Family Loced in a Basement

**All sexually active characters are 18+ at the time**

I seldom discuss my past exploits with my second wife. We share all things except the truth in this marriage it seems. There are certain layers I'll never quite peel back, for legal reasons and otherwise.

I guess it all started back in the summer of 2008. If things had gone according to plan, I would have gone to school and started my junior year like the rest of my friends. Three weeks of my summers since the 6th grade were spent at Vacation Bible Camp. Each year held a new theme and each theme latched onto whatever was trending. The year prior, 'Crank Dat Soulja Boy' was the hottest song with suburban white youth. So the camp theme was absurdly titled: Crank Dat - Souljas for Jesus.

Bible Camp, the year it all fell apart was titled: Iron Man - Iron Sharpens Iron, Steel Sharpens Steel. A lot of these themes are long since forgotten, but I'll always remember Iron Man because of the camp shirts. Each year we were assigned a stack of custom camp shirts in our size. Our mother sent in the information long before we arrived. The Iron Man themed shirt had the Iron Man mask(altered enough to bypass copyright) on the chest.

I remember these shirts so vividly because it was all me and my sister wore for the years to come. A day in a half into camp my mother drove onto the field, collected me and Susie, and left. She already had our bags in the trunk. Our last bit of youthful freedom was charring hotdogs over an open fire the night of arrival and playing dodgeball before lunch.

Susie, or as she prefers to be referred to now, Susanne, is two years older than me. This would have been her last year of camp, she was 18. I suppose she could have returned as a counselor but that is only for the truly dedicated Christians. Camp was fun regardless of how much you bought the whole Jesus thing. Sure, we sang songs in the woods and read from the bible. But we went rafting, shot paintball guns, and climbed through obstacle courses. Counselors watch and manage the fun, the kids partook.

I remember Susie's dirty blonde hair in the sun. She sat on the right side and her skin and hair caught direct sunbeams. My mother drove frantically and never told us anything until we reached the destination. My sister's anxious eyes opened and closed like portals to an understanding I didn't have at the time. She knew something I didn't. I was nervous but she was shaking in a way that only someone who knew the danger would shake.

"Mom," I asked. "Are we going home?" I was given no answer. She just turned the music high and floored it down the backroads. "What's going on, Susie?" I whispered to my sister. The only comfort she could offer me was the promise of everything being okay, and in a way, she was right.

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Two years had passed and we were still hiding from our deranged biological father in the basement. Mr. and Mrs. Dunlap allowed us to inhabit the basement of their winter cabin for as long as we needed. They were my mother's neighbors when she grew up and developed a paternal care for her. I had my suspicions that Mr. Dunlap had venereal desires for my mother. None the less, he was nothing but kind to us. I couldn't blame him for how he felt about my mother, she was quite the beauty. Her bouncy black hair was that of a Golden Age Hollywood starlet. Her smooth pale complexation, full lips, and sultry gaze had all beholders wrapped around her finger.

I take after my mother in more ways than my sister. I inherited the dark hair, pale skin, and dark brown eyes while my sister had straight blonde hair, light freckled skin, and blue eyes. As she got older peeks of red started to show in her hair. My mother was slender and gracious while my sister developed large breasts and a plump behind. At this point I was eighteen and Susie was twenty. I'd noticed Mr. Dunlap lingered around Susie during his biweekly supply drop offs. My mother wasn't the only one receiving a "special" attention.

As one can imagine, in scenarios such as these, nudity becomes and afterthought. This had nothing to do with sex, incest, or love. I'll spoil the ending here and now, we spent five years confined to a basement. The only privacy was the small bathroom with a shower that trickles down lukewarm water. The Dunlaps, God rest their souls, were survivalists. What was previously a storage area dug under the Cabin was finished into a place to hold up in times of danger. The three of us shared a rather small 13 X 14 foot room(not counting the tiny bathroom) and made the best of it.

