Synopsis: As Sarah wrestles with whether to divorce her husband or not, she finds figurines, a large dildo, and a journal in an old cabin in the backwoods of western Maine. She finds herself swept up in the incest in the journal and her own feelings for her father.
Tags: Incest, large cock, and breast feeding
Sarah:
Hiking in the Maine back woods has its own rewards. Things like the fresh air, the mossy creeks, the sound of frogs when you go by the many lakes and ponds, and even the sight of an occasional moose. If you do see a moose, it is best to hide behind a big tree and slowly walk backwards away.
If you're not careful, you can easily get lost in the vast woods of western Maine. Recollecting the pain of my dying relationship with my husband Ryan, I was happy to get lost in the far away woods of Maine, a place where I spent much of my youth.
The pines soared up above me and sunlight danced downward on the dew drops that hung precariously from the many green leaves of the lower canopy. As snow continued to melt at higher elevations, the water trickled down creating streams, creeks, and rivers. The smells of must, musk, and the heavy spring humidity made me feel at home, again. It was something that I sorely needed.
And yet, as comfortable as I felt, I was off the trail. I was lost.
Sometimes, my camera and I get caught up in the moment. I lose track of time and space and just wander, clicking here and clicking there. I can't be sure, but I think it was a spider's web that caught my attention and took me off course. The sun shone through the web as dew drops glistened from so many spider web strands. I went from that web to another and another, and then I wasn't sure where I'd come from or how to return to the trail.
Since I've been in this situation before, I didn't panic. I knew my dad's rules, "follow the water and it will eventually get you home." So, I followed the water as it flowed downhill and led to a small stream. From there, the water led me to a pond with a few deserted cabins on the far side.
With the mist rising in the sunlight over the pond, the cabins looked mysterious and attractive. I clicked away with my camera. A moose rose up from eating grass off the bottom of the pond. It looked at me and then at its calf closer to shore and walked out of the water, so majestic, so proud, and so big. They walked together along the edge of the pond toward the cabins and then into the woods.
I got great shots of them, and as if on cue, they turned and looked back at me, and I took a few more shots.
I am a photographer and I get paid well for my work product. I've been asked numerous times, but no, I do not do wedding photography, but I do almost everything else from commercial, real estate, nature, families, and personals. That is how I met my handsome husband, at a photoshoot.
He, and his bare chiseled chest, lounged in front of a sparkling blue pool. He held a bottle of rum, a tumbler with fake ice cubes, and as he poured, I shot. We did this for two hours, thus, the necessity of fake ice cubes. The sun got warm as it rose in the sky and sweat dripped off his tanned chest.
Damn, he was beautiful.
When I shoot, I'm mentally inside my camera. I'm not part of the scene, I'm outside of it. Even so, looking at him, I could feel the juices dripping between my legs. At first, I thought it was just sweat but there is a large difference between sweat and vaginal secretions. Vaginal secretions are slick and slippery and that is how it felt in my moist crotch and dripping down my thighs.
We Maine girls are not known for our pretty faces and I'm no exception. I'm not ugly but I'm not a classic beauty either. Growing up in the back woods of Maine, you don't rely much on makeup, fingernail polish, or any of that stuff. But in the dead of winter when it is 10 degrees below zero, guys will eagerly still strip naked to snuggle with what we have beneath our flannel shirts. I am more than ample there, and always warm between my legs. My breasts were a gift from Grandma.
The beauty thing, Ryan changed all of that. We started dating after a month and he suggested that I get in front of the camera. I laughed but he persisted and that included a full and complete makeover.
His makeup friends made me look gorgeous and glamorous. I shifted out of my usual bulky sweatshirts and baggy jeans into heals, skin-tight leather pants, and a crop top. My wavy brown hair was tossed on top of my head, eyeshadow applied to bring out my light green eyes, and a friend of mine did the photoshoot of me under Ryan's watchful eye.
I didn't realize it but the earrings, necklace, and watch were all from the French brand Courtous. The promotion staff at Courtous liked it so much. I, and my big tits, ended up as their lead on billboards, magazines, and everywhere online for three entire weeks. I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed or proud because the young woman on the billboard didn't really represent ... me. I'm a photographer, not a model, but it paid well and opened some photography doors in Chicago. Ryan and I took our dating to a new level of commitment and got engaged, but I always felt some things were missing with us.
The cabins made a nice backdrop for a bunch of photos. I explored around and had to be especially careful due to their dilapidated state. I felt drawn to the cabin closest to the water. Inside, it was mostly empty except for an old wicker couch and footstool that were set up to look out the front window at the small pond.
Hunting around, I found that an in-wall bookcase had collapsed and broken inward. Partially hidden inside was an old leather bound book. Wow! A hand-written journal! Underneath the book, I found some figurines and what could best be described as, well it couldn't be, but a carved wooden dildo.
A wooden dildo. That was crazy. I stuffed it all in my backpack. I'd figure it out later.
