In each of our lives, certain events color our decisions from then on. My name is Donald Thornton and I’d like to share some of mine that led me to spend five months during the Covid-19 quarantine of 2020 in the cab and the bed of an 18-wheeler with my niece, Layla.
I’m going to define “workspace” broadly and liberally. Legally, my home office is a small building and shop on five acres outside of Ithaca, New York, where I can park my rig, and one or two trailers and work on them. I’m there less than six times a year. My sister acts as my agent while I’m on the road.
However, my daily office is in the cab of a tractor I called “Big Red,” a red cabbed Freightliner with yellow fire streams on the side. Except for a full-sized shower, I can and do live in an extended cab as I travel the United States, Mexico, and Canada. I even had the rig outfitted with a transceiver that picks up cell signals so I can use a computer anywhere there is a signal.
To test it out, I had a friend drive while I used a portable desk to hold my laptop and operated it at 70 MPH. Sometimes, the signal would drop out, but that was okay. I didn’t want to use it while driving.
The first event occurred less than a month past my 18th birthday. My sister, Ivy, turned 16 in April. We lived near Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, at the time and my aunt Linda lived near Ithaca, New York, about a five-hour drive. Our parents did some sort of top-secret work for the U.S. government. So did our aunt and her husband who had died by this time.
We always stayed there when our parents were gone. Linda’s three kids stayed with her former husband’s parents when she was gone.
In early August, we were at our aunt’s place for the annual county fair where my sister and I were helping herd our three cousins around, ages 8, 10, and 12. My dad was the oldest of five children and Linda was the youngest. My portable radio buzzed.
“Code Red. Get everyone and head for your aunt’s farm,” Dad said. The weather was hot as hell, the kids were being ornery, and Linda’s house was air-conditioned. We had learned that whatever our parents did, there was danger involved. When they used Code Red, we needed to do what they said. Pronto. Our nephews and nieces did too.
After some worried extremely private telephone sessions, Aunt Linda announced she was taking her three children to stay with some priests and nuns at a nearby monastery. We never saw them alive again.
Later, I asked my dad, “Does Aunt Linda not trust us?” Her statement hurt both our feelings because all of them knew we were reliable. Some of my classmates were already married.
“Monastery means safe house,” he said. That was the only time he or our mom talked about the job. To this day, I don’t know what they did or who they worked for. I heard some hints later in life, but nothing to confirm them.
Before the school opened that year, we moved into Aunt Linda’s house and rented out our old home. I had already intended to attend Cornell, but Ivy needed to change schools. She didn’t mind as long as we lived together. She already knew teachers and fellow students here from when we stayed with Aunt Linda.
About a year later, they told us to stay at Aunt Linda’s house and continue our education. They would sell the Pittsburg area home and we could use that to pay for our schooling. They left on an unexplained mission. We never saw them alive again either.
Both of us still worked. Linda’s former father-in-law, James Reynolds, operated an automotive repair shop in Ithaca. I changed the oil, detailed cars, fetched parts, and did all the odd jobs that were required.
Ivy worked at fast food drive-ins, restaurants, and for a time, at a nursing home. Whatever paid the best.
History always had been my interest, but my first year at Cornell I spent getting the basics out of the way. During my sophomore year, from time to time, cryptic messages landed in our emails from our parents that said, “All is well.” As long as those arrived, we didn’t worry despite this being a much longer absence than before.
The second event happened in the spring of my sophomore year. We receive messages from our parents at least once a week. In early May, they stopped. We thought of calling the emergency number, but that was only if we had an emergency. What with graduation and senior events for Ivy, we kept putting it off.
In the evening three days after Ivy graduated from high school, an official-looking SUV pulled into our place, and three “suits” got out. A woman in a business suit with a briefcase seemed to be in charge. One of the men carried a heavy bag that looked something like a salesman’s sample case.
The driveway from the main road into our farm property is graveled. I was outside working, saw the dust, and headed toward the house.
Ivy heard the vehicle also. We met on the porch. It was clear to us what we would hear.
“Perhaps we can go inside where we can sit. We have some news about your parents.” Once we all got seated, the woman perched on the front of a chair and spoke. Completely deadpan and emotionless, she gave us the news.
“My name is Naomi. I work for a government agency that I cannot name. It is with sadness I must inform you that your parents will not be returning. Nor will your aunt and her three children. In this case, individual urns contain their remains.
“I cannot tell you how or when, but they died in service to our country. You should be proud. We have determined the threat was to your aunt and your parents died trying to rescue her. There is no threat to you. However, if you ever think you are being followed or threatened in some way, you may still call that emergency number.”
She opened the briefcase. “I have here two wills. Each of them gives this property and some money to the last surviving members of your family. Since you two are the only survivors, this property now belongs to you. ”
After waiting for a few minutes to gauge our reaction, she continued. “Is there someone you can call to stay with you?
“None of our parents’ relatives live around here. Some of Linda’s in-laws live here and we can call them.” I’m sure she knew that, but she had to follow the form. We never called because we’d been exposed to this when our uncle died.
“Good. Here is my card. If you have any needs, don’t hesitate to call.” After they left, Ivy and I agreed that was the last call we ever wanted to make. Whatever our parents and aunt did, reaped nothing but death. I searched for her in the government databases later and never found that name or anything like it.
We poured the ashes over the land as the will mandated. To this day, we aren’t sure if the powdery gray stuff contained the remnants of our relatives. How did they obtain the remains? In the absence of an explanation, we did what our parents’ requested.
Attached to the wills was a receipt for $50,000 for each of my parents deposited in an account in a local bank. That was more than 20 years ago. Today’s figure would exceed $100,000. Her ex-husband’s parents received the same amount for each of them. I moved the money into our accounts right away.
After they left that night, Ivy collapsed against me as we sat on the couch. “I love you, brother, please don’t leave me.”
