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 03

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The camp was quiet after the ranger had departed. That had been a tense few minutes that dragged into an eternity-- the possibility of rescue, the looming threat of violence, the desperation, the defeat.

Brian returned to his folding seat by the fire, hunched forward with his face resting in his hands and his fingers rubbing and rubbing beneath his eyes. He felt drained-- utterly defeated. His only chance of escaping this nightmare had packed up and returned to his car. And his wife had assisted in the lie that ultimately doomed them all.

Speaking of his wife...

Bradley returned to camp first. A confused, haunted look in his eye.

"Did you find them?" Brian asked.

His son seemed distracted by other thoughts. "Huh?" His face reddened, then he managed to clear away the fog behind his eyes. "Uh yeah. I found them. They'll... they're coming..." Was all he said. Brian knew his son well enough to know when he was avoiding something. Other things were distracting him, and he clearly didn't want to say.

Brian was about to press his son further, but the sound of approaching footsteps cut him off. Leanne and McDowell appeared, appearing from the trees.

Leanne's face was flushed, her expression a mask of neutrality. She moved on unsteady legs, and didn't make eye contact with anyone. There was something about her features that looked guilty, but guilt over what? Was she feeling guilty for having lied to the ranger and prolonged their captivity?

Brian looked from Leanne to Bradley. They wore similar expressions, and refused to make eye contact. Had something else happened?

McDowell, on the other hand, couldn't appear more pleased with himself. He was smirking, and regarding everyone in the camp site.

"Your wife is really something," he boasted to Brian.

Leanne's face reddened, and she made every effort not to look at her husband.

Brian had no idea if he was talking about Leanne's performance to the ranger, but he suspected there was more to his comment. The lead ball in his gut was back, and this time it was much heavier. Everyone seemed to know something, except for Brian, and he didn't like it.

McDowell planted himself in a chair across from Brian and slapped himself on the thick stumpy legs in a pleasant, satisfied mood. He dragged a nearby chair close to his, and gestured for Leanne to join him. She and him were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder. Brian's unease continued to swell. Bradley didn't look at them. His cheeks were burning bright red, even in the retreating light of day. He definitely knew something.

"We're going to need to keep up appearances," McDowell said.

"What did the ranger want?" Bradley asked.

"Don't worry about that," McDowell responded. He didn't need anyone knowing the specifics. If Brian or Bradley knew, it would be that much easier for them to drop subtle hints, that McDowell was, in fact, the man they were looking for. Keeping them in the dark was the best solution. "He thinks we're married," McDowell grinned, gesturing to him and Leanne. "Personally, I could see that." He draped one of his big arms across her shoulders, resting it there like she was his.

When nobody said anything, he went on. "So since it's getting dark soon, we ought to discuss the sleeping arrangements."

Brian was already afraid that sooner or later they'd have this conversation. He looked from face to face, with a mixture of anxiety and dread.

"Are you kidding?" Bradley spoke up, seeming to snap out of his trance, although his cheeks remained red and flushed. "I doubt I'll get any sleep with everything going on."

"That's for the best then, kiddo," McDowell said. "Your job is to be my lookout and keep watch, in case Ranger Dickless returns. Or if the Staties start making the rounds."

"How do I do that?"

McDowell nodded his head toward the tent that was set up separately from the RV. "You're going to post-up in there for the night and give a good listen."

Bradley looked at McDowell. "You trust that I won't run off?"

"I trust you. Besides, if you do, bad things are going to happen to your mother and father. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Bradley shook his head. Considering what he saw his mother doing earlier with McDowell's dick, he wasn't sure he entirely believed McDowell's threat, or his motivation for putting Bradley outside. He suspected there was more to it that they wanted to shelter him from. But he'd already dismissed McDowell as not much of antagonist since he'd arrived. He seemed cool... dangerous... but kind of cool and exciting.

"Alright," he agreed, a little excited to be in on this plan as an integral part. Plus, the prospect of spending the night alone in the tent already appealed to him.

"In the meantime, I'm getting hungry," McDowell commented, lounging back in his chair. His hand roamed across Leanne's shoulders, and began to feel her hair. She let him, as his fingers helped themselves to her wild auburn hair. "Brian... cook us something," he said, half distracted by Brian's wife.

