Lessons in the Wild

Preface: The story involves an adoptive father and his 18 year old daughter whom live as outcasts in the wild. They are not biologically related, but the relationship they share—coupled with the story's themes—make this very much an incest/taboo tale, and I'm sure that it will appeal to those who enjoy such fantasies even though it is not technically incest.

I've not bothered with defining a particular time and place in history for the story, nor have I prescribed a specific ethnicity to the characters, but you may assume that they are Caucasian and that they live in ancient times.

Chapter 1

"I know how much you love my hare stew Roc—" announced Anwen in an ironic manner as she flung open the flap of the tent, inviting a brisk evening draught in with her. In one hand the young huntress carried a bundle of bloody hare carcasses, bound and hung from the end of a broad wooden staff by a sinewy string, and in her other hand she clenched an oaken longbow, which she soon set aside on a large strip of rawhide along with her quiver. Anwen paused for a moment to catch her breath and then continued, "So I let the deer live another day to huddle amongst the conifers."

"Anwen. . . . If only you were as cunning on the hunt as you are with your words. . . . why, I imagine that those very conifers would be a little less populated this evening and that my belly would be a little rounder too," countered Roc with a wide grin and a raised brow. The burly man rose from his side to a seated position before a small fire, which crackled away quietly beneath an opening in the top of their tent. Nights were cold in the wild, even at this moment—in the middle of spring.

"If you find flaw in the student, then point the finger at the teacher," answered Anwen in playful retaliation. She tossed the hare carcasses into a woven basket nearby and then crossed her legs, assuming a comfortable seated position on the side of the fire across from Roc. Plucking a twig from the ground nearby, Anwen cheekily flicked the tiny branch across the flames, striking a hit on Roc's chest.

Roc smirked and brushed at his front to dislodge the twig from his furs, replying, "It seems your aim is true when I am your prey." He tossed the twig aside and added, "All teachers have their cracks. My teachings have limits. . . . but we have yet to arrive at them."

"Oh? Is that so? Well—then I guess your student can only dream of taking you to your limit!" replied Anwen, enjoying the opportunity to tease her sole companion.

Roc and Anwen chuckled heartily, but Roc was not inclined to spar any longer with young Anwen; he had something on his mind to share with her. Seeing that she was in such good spirits, he proceeded by saying, "We may share laughs about such things Anwen, but you have become a fine huntress. I take pride in having helped you arrive where you are; in seeing you grow. . . . seeing become strong and quick—and sharp. But I know that this is just one way of life. What I have taught will help you live our current way of life. . . . away from the people." Roc hung his head, his heart growing heavy.

"As outcasts, you mean?" Anwen interjected.

"Yes. . . . life in exile. My heart aches each day, as surely as the sun rises. The mistakes of your father and I—foolish boys—these mistakes deprived you of so much. You know little of the great good to be found in the village life—a life with the people. You have only tasted what good, I alone—and the wild—have to offer you. But there is yet hope," mused Roc. An unexpected twinkle sparked across his umber eyes.

"Only three more winters. . . . and then—" Anwen arrived at Roc's conclusion for him, then let her gaze seep into the flames.

"Yes. We can be thankful that not all outcasts are exiled forever Anwen. This is the law of our village. They will welcome us back in just three more winters. You will live as we—your parents and I—once lived. You will come to know what this way of life can offer." The flames began to consume his mind too.

"I. . . . I forgive you. You know that, right? Like you said, I have known nothing of their way, and so I do not feel the longing to return, as you do. You have fed and sheltered me. You raised me from a pup. I am strong because of you. You are my teacher, but you are also my friend—and my father. You are all these things to me." She gazed up at his face lovingly so as to convey her genuine gratitude and affection for him. What pained Anwen most was the guilt which Roc lugged around on his shoulders daily.

"You have had no choice but for me to be all these things to you. But life is change, and so things will change for you—and for us. You are no longer a child Anwen, but a woman. This may begin to change the way you feel, the way you see the world, the way you see me, and the way I see you. . . . our conditions are. . . . challenging." Roc wriggled in discomfort upon the ground. He gulped audibly and then added, "When we move to the village you will be seen by men in a way that you are not used to. There will be ways that they—and you—will want to. . . . be together, especially since you have blossomed into such a. . . . fine young woman." Anwen's belly fluttered at Roc's words. She didn't quite grasp his meaning, but she felt unsettled nonetheless. Her hands moved to the braids and beads of her flaxen hair, which she began to stroke worriedly.

