Sex and The WildernessbyTellMeATale2013©
Chapter One: "Where we are, and how we got here."
(FYI: This was originally going to be a role play in the bulletin board section of Literotica, but I had a specific idea of where I wanted the story to head, so here we are.)
The pleasure welled in Robert's groin and with a healthy grunt of satisfaction, he erupted in orgasm. His penis, held firmly in Viv's pumping, clenched hand, leaped, spewing it's load onto his torso from his neck all the way back to her still working hand.
When his ejaculations finally ceased, she moved up to lay beside him. She stared into his face with a sly smirk, knowing how much he enjoyed beginning his day this way. His heart was racing, his chest was rising and falling, and his face was filled with the satisfaction that only this kind of euphoria provided him. He was in heaven, and she'd taken him there, which -- in its own exciting way -- satisfied Viv as well, even if she had not experienced her own sexual pleasure and release.
That would come, though, she knew. Robert always reciprocated, with great skill and repetition.
He opened his eyes and, looking into hers, said simply, "Thanks, sis."
She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips -- not a romantic kiss but still one a bit more intimate than most siblings shared -- and said, "Of course. That's what we do."
She hopped up and headed for the door of his tiny shack of a home, snatching up one of his shirts and wiping his discharge off her hand with a laugh. She threw it at him, saying, "I'm not washing that ... and get up before Poppa realizes you aren't with the boys at the wood pile."
"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively, throwing the shirt back at her as she headed out. He laid his head back; the euphoria was still coursing through him, and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it before he began another day of endless chores. He never meant to fall asleep, of course...
Robert leaped out of bed at the sound -- and the feel -- of his cabin door slamming open against the less than sturdy wall. He blinked his eyes clear to find his father standing in the doorway, his face filled with anger and his hands filled with the tools Robert himself was supposed to be utilizing at this moment. Peter Taylor tossed the leather gloves in the direction of his naked son, then raised the ax to chest level and let it fall. It's sharp blade easily penetrated the plank floor with a solid thud, leaving it standing there on its own with the handle pointing out the still open door toward the Central Oregon wilderness.
"Why aren't you chopping wood with your brothers?"
"I fell asleep, Poppa," Robert answered quickly, knowing he had to give some sort of answer but that he couldn't give the full one. "Sorry, Poppa. It won't happen again."
Peter studied his son for a moment. He looked the boy's naked body up and down. As with his two younger boys -- Gregory and Raymond, who just three days apart had recently turned 21 and 19 respectively -- Robert, who would be 27 next month, was a solidly built young man whose body had been sculpted by hard work and healthy diet. There was never a shortage of the first out here in the wilderness. During the family's nearly two decades out here near the Pacific Crest Trail, there had been occasions, though, when the second had been hard to come by. At those times, Peter had begrudgingly made the fifteen mile hike to Parker's Dry Goods, which these days was, as he called it, "nothing but cigarettes, beer, and lottery tickets for folks ignoring nature at 65 miles per hour".
"Were you and your sister having sex?" Peter asked with a harsh tone.
"No, Poppa," Robert answered, then quickly clarified, "Just hands, Poppa."
Even though there was nothing wrong with having sex with his sister, Robert knew better than to lie to his father, or even give an only partially truthful answer. The last time Robert had lied to his father, he'd had his butt beaten with a piece of kindling that -- according to family tradition -- he'd had to select from the wood pile himself. Despite having been almost two decades ago, Robert remembered that first and last spanking to this day, even if he didn't remember the lie he'd told.
"So, while you're brothers are outside chopping--"
"I'm sorry, Poppa," Robert cut in quickly, his regret obvious. "I'll finish all the chopping myself. They can go fish ... if that's okay with you, Poppa."
Peter studied his son for a moment, then -- glancing down at his nakedness again -- said, "Get dressed, and get out there. I'll send them to the Dam Pond ... and you'll finish their work."
"Yes, Poppa," Robert said, immediately snatching up and donning his clothes from around the floor of the tiny hut. "And I'm sorry, Poppa."
Peter was about to swing the door shut behind him, when he caught sight of Viv and her sisters, giggling and hollering as they headed down the path toward the Washing Stones at the creek, their hands full of clothes and dishes. Viv caught sight of her father in her eldest brother's doorway and slowed to a stop, staring at her father. He waved her off dismissively, letting her know that all was well. She smiled, but remained where she was, watching to see how things played out back at the little shack that Peter and his father had built a few years back to give the eldest Taylor some personal space.