"Huh?" Brian felt himself in a daze as he watched McDowell touch his wife right in front of him, as though it was the most casual thing in the world.

"You heard me. Make yourself useful around here, and cook us something, kitchen bitch."

Bradley snickered slightly at McDowell's crude remark. "Kitchen bitch?"

Leanne said nothing. She still appeared slightly guilty. Her eyes kept flicking between the fire, and McDowell sitting beside her.

"And bring us some beer! How about one for the kid, too?"

The sight of them like this made Brian's stomach hurt. A heavy throbbing pain that radiated up to his chest and made it hard to breathe. He wasn't entirely sure why-- he had no reason to think it really, but he was suddenly feeling as though his wife liked their tormentor. Not just liked... but had somehow clicked with him when they were out of sight.

Brian looked from face to face, including Bradley's. Everyone's expressions seemed to confirm this lingering fear. Brian suddenly forced it from his mind, too disturbed by the notion to give it much more thought.

With a sick feeling of dejection, he retrieved the cookware and set about making them a meal, while McDowell sat and talked, and even laughed with Brian's family. Cast aside to cook while his son, his wife, and this murderous criminal enjoyed themselves around the fire. They drank beer, they laughed. Bradley belched, and chuckled. McDowell congratulated him. It was a gut-punch of a scene. McDowell had moved in on the family, tossed Brian aside, and now he was on the outside looking in.

Brian had once heard that animals did such things in the wild. Lions, and apes or something... when a new alpha took over the pride, they'd cast aside the old one and to the victor would go the spoils...

Leanne was smiling a tentative smile as McDowell's hand had free roam, stroking her hair, and rubbing the back of her neck.

As Brian watched, filled with thoughts of dread and the cruelty of the animal kingdom, only one word came to mind. And it was a word that cut him to his very core, and made him sick: Cuckold.

"Angie Everhart!" McDowell suddenly bellowed.

"What?" Leanne blinked. She seemed to have loosened up considerably after her second beer.

McDowell slapped himself on his large shaved dome. "*That's* who you remind me of! It was driving me nuts."

"The model? Get the fuck out of here," Leanne slapped him on one of his enormous biceps. The combination of the beer and the fire had lulled them into a natural state around each other.

"Who's Angie Everhart?" Bradley asked. The boy was feeling a slight alcohol buzz from his second beer, and his lack of experience. He clearly didn't have much of a tolerance.

"Playboy model, and your mother's twin," McDowell explained, appraising Leanne. "Wild hair, like your mother. Tight little body, like your mother. Dick-sucking lips, like your mother. Nice big tits, like your mother." He was rubbing her arm, and Leanne was hardly minding. The comparison had earned a blush that was now creeping across her cheeks.

"I wouldn't go that far," she laughed.

"Well, maybe not completely. You don't seem like the type who'd tolerate Harvey Weinstein cumming on your feet," McDowell cracked a grin. But then he glanced toward Brian over by the grill and quipped "Then again..."

"Shut up," she gave him another playful shove.

"Who's Harvey Weinstein?" Bradley asked, his brow pinched in confusion.

McDowell merely shook his head. "Damn kids don't know who anyone is lately. Don't worry about it. We'll tell you when you're older." He meant it as a joke, but the words carried to Brian's ears, and stung him-- as though McDowell was planning to stick around for a long, *long* time. There was that feeling in his gut again. A knot that was growing tighter by the moment. He glanced down at the hotdogs that he was grilling, and had serious doubts that he'd be able to eat a single one of them.

"My last cell mate had a couple of hidden centerfolds," McDowell went on to explain. "I don't know how he got them in, and I don't want to know. But Angie Everhart was one of them. Although, between you and me, I'd rather have a picture of your mother to keep me entertained," he winked.

"I don't know how to process that," Bradley admitted with an uncomfortable shake of his head.

"Don't," Leanne teased her son, a natural easy smile. One of her first since McDowell had shown up. She always wore one when she playfully teased her boy. She turned back to McDowell. "That's not happening. If you get arrested again, you'll just have to rely on your memory, big boy."