Two twin sized mattresses were pressed together in the left corner and naturally, that is where we slept. Near infinite variations of canned food were stored in the walls of that self imposed prison. Canned goods I never thought existed: canned cheese, canned canned bread, canned eggs, and canned whole chicken, to name a few. The Dunlaps dropped off fresh food when they could but canned goods was our bread and butter, literally. The preservation process made everything salty so for the sake of our blood pressure, we'd rinse most food under water before eating. We spent five years without sun. The sunbeams that made contact with my sister's skin on the way to the cabin were the last ones she'd feel for a while.

I only learned about the deranged nature of my biological father in bits and pieces when my mother drank or felt generous. I'll never know the full story but the gist I received was, he was abusive to my mother and held us captive. One day she escaped with us and later he was arrested. That was the short version. Over time I learned about the emotional scars he left behind. I was too young to remember being strapped in a car seat driving state to state in terror of my father. One night my mother described it as, "Every shadow I ever saw... I thought it was him and I thought he'd devour me."

We were safe from harm in the confines of the Dunlaps cabin basement. We had to stay in the basement because my father was crafty, resourceful, and ex military. He escaped from federal lockup so we had reason to fear him. The Dunlaps said he'd already questioned them about our whereabouts but they responded with, "we've not heard from Delores in years." The cabin basement was hidden and you'd never find it unless you knew what you were looking for. It wasn't as simple as sliding a rug out of the way. Some nights we heard slow foot steps above. The Dunlaps walked with no caution so only someone with nefarious intent would attempt to shroud their walk. Our mother would pull us close into her shaking arms and place her hands over our mouths.

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"You making ramen, Susie?" I asked, seeing my sister fill a pot with water from the bathroom sink. "Make some for me."

"You know it."

Susie placed the pot of water on the portable plugin hotplate and waited for the water the boil. Our mother was still asleep on the mattress, the hiding seemed to drain all her energy. She slept more than both of us combined some days. "Make some for Mom," I added. Susie wore red panties and an Iron Man camp shirt that her breast had nearly outgrown. Mom slept naked most nights. She held onto modesty for as long as she could be once I was of age and she could no longer take it, the clothes came off. I can close my eyes and still picture her on her side, her breasts peeking out from the blanket and her visible pale calves. I will admit that at this time, I'd not seen another women in two years. That may not seem a long time but as a young man just entering adulthood, it was eternity. I'd missed prom along with seven other school dances. I never snuck out at night to get drunk with Timmy like we promised we would that year. "This year we aren't going to be losers anymore," he promised.

The water in the pot began to boil and Susie ripped open three chicken ramen packs and set them in the water. When we first arrived in this dungeon there was a small table but we had it removed for more living space. Susie was crouched in front of the boiling pot that rested on the floor. She divided the noodles equally into three bowls and mixed the flavor packs inside. The way her thigh pressed into her calf was quite alluring to my horny eighteen year old brain. We kept in surprisingly good shape, given the circumstance. I did pushups, pullups, situps, and all the "up" exercises possible. Susie would jump rope, do squats, mountain climbers, and burpees.

"Mom," I nudged my mother's naked shoulder gently. "Wake up, Mom."

My mothers gorgeous eyes opened up and pulled me in right away. She saw me: her son, and her lips curled into a smile. She sat up and the blanket fell from her naked body. I was accustomed with her nudity enough to not stare snuck quite a few glances at her breasts. "Susie made breakfast." My mother rubbed her eyes and looked at the noodles before her. "Breakfast of champions," my mother said jokingly.

My mother pulled shorts over her lower body and I got a good look at the magic between her legs. She ate breakfast fully topless without regard of me: a man, looking. Maybe she didn't see me as a man at that time. Or maybe she was just fucking tired of being cramped in one room. We talked very little during breakfast and sat in a circle with our knees touching. My mother brushed her teeth and showered and made no attempts of hiding her 'showerly activities.' Susie and I sat side by side on the mattress and giggled while my mother moaned and whimpered. "Everybody does it," Susie said. Our legs touched while we listened to our mother achieve seemingly nonstop orgasms. It was in this moment I realized just how close we were. Our shoulders touched and my sister's hair gently grazed my skin. I hadn't thought much of incest at that point in my life. I knew I found my mother and sister attractive but beyond that, I never explored. In a sudden act of boldness along with the fact that I hadn't jerked off in a while, I put my hand on Susie's thigh and rubbed her from knee to middle thigh. Her head tilted low and her breathing quickened. Had she been so desperate for the touch of a man her own brother's touch caused such a stir in her loins?