“I love you too, Ivy. I won’t leave you until someone tears us apart.”
She looked at me in such need, I kissed her nose. Like a demon, she shifted and kissed me back. I liked it. I hadn’t felt a woman kiss like this in a long time, maybe never.
Suddenly, she pulled away and ran up the stairs to her bedroom and locked the door. I could hear her crying as she fled.
I tapped on the door. “Are you okay, Ivy?” I heard the buzzing of her vibrator. I left her, grabbed my lube, and stroked myself to orgasm thinking about her full, red lips on my cock.
The next morning, she tried to avoid me, but I sought her out. “Ivy. Don’t be ashamed of how you feel. I feel the same way. Except for Linda’s side of the family, we’re all we have around here. ”
Again, she leaned into me in her robe. I felt her breasts against my t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Don. I know I shouldn’t, but you are right.”
Every night, we took one step closer. She left her door open when she used her sex toys and made sure she didn’t start until I walked by her door so I could watch. I seldom masturbated unless she watched.
Gradually, we kept moving closer each night. A tiny touch here, a drop of the towel to show each other our asses there. A nip slip here, a tented pair of boxers there. The night of the Fourth of July, each of us had dates for the fireworks, but we ended up coming home earlier than expected about the same time.
“Don. Would you shower with me tonight? I think it’s time. I had the chance to lose my virginity to someone else tonight, but I couldn’t because that belongs to you.”
“I’m not a virgin, but I feel the same way. There is no other woman I want right now but you.”
All Linda had was a single-tub shower upstairs and a half-bath downstairs. We lathered each other and rinsed off as best we could, hurrying to my bedroom because it was the closest, and fell on the bed still damp. We didn’t care because there were four other beds nearby.
“Please, Don, fuck me now.” I saw the need in her eyes,
“No, I want to taste you first.” I lay down between her legs and spread them, looking at her already inflamed labia. She had shaved everything but a small landing patch.
“What a beautiful pussy,” I purred. Using a few techniques, a girlfriend had shown me on her girlfriend, I kissed and stroked the insides of her thighs until she was whining in need. My fingernails raked down her belly until right where her lips and her clit met.
I could smell her sweet pussy and a few seconds later, I buried my face between her legs. “Sweetheart, you taste so good. Like fresh peaches. ”
One stroke of her clit and her hips rose, her legs clamped hard against my ears, and she wailed in orgasm.
“More,” she said. “Again. I need more.”
I buried my face in her sex again, this time thrusting two fingers inside her, and worked her pussy with my tongue again until her hips rose again and she screamed before she wet my face with her dew.
“Shit, I peed on you,” she screamed. I crawled up next to her and we kissed, sharing her taste. “No honey, that’s female ejaculation.”
After we rested, we fucked hard and fast until we both came again. From then on until we started dating other people, we slept in the master bedroom. We didn’t make love every night, but before we ended our time together, I had fucked every hole she had and allowed her to peg me a few times.
Over those two years, we remodeled the entire upstairs adding an ensuite bathroom to the master suite and added a tiled shower room capable of holding four people. We lost one bedroom, but that didn’t matter. Three bedrooms remained.
Sis was smart. She understood money disappears faster than one expects, so she took a two-year certified medical assistant class and joined a local clinic. A CMA is the one who shows you into the doctor’s office, asks the first questions, takes your blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen levels, and sometimes later assists the physician. She later obtained her four-year R.N. Degree.
As the school year drew to a close, she started dating Nathaniel Reynolds, the son of one of three men who owned and operated the automotive repair shop where I worked. He was taking a two-year automotive program at the same time.
We slept together until I met Lilly Schwartz in late September. She was a transfer student from a community college, not because she wasn’t smart or needed money, but because her mother had medical issues and she needed to stay home. Her mother had died, which freed her to go to Cornell and finish her work to become an English teacher.
From the moment we met in the school library, it was like destiny. I was head-over-heels in love with her from the start. She said she was with me too. We kissed within minutes of the first meeting.
I took her to my house that night and we made wild passionate love all night. I thought I was knowledgeable, but she taught me all kinds of things.
She made no bones that she was bisexual, but not in an outgoing or pushy way. There was nothing where she said “no” when I suggested it. We got kinky; I can tell you.
Lilly guessed within three days that Ivy and I were lovers. “I think that is so cool. I slept with one of my sisters and one of my male cousins over the past two years. But we’re together now, and she has a boyfriend, so it’s time to stop.”
Our small joint wedding was held in July at the farm, which at that time was about 100 acres, and became the third item in this pattern of events. Sis stayed there and eventually leased out all but five acres.
Nate, his two brothers, and his brother-in-law, eventually took over the shop and expanded it to ten bays for smaller vehicles, two bays for full-size trucks, and a drive-through bay for trailer repair.
Their shops occupied an entire block with their storage yard on another block on one side. Each was them specialized in something different: American vehicles, foreign vehicles, larger types of diesel, and body and trailer repair.
He also built a drive-through shop and a small office on the property that I use now. Not all at once, but over time.
Lilly and I graduated and set out to change the world, one class at a time. We’d teach for a few years, get ourselves settled, and decide if teaching was really what we wanted before we had children.
We headed for her home area of Boston to teach in a junior high school in Belmont where her family lived. Her father was still alive and taught Modern History at Harvard. We held many lively discussions that broadened my horizons and gave me unique worldviews.
In early December of the second year, Ivy called me one night. “Don. Would you and Lilly get tested to see if you can have children? We’ve been practicing frequently and haven’t had much luck. We’re about to go to a specialist and see what the problem is.”
Lilly and I did. We talked it over and she agreed to be a surrogate if Nate was fertile enough. During Christmas vacation, we met and shared results.
Nate was the problem. Lilly and Ivy both looked at me and I shrugged. I was willing, genetics was the problem. Nate never knew.