"Was it worth it?" Peter asked over his shoulder. He turned to see his son sitting on his bed, donning his boots and staring back with an oblivious expression. "Was it worth it, Robert? Viv ... for the extra chores."
Robert's lips parted in an embarrassed smile, and his face filled red. He busied himself with tying his boots, then -- finally -- mumbled, "Yes, Poppa."
Robert watched his son for another moment then turned back to look at the distant Viv, still standing there watching him.
While her older sister had been sleeping in her father's bed off and on for years, Peter was yet to partake of Viv's skills as a giver of pleasure. It was understood that Peter and any of the adult age Taylor children were permitted to enjoy one another sexually, within a specific set of rules.
And yet despite Viv having come of age a handful of years earlier, and despite the fact that she had often spent quality time with each of her three brothers, she and her father had never partaken of one another. Peter didn't know specifically why; deep discussion about the family's sexual interactions weren't commonplace, even though those interactions were.
He'd often heard the sounds of pleasure coming from Viv and her siblings -- male and female alike -- so he knew that sex between was an enjoyable past time that more often than not ended in great pleasure.
This thing between the members of the Taylors wasn't just about sexual gratification, though. It was about love. They didn't fuck for fuck's sake; they made love for love's sake.
Peter imagined, for a moment, Viv's hand pumping up and down around his eldest's erection and wondered whether most people would think of that as making love. Probably not. He was sure they would see it as inappropriate and socially unacceptable. In some states it was even illegal, even if -- as with the Taylors -- those enjoying themselves were consenting adults of age.
And it wasn't as if the kids had hit 18, stripped, and fucked to their heart's content. Each of them had had a heart to heart with their parents about what sex was about, and more importantly what sex between family members was about.
As Peter departed his son's cabin, he watched Viv turn and descend the trail to join her sisters for their morning chores. He returned to the Big House -- a two story log cabin that had once been a Forestry Department Ranger Station -- and made his way to his bedroom in the back.
There, he opened the front of his jeans and pleasured himself to a rather unsatisfying orgasm. When he'd recovered from the climax, he opened his eyes and stared at the woman in the photo before him. She wore a conservative wedding gown with a long flowing train that, in the photo at least, had stretched out behind her on the mountain trail where they had exchanged their vows.
Peter cleaned himself off with a rag and put himself back together. He missed Lily, every moment of every day. She had been every thing to him, and when he'd lost her suddenly two years earlier, his world had seemed as if ready to crumble around him.
Family. Family was what kept him going. Theirs wasn't the most typical of families, of course; incest was more common than people out in the "real world" wanted to admit, but incest driven by true love of family was simply unheard of and unbelievable.
Lily had been part of that incest, of course; she'd started it, as a matter of fact, coming to the aid of Robert, who had gotten so close to "becoming a man" with a beautiful young woman, only to have the opportunity yanked away.
Without Lily, the family's current situation here in the wild -- one that allowed the members to fulfill their needs with love and respect -- would never have evolved and matured into what it had become.
She had asked her husband once whether she had done the right thing, going to her then 18 year old son's bed and showing him the ways of sex.
"If you hadn't, would we still be here?" had been his answer.
After that, the question had never again been asked. It was a moot question. The question itself had become more taboo than the subject it addressed. This was the way they were, the Taylors. This was their life. This was their way. This was their Family.
Peter headed back outside, just in time to see his youngest daughter rushing up the hill, hollering that they'd forgotten the home "brewed" soap.
His stomach turned over, remembering that what she'd whispered to him after blowing out the candle on her 18th birthday cake. "Poppa, when do we have the talk?"
This was something that Lily had had with the girls in the past. Jillian was the only one of the girls to come of age after Lily's death.
Peter had assumed that his wife had had "the talk" with Jillian before the cancer had taken her last breath; he'd assumed that Lily had explained that his youngest had to wait, that while they lived out here far from the Law of the Land, that she still needed to be an "adult" before she began doing "adult things".
He had, of course, been very disappointed to find out that all of that had been left to him.
As he watched the thin but noticeably curved beauty head back down the hill, giggling all the way, he couldn't decide as to whether he was disappointed or not in her choice of which of the Taylor men with whom she wanted to have her first sexual experience.
In confidence, Viv had told Peter that Jillian had chosen him; she had chosen her father to show her the pleasures of sex ... to claim her virginity ... her innocence.
Peter had never claimed a woman's innocence, not even his wife's. He laughed now, the words "pressure to perform" filling his mind. He was not only leading a young woman into the world of sexual pleasure, he was showing his daughter what that world was about.
He shook his head, shrugging the thought away, and headed off toward the barn, ready and eager to get on with his own unending chores.