*** Disclaimer ***
The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, NTR and possibly even a little incest. If this isn't the fetish for you, I urge you to reconsider how much time and energy you devote to this.
This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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CUCKING THE CAPTIVE CAMPERS chapter 06
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It had been days since McDowell had taken Leanne and Bradley's lust and aimed it at each other. What ensued since then had been a series of sexual encounters that escalated more and more.
In that time, the sex had almost been relentless. Leanne fucking McDowell and her son. Sometimes separately, sometimes both at the same time. When they did sleep, they slept in the same bed. It was a little weird at first, but like his mother, Bradley had grown used to it. He didn't tire of it. In fact, he found himself enjoying the way she welcomed his hand on her body in the middle of the night. Or the way she'd roll over and grasp his cock-- sometimes in her hand, sometimes with her mouth, and sometimes with the special spot between her legs.
Nobody questioned how it was going to end... except, of course, Brian. Brian had been handcuffed at the dining room table for days. They'd kept him fed and let him go to the bathroom, but his treatment stopped there.
Brian had been forced to endure the sounds and sights of his own son fucking his wife. In truth, he hardly recognized either of them. His own family had become strangers to him now. He began to wonder how this nightmare would ever end. *If* it ever would end.
And that was when it happened. The worst act of them all...
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Leanne waited in the bedroom with Bradley. Both were in similar states of undress-- Leanne with just a plaid button-down shirt, partly open to reveal her bare cleavage. No bra and no pants. Just a pair of black lace panties and nothing else.
Bradley was shirtless. Although his muscles weren't defined, his chest was broad, and his build was stocky. He was wearing jeans, but no shoes or socks. They both looked ready... waiting for things to begin.
When McDowell guided Brian into the bedroom, nudging him with the barrel of his pistol, Brian dreaded to know just what he was walking into. Up until now, he'd been left out completely. It had been a misery, but they'd done little more than taunt him with their raucous lovemaking-- hearing it and seeing it, nothing more.
But when McDowell undid Brian's cuffs and led him to the room that they usually did it in, he had a sinking feeling that they were all about to take things to the next level-- they were going to include him in a way that he was sure would only add to his despair and humiliation.
The room stank of sweat and sex. They'd practically gone at it non-stop. The sheets were almost fully off the mattress. Dirty clothes and empty beer bottles littered the floor and the meager furniture. It looked like a frat house in here.
For a while, Bradley had been mercifully apologetic about what he was doing to his father... but lately that had begun to change. The cold detachment in his son's eyes now mirrored Leanne's. He'd either grown desensitized to it all, or he was too far gone to care. Regardless...
"Your presence was requested," McDowell said gruffly, bearing his usual evil grin.
Brian looked from face to face. "W-what is this?" It was the first time he'd been allowed to talk in days. His voice was raspy and defeated.
Neither his wife nor his son replied. They were too busy looking at each other.
"Take off your wife's shirt," McDowell said.
"What?" Brian startled, until McDowell nudged him hard with the barrel of his gun.
"I said, take off your wife's shirt," the convict's voice was practically a snarl.
Reluctantly, Brian did as he was told. He undid the final buttons. She barely regarded him. Hardly even looked at him. This must be what servants felt like, catering to aristocrats, he suddenly realized.
His wife shrugged herself out of the shirt.
"Now take off your son's pants," McDowell said. This time, he didn't give Brian a chance to hesitate. He poked him hard with the barrel of the gun, until his ribs ached. Brian groaned.
"Do it," Leanne said without even glancing at her husband... *former* husband.
Brian swallowed. His own son didn't even acknowledge him in the same way. It was like... like there was a complete loss of respect in his expression.
Ashamed, he did as he was told, undoing Bradley's belt, and zipper. He inwardly groaned when he saw that Bradley was already sporting a hard-on-- one that was jutting straight toward Leanne. His cock was hard in anticipation of mating with his own mom. Brian's disgust and humiliation was at fever pitch as he lowered his son's pants, fully aware that he was prepping them for another sexual encounter.
"Please... don't do this," Brian tried to appeal to McDowell most of all-- the conductor of this twisted symphony.
"Shut the fuck up and do as you're told," he growled from the depths of his throat.
Brian seemed to shrink on himself.
"Their underpants now," McDowell ordered.
One after another, Brian fully disrobed his family. Leanne's panties dropped to her ankles, exposing her fully shaved and ready mound. Bradley's cock was rock hard as his boxers fell away. His tool ready to penetrate his mom's body once again.
When they were both naked, it was McDowell's turn. "Now me," he ordered.
Brian's whimpers rolled out of his throat as he undressed the convict with uncertain hands.
It was a tight squeeze, the four of them in the room. But when McDowell was naked, the next instruction was a simple one.
"Lay on the bed," McDowell ordered.