“We’ve been talking to adoption agencies,” Ivy said. “We have a line on two children, a boy and a girl who are about the same age. The agency said they have about 20 percent Vietnamese blood in them, which affects their faces and their size.”
Because they were in Vietnam and were not born to American parents, there was lots of paperwork and waiting. Lilly and I decided we would start our family as soon as summer school was out. Since neither of us coached, we derived extra income from summer schools as we worked on our master’s degrees at the same time.
Now the fourth event in this sequence happened just before I turned 24 on July 10. Returning from summer school, Lilly was riding home with a fellow teacher who lived near us. They had the green light at a busy, blind intersection. A man talking on his cell phone blew the red light and T-boned the car on the passenger side. Lilly died instantly. The other woman died three days later. He died instantly as well.
That was it for me for marriage. We loved each other so completely and thoroughly that I never wanted another wife. Sex, yes. But never another wife.
I used the insurance payment from the accident and from her life insurance policy to pay off our few remaining school debts and put the rest in savings for the future. I intended to help Nate and Ivy pay for their children’s college.
I went to pieces and tried to hide my sorrows in a bottle before I sobered up and took inventory of my life. I was all alone. Nate and Ivy were happy, and I didn’t want to disrupt them. None of my other relatives on Mom’s or Dad’s side were that close to me anymore. I think one lived in California, another in North Carolina, and others in Texas, Virginia, or the northern plains states.
Over the 14 years I drove, I looked up several of my cousins. My favorite was Tina who was almost as tall as me and her husband Andre. He wasn’t as big as Andre the Giant, the wrestler, and actor, but he was taller and heftier than me. I remember the summer I turned 12 and she was 16, she visited Linda with her family, and we shared a few kisses in the hay loft.
She was a buxom blonde, but her body was hard as a rock. She didn’t hesitate to hug me hard and kiss me heartedly until I got hard. Andre didn’t mind. I learned later they were swingers once their three children started high school. Sure, made a nice break during those California trips.
Even writing this much about my darling Lily brings tears to my eyes 20 years later. To cherish her memory when I later started driving a big rig, all my equipment contained a drawing of a multi-colored bouquet of dwarf lilies. I named my company Schwartz and Thornton Transportation. Ivy painted the original and did the same on my truck and two trailers.
Since I was interested in history, I decided to get my commercial driver’s license and eventually go on the open road. That would give me the chance to visit firsthand the places I’d only read about.
One of the things that pulled me out of my funk was the arrival of Nate and Ivy’s two children. The three of us had talked about what to name them. After my wife died, Ivy wanted to name the girl Lily. “Please don’t. I don’t think I can stand hearing her being called Lilly.”
Our father’s name was Bertram and our mother’s name was Lydia. Mom used her maiden name Gill for her middle name. She was a Welsh and British Gill, as compared to the Germanic gills from North and South Dakota. Ivy used her creativity to name the boy Gilbert. He was three months older. She merged Mom’s name and Lilly’s name and turned that into Layla. They both were two and already cute.
My father was six feet-one inches, and I ended up at two inches over six feet. Both of our parents came from British and Scandinavian stock and had blondish hair, which both Ivy and I did. Ivy was five feet eight inches and was thin with B-cup breasts. I weighed 195 pounds, and I never asked my sister about her weight. Lilly was tall and thin as well but had brunette hair.
Even though I tried my hardest not to spoil Layla, I’m afraid I did. I didn’t neglect Gil either. All it took was one look at one of them and to hear that child say, “Unnca Dawn, up plea.” I had them in my arms in an instant.
The contrast between parents and children was striking not only in height but in complexion and appearance. Gil ended up at five- and one-half feet. Layla barely made five feet until later in life.
One personality trait developed early on. Both children were precocious and musically talented, just as my family was, at least when it came to music. Every time I visited, we brought out guitars, someone played the piano, and we sang songs most of the evenings. Folk songs, modern songs, classical songs, and country songs. I think both Gil and Layla have a perfect pitch.
I spent a year working for a local cartage and moving company around Ithaca where I already knew the roads. All I needed was a Class B license because the box trucks I drove weighed less than 24,000 pounds loaded. After I became comfortable with driving and learned all the rules and customs, I went to a three-month school and moved up to local deliveries and eventually to line haul, which required a move to Buffalo to another branch of the same company. I got all the endorsements offered, including hazmat and food handling.
One day, I would drive from Buffalo to Worchester, Massachusetts, with stops in Syracuse and Albany. With the trailer exchanges involved, I often used up my 11 hours of driving time. After 10 hours off duty, I made the return trip.
Federal rules changed every few years, but the basic pattern ran something like this. A driver could work up to 14 hours in one shift, but he could only drive 11 and needed to take a half-hour break during every eight hours of driving.
The person could only drive 60 hours in seven days or 70 hours in eight days before the driver needed a 34-hour reset. For a time, that was longer with time between four and six AM included on consecutive days, but that was changed to one 34-hour period.
Over the next two years, I added other routes and trips into Canada, sometimes one day out and the next day back, sometimes round trip in one day. Buffalo to Pittsburg or Buffalo to Cleveland was out and back, all of these at night.
At first, I drove a company-leased vehicle and moved into my rig at 32. I made it home as much as I could. If I had a 34-hour reset, I often rented a car from a national firm that would come and pick me up and I would drive it to various historical locations. I had to be careful because some DOT inspectors argued that I was driving and not resting, so I never took long trips.
I learned how to use the trip boards to take me where I wanted to go next, which included somewhere near Ithaca at least three times a year: July 4, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Day.
Gil decided to go to Corning and study math and music. Layla obtained a full-ride scholarship to the Berklee School of Music in Boston in the fall of 2019. She will be 18 on October 10. Her parents spent three days driving her there, helping her settle in an apartment and returning, with her and her brother driving a hybrid car she would keep and her parents driving an SUV stuffed with her things.