Finding nothing more of interest, I followed a downstream path over rocks and fallen trees until I came out at a bridge for the trail I was looking for.
And I thought, "Thanks Dad for your rule! It saved me again."
After a too-brief three-month engagement, I married Ryan in a courthouse ceremony just outside of Chicago. It was an impromptu wedding and we only had some of his friends there as witnesses. His mother was furious and Ryan just laughed it off. In some ways, I liked how other people's opinions just rolled off his back. I guess there is a few things I still like about him.
When I returned to my dad's house, Dad was chopping wood. Damn, the old man looked great, especially for 45 years old. The maul dropped down and the sections of wood leapt apart like two teenagers caught kissing at the school play! The pile he'd already chopped was impressive but not as impressive as the muscled arms and legs easily observed through his T-shirt and jeans.
Smiling, he lifted his T-shirt and wiped the sweat from his face. Yeah, Dad had a six-pack at 45 years old. And I wondered, why didn't he get remarried after Mom passed away?
"Good morning, sugar," he said. "Did you have a good walk? Did you get some nice pictures?"
I laughed. I love when he calls me "sugar." I buzzed through the picture screen on the back and he pretended to care about trees, leaves, and a spider. However, when the cabins came up, he stopped short and his face changed from blank to concerned.
"Where are those? Is that up northeast of Miller's farm?" he asked.
"I think so," I answered.
"Um, that's not a place you want to be going. It's got some sort of bad situation," he said.
"Dad, 'bad situation?' What does that even mean?" I asked.
"Well, I'm not sure but the locals here won't go near the place," he said as he wiped more sweat from his face. I again, admired my own dad's chest as he did it, all while mentally slapping myself for thinking it.
"Dad, you're a local. You've lived her all your life. Hell, our family has been her for generations," I said.
"Yes, that's true. I don't know but... you know that I don't believe in all that stuff but... I just think you should stay on the safe side and give that place a pass next time," he smiled his crooked smile, trying to be convincing.
I nodded to appease him and went inside to really see what I got for pictures.
When my marriage went through the shredder and we separated, Dad was nice enough to let me move back home until I get things sorted out. That was about a month ago and to his credit, he's never asked me how I'm going to resolve or dissolve this marriage thing. He's just such a solid guy who works hard, thinks things through, and makes shit happen. I've offered to pay weekly rent but he has refused me every time. He won't even let me contribute to the groceries.
The next day, Dad went to work and I did too. The spider and moose pictures came out fantastic and I sent them out for publishing consideration. Sometimes they sell and sometimes they don't. The difficulty in being an independent photographer is that many of the pictures they want, they can get cheaply through Getty images. But, I have my connections and people do like my work.
As I was moving my stuff around, the figurines and dildo fell out onto the floor. It reminded me of Dad's concerns and that gave me a chuckle.
The wooden dildo was shaped with great precision and silky smooth. The base was thick and I could barely get my fingers around it. Veins spiraled up to a thicker helmet shaped head that was even thicker than the base.
I stroked it like I stroked Ryan's dick, feeling it with just a few fingers. Not that I was comparing but it was much thicker and longer Ryan's dick. I guess I was comparing. Clearly, due to the discoloration of the head and much of the shaft, someone had used this toy quite a bit.
Anyway, I imagined that it would split me into two pieces and that gave me a chuckle, you know, at the idea of me using this ancient sex toy. However, it had been awhile. Maybe I might try it later.
The figurines could have been children's toys, three inches tall, painted and made out of some sort of ceramic material. There were two of them, a man and a woman. They were surprisingly heavy and sturdy.
The book was in better shape than had I expected, maybe it was protected by being inside the hidden bookshelf. I only could imagine.
It was a journal and I began skimming to see if it was worth reading.
Written in 1893, the author was named Raymond and he started his journal at only 19 years old. His father, Frederick, was a pastor of a Christian community called First Christians of the Covenant. Originally, Frederick was a cobbler in Rhode Island where he met and married his second wife, Lillian. His first wife passed away after giving birth to Raymond in a fever.
Frederick had always been deeply religious. And during a winter snowstorm that closed down most of New England, he and Lillian, also know as Lilly had a calling from God that sent them north to a small village in the hills of western Maine. An aging pastor had written to them and he asked them to preach God's good news to whomever would listen. Raymond accompanied them to help get them settled since Lilly was several months pregnant when they began their journey.
Lilly delivered a baby girl in the winter, and in the spring, Raymond was ready to move on with his life. He'd worked hard repairing the main house, the cabins by the pond, and the church for his father. He even helped his stepmother settle in. His step sister was four months old now and it was time for Raymond to make some decisions with his life.
I read the journal entries eagerly as I was making life decisions, too.
Raymond wrote:
Lilly grimaced and cried out. I rushed to the bedroom to find her standing by a bowl of hot water, holding a towel. She covered her breasts with half the towel. The other half was soaked in the hot water.
