Kent Collins - Shelly On The Farm

"Your lousy stepfather told me he just got liquored up and lost his head. I told him we don't need him around any more. Figure he'll clear out in a day or two." Nat guided me gently toward the kitchen. "Now look what Linda's gone and fixed for your birthday."

There was a big chocolate cake on the table with sixteen white candles in it. Aunt Linda came across and gave me a squeeze. When her kiss on my cheek lingered and grew sensual, Nat didn't seem to notice. I sneaked an arm around her too and let her hold me as long as she wanted.

"After breakfast," my uncle said, "I'm taking you into town to get that license you keep talking about all the time."

Linda got the boys to come in and I blew out the candles and helped pass around the pieces. I tried not to pay any attention to Jason's looks, though it was plain that he was gloating over his second conquest and looking forward to a third, Billy was as quiet as ever.

Frank stayed in his room, probably too hungover and bruised from Nat's beating to make an appearance. I was certain it wasn't because he was ashamed. He'd never known what the word meant.

Linda had ironed the only blouse I had left and an orange miniskirt to go with it and I went into her room to change. I had just fastened the belt to my skirt when I remembered the mirror in her closet door and what the boy at the revival meeting had dared me to do.

The sixteen-year-old who stared back at me from the silvered surface was pretty, even prettier than she'd been a few months before. I studied my legs and the way they were filling out in the calves, though my ankles had stayed thin. My breasts would never be as large as Linda's, but they had taken on more roundness and the nipples pushed out brown and dark from the paler rosettes. I smiled and ran a brush through my shiny brown hair. It had grown since coming to the farm and when I pulled it down in front of my shoulders it reached way past my breasts, covering them with a wispy veil. I imagined the blond boy seeing me like that-wearing only a miniskirt. Then I shook my shoulders until my maturing nipples thrust through the long strands of hair. Feeling immediately wicked, I shut the mirrored door and finished dressing.

Uncle Nat was already waiting for me in the truck and when I got in he laughed and spun the wheels in the thick dust. "I was gonna let you get some practice with this rig, but after last night I figure you don't need any."

I was terribly nervous all the way to town, and, to make it worse, my uncle disappeared somewhere while I took my driving test. Still, I knew I'd pass. For weeks I'd memorized every possible question and the correct answers. After the policeman was satisfied I could handle the old truck well enough to be safe, it was over. For a few minutes I sat waiting for Nat to come back before I realized that I could drive downtown looking for him if I wanted… all by myself.

I'd only gone around the block once when I saw Uncle Nat coming out of a liquor store, a brown package grasped in his right hand.

"Had to have something for my head," he said, climbing in.

By the time we'd gotten a couple miles from town, the bottle was already a quarter gone and my uncle's complexion had flushed red. I was too excited driving to pay much attention. Even when he told me to pull off the highway and take a narrow road toward a small house by a wooded hill, I didn't expect anything out of the ordinary.

"Gotta drop off something for old Ben Gordon," Nat said, swigging out of his bottle again. "Won't take but a second."

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. It was too hot sitting in the truck, so I got out and wandered around the side of the house where a big willow was growing. Everything looked run down and gone to seed. The rusting hulk of an old car sat in the back and nearby was a doorless barn bordering a fallow pasture.

There was something about the name Ben Gordon that I knew I should remember. When it came to me. Old Ben Gordon was supposed to be half crazy, and his young wife was rumored to be loose with men. I'd heard some farm wives talking once while visiting with Aunt Linda. I was starting to question my uncle's motives for stopping at the Gordon place when I heard soft laughter coming from a bedroom window near the back of the house. A bed squeaked and I heard more laughter-Uncle Nat's. The female voice floated as light as petals on water.

"You know how much I like you visiting me, Nat," she said.

I guessed what they were doing or about to do, but I flattened myself against the side of the house anyway and scooted nearer to the closed screen. What was there about people having sex that made me just have to look?

"Come on, Connie," Nat said. "Do that dance for me."

I peered in the window, careful not to let myself be seen. Connie Gordon was standing in the middle of the room looking across to where Uncle Nat lay sprawled half-naked on the bed. She was wearing a black lace bra and bikini-style panties to match, and her lithe body was moving in a slow, undulating dance. She didn't look much over twentyfour or five and her figure was everything I hoped mine would be some day. I watched her close her eyes and wet her lips as she moved closer to the bed. Uncle Nat's uncircumcised cock was heavy with blood and the shiny glans was pushing its way out from the foreskin.

"Aw shit, baby, why don't you take it off now?" he said.

Gracefully Connie slipped a hand behind her back and unclasped the bra.

Then she let it slip down slowly until one large, firm breast popped over the black, lacy edge. I swallowed hard and shook my head. Her strip was even getting me hot. The bra fell to the floor and then she began to skin down her panties, I saw the kinky brown muff of hair at her crotch and then more of it. Connie pulled a leg out of one side and pointed her toes straight like a ballerina would do. When the naughty piece of apparel slid down to her ankle, she kicked it across the room and Nat lunged to snag it in mid-air. Then he reached out for the giggling girl, but she was already pirouetting away, her long hair flying out behind her.

"Why, Nat," she teased, "what do you want with little old me?"

Nat laughed and swore and caught one of Connie's trim ankles. I watched with a crimson face as she was dragged and wrestled to the bed. Connie was acting so wanton, almost like a whore. Did men like their women to behave like that? I wondered. Suddenly I was angry with my uncle for his adultery, and angry at Connie Gordon, too-perhaps because she was blatantly unashamed of her body and the power it held over members of the opposite sex, My labia felt heavy and hot. When I rocked my hips once or twice in irritation at my condition, my clitoris pulsed and throbbed like a time bomb as a hot gush of sex honey dampened my panties. I looked again into the bedroom. Just one more quick glance, I promised myself.

Nat had forced Connie's thighs apart and was positioning his cock against her glistening membranes. The glans was fully extended now, shimmering darkly with purples and blues. My uncle's balls made his sac hang heavily and I gave a little gasp as Connie reached out a hand and hefted the loaded eggs.

"Is all that for me?" she simpered, pushing her tongue out between her lips.

By now I had fallen against the window frame for support and both my legs were shaking with passion. What was it that could let Connie Gordon enjoy herself so much? The very same things she was joking about only twisted my emotions into a tangled, guilty knot.

I had almost resolved to go back to the truck when Connie put her hands on her knees and pulled them apart, opening her vulva completely. There was an odd, slightly pained look on her pretty face as Nat inched the head of his penis between her labia and pushed forward.

"Oh, damn it, Nat… I've missed you," she sighed, squirming against the mattress as she was penetrated. The head of his cock was gone now and as I watched with a pounding heart, the shaft slipped into Connie's body inch by inch. I put both hands tightly over my own crotch as if to forbid anything similar ever happening to me again, but the sudden pressure against my puffed and sopping labia brought a tiny whine of frustrated desire from my throat.