Buck Fever

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Epilogue

Chapter Two

The sweet release that coursed through his penis ejected with it the stress Bob's mind had been under, allowed him to drift off to sleep. Whether his sleeping mind was tormented by the burgeoning sexuality of his niece and daughter or not, we don't know. What we do know is that, sometime later that night he woke up, his sleep-muddled mind trying to alert him to some anomaly in the dark night around him.

At first, he assumed some noise outside the camper had caused the alert. We think of the night as being silent, and that as we become dormant during the hours of darkness, everything else does too. But that's anything but true. Many animals come out only at night, and there are both predator and prey represented in their numbers.

We also think of night as being totally dark. That's a result of our constant use of artificial light, which causes our eyes to fail to adjust as natural light wanes. Granted, human eyes aren't well adapted to sources of light other than the sun, but the fact is that on most nights, other than the few in which moonlight is completely absent, one can often see one's shadow at night. Human eyes will adapt, as much as possible, to the ambient light available at night.

Bob had been asleep long enough for his pupils to have become fully dilated. He didn't think about that as his eyelids slid upwards. All he thought about was that something “wasn't right.” His first thought was that some animal was sniffing around outside, and had made a noise that woke him up. Then it registered in his brain that it wasn't as dark as he thought it should be. There were windows in the camper, but the one in the cab-over “bedroom” where he was sleeping was small and covered with a thick curtain. Some instinct told him it wasn't morning yet, but there was dim light coming into his sleeping area from outside.

His next thought was that Sam had remembered the night light they'd used when she was little and they came camping as a family. It was a 12 volt model, made especially for camping in vehicles that had 12 volt power supplies. He had two extra batteries in a compartment under the camper floor that were wired to the lights inside the vehicle. They also powered a radio and the pump for the water faucet.

He closed his eyes again, relaxed, now, but the susurration of a whisper made them open again. He lifted his head, turning it, and he heard more soft whispering. Curiosity caused him to move his head enough to look out into the rest of the camper from his dark nook, and his entire body went rigid.

At the other end of the camper Randy lay on the couch, right where he'd been when Bob came in and crawled up into the cab-over bed. He was no longer adorned in tighty-whities.

Now he was naked.

More than that, there were two girls kneeling on the floor next to him.

Sleep vanished and Bob's mind transitioned to full wakefulness. He was paralyzed by a mixture of normalcy and craziness that made the whole scene surreal.

The normal things were obvious. The girls were Sam and Mallory, of course. Randy's face was normal too, with that lopsided grin on it that was there so often. Randy was a pretty happy kid. He had a good attitude about life, generally, and he smiled a lot.

One reason for that was now apparent.

His sister's hand moved gently up and down, stroking what could be nothing other than his teenage erection.

That was part of the craziness, but another part was that one of of Randy's hands was casually moving around on Sam's chest as if that were perfectly normal. Bob couldn't see what that hand was doing, because both girls had their backs toward him, but it didn't take any imagination at all to deduce that her breasts were involved.

And she obviously didn't take umbrage at his outrageous touch.

Bob's brain tried to deal with the parts of this scene that were wrong - inconceivable! - and it was made worse when Sam leaned forward to kiss her cousin on the lips. As if that wasn't bad enough, Mallory then leaned down, in concert with her cousin, to take turns sucking the tip of her brother's cock!

Bob realized his breath was frozen in his lungs. He had to concentrate to force the air out of them, and then draw in another fresh breath. That process was noisy, and Sam's head suddenly came up, swiveling on her neck to bring her elfin features into view as she looked toward where her father was ... in theory ... sleeping. Some instinct caused her to nudge Mallory, who also lifted her head in question.

“Don't stop!” gasped Randy, his voice no longer quite a whisper.

“Shhh!” shushed Sam.

“Don't stop!” urged Randy, much more quietly.

Mallory's hand went back to stroking his boner and he relaxed back against the couch cushions.

“What?” said Mallory, looking at Sam.

“I heard something,” whispered Sam, looking over her shoulder towards where her father was supposed to be sleeping.

