Though it appeared small and unimpressive at first sight, the cabin was larger and much more luxuriously furnished than anyone had expected. There was a very large central area where most of the activities would take place, with space for preparing eating and storing food. There were also several tiny cubicles built off the main room. The latter contained bunks and a chest, but nothing else and were small.
"You've been awfully quiet lately," Lucy said to Ann the next morning when they went out for a stroll. "Is there something bothering you? Perhaps something about . . . the other night? You must feel free to talk, Ann. There really isn't anything I'd want to hide from you."
Persuaded by her step-mother's encouraging ways, Ann took a deep breath and then plunged into the topic which had figured so largely in her thoughts ever since she had seen her parents fucking.
"Well, after Dad had finished and rolled off, she began, speaking slowly and trying to find the words, "I . . . well, I couldn't help but see what you did then."
"What, I don't remember what happened," Lucy said, frowning as she tried to recall the sequence of events of that night. "I was . . . oh, yes! I remember now, I gave myself a hand job! Is that what you mean?
Ann nodded and then said that she had grown up believing that it was wrong for a girl to touch herself in that way.
"Well, that's a popular attitude and I guess there's a lot to be said for it," Lucy admitted. "I never paid any attention to it. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Once I found out how good it felt, doing it to myself, I couldn't have stopped whatever anybody said."
"But I was thinking about it in another way," Ann told her. "I mean, why should you have to do it that way after . . . you know, after Dad fucked you the way he did."
"MMmmmm, see what you mean now," Lucy replied, nodding. "All I can say, dear, is that I wanted to cum again and he was knocked out. You mustn't think that he didn't do a good job of fucking me, heavens, no! My God, he can fuck me until I see stars and colors and everything! It's just that sometimes he gets tired and can't go on any longer. When that happens, then I don't see why I ought not to do it to myself, as long as it satisfies me."
"But what would he have thought if he'd waked up and found you doing it." Ann persisted. "You were right there beside him. Wasn't that a terrible risk?
"Ah, now I'm beginning to understand! Ann, you're working under a terrible misconception," Lucy told her. "Your father doesn't think it's bad for a woman to please herself like that. Far from it, in fact! My, I've often given demonstrations for him and I can assure you that he's never had anything but the highest praise when I did it. He's like any other man, you know. They really and truly dig seeing a woman do it to herself."
"Maybe so," Ann had to agree, thinking of the times Dave had kept insisting that she demonstrate her sexual prowess for him. "Yeah, maybe that's so, I guess. But do you think he'd be all that tolerant if he found me doing it to myself? His own daughter?"
"Oh, that wouldn't be any problem at all," Lucy chuckled, "We've talked about that before, you know. About both of you, as a matter of fact. It'd be awfully hard for Dave to hide the fact that he's jacking off in bed more than once each night. Honestly, I think he has more than one wet dream nightly by the tracks on his sheets every time I do laundry."
Ann marveled at the calm, matter of fact way in which Lucy mentioned Dave's sexual propensities. There was not a hint of recrimination or condemnation in her voice. She seemed to accept it as perfectly natural that her brother would indulge himself to the utmost.
"Of course, we can't see the evidence as far as you're concerned," Lucy went on, smiling in a friendly, conspiratorial way. "I mean, a girl doesn't leave those yellow blotches on her sheets when she gets off, you know. But . . . well, I've got to admit that I've sniffed at your panties a few times when I was doing the laundry and I can tell that you've been turned on"
"Oh, that drippy stuff!" Ann blurted out, mortified and embarrassed by the disclosure. "Sometimes my panties are just soaked as if I had peed myself."
"That my dear, " Lucy said is one of the greatest blessing a woman has. Why, if it weren't for that oil that we give off when we become excited, how would we ever get a prick into our cunts? That's what it's for, you know, to make us slippery and easier to penetrate. It's just a sign that our bodies are read for lovemaking, that's all. . ."
"But it's so wet! So . . . so slippery!" Ann protested "And it smells!"
"Indeed it is all those things," Lucy agreed. "But do you really find it offensive? Does the smell make you ill, for example?"
"Ill? No, not a bit," Ann replied. "It's just that . . . well sometimes it seem so messy!"
"Messy? Perhaps," Lucy said, smiling thoughtfully. "But, my dear, the whole process is somewhat messy if you wish to look at it in a certain way. And men, you know they cum a certain amount of fluid too. Much more than we do, I might add. Not that I object to that, not in the least!"