"What 'ways' do you speak of? What is this other way of seeing—of being seen?" asked Anwen, puzzled and anxious.

"There are. . . . ways of the body. Ways to show love; ways to bring delight; ways to create life. You know that life springs forth from inside a woman, but you do not know of the dance that brings this life to her," continued Roc. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, covering his face momentarily with an open palm, his shame burning his face more than the heat of the fire. As Anwen's paternal figure, Roc knew that such teachings were inevitable, but he was panged by the deeper feelings he harbored for her; feelings which had been brewing over recent winters, long deprived of the very relations of which he spoke.

The recent bloom of young Anwen as she came into maturity and her innocence with regard to her bodily privacy served to stoke the fire in Roc's loins. Many winters ago Roc declared that Anwen was "old enough" to bathe herself. He told her that she'd "enjoy the time alone." Anwen never quite understood why this became a rule. She wondered why Roc would sneak away at night or early morning to bathe in secret. She wondered why he would quietly avert his eyes whenever she removed a garment in his presence. Wanting to get to the bottom of it, Anwen would often follow Roc when he left to bathe, but he was masterful at sensing that he was being followed, adept at concealing his tracks, and had a knack for choosing locations obscured by thickets and reeds. She grew inquisitive, intrigued by Roc's mystery, wanting to pounce upon him when he bathed in the river and catch him out, but she could never bring herself to take the risk, even when the opportunity infrequently presented itself.

"Love? Like our love? There is another way to show it? To delight and create life? I want to know this way Roc. Will you show me this 'dance'? You must show me!" Anwen was thrilled by the mystery of Roc's words, beguiled by their promise. Her posture straightened and her enthusiasm bubbled over.

"Anwen. I am torn about this—about this lesson. It is not the way of our people for a father to show his daughter such a thing. He may speak of it, but never show her. That is our law," Roc regretfully informed Anwen. The young woman, however, did not appear to be deterred by the laws of these people.

"But you are not my father! I mean. . . . to me you are my father, but to these 'laws'—to your people, you are not my father. You are allowed to show me—by law and by nature!" reasoned the clever girl.

"Yes. We know this truth. But even so, it is not simply about laws and nature. It is difficult to say," Roc added. Seeming unable to continue that path, he took another, "But you must also know that the village will consider who you are when we arrive. You see, your father was cast out for more winters than I. . . . many more winters. When you and I journey back to the village, the people must not know that you are your father's daughter—your real father, that is. They will not accept you if this is known. They must know of you as my daughter. . . . or as—" Roc paused, choking on his next words.

"Or as what?" questioned Anwen, her brows shooting up.

"Never mind," sighed Roc. Anwen jumped up from her position and scuttled over to the other side of the fire. She flopped down beside Roc, pressing her side into his folded legs, grabbing his nearest arm with both her hands.

"Please tell me Roc. Or what?" insisted Anwen, casting her azure eyes toward Roc's distressed face. Roc looked back at young Anwen with a hesitant look. He felt the impression of her nubile bosom cushioning the back of his arm. He took a shallow breath and detected a pleasantly sweet, almost floral scent emanating from Anwen's neck.

"Or as my. . . . as my wife," finished Roc.

Anwen, looking somewhat puzzled by the unfamiliar term, naturally enquired, "What is a 'wife'?"

"A wife is. . . . it's. . . . in the village, a man and a woman will often unite, and the people will recognise this union. The man and woman, they may love each other in a strong way, or they may choose to unite in order to bring their families together; to become stronger. Sometimes they seek to create a new family; to create life," Roc explained, illuminating young Anwen's mind. She maintained her grip on his arm as she listened keenly to Roc's new lesson.

"This union. . . . it makes us stronger? Then I will be your 'wife' Roc! We will be stronger!" shouted Anwen. She took a sharp breath and added, "But even if I am your daughter only, then you must still show me the 'dance of life' because we both know that you are not my father—by village law. And if I am to be this 'wife'—for you or another man—then I will have to learn this way you speak of!" Anwen was backing Roc into a corner with her practical reasoning.