She stood, swaying a little drunkenly, and sauntered to the cooler for more beer. She made it a point to strut with her long legs. Swaying her hips, and bending far over to thrust her butt out. She rummaged through the cooler, moving with the deliberate actions that she'd imagine a Playboy model would move with. Both McDowell, and a guilty looking Bradley watched her.

When she returned, she took a moment to rub the cold can on her neck and yelp in a deliberate dippy voice "Ohhh, it's so cold." The condensation trickled down her neck to her cleavage.

"See? Look at that. Your mother has talent," McDowell remarked.

"You think that's talent?" Leanne asked, almost daringly. Then she laughed. "I'll show you real talent." She paused as she glanced down at her tanktop. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I haven't done this for years..."

But regardless of her trepidation, she was pleasantly buzzed enough to throw caution to the wind. She tugged down her tank-top enough to reveal her cleavage. Even Brian looked up from the grill, as Leanne wedged her unopened beer can between her breasts. It stayed in place, and using her shoulders, she mashed her tits around the can, tilted her face down, and using her front teeth, she snagged the tab of the can and popped it open. With a soft hiss, and a small foam spray (that ended up shooting onto her neck and breasts), she opened her beer.

McDowell clapped his big meaty hands. "Look at that. Opened the beer with no hands, and just her tits and mouth."

Leanne gave a little bow as she plopped back down by the fire. "I stole the idea from Molly Ringwald's lipstick trick."

"I can tell."

Maybe it was the beer, but Leanne knew it wasn't. She was staring at McDowell. Her eyes not wavering for a very long time. It was a dangerous glance that McDowell noticed. Lust.

After a near eternity of her unbroken stare, Leanne ran her tongue across her lower lip. "Your turn. What sort of talents do you have?"

McDowell merely winked. "You'll find out," he promised, then placed his big rough hand on her leg... high on her leg. Just where her shorts met the top of her thigh. They both let it rest right there.

"Kitchen bitch! How are those franks and beans coming along? We're hungry!" McDowell bellowed. His deep voice making Brian jump. He had been staring in horror at the way Leanne was looking at McDowell... and the way she hardly minded his big hand touching her bare thigh. Something was definitely going on right in front of him... and it was only getting worse. He'd never felt so distraught, humiliated, and incredibly afraid-- no longer just for his safety, but for the integrity of his manhood.

A moment later, and Bradley, drunk and euphoric echoed the same words. "Yeah, kitchen bitch."

They all laughed... except for Brian.

***

"Remember to stay vigilant," McDowell said.

Bradley threw the convict a thumbs-up, then proceeded to zip up his tent, and douse his lantern, sending the campsite into darkness (save for the lingering glow of the embers by the fire).

McDowell ushered Leanne and Brian into the trailer.

Brian paused in the kitchen, and regarded McDowell and his wife. They wore matching expressions, as though they were sharing the exact same thoughts and plans.

"S-so... the kitchen table folds into a bed, if you want to sleep there," Brian suggested to the hulking brute who'd invaded his life.

McDowell merely shook his head, as Leanne wordlessly switched the table into a bed and tossed the seat cushions haphazardly on top. They were both visibly drunk, but still had their wits about them.

"I won't be the one sleeping out here, chief," McDowell assured him.

Brian was again confused. He looked from one face to the other. Leanne's expression told of a woman who had already known this ahead of time. Like she'd talked it over with McDowell in secret and had agreed to it.

McDowell rounded on Brian, towering over him menacingly until Brian backed against the transformed bed, and fell back atop it. It would be his bed, he suddenly realized.

McDowell produced handcuffs, and passed them to Leanne.

In the end, it was his own wife who handcuffed him in place-- to a towel rack mounted into the frame.

"Get comfy," McDowell told him.

Brian's heart was pounding. That feeling of dread and impending doom was back ten-fold. He wanted desperately to ask where McDowell and Leanne would sleep, but he already knew. And from the way that the two were suddenly looking at each other, he knew they wouldn't even hear the question anyway. They had completely switched off their brains to him now that he was bound and wouldn't be a problem. They were staring into each other's eyes with genuine beer-fueled lust. Brian was now mere background noise, and nothing more.