Bob held his breath again. This time it was voluntary. He moved his head back, further into what he perceived as the darkness of his nest. He realized his own penis was hard again. Not only that, but his hand was gripping it. His mind was awhirl with a plethora of sensations. Among them were the stark admission to himself that he was clearly interested in his own daughter's sexuality. That made the fact that he wanted to bang his niece like a drum seem a little less troublesome.

Mixed in there was both envy that Randy obviously had access to both girls, sexually, and outright rage that any boy had touched his little girl at all. He'd always been able to manage his fears about her dating, but only because she never came home looking like a girl who had been messing around. Now, though, knowing she was sexually active, at least that Randy could touch her that way, made his mind produce lurid visions about what all that touching might have looked like before this, including Sam on her back, legs open in acceptance, as some little prick - quite literally, in one sense - plundered her sweet, innocent sex.

What made it difficult to stay mad about, though, was her attitude, which suggested she was completely comfortable with the situation. Her behavior was adult, whether she was a teenager or not. She showed no indications of hesitancy, fear, discomfort, guilt or anxiety, all things that Bob remembered vividly from his own fumbling experiences as a teen, exploring the strange, fascinating world of sex.

Samantha was comfortable with who she was, and what she was doing. She wasn't sneaking around behind his back, out on a date with some boy. And she could have been. She could have said she didn't want to come on this trip. And while he was gone, she could have done anything she wanted to.

With whomever she wanted to.

That was what actually calmed him down. She had chosen to come on this trip, to spend time with her cousins. And it was obvious she had spent some time with them like this before.

Now he waited with breathless anticipation. What would they do next? How far would this escalate?

More importantly, if it escalated too far ... what would he do about it?

Mallory's head was down and bobbing again, and Bob could hear little sounds escaping from Randy's throat that made it clear that if she kept going much longer, the possibility that his daughter might get a prick up inside her would be vanishingly small.

Bob was astonished as he caught his lips mouthing silently, “Suck, baby. Finish him off.”

She did. It was obvious. And while his hips bucked and his adolescent penis fired off a volley of teenage spunk in his own sister's mouth, Sam kissed him on the mouth, muffling his whimpers of ecstasy.

Bob watched in awe as his daughter extended a leg, straightening it and lifting the foot off the floor of the camper several inches. As she did so, she twisted sideways, giving her hand room to move between her legs.

While she kissed her cousin, she masturbated, doing for herself what Randy could not.

And then, suddenly, it was over, and young people were moving silently and quickly, breaking apart. Randy was left, almost abandoned, as the girls scrambled to put on their sleepwear and get into bed. Mallory lay on her back, next to the wall of the camper, her hand inside the running shorts that were her “PJ” bottoms. Sam, having apparently reached some kind of climax, relaxed beside her cousin, composing herself for sleep.

Randy simply pulled on the briefs the girls had obviously stripped off of him, and rolled over to put his back to the night light.

Mallory issued a whimper or two, but that was it.

Then it was quiet in the camper.

It took Bob an hour to get back to sleep.

When Bob woke up the next morning, it was to a different reality than when he'd crawled up into his bed, the night before.

He pulled on the clothes he'd taken with him into his “bedroom” and eased out of the cab-over nook.

The kids were still sleeping. He stood beside the bed the girls were in and stared down at them. Mallory was lying on her back with one arm over her eyes. He could see the bump that was caused by one of her nipples. Sam had rolled to face her cousin during the night. His eyes followed the curve of her hip to where the bare skin of her thigh was exposed.

He glanced over at Randy, who was in the exact same position he'd rolled into after being given what had looked like a doozy of a blow job.

They looked exactly like they had looked the day before.

But they were not the same teenagers he'd ridden with to this place. It was as if aliens had taken over their bodies, and he'd only discovered this by accident, the night before.

He had no idea what to do. In fact, he had no idea if he should actually do anything.

He left the camper as quietly as possible. He needed time to think. He'd done a lot of thinking during the night, of course, but most of that had involved wondering what else these kids had done together. He wondered if Sam was still a virgin. He wondered if Mallory was still a virgin. He wondered if Randy had lost his virginity with either of these girls.

He put together a fire and made a pot of cowboy coffee, just dumping grounds into the pot with some water. While it heated, he paced. He thought about calling Lucy and telling her what he'd seen. But she'd just worry. Or demand he bring them back. Maybe he should do that anyway.

