Cucing the Captive Campers

*** 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 02

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A knot exploded in the fire, sending a shower of sparks across the stack of burning wood.

Brian jumped a little. Every noise sounded like a gun shot to him. He sagged in his folding chair and resumed staring.

He had been uneasy-- on edge ever since Leo McDowell had appeared and taken his family hostage. But a new feeling was needling its way into his gut, one that seemed inappropriately trivial, given the situation. Brian wasn't quite sure how to describe it. Dread, maybe? No. Not dread. Rejection? Yes. That seemed much more plausible. It sat like a lead ball in his gut, and he wondered why he had this nagging feeling that something was off. It was the same feeling that he got whenever he and Leanne had a fight, and he would worry that their marriage was on the rocks-- that any moment she'd walk out, or worse-- do something rash.

When he looked up, he understood why he felt this way. Leanne.

When she'd emerged from the trailer after their little spat, she had changed outfits completely. She'd walked out in dangerously short cut-offs that displayed her long legs. Her shirt revealed her flat midriff, and she'd tied her flannel shirt in a sexy knot at her tummy. She'd tossed her hair back and regarded him coldly as she took a seat at the fire with a severe look on her face.

McDowell was grinning like the cat who just caught the canary, making no effort to avert his eyes from Leanne's body.

"Quite the legs on your wife, eh, Brian?" the fugitive remarked, plopping his large frame down into a folding chair.

Brian was uncomfortable with this observation. Not only was he making a remark that Brian didn't dare get confrontational about (lest he anger this already dangerous man), but he was doing it in front of his wife, and his son. It was emasculating, to say the least. To be in a situation where he either had to stand up for himself and risk a beating or worse... or knuckle under and look weak in front of his family.

He sighed and returned his vision to the fire.

"Why so glum, chum?" McDowell continued. "I mean, Lee here took the liberty to show some skin, we may as well look. Am I right?" He reached over and patted Leanne on her smooth bare thigh.

Leanne didn't move. She stared right at Brian. Her expression one of practiced stoicism. But there was the slightest look of resentment in her face for him... or cruelty maybe? Was she enjoying Brian's humiliation? It seemed impossible. Or was she simply unhappy with the situation? Was she still mad at him for their tiff? Or did she want him to stand up and shout "get your paw off my wife's leg"?

"Son, don't you think your mom is hot?" McDowell pressed, turning to Bradley.

The young man reddened by the obtuse question. "Umm... yeah. I guess she is." He rubbed the back of his head and glanced at the ground.

"Quite the legs on her. And she's got a stellar pair of tits." McDowell continued, reading Bradley's discomfort. The boy only reddened further. And McDowell let his thick meaty paw roam.

Leanne watched it, staring down at the hand on her leg. When she glanced up, her eyes met Brian's, and there was that look to her face again. Distain. 'His hand is on my leg and what are you gonna do about it? Nothing.'

"So how'd you end up here?" Bradley asked, reading his father's discomfort, and his mother's lack of it. He was hyper-aware of the strange tension that had settled around the adults, and he was desperate to break it.

McDowell allowed the interruption. He gave Leanne's leg one final appraising squeeze, before returning his hands to himself. McDowell looked at him, cocking one eye curiously. "How do you think?" he asked.

Bradley shrugged. "I'd guess you broke out of prison, from the jumpsuit you were wearing."

"You'd be right," McDowell tapped the tip of his nose with one thick finger.

"That's so cool," Bradley declared.

Brian shot his son a look.

"What? It is," Bradley said. "Like in the movies. Did you dig a tunnel or crawl through a sewer or something?"

Now it was McDowell's turn to laugh. "Hah! That sounds exhausting, and like a waist of time. No." He trailed off, but when he saw the expectant way that Bradley... and Leanne... regarded him, he decided to feed them some details. "I strong-armed my way out. Don't quite know what happened. I woke up, alarms were going off. The other fellas were rioting, they'd captured weapons from the guards, and were burning the place down. It was a full scale riot. From what I heard from some of the other inmates, it happened during a shift change. We had this real creepy fuck in the solitary wing, who'd supposedly caused it all. The dude gave everyone chills, especially because he'd amassed this cult-like following in that wing. They were busting out. Wanted me to go with them, but I wasn't interested. I got what I needed from the guards," he gestured to the pistol and his handcuffs, "then went my own way."

