During The Isolation Of 2019 Pt 01

- A Quick Preview -

Val always was a speak-before-thinking kind of guy. "WOW! Damn you are a beauty. I would not be worthy to kiss your absolutely divine ass."

"Well sir, as you have raised that subject at my obvious invitation, just what sort of kiss are you talking about? You understand, it is difficult and imprudent to respond without the details. Would this be a kiss on the cheek, or the crease... or maybe the cute little pink rose... well, and would it be just lips, or would there be perchance... tongue... involved?"

* Category Note: This is nominated as Group Sex because there are 3 people on camera, with the door open for others. Some might consider it as incest. However, without giving away too much about the future, I will say the only evidence is a woman's uncorroborated word first given 6 years after the fact, and in support of her own interest. I also note that unrelated lovers are sometimes known to use terms like "daddy" and "baby" at special moments.

-

Do you recall...

Covid is an unusual isolation, because for most of us it is silent, invisible and insidious, spreading only when a human - rumored to be a social animal - has a close social encounter with another human. But it is not the only isolation some of us have known. A little over a year before Covid visited, Mother Nature imposed her own brand of harsh isolation, and it was not silent, invisible or insidious. Nor was it from China. In a most dramatic border incursion, a violation of the US-Canada border and the science supporting the Paris Accords, the Polar Vortex of 2019 visited misery and isolation upon the US. The snow and bitter frigid temperatures invaded from Canada (cue South Park music) to bring misery to many of these United States, leading to isolation more draconian than any government decree could bring to many of the rural citizens who feed us all with their labors.

-

Late January 2019

Max Ford's farm,

Located along the northern border of the US.

Val was my dearest friend, roommate and partner in crime from college. We had fallen out of touch for a few years, so when the phone rang I was mighty glad to hear him.

"Hey Bud, it is great to hear your voice. Where are you doing time and when do you get out?" This was my traditional greeting for him. Valentine DePina graduated college with a degree in Spanish, then he immediately began his career as a fearless wheel-man or getaway driver for an uncle's burglary crew. He life of crime began at the tender age of 12 when he scouted jobs. There may have been a family-based student loan for his "straight time out" in college, then he was into the big time.

During his first few years as a wheelman he bagged some big scores. He was never found guilty for anything heavier than a speeding ticket. But there were a few bullet holes that gave him pause. When his college debt was paid he promoted himself to less exciting federal crimes where he was his own boss.

"Well partner, I'm going to make this short 'cause I don't have much choice, I got the Grim Reaper in my cab right now, with his damn cold breath in my face. You know that killer hill I always hated a few miles from your place? Well, I just topped it, longest half hour of my life." That meant he was about 5 miles away and moving slow; it was a steep, ice-covered hill, a real hazard at these temperatures. "My pickup truck has two rear tires shredded, no heater, no third gear and one nearly frozen solid wetback. I'm desperate, Amigo. I hate to do this to you on real short notice but I gotta ask it. Could I pull in to your place for a cup of warmth?"

Well, that raised all kinds of interesting questions. I knew his 40-year old "Big Dooley" truck had two rear tires on each side, so he was still moving. Snow was piling up on the highways at a pretty good rate, I figured there was a 50% chance the highway was plowed the rest of the way to my exit, assuming he didn't white out from what was coming down. Getting from the exit to my place was not an issue, the county kept the road clear because they kept all their snow plows and half the school busses in the county barn next to my yard - I had donated the land like a good citizen. We shared a driveway so they kept that clear too, which was mighty nice of them. Snow plow drivers have to get to and from work.

The other issue was the horny 18-year old woman in the shower who was expecting sex. She had a very specific type of activity planned for my body as we waited out this "snowstorm of the decade" which was supposed to be followed by record low temperatures for 2 to 5 or maybe even a Biblical 40 days. Her mother had abandoned the poor young thing to my improper care - care they both knew intimately - as she fled the state in advance of the storm for the relative comforts of Iowa.

In fact, I had planned to meat some Candy in the shower shortly, but the call killed that idea.

