and answer her question, he looked up, saw her eyes fixed on something, guessed what it was, and standing, placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Between people who love and care about each other, like Mom and Dad, there's nothing better. Look at them."

Covering his hand with her own she said, "I know, the love between them is so strong. It flows through the family, through all of us."

She watched and felt no shame at spying or the way her body - her nipples tingled, her vaginal lips swelled - was reacting. There was no reason for shame; her parents were expressing their love, the love they shared with the family. She slipped her arm around her brother's waist, pulled him to her, glanced down, saw the lump in his shorts. Seeing that it was effecting her wiser, more worldly brother the same way it was her, she felt safe to talk about it and said, "Ben last night, when we heard them, I felt comforted, and turned on. It's more intense now. Is that weird?"

Ever protective of his baby sister he wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and said, "I felt the same way, feel the same way now. It doesn't feel weird; it's like this place gives us permission."

She turned her face to his; he was beautiful.

"I like it when you hold me."

She felt right in his arms, and suddenly he wanted his sister.

"I like holding you."

As if reading his mind she turned her head to a forty-five degree angle to his, touched his cheek with four trembling fingers, kissed his lips, said, "Show me about sex."

Ben considered asking if she was sure, but she was offering him something precious and intimate, to question it would be to doubt her, reject her, and then she reassured him, "Yes Ben, I'm sure."

He kissed her, then again. Their desire cascaded forward, lips moved on lips, tongue on tongue, they kissed with the passion that permeated this place. She moaned into his mouth, took his hands, placed them on her breasts. He squeezed, they were firm and round and warm, and then she moved his hands down her body, to the hem of her shirt.

While not one to brag or tease, Deborah was proud of her body. Now she was glad she'd never shared it with a man, she loved and trusted her brother; there was no better man, place, time. She lifted her arms; he pulled the shirt over her head; she reached back, undid her bra.

Her breasts, large and without hint of sag, blended with the flawless pink skin of her trim figure. Her areolas, an inch across, were slightly darker in color, her nipples thick and hard, a shade darker still. Returning his eyes to her face Ben said, "Deborah, they're, you're perfect."

Deborah stood on her toes, pecked his lips, pulled the tie from her ponytail, shook her head, loosening her hair, said, "I'd glad you like them, now take your shirt off." When he did she, as if contemplating a work of art, traced the lines of his body, his pecs and abs, with her fingers. His skin quivered and she pushed the hair from her face, looked up, said, "I love your body."

He kissed her, cradled her breasts, squeezed, ran his thumbs in circles on her areolas, across her nipples. She pressed her tongue to his, chased it into his mouth; they played. His hands slid down to her shorts but saying, "No, not yet," she moved into his arms; they kissed, caressed arms, legs, thighs, chests, stomachs, butts. She undid the buckle of her shorts, took his hand in hers, guided it down her body, inside her shorts. Ben worked it under the hem of her panties. Her hips rose to meet him, she tilted her head back, exhaled, moaned.

He was touching his sister's sex, he was touching his beautiful sister's sex. He grazed her clit, traced her soft swollen vaginal lips, moved up, fondled her clit - it was enormous - then down again, spreading her moisture. The heel of his hand on her clit, he massaged her sex in a circular motion. He kissed her mouth, ears, neck.

Holding onto his body Deborah gasped groaned. Her sex was on fire. Back arched, her breathing grew ragged; her hips, moving on his hand, rose and fell. There was a wonderful divine building pressure inside her.

He covered her clit with his thumb, rolled it against her body, caressed her pussy lips with his fingers. She dug her short hard nails into his shoulders, clutched the nape of his neck, crushed her breasts to his chest; her burning cunt burned was the center of the universe. Hips quaking she moaned, said his name, jerked, her pussy exploded; there were fireworks in her head and a landslide in her sex and she sang her joy as an orgasm - a long reverberating freight train that shook her world - rumbled through her. He pulled his hand from her shorts to hold her shaking gasping body to his.

Juice dripped down her leg, fell to the ground, watered the soil, joined her to this place.

Deborah, catching her breath, looked up, eyes glazed, said, "I love you Ben," kissed him, kissed him again, traipsed her fingers across the hard flesh of his stomach, undid his belt. Moving her fingers through his thick pubic hair she said, "I've never touched one," kissed his mouth, their tongues massaged and slid on each other; her fingers glided across the cock-head on a drop of pre-cum, then slid down him. Encircling her fingers on the shaft, she ended the kiss and said, "I don't see how something this big fits inside a woman. May I see it?"

Nodding yes, he pried the shoes from his feet, stepped out of his shorts, sat on the rock. His sister, eyes on his groin, joined him, said, "May I touch it?"

"Of course. Be firm, it won't break."

Despite his assurance she placed a fingertip on the shaft, lightly moved it down, said, "It's hard, and so soft," stopped at his balls.

"You can play with them too."

Cupping his scrotum she looked at him, saw pleasure on his face, squeezed, squeezed again.

"They're hot and swollen."

"They get that way when a man's excited."

Smiling, she wrapped her hand on his shaft - her fingers barely touched each other - and as more and more blood flowed into it, felt it pulse in her hand.