That is where the fifth and final event in the build-up to my story begins. I was 40 at the time and thoroughly enjoyed driving cross country.
One more note. Nate and I never talked politics much. My philosophy was fiscally conservative and socially liberal, but basically, I considered one party just as bad as the other.
His was highly, almost rabidly conservative. I was not surprised when Ivy told me much later that Nate belonged to the Minuteman Project, a group started in 2005, and the Proud Boys. I knew he was an ardent Trump supporter and that some of his family members belonged to the John Birch Society in the 1950s.
As reports of Covid filled the airways and deaths increased, the topic of quarantines grew more common. In early March, Ivy called me.
“I’m working 14-hour days. Nate is so busy at the shop he can’t take the time to get Layla. Gil dropped out of school and is helping him. Layla’s car broke down and she can’t find anyone to fix it. Can you pick her up and bring her home?”
“Certainly, as soon as I can. Right now, I’m in Georgia and headed for California with a load of medical supplies.”
I had recently obtained a contract with a medical supply company as one of many truckers running loads between some of their factories or warehouses in Miami (for loads from Puerto Rico where it had a plant), and warehouses or plants in Baltimore, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, Seattle, Denver, Toronto, and Chicago. They had a run to Buffalo that stopped once the border closed.
As often happens, I could not find a load except to New Jersey from a broker with nothing into the northeast. Restaurants in New York were ordered to close on March 17 and a stay-in-place order became effective on March 22. I arrived in the Boston area on Saturday, March 20, pulling an empty trailer after I dropped the load.
With my custom-modified trailers, I rarely used other trailers or allowed people to use mine. Too much chance of someone wrecking my equipment. I had a 53-foot trailer and a 40-foot trailer, both refrigerated so I could move anything, anywhere, at any time. Some of the medical supplies required refrigeration and I had special compartments to meet those needs.
Again, as often happens, I picked up a load near Boston headed for Atlanta where I would continue driving between my contract sites.
Many times, I never knew exactly what was in the trailer. To count the off-duty time, I need to be elsewhere, like in the sleeper compartment. Most of my loads were sealed with monitoring equipment to notify someone if there was tampering.
I signed for one load of medical equipment or one load of medical supplies with a long list of items I didn’t understand. That way I wasn’t responsible for theft or damages. Accidents were another matter altogether. I always carried a $10 million insurance policy. Since I never had an accident that might seem like a waste, but some of those loads ran far above $10 million in wholesale value.
“I’m headed for Atlanta. I have a contract hauling medical supplies all over. It might be better if Layla stays with me right now.”
“Yes, I agree. The rest of us aren’t at home much and she would go crazy here all by herself.” My niece is a social creature who loves being with people. Gil is more like me. He didn’t mind being alone for long periods.
“Don. Please be careful. Layla is fragile and you know how she feels about you.”
“I do, Ivy. I’ll be as careful as I can.”
I knew exactly what she meant. Layla always worshipped me and loved to crawl up into my lap. She was about five feet two inches at this age and weighed 100 pounds dripping wet by this time. I forbade her from doing that when she started wiggling into my lap so much that I got an erection. If she persisted, I slowly stood up and let her fall. She was agile enough she never got hurt.
That’s the thing that some people don’t understand. While many people were isolated in their houses, life, and commerce must continue. Nate’s operation had contracts for national companies and individuals who performed home delivery services. The company serviced many law enforcement and other government-owned vehicles too.
They cut the staff and worked as healthily as they could, but commerce required them to do what they could. Instead of people bringing their vehicles to the shop, one of their employees would pick them up and deliver them when finished. I think that’s what Gil mostly did.
Height was an issue from the first. To start with, I picked her up at the waist and put her in the cab. Somehow a hand always landed between her legs or brushed her small boobs. It was like her lady bits drew my hands like a magnet. During my next 34-hour layover, I added handles so she could get herself in the cab.
After I showed her how the rig worked and where everything was, she and I talked. I put on the sternest face I could.
“We’re going to need some hard and fast rules. You sleep while I drive. If we need to sleep at the same time, you’re small enough to sleep on this bench seat. I got a bench seat for that reason. I used to do that before I got this extended cab. I see you brought your sleeping bag. You can just roll it out on the bed or the seat when you sleep. Otherwise, we keep our hands and bodies to ourselves. Got it.”
“Yes, Uncle Don. I understand.”
She brought a guitar, and we often passed the time singing. Sometimes she curled up on the seat and took a nap. She always wore short shorts that showed the underside of her small butt. Her shirts always lacked sleeves. She never wore a bra because she was smaller even than Ivy on the top.
Everything went okay until I got close to my driving limit. “Uncle Don. Maybe you can book a motel and sleep there one night. You’re looking super tired. I’ll sleep out here and that will give me a chance to clean up.”
“I’m sorry. I usually do much better, but I’ve been driving so much lately because of the driver shortage due to Covid, I haven’t had the chance to clean up.”
In some cases, like critical medical supplies, drivers could extend their driving hours up to 14 hours, but they needed to take two one-half-hour breaks. We simply noted them as emergencies on our logs. Only about once each driving cycle was allowed. My truck had a recording device that tracked all my actions. It also monitored everything happening in the truck. Whenever I went through a scale, the agency running it downloaded the logs.
What I didn’t say was that I found myself being unable to sleep well picturing her tight ass in those shorts and the many instances of side boob I saw. How could I tell her not to wear those things when I enjoyed them?
We’d been on the road about four hours after we started before the “incident” happened. A truck driver is taught to sweep from his right mirror to his rear mirror (in this case a camera built into the back of my trailer) to his left mirror at least once every 12 to 15 seconds. I always knew where I was with mile markers and services. Driving as much as I did, I sometimes got an upset stomach from the food. While I could use the toilet in the cab, I didn’t like to.
