Bunker Breeding 5 – Father & Daughters (FFM)

Story Excerpt

The noise was everywhere. Sound had nowhere to escape in the bunker. It traveled through metal seams and concrete, echoing and lingering. Even with headphones pressed hard enough to dent her skull, Megan still heard her older sister moan, heard the animal rhythm of flesh clapping against flesh, the grunts and slaps and soft whimpers echoing from the other side of the thin, cheap contractor grade partition. As if her sister fucking all day wasn’t enough. It was made every bit worse by her fucking their father.

Megan hated it. She hated them for doing it, and she hated herself for caring at all. She tried to lose herself in a book, but the words blurred, smudging together in the percussive heat of Kimmie’s shrieks. The air was always sour with sweat and fluids, the unwashed tang of bodies kept in too tight a space.
Two months sealed underground. Forty-three days since they’d first started fucking each other. The world above was distant, hypothetical, and below, time had a different texture, slicker, stickier, every second stretched long and shining with the sweat of the people trapped in it.

Megan pretended to read and didn’t bother looking up when the door to the sleeping quarters slammed open. She didn’t need to. She could see the whole show in the metallic reflection of her e-reader: Chris, hulking and smirking and already toweling off, Kimmie nude and gloriously unfazed, breasts heavy and swinging as she padded across the bunker toward the kitchenette.

It was just the three of them. Chris at 40 years old, the father of a bottomless libido Kimmie, twenty-five and never once shy about announcing her every thought. And Megan, the mature one at nineteen, but already old enough to know when to hold her tongue and when to grit her teeth.

The sisters were polar opposites. Kimmie was the insatiable, self-diagnosed nympho who once fucked a math teacher for a B+. She’d had more boyfriends than days at a steady job. Meanwhile Megan would rather bury herself in a book and scoff at her sister’s revolving door.

Kimmie’s insane libido was probably genetic. Her father had the same curse, constantly needing to fuck any good looking woman that moved. Now, with nowhere to go and a very limited selection of company, Kimmie’s and her father’s appetites met to keep them sane. At the expense of Megan’s waning sanity.