"Connor," my sister whispered.

My cock was rock hard from the power I felt I held. I was merely grazing her thigh and dampness had formed on her red panties. Her skin was oh so soft and her whispers and whimpers of protest and submission sent chills through my young body. She took my hand and removed it from her leg and exhaled deeply. The moment she turned her head to me and her eyes met mine she was hooked on the moment. We kissed, it was my first kiss and I later learned that it was her fourth kiss. Her lips sent vibrations and tingles through my spine. In that moment, in that time, we were not being incestuous. In the literal sense, we were, but the desire did not come from her being a blood relative. This was due to hormones, loneliness, isolation, and unchecked desire. Any man locked in a room with any woman will fold to their carnal desires. Before the dungeon, as we called it, we had no desire for one another. This was molded through external forces out of our own control.

Her soft lips danced with mine and our tongues joined the party. Feeling adventurous, I cupped her left breast and she moaned into my mouth. We were primal and raw with spirit. We swapped mouth fluids as we were practically drooling into each other's mouths as if to hydrate the other. I'm not sure why that moment was the time we kissed. I chalk it up to the combination of my mother's moans and the canned foods messing with our heads. Susie was rubbing her legs together and putting the right over the left. I later learned that this was a way she would masturbate without her hands. She learned this skill from the years of no privacy.

The sound of the shower turning off was like a school bell telling us to get to the next class. We pulled away from each other and wiped our mouths as if we left visible traces of ourselves on each other. My sister looked down at my visible erection and reached over my lap to grab the blanket. Her arm rubbed over the head of my penis through my boxers in the process and got a moan out of me. She threw the blanket over my lap and picked up a book as if she'd been reading all this time. My mother exited the bathroom fully naked and unbothered. She had hair under her arms that morning and stubble throughout her body, she must have shaved. Her pussy was bare and smooth and I saw her gentle lips and puffy clitoris. From later experience with my sister I learned that clits get swollen during times of sexual stimulation. My mother's body was as gorgeous as you would have assumed upon looking at her, if not better.

"How are we feeling this morning?" My mother asked with a newfound enthusiasm, the orgasms must have done wonders. "Let's watch all the Lord Of The Rings movies today, those are long and kill time." We agreed to to the plan and commenced with the day of movies. My mother wore robe and nothing else. I was often shirtless because the Iron Man camp shirts were too small for me. Mr. Dunlap gave me some old pants of his but my shoulders are just too stocky to fit his shirts. My mother quoted nearly every line of these movies and swung an imaginary sword around. We kept the lights off and the box TV shone on my mother's sexy legs and illuminated my sister's expression. I saw her chest rise and fall with every breath like a locomotive machine. We stole secretive glances at each other and held hands by the beginning of Return Of The King.

That night, when we were sure our mother was sleep, we turned to face each other. I leaned into kiss her but my sister slid her palm in front of her lips and shook her head. She was topless, which is how she usually slept. We couldn't exactly talk so we communicated another way. My sister pulled out a flashlight, a notepad, and a pencil. She set the flashlight to the lowest setting and tapped the pencil on the notepad. She set them between us and laid the flashlight down above it so the dim light shone across the page. It also illuminated her breasts and I could only focus on the brail like dots around her reddish-pink nipples.

"You're my brother," she wrote.

"And?" I wrote underneath in sloppier handwriting.

"That's the 'I' word," my sister quickly wrote.

"Ur right. Its weird," I wrote and took it all in. My sister, though sexy as hell, laid before me on her side looking stressed and confused. Her eyebrows were scrunched and concerned. What had we done? Something that would seem so innocent and juvenile in the months to come; we kissed. I'd like to say that from that day on we swore off kissing and asked the Dunlaps to bring my sister looser shirts, but we didn't. That night my sister gave me an innocent peck on the cheek and returned to her blankets. Her legs, unknowingly to me at the time, shifted and shuffled with masturbatory motions until she succumbed to deep sleep.