I noticed a sign saying “Rest Area 10 miles” while we were going through a western state. In the east, because cities and facilities are much closer together, truckers needed to use pull-offs without facilities or stop at a truck stop.
In the west, where there often wasn’t a town for 100 miles, states added rest areas large enough to include trucks like mine. At the state borders, the rest stops always included scales and sometimes inspections, but I had a transponder that allowed me to skip those, except when they decided to put me in a shed and go through my truck thoroughly.
They always found something that put me out of service. I had to pay someone through the nose to fix minor details. Nate’s people showed me how to fix common issues like leaking air hoses which helped. They also certified me for inspections and repairs.
During one of my sweeps, I noticed something pink in her hands. “Uncle Don, what is this.”
“Looks like a pair of your panties. Why do you have those in your hand?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, as she unfurled them to show they were much bigger than she was. “I think these might be yours.”
My temper soared. “How did you get those? I always keep those in a locked container under my bed.”
“I’ve gotten good at picking locks. Gill showed me. What’ca going to do about it, huh, daddy.”
In an instant, I was back with Lilly. That exact phrasing is what she used when she wanted to be spanked and fucked good, usually in the ass. Traveling 70 MPH, ten miles slipped by fast, but I was able to slow down and pull into the rest area safely.
“Okay, little girl. Get in the back and pull your shorts down or I’ll do it for you.”
“No.” She said, her lips thrust out stubbornly, her hands on her hips defiantly. Silently, I groaned. I was hard as a rock. I wanted my niece and nothing short of her saying a code word would stop me.
“Your code word is red. Use it when you’ve had enough,” I told her as I shoved her through the opening into the back. I stripped her shorts down and discovered she’d gone commando. I could already smell her scent and see her pussy juices moistening the insides of her legs when I put her over my lap.
The bunk is low enough I needed to bend over slightly which prevented using my full force. That was a good thing because she was so small, I might have hurt her.
I always did inside exercises in the cab using resistance bands and stopped at a national gym chain when I could. The worst thing that can happen to a truck driver is gaining weight and losing muscle tone. Always leads to sleep apnea, heart attacks, bad backs, and strokes.
Slap! “That is for breaking into my secret drawer.”
I moved to the other cheek.
Slap! “This is for defying me.”
Back to the first check. “This is for not wearing panties. ”
Back to the second cheek. “This is for teasing me almost non-stop.”
In four spanks I had covered most of her small ass, but I couldn’t stop, inventing whatever excuses I could dream up. Her ass was rosy when she sobbed “red.”
For all the gods available, what I did next I couldn’t believe. After committing incest with my sister, I vowed never again. While technically what I did next wasn’t, it felt like it.
Her scent was so strong after I made sure my fingers were clean, I stuck two fingers in her small pussy and worked her loose. Tears of regret filled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop. I moistened my thumb in her sex and speared her cherry ass with my thumb.
I was right on the edge of losing control completely and I worked her harder than I wanted to the first time, but she took it all and squealed for more. Didn’t take long for her to lose complete control. I couldn’t stop.
After letting her regain her breath, I started all over in the same position and worked her until she gushed all over my hands. We cleaned up and rested for a few minutes.
Whatever gods I appealed to, didn’t answer because I couldn’t stop. I laid her over the bed, braced myself against the storage area on top of the bunk, and pounded her pussy until she cried, “More, Daddy. Fuck me more.”
We both were crying as I tucked her inside me on the bed. “I’m sorry, Layla. I didn’t want that to happen. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, Daddy. That is what I’ve always wanted and the main reason I picked the lock. I want to provoke you into fucking me. It’s okay that you called me Lilly, but maybe from now on, you can call me your little girl or your baby girl” After that, she called me daddy and I called her my little girl or baby girl, at least privately,
From then on, we dropped any pretenses. She slept nude when I slept nude, usually spooned into my belly. We didn’t make love every night, but often enough to keep us both happy.
During my next 34-hour time off, she talked me into renting a motel for the night. But before we did, we went shopping and I bought her several teddies and other sexy lingerie sets as well as a harness, several sizes of dildoes, and a set of butt plugs. She went off separately and purchased something for me too, and as it turned out, something for her brother too.
I was paying her as an assistant because she did many things for me, like laundry, keeping the trunk clean inside and out, and helping me keep track of my paperwork. It was all tax deductible and helped me out tremendously.
She helped me dress and made me up. Still looked like a man to me, but she thought I looked great. “I think with a nice wig and some padding around your hips, you might pass as a tall woman.”
“Hah,” I said.
After she made me up, including a pair of frilly pink panties that had a pocket into which my cock fit, she ordered me to sit and wait. “No touching yourself,” she said as she disappeared into the bathroom.
When she appeared several minutes later, I almost came into those panties. She had her black shoulder-length hair done up in a tight man-bum. She used makeup to create a thin mustache over her lips. She wore one of her sleeveless shirts and a pair of men’s boxers that fit her like a glove.
Protruding from the boxers was an angry-looking black cock that seemed obscenely huge on her tiny body. I knew I’d had it in my ass in the past, but on her short, thin body, it looked twice as big.
Scowling fiercely, she said, “Tonight, I’m your daddy and you are my little girl. Suck my dick, little girl. No, on your hands and knees, crawl over to me, you obscenely dressed pretense of a woman.”
In her hands, she held an 18-inch-long metal ruler which she slapped into her hand hard enough to make a resounding noise in the still room. It was like time stood still and all I could focus on was that black cock. I barely breathed. I wanted that cock buried inside my ass tonight.
I looked at her in shock as my cock lurched. I’d never been one for humiliation, but right here, right now, from my favorite person, I yearned for more. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled over to her. Just as I reached my tongue towards the faux cock, she backed up.
She finally stopped and let me slobber and do what she’d done to me. Lick around the head. Oh, shit. She shoved it in her pussy first. That made me so hard that I barely contained myself.