They hadn't fucked, though. And they could have. Really, compared to that, what they had done wasn't so terrible ... right? And, around the camp fire that night, maybe he could find a way to talk about all this. Share his wisdom. Demand they stop. Beg them to stop?

The program for the day was to teach the kids gun safety and how to shoot, and then get the tree stands built. He had already planned that two hunters would sit in each stand, so they'd only have to build two. All that was required was lashing branches together to provide a place to sit. He already had a number of “instant ladder” steps, which were held to a tree trunk with a couple of short ratchet straps. Four of them set roughly two feet apart would get you ten or twelve feet off the ground, which was sufficient, as long as you remained still.

That meant he would be in a stand with one of the kids, a girl, he had assumed. Now, he wondered if he could do that. Well, he could do that, of course, but his mind wouldn't be on shooting a deer. It would be on whichever girl he was sitting next to.

At the same time, though, he didn't feel comfortable putting the two girls together, and taking Randy as his partner. They were miles from anywhere, but he still felt that leaving the girls out of sight of either male was not right. A proponent of women's liberation could have given him an hour long lecture and it wouldn't have made any difference. It was just the way he was raised.

He was still trying to decide whether it would be better or worse to have one or the other girls sitting next to him for hours, when Sam opened the door and came out dressed for the day.

“Morning Daddy!” she said, her voice chipper.

“Hi, Baby,” he said, automatically. He stared at her chest, then realized it, and looked away.

“How'd you sleep?” she asked. Before last night he'd have thought it was just a casual question. Now, her voice was tinged with typical teen angst. He almost laughed. Then he wondered how she would react if he just told her he'd seen everything. Something made him decide not to.

“I've slept better,” he said, vaguely.

“It's always hard to sleep when you're not in your own bed,” she said, sagely.

How did she know that? He wondered how many beds she'd slept in that weren't her own. Then his mind insisted that, in that scenario, she probably wasn't sleeping anyway. Finally he forced himself to stop thinking about that.

“Are the others up?” he asked. “We've got a long day ahead of us.”

“They're getting dressed,” she said. “Want me to start breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” said Bob, happy to think about something other than sex.

He did all right for the next hour, concentrating on eating, and getting the rifles ready and thinking about what he was going to do to teach them how to shoot. He owned a number of guns, and had brought four different rifles with him. He started with a general class on how each rifle worked, safety issues, and his two hard and fast rules: 'Never point a gun at anything you're not willing to shoot, and never shoot unless you can see your target clearly.'

"Nobody else is supposed to be out here tramping around in the woods,” he told them, “but that doesn't mean they know that. The last thing we want to do is shoot something behind a bush that we think is a deer, and have it turn out to be a trespassing hunter.”

After that he went over good shooting techniques, talking about aim, hold, trigger pull and breathing.

Then it was time to see if they could hit anything.

“I'm going to work with each of you individually,” he said. “While I'm doing that, the two who aren't shooting need to get started on building two tree stands to sit in tomorrow morning. We need to choose places for those and build the stands today. So before we start shooting practice, let's go get somebody started on a stand.”

He was aware that the shooting they'd be doing during the day would probably start the deer moving. He hoped they'd move toward where the stands were going to be built. Instead of using an hour to hike in, Bob decided to take the camper and drop two teens off. He drove half an hour, taking it slowly because the logging trail they were on was being reclaimed by nature. The kids decided who would stay and start building by the simple expedient of a session of rock, paper, scissors.

Bob drove back to the campsite with Mallory in the passenger seat.

He put an empty five gallon bucket upside down as a makeshift seat for Mallory, with one of the lawn chairs in front of her as a gun rest. He went through again the elements of hold, trigger pull and breathing, and told her to squeeze off a shot at the paper plate he'd stapled to a tree fifty yards down the trail.

She put the bullet square in the center of the plate.

“Outstanding!” he said, peering through his binoculars, really pleased.

“I just did what you told me to,” she said, smiling.

“See if you can do it again,” he said.

She put that one half an inch from the first one.

“This is fun!” she said.

“That’s fine,” he said, “but this is to put meat in the freezer.”