"Anwen. . . . that all makes sense, but I just. . . . I must think on this further," declared Roc, returning his gaze to the comfort of the flames.

"I want this 'delight'. I. . . . I want to feel the delight in my body, like you said. I could create life Roc! You have shown me so much already. You have taught me well. Please teach me this lesson before we journey to our people! You said your limits were not yet reached!" cried Anwen. When Roc did not respond immediately, she paused, mulling over the next angle she might take. "Does the man feel delight in his body too? If it can bring such feelings to us both, then we should try this. This lesson will not be painful for us both—for a change!"

"Please leave me be for now Anwen. I must think on this. I will come to you at your bathing spot by the river at dawn tomorrow if I have decided to show you the way. If I do not visit you then I have chosen to simply speak about such things with you," explained Roc decisively. Anwen quietly yielded to Roc's decision, rubbed his arm soothingly to demonstrate acceptance and then left him to his thoughts, now setting about preparing the evening meal.

Chapter 2

The morning light flickered through the creaking trees and across the tan arms of Anwen as she stretched and yawned by the riverside. The air was motionless and cool, and the water trickled softly by as rays of light penetrating the canopies slowly warmed the surroundings. The young woman removed her furs, leathers, and jewellery—tossing them aside on a nearby rock and then tentatively dipped a toe into the shimmering waters. Her supple, naked frame looked helplessly vulnerable when exposed to nature, free of the protection of her garments. Her nipples stood tall atop her ripe young breasts, which she managed to cup with mild effort within her folded arms. The departing chill of the morning and the shock of the even cooler water made her body reluctant to enter the river's depths, but she knew by experience that her body would quickly adjust to the change.

Anwen waded out until she was just able to keep a head above water and toes splayed amongst the pebbles and sand below. She dipped her body completely under the surface to soak her long hair. When she arose from the water, she ran her hands back through her blonde locks to clear the stray, saturated strands from her face, and then rubbed the lingering drops from her eyes. She was now on lookout.

Every little falling branch and rustle of nearby bushes caught the attention of her ready ear. Several minutes passed by as the young woman vigilantly scanned her surroundings. She desperately wanted Roc to appear from the shadows, but she couldn't help but doubt that he would show.

"Anwen," a voice in the trees whispered.

"Roc? Is that you? Where are you?" replied Anwen, flicking her gaze across the dense forest.

"Yes. I have made my decision, but I will let you decide now, and you can change your mind at any point. Shall I come forth and join you or shall I return to the tent?" asked the hidden Roc.

"Come out Roc! I want you to join me! You know that's what I want! Show me. That is my decision," declared Anwen. The young woman began to wade briskly back toward the shoreline, eager to find her enigmatic teacher.

"Very well. I am coming out," announced Roc. He rolled on his back against the tree he had chosen to conceal himself behind and turned to face Anwen's direction. He caught sight of her head poking out of the water, and so began to pace slowly toward her. As he drew nearer, he witnessed Anwen's gorgeous breasts surface from the water. His hungry eyes were greeted by the faint, but alluring side-to-side motion of her young bosom as she strode against the weight of the water. Crystalline droplets glistened in the light atop the seamless contours and taut, yet ample mass of her chest. Roc felt as though he had stumbled upon a bathing goddess in a dream.

"I'm so glad you came Roc. I have wanted you to bathe with me for so long! I never understood why you would not join me. But now you not only come to join me, but to teach me of these wonderful ways of a man and woman! Perhaps a lesson I'll actually enjoy!" declared an elated Anwen as she made her exit from the river. A visible gap formed between her robust thighs and the water's surface, her glittering bush now completely exposed. Roc lost his footing for a moment, stumbling upon the root of a tree.

"Careful now! You've never been one to be bested by your surroundings!" teased Anwen. She pulled her athletic legs from the water and made a little hop toward Roc. Her sweet bosom heaved and then came to rest, pressing firmly against the furs covering Roc's broad chest. She embraced him wildly, betraying her youthful excitement.

"I'd like you to first show me what you have been hiding from me all these years! No more secrets! Here. Let me help you with your furs," commanded Anwen. She leaned back and started to tug and pull forcefully at Roc's garments, always the eager pupil.