“Okay, my slutty little girl. Assume the position. ”
Like the little slut I was portraying, I turned around, laid myself over the edge of the bed, and lay there in anticipation. She lifted my slip over my back.
Slap. “This is for teasing me for so long and not fucking me earlier.”
Slap on the other cheek. “This is for being a slutty little girl.”
Slap. “This is for fucking other women.”
She had Hank Aaron’s wrist action down perfectly. (Aaron was the Negro, as they were called at the time, the player who broke Babe Ruth’s all-time home run record. He had overly large wrists which allowed him to hesitate a shade longer than most hitters before he swung.)
Her slaps stung. I cried red. She stopped.
“Okay, you slutty little girl,” she screamed. “Pull those panties down and spread ’em.”
I was so hard I nearly came before I got them off. She pulled them down to my knees and I reached back to spread my ass cheeks.
Flash! A cell phone light went off. Flash! Another from another angle. Five in all, including one with the phone within a foot of my ass that showed the glass-topped butt, plug she put in me earlier.
She pulled that out savagely, and rubbed lube on the cock, rubbed some in my ass and into my hole. She worked that dildo inside me. “Tell me how much you love your daddy’s big cock in your male pussy,” she hissed in my ear, and I felt her hips press against me.
“Yes, Daddy, fuck my pussy. Fuck me hard. Fuck me fast. Please, Daddy, coat the insides of my ass with your cum.”
Her hips slapped obscenely against my ass until I suddenly felt a flood of liquid inside me. She’d purchased one of those ejaculating dildos. That was it. I lost it and filled the condom she snuck on me with cum, so much it almost burst.
She removed the dildo and the harness; cleaned me up and showed me the pictures she took before I tucked my master and daddy right next to my body. “It’s a good thing we’re both side sleepers,” I said. “I wonder if I’ll be able to sit tomorrow.”
From then on, I wore panties all day long. I had learned to pace myself with water intake so that I could last up to four hours without going to the bathroom. I liked to stop for a few minutes every four hours and get out and stretch and walk around. If it wasn’t convenient to go into a bathroom or behind a bush or tree, I’d go into the living area and use that potty.
No matter what I did, the natural compositing toilet didn’t work well, so I used it as little as possible. But my little girl loved to use it and always left the door open so I could hear her pee. There was just something about hearing her stream hit the metal sides of the potty that made me instantly hard.
She started sticking her hand in the stream and a few fingers in my mouth when she returned. As I said earlier, Lilly and I got kinky. We drew the line at feces.
During our next 34-hour break, she dressed me up again, laid several layers of towels on the bed, and rode my cock until she came. She crawled up my chest. “Open wide, Daddy,”
Pee started, a trickle at first before a steady stream filled my mouth. Whatever she drank that day, her pee tasted sweeter than normal. After she finished, she let me eat out her pee-sodden pussy until I spontaneously climaxed.
Another time, while we took a shower, I coated her body with my pee and let her drink the last few dribbles from my cock. I was finally able to come to terms with losing Lilly through what Layla and I did.
Using the cellular connection in my rig, she was able to complete her first year’s coursework for Berklee and some of her second. They tried practicing in groups via the Internet, but because of schedules, and slow connections, that didn’t work. But she could, and did, complete her classes in vocal songwriting and performing by recording those and sending them in via email.
That’s where the situation stood when on May 15, the governor of New York lifted the stay-at-home advisory. That night, I received a call from Ivy.
“Nate caught Covid last week. He turned into an anti-vaxer and anti-mask advocate and went around coughing at people and allowing people to cough and spit on him. I don’t think he has more than 3-4 days left. He wouldn’t allow us to wear a mask and I had to move out into an apartment with Gil.”
Then she asked the $64,000 question.
“Did you.” I knew what she meant,
“Yes. Details when I get there. We’re in Virginia now, headed for Boston. When we’re done, we’ll head for Ithaca. The problem is, once I stop driving, I need to stay in quarantine for ten days.”
“I know.” Then she said the magic words. “I need you, Don. Gil does too. Now that he’s 18, we started sleeping together after we moved into this apartment. Nate and I haven’t had sex in nearly a year. My fingers and my sex toys just weren’t cutting it.”
“So, what you’re saying is?”
“Only you and I are blood relatives. We’ve already had sex. I can’t get pregnant again because I had my tubes tied three years ago. I don’t want Layla to get pregnant by either of you guys, even though it’s legal.
“I want them to find their partners. I want them to have their own families and not be fucked up like we are.” She was sobbing.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
By the time we delivered the load, rented a car and drove it back to Ithaca, took a quick shower, and drove the car to the hospital, Nate had five hours of life left. We had to watch him through a remote camera because the entire wing was sealed off. Only certain people were allowed inside, dressed in anti-containment suits.
Sometimes Gil and Layla buried their faces into me and cried because it was so painful to watch him struggle to catch his breath even wearing a face mask.
I’ve worn one of those suits. If the work doesn’t exhaust a person, the body order and sweat from working in one would. Ivy would finish her shift drained, flop on a spare bed or in a recliner inside the sealed area and take a nap before she could drive home. There was a bus that ran between the hospital and the apartment complex that she could ride once the stay-at-home order was lifted.
As soon as he died, his body was whisked away, and he was cremated. Ivy’s choice. We spread his ashes into the gravel of our driveway two days later.
I don’t doubt that on January 6, 2021, Nate would have been in Washington, D.C. as one of the leaders of the movement. We found notes and communication from other cells talking about ways to prevent the election of anyone other than Trump. All of those were turned over to the FBI.
That night we all cried ourselves to sleep in Ivy’s oversized bed after I make love to Ivy while Layla and Gil made love. Ivy needed to work, so the rest of us spent our time completely disinfecting the inside of the house and my small office. I showed the two of them how to repair everything that needed fixing after the last year of neglect. Turned out, Nat had a girlfriend on the side.