“I know,” she said. “This will be easy.”

“You won’t be shooting at a paper plate,” he cautioned.

“I know that, silly,” she said.

“A lot of first time hunters get buck fever,” he said.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’s where you have the deer in your sights, but you can’t pull the trigger,” he said.

“Because it’s pretty,” she guessed.

“Or because you can’t bring yourself to kill something,” he said.

“I don’t think I’ll have that problem,” she said. “I get that food has to come from someplace and that it doesn’t just magically appear in the store.”

“You’re in the minority, then,” said Bob.

“I can do it,” she said. “I won’t have any problem.”

Bob snorted, but only to himself. Kids always thought they could do anything. He wondered if he should do something to distract her, and see if she could still shoot under those conditions.

And that was when things started to go off the rails.

Later, he would decide that what happened was the result of what he had seen the night before. The whole time he’d been teaching Mallory how to shoot, he’d been intensely aware of her as a female. The previous paragraphs describing that process can’t convey the sense of intimacy involved in being so near to her, touching her hands, arms and shoulders, as he put her into the proper shooting position.

That he was so aware of her as a woman was obvious to him. Her smiles and the obvious ease she felt about being touched may have had something to do with it too. For whatever reason, when he decided to “distract” her, what leapt into his mind was not something that would have happened twenty-four hours earlier.

“See if you can still shoot while I distract you,” he said, moving behind her.

And then, while she prepared to shoot, he reached around her and cupped her breasts.

That she wasn’t wearing a bra was instantly obvious, as his hands found themselves full of warm, soft, teenage titties.

“Uncle Bob!” she said, without taking her eye from the scope. “What are you doing?”

“Distracting you,” he said, breathing more quickly.

“You’re being naughty,” she breathed.

“Concentrate on the target,” he whispered into her ear.

“How can I when you’re doing that?” she muttered.

“I saw what you three were doing last night.”

It came out without a conscious decision to say it. She went very still.

“You did?”

“Mm hmm,” he said, squeezing her soft breasts gently.

The sudden report of the rifle shocked him. She lifted her head, hitting his chin gently.

“How’d I do?” she asked, working the bolt to eject the spent case and insert a new round like she'd done it hundreds of times.

“To be honest I don’t want to let go so I can use my binoculars,” he admitted. Her casual acceptance of his outrageous behavior allowed him to simply be honest with her.

“Wait a sec,” she said, and leaned to look through the scope again. “I don’t see anything. I think I missed,” she sighed.

“Because you were distracted,” he said, needlessly.

“I can do better,” she said.

He knew he’d gone way too far. Reluctantly he started to slide his hands free of her mounds. His fingers dragged along the sides of her breasts, reluctant to break contact.

“Reach under my shirt this time,” she said, calmly.

“You’re kidding me,” he gasped.

“No I’m not.” She was already looking through the scope again.

As if in a dream, he moved his hands lower. She sat still as he found the hem of her shirt and tugged, baring her stomach. His fingers gently slid from her sides to her belly button.

“Don’t tickle,” she said. “That’s not fair.”

“You call this fair?” he asked, sliding his hands up to find hot, naked breasts.

She let out a long sigh of air.

“I call that lovely. Don’t stop, please.”

Her addition of “please” amused him to the point that, quite suddenly, his thought process turned to ponder the fact that, obviously, what was happening did not bother her at all. There were firm indications that she actually welcomed this kind of attention. He reminded himself that she was no innocent lamb, that she had done this - at least something like this - before.

His fingers found and gently squeezed turgid nipples.

“I don’t think I can shoot if you do that,” she said, breathing quickly.

“Try,” he said, hoping to prolong this startling, unexpected, and very fun game.

He kept kneading her nipples. Again, the report of the rifle startled him. She laid the rifle across her lap and, when he started to release her, put her hands over his, trapping them against her breasts. She reached for the binoculars and, as if she knew he would now leave his hands where they shouldn’t be, lifted the optics to her eyes.

“Ooo!” she said, sitting up taller. “I was wrong before. There are two holes right next to each other. And I hit it again this time!”

“Damn,” he sighed.

“Why’d you say that? I thought I was supposed to hit it every time.”