"Wow, that's intense," Bradley said, his eyes reflecting on this with appreciation.

"Is that where you found all the money?" Leanne asked, her eyebrows raised curiously.

McDowell smirked, a little pleased with himself. "Someone's been snooping, has she?" He patted her knee again, running his thumb over her bare skin. She didn't shy away at all, Brian noticed.

McDowell returned his attention to Bradley. "First thing's first, son, is that you need cash. I'm not getting very far with no money. Then I needed a car. I found both, and I took them."

"How'd that work out for you?" Bradley joked. Brian felt himself tense up, at the way his son was teasing the fugitive.

But McDowell didn't get angry. He let the kid have his victory. "You got me there. There's only one real rule in life, one universal constant: Shit happens. You need to prepare for that. But that brought me to the next thing I needed," his hand remained on Leanne's leg. She watched the way he rubbed her skin, helping himself. Her legs seemed to part ever-so-slightly.

"Women?" Bradley asked.

McDowell laughed again, harder this time. His voice traveled across the camp grounds like the roar of a beast.

Brian looked from his son to his wife. Bradley was laughing along with McDowell. Even Leanne had cracked a little smile-- hesitant. Her attention fixed on the touch of this strange man, uninvited as it was, it wasn't met with rejection. It wasn't sexual, but the way he rested his palm on her bare skin was like he was claiming ownership of everything within his reach-- including her. But the look in her face was a confused mix of nervousness, hesitance, shyness and something Brian hadn't seen in a long time in his wife-- not since they were teenagers and she'd climbed onto the back of his motorcycle for the first time-- reverence. She was revering McDowell like a schoolgirl meeting her crush for the first time. That was why she'd fallen so silent-- it wasn't out of fear for her life. It was a fear that she'd embarrass herself in front of this man, and he'd withdraw his hand in disgust and annoyance. Leanne wore the expression of someone walking a metaphorical tightrope between wanting to make a good impression, and fearing that she wouldn't.

That deep emotional pain within Brian's gut returned harder this time. It wasn't just Leanne's way of regarding this man, McDowell. But it was Bradley's as well. The fact is that they were hostages, against their will, to a man who was violent, dangerous, had just admitted to escaping prison during a riot, and having no qualms about stealing and hurting others. Brian was terrified. They all might end up dead. Now, more than ever, he needed to cling to those that he loved. He, his son, and his wife should all be sharing the same feelings he was-- the horror of staring down their mortality-- and cementing a bond that was stronger than ever. Those shared feelings ought to bring them together in a united front against this monster-- us versus him. But not only did Leanne and Bradley seem indifferent to those fears, but they almost seemed to be on the side of McDowell. Bradley was joking with the man as though the convict was a famous celebrity who'd joined them for dinner. And Leanne... they way she was staring... the way she was reacting to him...

Brian's eyes returned to the fire, feeling like he was the outcast in this family outing, like he'd been traded in by his own wife and son for their tormentor.

"Well realistically," McDowell said, as his laughter settled. "I needed to ditch the prison jump suit. And I needed a way to lay low for a while. The fact that your mother is something to look at... well... that's just the universe smiling on me." He gave Leanne a wink, and she actually reddened for a moment, before looking away.

"So what's it like in prison?" Bradley asked. "Do you really shank each other, and have to hide everything up your butt?"

"Bradley," Leanne scrunched her face.

McDowell snickered. "It's not really like that. "Most of us just lay low and keep to themselves."

"What about the showers? Does... you know... does that really happen?"

Again, McDowell laughed. "Not that I've ever seen. I'm sure it does. But for the most part, it seems like a myth that school moms like to tell their kids, to make them behave. Just like marijuana will make you a psychotic addict. The thing about prison is... it's just boring. The world forgets about you. You're always being told what to do. There's no women, so there's no chance of getting laid... unless you can sweet-talk one of the female guards. But most of them, you want no part of. Some guys like it-- the ones who have no direction and don't know what to do with freedom. Me, I'm different. I make my own way. The whole 'being locked up thing' just isn't for me. Things look much nicer on the outside." And again, his eyes wandered to Leanne.