I took Gil’s virginity in the shower, which the three or four of us took together each night. Just seeing that trim little ass always made me hard. One night when it was just the two of us, I couldn’t resist any longer.
I washed his back down to his waist and circled my arms around him. “Tell me red if you want me to stop.”
“Never, Uncle Don. I’ve wanted this for so long.” When I leaned down to kiss him, he turned his head and we kissed lip to lip.
“Your sister calls me daddy. I call her my little girl or baby girl.”
“I like that Daddy. You can call me your little boy or baby boy.”
“Ready for this now, baby boy?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he whimpered as he bent over. Feeling down between his tight ass checks I felt the end of a butt plug. “My baby sister sent those to me. I’m wearing the largest size tonight. I took an enema earlier today. I’m ready to lose my cherry to my daddy.”
“Oh, god,” I moaned. “I’m so hard tonight. I need you so bad, my baby boy.”
Right there in the shower, I pulled the plug, let it drop to the shower floor, and took my baby boy’s virgin ass as he whimpered and screamed. Didn’t take me long until I filled his virgin ass with my cum while his large cock spewed his seed onto the shower wall. That was one part of him that wasn’t small. He wasn’t as big as me, but damn close.
We hurriedly dried off, laid on the bed still damp, and immediately went into a sixty-nine. When our women came home, they crawled in, gave us kisses and hugs, and cuddled into us.
What is and I did could send us to jail, but cops and courts were so short-handed, they never would catch us. Not unless one of the women got pregnant or someone squealed. All too soon the ten days ended.
“I want to continue to go with my daddy,” Layla pleaded. “It’s only about ten weeks until school starts if it does.”
“I suppose since you two get along so well,” Ivy said. “Please do what we discussed.”
“We will,” I promised. On the next trip to Boston, I took a 34-hour reset, which a driver can do anytime, and fixed Layla’s car. It was something simple like replacing the battery and battery cables. She just couldn’t find anyone to do that work before. The Ithaca area held too many bad memories and all my family was ready to move on.
We drove around in her car looking at possible places to purchase because, between my money saved from Lilly’s insurance and Nate’s insurance, we had enough to buy a nice house where she could live. Gil could attend a college in the Boston area.
Everyone monitored the multi-realtor listing sites for something within our price range that was close to Berklee. For the ones we liked, we arranged for a retainer to be put down. We would go to the Boston area two weeks to ten days in advance, check out the ones we liked and make final offers.
The real estate market was already heating up and some agents would not take retainers or wanted a ludicrous amount. We let those go.
In late July, I picked up a load off the load boards for a hotshot shipment from St. Louis to Boston, two weeks before school started. Because the trip included a stop in Scranton to drop off four pallets of medical supplies, we took the southern route across Pennsylvania. We would soon see our relatives anyway. There was almost no difference in distance or time.
We hoped to make the trip in two days but delays in unloading in Scranton and the traffic made that impossible. We’d seen lots of male and female flashers over the past five and one-half months, but once we got into Connecticut, there was this one convertible containing two women who always seemed to hang around our truck.
They stopped frequently and passed or drove right beside us. I couldn’t look for long, but my baby girl could. When she could, she would flash them. They often drove the correct distance in front of us and one of the girls would stand up and flash her boobs at us. Nice-sized ones too.
“Damn, Daddy, those look like twins. They can’t be much older than me,” Layla said.
We pulled into a rest stop right on the nose of our 11 hours and parked near the back in the dark. As we got out of the cab and stretched, they appeared between the trucks. The leader put her hand out to shake.
“Hi, my name is Crystal, and this is my twin sister, Charlene. Just so you know, we’re 31 and we aren’t married…yet. My father owns a resort on Goat Island in Newport, Rhode Island. We sometimes cruise the highways looking for guys or gals to pick up.”
“Sorry, we’ve got a deadline to be in the Boston area as soon as we can after our ten-hour rest time. We’re not possible candidates.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Crystal thought for a bit, then her appearance brightened. “What are you doing tonight?”
That’s when Layla made her play. “This is my daddy,” she said as she flashed a smile at them. They understood what she said because our appearances gave us away.
While she was talking, she unzipped my pants and let them drop to the ground before I could stop her. I think my face probably matched the pink panties with the pouch in the front. It was full and threatening to tear the seams.
“Would you like some sisters, tonight,” Charlene crooned. “We like playing games with relatives, “she said as she pulled off her top and Crystal did likewise.
“Sure,” my baby girl said. I hastened to add, “She’s my sister’s adopted daughter.”
“Too bad,” one of them said. “Might be naughtier if you were related. We especially like playing games with relatives. We have a daddy and a mommy too who are related to us, and we often play games together. We’ll even pay for the motel tonight.”
“That’s an offer we’ll take,” my darling little girl said. The two girls leaned down and double-teamed my cock through the panties until I was almost ready to come, when they pulled off, put their tops back on, and motioned for us to follow.
“I need as much sleep as I can get,” I said. “I’m super tired from driving today.”
“That’s fine. We’ll get two rooms with a connecting door. After you’ve fucked one of us, you can go into the other room and sleep.”
One of them, she said she was Charlene, but I couldn’t tell, got in the back with me, opened my pants, and finished me off through my panties before we got to the hotel. Not a motel, but a hotel where they gave the car keys to a valet. Afterward, we walked into the main lobby. Another man took our baggage and followed us.
The man on duty almost saluted when she said her name. “Yes, Ms. Richardson,” he said. “Room is on the house tonight, as always. Connecting rooms, no problem, but I’ve got a two-bedroom suite with the bedrooms at opposite ends if you want. Still free of charge.”
Charlene seemed enamored of me meaning she clung to me up the elevator to the 12th floor and into the suite. As I said I was over six feet tall, and she was only about four inches shorter. Crystal was a tad shorter, but not much.