“You are. But now I have to stop doing this.” He squeezed her orbs again.

She stood, dislodging his hands as she turned. Rather than get her shirt all twisted up, he pulled his hands away from her. She handed him the rifle.

“Who said you have to stop?” she asked, looking through her eyelashes at him.

Then, in one smooth movement, she pulled her shirt up and off, over her head.

He stared at round, firm breasts, capped by puffy pink nipples.

“I’ve wanted to give you my virginity since I was twelve,” she said, softly.

In one of those cheap, dirty books, he’d have been on her like a lion on a lamb, fulfilling her stated desire ... and his too.

But, of course, this isn’t one of those kinds of books. And Bob, as much as he wanted to sate that desire, was wise enough to put the brakes on. At least initially.

“Maybe we should talk about this,” he suggested.

“Can you get rid of my virginity while we do that?” she asked, sounding completely serious.

“Virginity isn’t something to be ‘gotten rid of.’ Virginity is something you should share with someone special.”

“You’re the most special man in my life,” she said, her voice calm.

“Randy looked pretty special last night,” he said.

“Randy is only for practice,” she said. “I’ve been saving my virginity for you.”

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“Maybe,” she said, but it wasn’t an admission.

“So you and Randy haven’t ...?”

“Had sex?” she finished, when he didn’t. “Of course not. He’s my brother, silly.”

“I’m your uncle,” he pointed out.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she said, smiling. “I just want you to be my first.” She cocked her head. “And probably my second, and third and so on. I don’t know any boys I’d let touch me like that.”

“Except Randy,” I reminded her.

“Oh, he wants to, but like I said, he’s only for practice ... for doing other things. I have this fantasy, and in it you make it very good for me, and I make it very good for you too.”

He was stunned by her calm, and very adult attitude. But he had other concerns at the moment.

“So ... has he ... practiced ... with anybody else?”

She smiled.

“You mean besides with Sam? No. He has it bad for Sam. He hardly even looks at anybody else.”

“Except you,” he reminded her.

“He’s a boy. He’s frantic to get into Sam’s panties, but she and I made a pact. She won’t do it until I’ve done it.”

“And you won’t do it until she does it?” he asked, taking it to the logical conclusion.

“No. I have to go first. With you. Only then will she let Randy have his nasty little way with her. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. We planned on it happening next year.”

“You planned this?” He goggled.

“Well of course,” she giggled. “How else was I going to get you to pop my cherry? Haven’t you noticed how much I tease you?”

“Well ... yes, actually.”

“But you’re too proper to do anything about it,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, using her own phrase. “You’re my niece.”

“Well, now you know I don’t care about that. Like I said, we’re never getting married, but I love you, and I’ve loved you for years. I want my first time to be with someone I really love, and who I know really loves me. If you don’t remove my virginity, I’m going to have to let somebody else do it. Like I said, I don’t know any boys I think are worth spit, so that means I’ll probably have to let Randy do it. He’d love that. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“That’s hitting below the belt,” he said.

She moved then, to come right next to him. The tips of her naked breasts touched his shirt.

“It’s what you have below the belt that I want right now,” she whispered.

Then she reached up, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

With tongue.

She had to settle for finding out what it felt like to have a different man's mouth sucking avidly at her sex. He marveled at how eager she was to do that, all the while thinking about the fact that Randy had done it before him.

That led him to think about what Randy hadn't done before him. He was sorely tempted to give her what she thought she wanted.

Instead, he settled too ... for finding out what Randy already knew ... what her mouth felt like coaxing a load of hot spunk out of his balls.

It was enough, but he knew that would only be temporary. She had a dream, and he was in it, and he knew she hadn't given up that dream.

He insisted that she try shooting again.

She insisted he "distract her" with his finger in her pussy while she did so.

His feelings were a little hurt when, after she wiggled through another orgasm like that, she wanted to suck him again, but couldn't get him hard.

"I heard old people can't get it up as often," she said, finally, after working on his still worn out cock for a while.

"It isn't for lack of trying," he said.

"Randy can get hard even after he cums," she commented, casually.

"Please don't tell me you two have proven that," he groaned.

"Okay, I won't. Are you hungry? I'm starving."