"How long has it been?" Leanne asked, composing herself. "Since... you know." Now it was her turn for her curious eyes to wander. Although her face was relatively unchanged and composed, there was no denying the way her glance locked on the large beast of a man.

"Lee," Brian couldn't hold back his lecturing tone. He didn't like the question, let alone to hear it from his own wife in that manner.

She shot him a defiant look. "What now, Brian?" The annoyance was clear in her voice.

"That's a little personal," he mumbled, but he returned his eyes to the fire. His voice trailed off.

"Don't worry, Brian," McDowell's gruff voice responded. "I don't mind telling her that it's been wayyyy too long since I had a good lay. You know, a good lay can tame anybody. Maybe that's why I'm such a hardass," he grinned. "So much pent up need, and no outlet for it," he allowed his hard fingers to wander to Leanne's inner thigh.

She looked from his hand, over to McDowell. When he met her eyes, she bit her lip.

Everyone fell silent around the fire, not sure where any of this was going. This was new territory that none of them had ventured into before-- with the exception of McDowell.

The convict's fingers were trailing back and forth along Leanne's legs. His eyes were burning into Leanne's, and she just stared at him, docile and permissive.

Bradley wore his confusion on his face. This big man was touching mom. And mom had a weird look about her that he rarely saw when she was around dad. She didn't look bored. She looked... excited-- like she was afraid to breathe or make a noise, because it would all go away... like she was dreaming and afraid she'd wake up. They way she and McDowell were staring at each other made Bradley think they might start to kiss.

Bradley looked over at his dad.

He was staring into the fire, with a mixture of discomfort and detachment. As though he was aware that this guy was touching mom, but he was pretending he didn't see it. Why? Bradley was sure he wouldn't be okay with some guy touching *his* girl (if he had one). Dangerous man or not, Bradley would risk getting hurt, if it meant standing up for himself. But dad wasn't.

Brian sensed his son looking at him. He glanced over. A pathetic look of defeat and dread in his eye. Then he looked away again abruptly.

Bradley opened his mouth to say something... something to hopefully break the spell that had encompassed them all. But then he heard it.

A car engine.

A moment later, and everyone lifted their heads. They all heard it. Then through the trees, they spotted the white pickup truck with the green stripe. A ranger. And it was coming this way.

When it stopped just at the entrance to their camp site, they had no doubts that the rangers weren't just passing through.

Everyone's blood ran cold.

***

"Into the trailer," McDowell growled at them in a low voice. Brian wore an expression of fear and hope as he filed in. Bradley went behind him.

"Not you," McDowell held Leanne back. "I need someone to vouch for me, and you're the only one I trust to do it."

"What about me?" Bradley asked, pouting slightly that he hadn't been considered to be McDowell's accomplice.

McDowell didn't have the time to spell it out for the boy. He'd read all three of them, the moment he took them captive. Brian wanted this to end, and spineless or not, the father and husband would do everything in his power to signal to the rangers that something was amiss. On the other hand, the boy might be well-intentioned enough to vouch for McDowell, but he was young, and would undoubtedly mess it up by blabbing accidentally.

Leanne had the most even temperament. She'd been cool and calm right from the very start, and that was before she started to develop a rapport with McDowell.

...Rapport was an understatement. She had 'prison groupie' written all over her. The kind of thrill-seeking slut who would probably write to inmates, and show up for conjugal visits because she was bored at home and got off on the danger. She may not know it yet, but McDowell did. Especially after she'd changed into that hiker-slut outfit, and stepped out of the trailer all flustered, with the smell of her own pussy on her fingertips.

She had the most to gain by keeping McDowell around-- she was having the thrill of her life. And thrills were addicting. McDowell doubted very much that she'd want that to just end. She was a slut with the perfect justification 'We're hostages. What choice did I have?' McDowell read it all on that bad-bitch expression, the way she held her eyes.

Bradley lingered, almost pleading to be included in the conspiracy.

"Just go inside, Bradley," Leanne said sternly.

He pouted, but did as his mother told.

McDowell checked his pistol, then retrieved the axe from the stump where he'd been chopping wood. He slung it over his shoulder. His beefy arm flexed, making him look like a burly woodsman. "I don't have to warn you what's at stake, do I?" He asked.