No doubt Val recalls the farm from his post-college visits after my marriage to our shared college sweetheart/roommate-with-benefits. The last visit was in the summer of 2014. Mona and I spent summers with my parents in the big old farm house next to the vehicle shed.

Mona was always glad to see Val; as a threesome we had shared a dorm room for years in college and when he visited here she granted him the full benefits to her body the same as we shared in the dorm room: solo, serial and two-on-one with no holes barred.

But that is an old house, and in weather like this it is a struggle for the furnace to keep it 40 degrees inside. Four years ago my dad, his brother and I built a berm house, a concrete dome mostly sunken in the ground, connecting to the other side of the vehicle barn.

These days Mom and Dad live in a condo near the state capital from Thanksgiving to Easter. During the winter my wife and I normally live in the dome, which was like a large and cozy all-in-one room for a couple. One room meant one bed in the center. Val had not seen that.

In addition, my wife had also fled to Iowa, where she was attending a boring seminar in more temperate climes.

I knew that due to the storm no business within 50 miles was open tonight. I could hear his teeth chattering, so I told him to come on in. He was to pull into the parking bay showing a green light. I explained the door would open automatically when his lights hit the sensor and he hit the horn twice.

"Man, you are saving my life... assuming I don't blow another tire in the next ten minutes... I am out of spares. Otherwise... I'm sure you will find me after this damn mini ice age, because in about 11 minutes I will be one frozen solid Mexican."

It was a joke between us. Val was actually a US citizen, his mother was about 7 months pregnant when they crossed the border. But here, about ten miles from Canada, he liked to joke about his Mexican roots.

As soon as he hung up I called to Candy as I turned on the stove. In short order I put soup, tea, and spanish rice on the burners plus slipped some ham into the oven.

Then I had to take a precaution. The dome plans showed a root cellar under part of it where the ground sloped, with obvious inside and outside doors. But there was also a secret half basement that had a hidden door from the dome and a narrow underground walkway to a second hidden door in the main farm house. The half basement was warm, with water, food and facilities, even a shower. It could hold six people for 3 months. Dad called it "The Bunker." Grandpa, who remembered the "duck and cover" days of old, said it was about the smartest thing we did.

I had just enough time to hustle shapely Candy out of the shower and into the bunker. A clever girl, she was naked and wet as she posed at my intrusion on her shower, but turned pure business when I said "unexpected company." She didn't ask questions I could not answer. (How many teenagers are that smart?) When I said "Bunker" she did what she was told, including what I didn't have to mention. Clothes and getting dry could wait, she moved her wet, naked body to the bunker. I heard her check that her "Mare's leg" cut-down carbine was loaded with .357 magnum ammo.

The thing is, Val is known to deal with shady types so he might not have a choice about what he said and didn't say on the phone. We have talked about this. I wanted my Candy safe, warm, well-armed and out-of-sight. Drying off her hair could come later. She was a sensible girl who could live down there, quiet as a mouse, for months without a problem, and could use the weapons if needed. The only other folks who knew of the basement were my wife, who was over a thousand miles away, my folks who were a hundred miles away, an uncle now resting in peace after a dispute with a bear about an underfed salmon, and Candy's mother Bev, who was also over a thousand miles away.

On schedule Val drove up, honked and pulled in the parking bay. Everything looked as expected on the monitor His truck was a '70s era Chevy "Big Dooley" crew cab that was mostly rebuilt. The truck body and it's appearance (rust, paint, etc.) were intended to blend in anywhere with the hispanic driver. One of his rear tires was shredded on each side, and to be honest the tracks of the others showed a suicidal lack of tread. The bed held 2 flat spares and his tire-changing equipment, which told me he had lost a gamble on stretching the last miles out of his tires. I knew the back seat of the cabin was removed and replaced with a bed on top of a tool box, so nobody could be crouching in back. I found out later the heating line was rerouted last summer because the heater core leaked, it would be an all-day job to fix if we could find another core. I could see nobody else on board. I knew the truck had hidden compartments, including one that was man-sized, but without the heater the temperature inside the truck was below zero so the hidden compartment was basically a meat-locker.