"W-what..." he started to stammer with growing tension-- not of fear, but of humiliation and heartbreak that was now dangerously close.

McDowell didn't take his eyes away from Leanne's as he reached into his bag and produced something else-- a roll of duct tape. He again, passed it to Leanne, and without a single instruction, she already knew what to do with it.

She tore a piece off, and unapologetically regarded her husband. There was no interest, or love in her eyes. She was looking at him as though he was a simple chore that had to be performed before bedtime. 'I'll be in for bed, just as soon as I start the dishwasher'.

Leanne stuck the piece of duct tape over Brian's quivering lower lip. A small pathetic whimper escaped his throat.

Then Leanne turned back to McDowell. She peered up at the convict. A moment of pause, and then she suddenly threw herself into the big man's arms.

She flung her arms around his neck and drove her face into his, connecting in a deep hungry, almost juvenile kiss. McDowell caught her, scooping her up by the ass, and lifting her up. She threw her legs around his waist and locked her feet behind his back. He met her mouth with the same hungry aggression as she.

Brian groaned, feeling his heart shatter completely. He'd suspected that something was going on with them, but to see it confirmed was a whole different story. A deep guilty part of his mind remembered Leanne's harsh words, and feared that he had somehow driven her to this.

The pair didn't even have the decency to do this discreetly in another part of the trailer. They crashed against the kitchen cabinet. Pots and pans fell to the floor. They hardly noticed. Their mouths were ravenous, each one trying to devour the other's. Their tongues danced and writhed together, sometimes in between gasping breaths where Brian could see it all happening.

Brian squirmed at the sight of it all. His wife giving herself so willingly to this man who had taken them all hostage, forcing them at gunpoint, and keeping them from leaving. Not only was the act itself so unspeakable, but a needling part of Brian's brain realized something else-- they were doing this in front of him on purpose. It wasn't enough to fuck behind his back. But they were doing it right in front of him. At best, they didn't see him as a threat, and were too lost in their own lust to care if they had an audience or not. At worst, him bearing witness to it excited them. Made them feel powerful.

Brian began to cry softly with this thought. Lately, as the years had gone by, Brian had been aware of his wife's disinterest in him, the boredom. The fights and distractions had confirmed that she wasn't as happy as when they were teenagers. But he had never thought she'd outright hated him before.

Now her carnal urges presented so abruptly in front of her husband that they couldn't possibly be construed in any other way.

She grasped McDowell's flannel, and tore it open, never breaking their kiss. The buttons popped, and his massive hairy chest appeared. She ran her fingers up and down it, raking her nails into his skin like claws. Jungle cats at play.

She shrugged him out of his shirt, and he returned the favor. McDowell undid the sexy knot of her shirt and tugged it open, all the while Leanne leaned and bucked her hips against McDowell-- her body craving him. Even with her butt planted on the countertop, she trapped him with those long legs and leveraged herself up and down against a fast growing bulge in his denim.

McDowell's hands returned to her ass, grabbing her and scooping her back into his arms, squeezing each cheek. His hands were huge, taking up her round ass almost entirely. He pulled her against his frame, and rubbed her over his growing crotch. Denim on top of denim. Sooner or later, that wouldn't be enough.

And it looked like it was sooner. Leanne's hands went down to his pants and hurriedly undid the button and his zipper. She was desperately trying to push his pants down. McDowell spun them, planting her butt on the window sill as he helped her along. His ass crack coming into view to the helpless Brian as the two of them fought to disrobe like horny teenagers in their first hormone-fueled romp.

Leanne's legs still wrapped excitedly around McDowell's back. She was using her feet to try to push his shorts down. Her hands around the back of his head as she kissed him... that was somehow the worst part.

Even in the low light of the trailer, Brian could see her ring-- now just a symbol of a broken promise. Her fingers were running along McDowell's stubble-covered bullet-shaped head, feeling him, touching all of him.

When they broke their kiss to tug Leanne's tank-top off over her head, the gasping sounds of heaving breathing filled the trailer.