As the weeks relented, our newfound sexual desires only grew. What was once innocent nudity became sights to behold. My sister would exit the shower naked from head to toe. Her wet hair would hang over her large supple breasts. Knowing that she was the object of my desire, she began grooming and treating herself. She trimmed her eyebrows, shaved her legs, and trimmed her pubic hair. She claimed that she wanted a normal sibling relationship through notes shared at night, but made herself prettier for me during the day.

This could have all been my horny teenage brain filtering my sister's actions through my penis. My sister and mother both enjoyed shaving their body and feeling "womanly" as they put it. But it felt as if from that point on she was always put together. Maybe I was only noticing because I was paying more attention to my sister's forbidden body. From my perspective my sister skipped around our confined room topless and bare and her breasts and bottom jiggled just for my enjoyment.

Each night, passing notes was our way of bonding. We wrote of all things that crept their way into our thoughts. Incest was the tip of the iceberg. We did discuss things like our unfulfilled sexual desires and reasons we couldn't kiss. When I wrote, "your soft lips are all I think about," she gave me a satisfied grin. We wrote back and forth of things we'd take to the grave in other circumstances. She wrote about her sparse memories of our father, crushes she had in her youth, and embarrassing stories I won't repeat for her sake. She'd been talking to a boy on Myspace shortly before camp and they planned on losing their virginities to each other. I informed her that "boy" was likely a creepy adult wanting to harvest her organs. Her response to that was, "I was horny and he listened to Brand New."

Tears fell from her eyes and she pressed her head to my chest. Silently I rubbed her naked back and kissed the top of her blonde head. She grabbed the notepad and wrote for a while. Mentally I was incorrectly guessing what secrets she wrote about. I thought maybe she missed her emo dream boy or she was caught in a bad memory. You'd be surprised how hidden memories unearth themselves when you're trapped in a room with only your thoughts.. My sister and I explored them all.

Susie handed me the notepad and there were a few neat handwritten paragraphs. My sister writes neater than most computer fonts. I read every letter intently because each word my sister wrote was important to me. To summarize, the mention of Brand New; her favorite band, went her into a deep sadness. Luckily, Susie's booklet of CDs were in our mother's car so she was not without her emo favorites. We'd been locked in that damn basement for two years and Brand New could have put out new music that she wouldn't be able to hear. Her emo Myspace friends probably forgot all about her and enrolled in college and possibly found their future husbands and wives. Her note to me, while neat, was rambly and all over the place. My sister leaped from topic to topic and somehow the mention of her favorite band spawned the waterfall of cascading emotions.

I finished reading the note and put my large muscular arms around her. She latched her legs around my torso and squeezed me tightly. Somberly she sobbed into my shoulder and neck. She begun to whisper all her dark thoughts and insecurities into my caring ear. She was terrified that we'd never leave that damn dungeon. She thought that one day our father would rip open the hidden entrance and do unspeakable things. I told her in delicate whispers that I love her and I promised that we'd leave there someday. I promised on the off chance our father does locate us, I would kick his ass. I was strong, young, and angry. "I'll ask Mr. Dunlap to keep and eye out for new Brand New music."

In a moment of weakness that would continue on from that day, my sister kissed me on the mouth. It was not a romantic or sexual kiss, it was kiss of affirmation and the bonding of our broken cooped up souls. With my thumb I wiped the tears from her eyes, took her chin, and kissed her again. That night we fell asleep holding hands.

We had a routine that we followed to the letter as a family. Susie always made breakfast, I made lunch, and mom made dinner. We attempted to keep breakfast foods for breakfast but some days Susie made ramen or canned chicken soup. On normal days she'd open the canned eggs and canned sausage. With canned milk and pancake mix she'd make us pancakes. Or she'd boil water and prepare us oatmeal and toast. I had it easy for lunch option. On a normal day I'd boil canned potatoes or cook them in oil on a skillet. Shredded canned chicken with rice and peas was always a hit. On lazy days I'd just pour soup into a pot and heat it up. Our mother would make miracles from nothing. She'd transform the canned goods into something entirely different. With flour, water, and canned ground pork she'd make us delicious soft shell tacos.