I slipped on insulated coveralls and helped him out of the truck. His clothes had been soaked while changing tires then frozen solid as he drove so he could only move with help. He barely registered that we were not going into the house as he expected but into the new-to-him dome instead. The first order of business was to get him out of all his clothes and into a warm shower. I collected his wet clothes and as he stepped under the running water I asked him if there was anything I should know, like surprises in the truck.

He knew what I was asking. "No worries man, no riders and the rig is clean of contraband. I am deadheading after a big legit job that dropped in my lap. It was big money, but too time-sensitive for me to grab my tire chains. After the delivery I thought I could get south in time but that plan didn't work so good. Then I started blowing tires."

I didn't see any new bullet holes. I sensed that Val was having trouble getting loads, and had been skimping on regular maintenance. Well, after the wheelman gig got too hot - catching his third bullet finally got the message across - he switched to over-the-road transportation. Most of his income came from the type of loads without too much government paperwork - and his life was pretty much job-to-job.

Val transported what people could pay to move, some legal and some illegal. His ideal was to use the one - like a custom machinery part or a ten-foot fiberglass snow cone - as cover for the other. That way if anything was found in his truck he could blame the loading crew. It helped that there were very few drug-sniffing dogs in highway patrol cars. When the weather was good he could pull a gooseneck trailer for some really big loads, but that didn't work so well in the winter. Most of his work was moving east-west on interstates I-40 to I-80, avoiding border states. He also tried to stay west of the Ohio river, dodging the heavy traffic concentrations of the East Coast, and east of California.

When the hot water hit him his face took on this expression like he was entering a state of grace. He really needed this.

I told him to take his time in the shower, we had all the hot water he could use. A side benefit of the county land donation was natural gas and city water for the property - they needed it for their shop so our hookup was free. The dome had one of those "unlimited" in-line water heaters. After a life of well-pumped water and propane deliveries my mother thought municipal gas and water was a gift from above.

After Val's "no worries" comment I called Candy up from the bunker as I shucked my coveralls. She had not planned to wear any clothing while she was with me - her mother Bev dropped Candy off yesterday, then after some mutual together time she drove my wife Mona to the airport. Candy saw no reason to change her clothing plans when I told her who had dropped in. Candy knew who Val was from the many tales Bev, Mona and I had shared, so she was excited to meet him. The dome was too warm for clothing anyways.

Candy had excelled at all her mother and I could reasonably ask of her, overcoming her strong natural urges in the process. Now that she was 18, we all felt she was reasonably entitled to make her own decisions about things, especially decisions about who enjoyed the manifest delights of her body. Particularly when she was making the same good decisions her mother and my wife had both made. After the things she and I did during the last 30 plus hours I had no cause to argue anything.

Her first decision was about what pose to present when Val got his first look at her, after his shower when she could witness his "complete reaction." She was justifiably proud of both her her smooth round bottom and her C-cup tits. A quick kiss from an ice cube coaxed her nipples to stand up all inviting. Her body was curvy and lush, very much "Playboy '60s and '70s" before the models got too thin and perfect. The one modern feature was the shaved pussy that revealed her fat, hungry, outer labials. Her face looked young, maybe too young, with natural bee-stung lips that aroused obscene thoughts. She will be carded into her thirties. But she thought that a slightly underhung jaw was her worst feature, so while she wasn't going to hide her smile she didn't want it to draw too much attention.

Raised on a farm, Candy has studied her own genetics, going back to about 1850. All the women in her line had strong sexual urges at an early age, but she looked deeper. For instance, she confirmed her inherited tendency to put on weight in places that look good in the teens and start to look heavy as she gets to 40. One small positive aspect of this pattern is that the women tend to drop their pregnancy weight - all of them got knocked up in their teen years - easily after each birth.

She also knows that she has a much-stronger-than-normal urge to make babies. But in the world today, where education is so critical, she has taken precautions that will continue until college graduation.

The pose Candy selected was on the couch, trying to look good but not to look too posed. She was on her belly, with one leg on the couch and the other off the side, spreading her lovely pussy. Her open nether lips were pointed, invitingly, at the bathroom door. Her upper body was twisted to her side as she was propped up resting on her elbow. This showed her tits in what may be their best position, emphasizing both mass and youthful perkiness. I agreed that she looked outstanding.