"Easy Anwen. We do not rush such things," replied Roc. He lifted his arms up and back to permit Anwen to remove his upper garments.

Roc's overall brawn and broad, hirsute chest snared her attention. He dropped his bulky arms to his sides while Anwen sunk her fingers into the thick of his chest. "So strong. . . . and so hairy! Like a bear!" shouted Anwen, taking a moment to brush her hands up and down through his wiry chest hair, inspecting the sensation of such dense muscle against her palms. She had seen much of Roc's upper half before, but never so clearly, nor ever with the added benefit of touch.

"What does the bottom half of you look like, though? That's what I most want to see Roc," Anwen innocently confessed. Her hands dove from Roc's chest to his leather leggings, and so she began to pry down wherever she could snag a hold.

"Slowly Anwen! What you will see is. . . . it is much different to what you have. It is a far less—there is much more to be seen. It may look strange to your eyes," warned Roc, his words doing little to cool Anwen's vigor.

"I can handle it Roc. I have seen many things. I just want to see what you have—" replied Anwen. She froze as Roc's leggings fell in a bunch around his ankles, at which point the rugged man stepped out from the shackles of his leggings, causing his genitals to topple about heavily against his sinewy legs, bewildering the wide-eyed Anwen.

"Roc! What is. . . . what is that?!" yelped Anwen. Neglecting to wait for an answer, Anwen proceed to latch a curious hand around the swaying mass of flesh, and with her other hand she took to cupping the low-hanging fruit below. Realising that Roc had not invited her to do so, Anwen spurted out after the fact, "Oh. It's okay if I touch this thing? Isn't it?" Anwen's long fingers were dwarfed by the hefty mass of flesh she attempted to wrangle. The thick, drooping flesh squirmed about in her grasp like a full-grown eel.

"Y-Yes Anwen. It is okay, if that's what you wish to do. It is a part of the way. A man and a woman will remove their garments like this and touch one another's bodies in such places. . . . to bring about delight; to give pleasure. It can begin this way," explained Roc. The exhilarating sensation of Anwen's hands softly fondling his genitals took his breath away. Roc had not felt a woman's touch in fifteen winters.

"It is such a strange thing Roc. It is so big! So heavy. Like a beast. How do you run and hunt with this thing between your legs?!" chuckled Anwen. "I am—I don't quite. . . . feel 'myself' right now Roc. I can't explain it, but seeing you this way. . . . being here together with you—without our garments. . . . it is a strange feeling. This must be why you would not bathe with me." She let her hand slide up through Roc's pubic hair, across the ripples of his abdomen and then traced her fingertips around the muscular girdle of his waist. "Your body is so. . . . hard and tough all over. Like a tree. I like the way your body looks and feels Roc," she added, pressing herself against him for a moment. She pulled back and peered up to Roc's face.

"Where will you touch me? Tell me how I feel to you. You can touch me anywhere Roc. Please touch me," insisted Anwen while her hands lightly stroked, patted, and prodded away at Roc's genitals.

"Well—" replied Roc, slowly extending a hand toward Anwen's chest. As thick, rough fingers enveloped one of Anwen's ripe young breasts, Roc said, "Men enjoy this part of a woman's body. Very much. You can see that a man does not have these." As he squeezed firmly against a silky mound, Anwen gasped for air. She felt an inexplicable jolt of fire in her lower half when he did so.

"Roc! What did you just do? That feeling. . . . in my belly. . . . between my legs! Please touch my other one," cried Anwen, grabbing Roc's free hand and planting it roughly against her other breast. Roc now squeezed both breasts and began to gently knead away at the smooth orbs. Without instruction, Anwen returned her hands back to Roc's penis, attempting to mimic the motions that he made with his own hands, hoping to impart such pleasant feelings back to Roc. Sensing the stark differences between her parts and Roc's, Anwen decided instead to tug against the thing between Roc's legs, brushing the fingers of her remaining hand through the hair of the squishy sack which hung deep below. They felt to Anwen like objects that required delicate handling.

"That feels so good when you touch me like this Roc. Does it also feel good for you when I touch you like this? Am I doing it right?" Anwen asked.