“Our family owns this motel and several others in New England. We’re rich, but we don’t flaunt it.”
She took me into one room, we took a shower together, we fucked, and went to sleep together. Sometime during the night, they switched, although the only way I knew was Crystal told me. We did a quickie in the morning and they fed us breakfast around six AM.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Charlene asked.
“Our deadline today is noon. Sometimes there is a wait to get to the dock, but when we check in at the gate, that meets the requirements.”
“Okay. Give us the address. We’ll park someplace close and come and get you when you call. If you give me your phone, I’ll enter our phone numbers and contact information. ”
“That would be great,” I said. “Otherwise, we’d need to get a rideshare car because the terminal is in Worchester and Layla lives near Berklee Music School. After that, we plan to drive around and look at houses because we’ve decided to locate in Boston.”
“Cool,” they parroted each other. “We can take you around and maybe help you pick a place. We know a lot about real estate because we sometimes flip houses. We want to stand on our own and we have natural talents for housing construction.”
“I guess we’re not going to lose you, are we,” I joked.
“Not a chance,” Crystal said. “Not when we know there’s another man and woman pair in the mix. Layla said you all sometimes sing together. We’re looking for members for a house band.”
***
Postscript:
The time is Christmas Eve after I turned 44. I no longer drove regularly, but Schwartz and Thornton Transportation live on under the operation of Tina and Andre. They have three trucks now, all driven by members of their family, but owned by me. Their son and daughter often exchange partners and team drive with their spouses or each other.
Crystal and Charlene each gave birth to one of my children. They are presently pregnant with a second child.
Charlene wanted to go first. I asked for one of my trucks to be brought to our location. We would ride and drive in the truck until my time was up before we moved to the back and I fucked her as much as I could and still get my beauty sleep.
We didn’t just drive. We always took loads and traveled wherever they took us. I taught them to drive in the process. Later, she went through truck school. Whenever another driver who works for my company wants to take an extended break, we triple up and drive.
With three drivers, we can travel almost nonstop. During those times, we concentrate on “hotshot” loads that pay nearly twice as much.
Once three months had passed, and I was sure Charlene was pregnant, I repeated the process with Crystal. We did that again about six months ago.
The motel where we are staying is my new workplace. Within my guidelines, that qualifies as a workplace because I manage this resort.
On this Christmas Eve, my darling niece is cuddled in my lap sleeping. She is six months pregnant with her new husband, Binh Tran. He is 28, moved here from Vietnam to attend Berklee, and is already an understudy of a violinist for the Boston Symphony.
On another couch, perched with Gil is the former Hoa Phong, his Vietnamese wife. Like him, she teaches music and history at the same high school where Lily and I taught. She too is pregnant.
On each side of me, my wives, Crystal and Charlene, sit feeding our children, who were born three months apart, about 18 months ago. One is a boy and one is a girl. They also are six months pregnant. We’re going to stop after two each.
To one side, Ivy sits with her two lovers, Hiram and LaDell Moyer, with their eldest, a girl named Lucy. Her twin brother will arrive soon. Lucy recently turned 18 and their parents will take their virginities tonight with Ivy joining in as she can. They are Black and he teaches at the MIT-Sloan University of Business and she teaches physics at MIT.
Also, soon to arrive are Tina and Andre with their three grown children and their families. Tonight, we will hold a family orgy and fuck and suck all night long. We introduced them to a certain organization, and they willingly joined.
We are staying on the top floor of a 12-story hotel resort the three of us manage on the Narragansett Bay waterfront. Each weekend, and often all week long, most of the rooms of the top two stories are filled by lifestyle clubs from throughout New England, New York, and Pennsylvania.
On the other parts of this floor, other families will hold the same type of sexual gatherings as part of an official Phoenix Society event, which promotes family love. All of us are members in good standing.
Another similar and even bigger resort in Atlantic City is owned by the family. It caters to people from all over the United States. There was a third in Bermuda where we often went for vacations in the winter. One section inside the resort is closed off to all the other sections where only Phoenix Society members over 18 can go and where the only clothing allowed is only for protection.
In the daytime, when I stood in front of the large glass windows, I could see the resort the Richardson family once owned on Goat Island. The island was once the largest torpedo-making site in the world. They sold the resort to finance an expansion of their Bermuda property.
Tonight, the blackout curtains are closed because other resorts are taller. No one can see the hijinks going on tonight.
Twice a year, the Phoenix Society hosted a get-together on the top floor. In addition to 20 rooms with two king-sized beds each, there was a large playroom. The other two families are separated by portable folding walls that are locked so no one strays.
At Christmas each year, the Society holds a Christmas party where families can co-mingle. No sex is allowed in a group situation because people under 18 attend.
To join the group, a person needed to prove they had sex with someone related to them by blood or adoption. We all joined.
Through other names, the Phoenix Society is the largest anti-child abuse and anti-child porn private agency in the world. Several smaller nations turned their entire research efforts over to a shell corporation operated by the Phoenix Society and a few other nations turned a blind eye to incest as long as the participants did so willingly, were over 18, didn’t get married and had no children. Everyone hates child abuse. Who cares what adults do as long as no one gets hurt?
We screen carefully. No drugs allowed. Only moderate booze consumption. Every member of the Phoenix Society undergoes extensive mental screening and membership is refused for people deemed potentially unstable. We do not need anything that will draw unwanted attention.
I never married Crystal and Char because I couldn’t make up my mind. I still feel a connection with Lilly after all these years. Each year, the three of us travel to her gravestone. We dedicate our lovemaking that night to Lilly. Somehow, I believe she would approve.
They didn’t want anyone else. We found a rogue priest to perform a wedding ceremony, so we felt like a married triad.
This is our future and barring any unforeseen circumstances, we intend to help initiate our offspring into our family after their 18th birthdays. Marriage will not be difficult because the Phoenix Society operates a list of similar people who are seeking life partners.