Trail Lodge Awakening Pt2.

Trail Lodge awakening…Pt 2.

The shower was hot and the needles of water dug deep into my charcoal covered arms and cock, washing away the dirt and freshening up my body, helped in part by the shower gel ‘guaranteed to attract women’ that I had been using since fourteen, in the vain hope… All showered, and towelled down, I too left the bathroom and glanced down the corridor towards the main room of the cabin, past both my sister’s room and my mother’s room. All was quiet down there, so I headed back to my room to dress for dinner, choosing more shorts and a loggers shirt.
When I arrived outdoors to check on the state of play with the barbeque, I found Sami and my mom already waiting. Neither had even touched the barbeque, their reasoning being that with dad away, that it was my duty to care for the barbeque: women do kitchen cooking, men do garden cooking. It should come as no surprise then really why so many people get ill eating outdoors in summer when the part-timers take over. The embers were white hot as I spread them out, seated the grills, and placed the peppered steaks out to cook, turning them often to prevent them burning whilst cooking well.
The food prepared, we all sat down to eat on the benches around the alfresco kitchen. Leaning back against the stone wall, I looked over my new kingdom and over to my mom and sis. They too were sat eating silently looking around the cabin area towards the woodland and down to the creek and lake path. Both were still simply dressed in summer frocks, the night oppressively hot and close and clammy. The problem with the night was in flight around our heads, in flight only when not feeding on our blood. Mosquitos whined, but thankfully didn’t pester too much as the citronella lamps drove them away from our food and us.
After dinner, we moved inside the cabin and chose a game of cards to while away the hours until bedtime. We sat in a loose trianguler circle, all facing each other and proceeded to play. To my right was Sami, her legs crossed in front of her, her skirt firmly pushed down between her spread thighs. On my left, mom, more casual in her stance, sitting side saddle on the floor, less conscious of her exposed upper thighs when she moved. Thus it was that I found much of my attention being diverted to my left side, justifiably so as I was passing my discards to my mom from my hand and had to be aware of what she was collecting.
Each time she leaned forward to pick a card from the pack, her dress fell open at the top, revealing her smooth milky skin, a runway between her hanging breasts drawing my gaze repeatedly. As the game progressed, my mother seemed to take longer to decide which card to take, the discard or a blind card, and all the while she was leaning forward, bearing her upper breast to my view. I watched my sister in similar situations, but her dress was not so loose as to present such a wonderous view. After two games, mom called a halt to proceedings and declared a hot chocolate break before we retired to bed.
As she rose to make our night-cap, her folded legs, bereft of their circulation, failed her at a critical moment and she tumbled forward onto me, grasping for my shoulder and hopelessly missing, her hand landing squarely below my shoulder in my seated crotch.