We both knew what was going to happen. We were going to be isolated together for a few days as the polar winds howled outside. Candy and I had a plan for the days and nights. Now, Val added to the plan. I would support whatever decisions she made in terms of her favors. She quickly mentioned that she had never had two guys at once (in fact I was the only guy she ever had), and she had a couple other fantasies that called for a third cock. On the other hand, if she was not interested once she saw Val, there were single beds in the bunker.

-

I had taken his clothes, so when Val came out after 20 minutes in the shower he was stark naked. He was also feeling a lot better. I had hung up the coveralls as soon as he was in the shower so I was naked as well. With all his "you saved my life" and "thank you" while looking around the new place it took him about 15 seconds to register that there was a third person in the room, and it was not what he expected. He was expecting to see my wife, dark-haired Mona someplace, but the blond he saw instead looked half that age. He did a genuine double-take as he focused on my Candy. He was far enough into the room so that, in her pose, he could see everything on display.

Suddenly he took it all in. Val always was a speak-before-thinking kind of guy.

"WOW! Damn you are a beauty. I would not be worthy to kiss your absolutely divine ass."

Candy had a sweet reply. "Well sir, as you have raised that subject at my obvious invitation, just what sort of kiss are you talking about? You understand, it is difficult and imprudent to respond without the details. Would this be a kiss on the cheek, or the crease... or maybe the cute little pink rose... well, and would it be just lips, or would there be perchance... tongue... involved?"

Val realized that his anatomy was showing an interest which might not be appropriate for somebody who looked so young. So he tore his eyes off Candy and looked at me. "Where did she come from?" he asked.

Candy liked this game so she answered him, drawing his eyes back to her body as she stretched one arm and moved her off-couch knee, spreading her pussy more. "I am told I entered the world in the usual way... out of Max's high school sweetheart. Is there something about my appearance that suggests otherwise? Mister...?"

"Valentine Delpino Miss. I am very pleased to see you." He moved as if to shake hands, but then stepped back instead, keeping his distance. "Please, call me Val. I must say the privilege of our meeting is all mine, and it is one I am surely unworthy of. I apologize for my sudden and unplanned intrusion. A young lady like you should know that I am a scoundrel and a criminal and a degenerate who is throughly unworthy of seeing a beauty like you. I say things without due consideration. I wish I could make it up to you, but I am sure you would find any offer I might make aloud to be unworthy of your consideration."

"Why Mister Val, as you are a friend of my father's I am sure that you are more than worthy, and I am told you might have some absolutely fascinating ideas as well."

"Your father? Max is your FATHER!?! Oh MAN! That can't be right..." He turned to me. "You can't show a guy like me, who is hard up for longer than I care to remember, a look at an out-of-reach outstanding piece like that. If you are her father then that sweet bit just has to be jailbait. Hell, she must be what, 13?"

I figured I better say something. "Well Val, since you asked so nicely, I will say that this is indeed my wonderful daughter Candy. Actually, her name is Emily Candice Carver but she does not like that version, I am told she screamed loudly when it was first mentioned in her presence, in church, and she likes it no better today. So we all like 'Candy' for a name. I can assure you that she is very sweet so the short version fits her well. Also, she is indeed 18 by a few months and is quite free to make her own decisions about things."

"She is 18 AND your daughter? How can that be true? I have known you for 18 years almost to the day and I don't recall any babe-in-arms in our dorm room... and Mona... she could not have been knocked up when we first saw her."

"Yet, here I am," Candy said. "I have heard your name in passing as regards some tales told my my Father, my aunt Mona, and my dear Mother, who has some pleasurable stories of your acquaintance. Now, are you serious about that kiss you mentioned? You must understand that your words set my mind racing and cause certain... unmentionable feelings." Her hand slipped down to her belly and underneath her body. We could not see it, but she moved like she was touching herself. She got a distracted look in her eye, then she was back. "But at my tender age, my daddy taught me that I should always know exactly what I am getting into when a man makes a delicious and naughty suggestion. Of course, up to now, I have only accepted such suggestions from... well, maybe I will talk about that later."