Leanne's eyes glanced at the axe, but she quickly shook her head. Obedient and with an edge of nervousness.

"I hope you have a good plan," she managed to say, glancing toward the gravel road back into the camp site. They heard a car door slam as someone stepped out of the ranger truck.

McDowell merely smiled. "It's all really up to you now, isn't it?"

The sound of footsteps plodded over the gravel stones. The park ranger appeared around the rear of the camper, clad in khaki and forest green. There was a gun on his belt. Leanne's legs trembled slightly as it dawned on her that this could escalate very badly.

"Evenin' folks," he casually waved at them and hooked his thumbs into his duty belt.

McDowell squinted, putting on a friendly face as he rested his axe on his shoulder, as though he was taking a break. His gun was carefully hidden in his waistband, but it could be out in a moment, if need-be.

Leanne found herself inching protectively close to McDowell-- both nervous and exhilarated by what might happen.

The ranger took a moment to appraise the couple that he'd walked in on. They both looked a bit rough and unwelcoming. The guy was an utter beast. Shaved head, large scruffy face, and hard eyes. His flannel hung open, revealing a big broad hairy chest packed with muscle, and his shorts clung to his legs. He was brandishing an axe, flexing-- apparently for the attention of (what he assumed to be) his wife.

She was hot in an equally dangerous way. She looked like a bad girl. The kind of woman who perpetually sought out bad men, then came to their defense any time they got themselves into trouble with the law. Although he definitely understood the appeal that she held. She was tall and slim. Her legs went on for days in her tiny jean shorts. Her tummy was flat and tan and on display in her top that was meant to appear both outdoorsy and deliberately sexy. She had a nice pair of tits on her, wild tattoos on her arms, and even wilder voluminous auburn hair that reminded him of some rock and roller. Molly Ringwald's grunge-band sister? Or maybe that chick who played the sister in "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids". Her face certainly matched, with her defined features, strong-set jaw, cheek bones, and severe eyes. The cute turned-up nose and splash of freckles was misleading. Otherwise she looked like bad news.

They were pretty evenly matched-- attractive in that slightly trailer trashy kind of way. Biker bars, beer commercials, and motorcycles came to mind. As did a standoffish, unapproachable quality.

"We doing somethin' wrong, sir?" McDowell asked. His voice annoyed, almost daring. Confirming the ranger's assessment. He put his big meaty arm around Leanne's waist, pulling her in close beside him. With a flip of her hair, she came willingly, but folded her arms, appraising this new intruder with a cold glance, intended to match McDowell's.

"No, no problems," the ranger held up his hand for a moment, before dropping it back to his buckle that rested just below his gut. "I'm Ranger Gobel. I wanted to ask you folks some questions, if it's not too much trouble."

"What about?" The woman seemed to recoil by the question. She glared at him, gearing up to give the ranger a piece of her mind.

McDowell cut her off. "Baby, why don't you go fetch us a couple of beers while I talk with the man," he said, dismissively.

Ranger Gobel scowled. "Alcohol is prohibited within the park grounds," his voice had taken on a lecturing tone that McDowell found absolutely infuriating. He hated park rangers. And judging from the set to Leanne's jaw, she found him just as annoying.

"*Root* beers," McDowell corrected. "It slipped. I'm in recovery." He assured Ranger Gobel with an awe-shucks smile. Then turned back to Leanne. "Make sure you bring something for our guest, baby. We'll be over by the fire."

Before Leanne could step away, McDowell reached out one enormous hand and placed it right on her firm ass cheek and pulled her into him. She yelped, a little surprised. Then he caught her off guard by planting his lips on hers and giving her a long wet kiss. She had to crane her head up to meet his towering height. His fingers sank into her buns as he gave them a squeeze, and his tongue forced her lips apart and lapped hungrily from her mouth.

Leanne shut her eyes, and let his rough face assault hers. She'd never been kissed like this before. Brian was always so passive and timid-- he kissed with a laziness... just dropping his tongue into her mouth and letting her do the rest. McDowell was more like a hungry animal. His mouth ravaged hers, his body just grabbing her in a display that could only be compared to mating animals in the wild. He was a marauder in the night, taking whatever he wanted, regardless of who it affected, and leaving a trail of chaos and confusion behind.