It was surreal. She exhibited absolutely no guilt at all about what they'd done. At the same time, dressed again, she acted just like the "old" Mallory. He distracted himself by teaching her how to clean the rifle.

"We should probably go see what they're doing," she said, after she had completed that task.

"Why?" he asked, his fantasies lighting off again. "Do you think they're doing something?"

She giggled.

"No, but they both have to learn how to shoot too, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," he said, a little sheepishly.

She faced him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Please don't feel guilty," she said. "I wanted this. I want more. I've had a long time to think about this, Uncle Bob."

"You're sixteen," he sighed. "You haven't had a long time to think about much of anything."

"Sam's a good girl," said Mallory. "She's very level headed. Much more than I am. I'm horny all the time. She gets horny, but not unless she lets herself. You don't need to worry about her."

"Hah," said Bob. "I saw her last night naked, kissing a boy who was also naked. I can't help but think about what else she's done with naked boys."

"There are no other naked boys," said Mallory. "I told you. She won't do it until I do."

"And that's just one more reason for me to resist what you want right now," groaned Bob.

"She's not a slut, Uncle Bob," said Mallory, looking serious. "She's going to pick and choose her lovers very carefully."

"She isn't supposed to have any lovers," said Bob, stubbornly.

"You know she will," said Mallory. "Every girl does. It's normal. It's practically required. Don't you want to be involved in that process?"

"What?"Bob looked shocked.

"Not like that, silly," she said, slapping his shoulder. Her eyes went unfocused for a few seconds. "Though, knowing the way she feels about you, I suppose that's not completely out of the question." Her eyes cleared. "I meant don't you want to be her advisor, you know, help her make her choices?"

"Crap, Mal," groaned Bob. "Fathers just don't think of themselves in that kind of role."

"Most fathers don't have a daughter like Sam, or the kind of relationship you do with her."

"You're telling me she'd actually talk about ... um ... sex? With me?"

"Why do you think she keeps trying to get you to date?" asked his niece. "She knows it's normal to have a sex life too. But you don't. Neither does my mother. You two are the ones who are acting abnormal."

"Things sure have changed since I was your age," sighed Bob.

"No they haven't," said Mallory. "Kids these days are just willing to talk about it." She leaned up to brush her lips against his. "With the right adult, that is."

"So would you talk to your mom about sex?"

"If I thought she wouldn't go berserk, I would," said Mallory.

"Yeah, she probably wouldn't handle that well," said Bob. "Especially if she knew about you and Randy."

"Yes," said the girl, showing the first signs of discomfort. "But I figure it's better to experiment with him than do it with some strange boy I've only talked to half a dozen times."

"I guess, in a crazy kind of way, that makes sense," said Bob, his mind whirling.

"It makes sense for Sam too," said Mallory. "Please don't yell at her."

"I'm not in much of a position to yell at her," said Bob. "I watched you guys last night, and I didn't stop you."

She grinned. "That's true! I have you where I want you. I'm not above blackmail, old man."

"Speaking of that, why are you attracted to an old man?"

"Because I know you, and I love you, and I know you love me. I know you'd never hurt me, or brag to your friends that you got some from me. I know you'll be tender, and you'll care about how I feel. What's not to be attracted to?"

"Girls are supposed to lust after handsome young men with muscles," he said.

"They're cute," she admitted. "But they're also immature. You're not."

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. So, can I sleep with you tonight?"

Bob's eyes widened. He didn't know what to think of first, the image of her crawling in bed with him, willing and eager, or what his daughter might then do with Randy at the same time. They had made a pact, after all.

"Let's not rush things. You said yourself you were going to wait until next year."

"That was then. This is now. You know how I feel now, and I know how you feel."

"How do I feel?"

"I sucked your boner, Uncle Bob. It was ready to pop my cherry. If you didn't like the idea of doing that it would have stayed soft."

"Point taken," he admitted.

She frowned. "Though, come to think of it, it did stay soft the second time."

Again, he was stung.

"That was for the reason you intuited," he said. "That was only age, not interest."

"We're going to have to work on that," she said. "When we start doing it, I'm going to want to do it more than just every four or five hours."

Bob groaned as he felt his penis stiffening again.

He didn't tell her about it.

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