Chapter 13
When their father dropped them off at the farm and told Uncle Jack to treat them just like his own kids, Tony and Sally Jean exchanged worried glances. Uncle Jack wasn't noted for his soft-handed treatment with anybody, much less his own children.
However, the initial trepidation dissipated in a few minutes as they renewed acquaintances with Uncle Jack's three boys.
Wilbur was the oldest. Sixteen, he was almost six feet tall and as heavily muscled as a farm hand-which he was whenever his father caught him doing nothing else. He had light brown hair bleached on the ends from being out in the sun most of the time. His eyebrows were twisty and while Sally Jean remembered him from their last stay at the farm, she had to admit he was a lot different. In fact, when she looked at him she got a strange thrill in her body. One that didn't just go away.
"Come on," Wilbur said, "we'll take you on a tour of the farm, in case you don't remember it too well. It helps to know where everything is around here."
"I'll bet," Tony said under his breath. He didn't have any illusions.
Neither did Sally. "You four go ahead," she said. "I'm going to help Aunt Martha in the kitchen for a while." Sally Jean had an ulterior motive, however. Aunt Martha was as old fashioned as her husband-though she was a very sweet person. But Sally knew that if she didn't at least appear to be interested in the kitchen and cooking and cleaning-the way Aunt Martha spent most of her life-her aunt would be seriously worried about her femininity. And Sally knew as well that only Aunt Martha could temper her husband's sometimes stern and usually unrelenting decisions about discipline.
But then, when she walked into the kitchen with Aunt Martha and thought, I wonder when Aunt Martha got her first piece of ass? she broke into an insane giggle.
"Land sakes, child," Aunt Martha said. "Land sakes...." She patted the laugh sttuck girl on the back and worried about her health and reactions.
What she didn't know was that Sally Jean was laughing because she couldn't imagine her rotund and rosy-cheeked aunt doing anything as sinfully interesting as fucking. She supposed Aunt Martha liked it once in a while- after all, there were the three boys. But thinking of her with her short, fat legs wrapped around some man's waist while he rode his cock into her depths seemed ludicrous. Sally Jean just couldn't visualize that happening somehow. Aunt Martha's children had to be an example of immaculate conception.
Sally Jean had the almost irrational thought that she should ask Aunt Martha what was happening-where the action was-on the farm. But then Aunt Martha wouldn't understand. No more than if Sally admitted that she was getting all of her fucking from her brother.
Aunt Martha bustled around the kitchen and showed Sally Jean where everything was. And then she said, "Land sakes, child. Why don't you get out there with your brother and Wilbur and the boys and have a good time. This is your first day here and you're acting like you've been sold into slavery. Why we love to have you here and you're guests. Don't go thinking you have to earn your way. And don't listen to old thick-headed Jack. He's got a pretty bad bark, but I've taken all the teeth out of his bite." And Aunt Martha winked as if she'd told Sally Jean a particularly good joke.
Leaving the kitchen, Sally Jean decided that Aunt Martha didn't know Uncle Jack half as much as she let on she did. Anyway, she was free for the day.
Walking across the barnyard between the barn and the house looking for the boys, it occurred to her that Aunt Martha had referred to Wilbur as if he wasn't a boy anymore. As if he was somehow special. Sally shrugged. He was older. And for some reason he had impressed Sally Jean more than the others ... but she knew she shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that. Yet, she couldn't help imagining her cousin in bed with her, his lips on her tits, his hard penis searching out the entrance to her slithery wet twat.
"Hey, Sally Jean. Over here."
Sally was interrupted from her revery by one of the boys standing in the barn waving at her and calling. She changed direction and a Rhode Island Red cackled indignantly as Sally Jean almost stepped on her.
The chicken had stopped running and was settling down to a simmering outrage by the time Sally stepped into the cool shadow cast by the big barn doorway. She remembered the hen's outraged red comb standing straight up and a rooster sort of sauntering the hen's way as she went into the barn and smelled the odor of straw and cows filling her nostrils.
For a moment, she was curious. She wondered if the chickens were going to fuck. But then she was inside the barn and she figured she'd get lots of other chances to see a rooster service a hen. It was the sort of thing that happened all the time around a farm.
"Hey, Sally Jean," Tony said, "we're going up in the hayloft and we were waiting to see if you wanted to go too."
Sally looked at him as if to ask him how silly he could be. What could she possibly want in the hayloft? She was even going to ask him that question.
And then Sally Jean became aware of the tension in the air. Wilbur with his sad and quizzical look and the other two boys stared at her expectantly. As if waiting.
"Sure," she said. "Why not? You've got to see the hayloft once."
One of the younger cousins giggled and Sally Jean knew she was right in suspecting the boys were up to something. But it was all right with her. She knew she could handle them. She smiled at them and asked, "Where is it?"
Wilbur pointed to a straight wooden slat ladder going up to a hole in the high ceiling. Straw fringed the hole and Sally had dim memories of being up there before, the last time she'd been on the farm. "Who's first up the ladder."
"Ladies first," Tony said gallantly. He waved at the ladder and stepped aside.
It wasn't until she was up a couple of rungs that Sally Jean remembered she was wearing a short skirt that flared out from her hips. She looked down and as she suspected the four boys were gathered around the base of the ladder expectantly.
Well, she thought, it wouldn't hurt anything. She went up a little higher.
The boys craned their necks and stared up. Sally Jean felt a pink flush start on her legs and go up her body. It was obvious they were looking up her skirt and had a perfect view of her naked thighs and the way her panties clasped her pussy in a snug grip.
The ladder shook and then in a moment one of the boys was climbing up the other side and his head was inches below the hem of her skirt and he was looking up.
Sally Jean climbed. There was nothing else to do. There was a boy behind her on the ladder and the one on the other side and she couldn't go down. Besides she didn't care if they looked up her skirt. Boys, she knew, were always going to be boys and she wasn't against them getting a cheap thrill.
She went up a little higher and her head was in the hayloft. It was darker up there, and warmer. The air was musty heavy with the sweet smell of straw curing away from the sun. She was about to go up further when she felt the bump of warm flesh against her butt. And then there was a warm kiss on her buttock where her plump behind made a crease on her thigh. It sent a thrill shooting through her body and she suddenly knew what she was going to be doing with the boys up there. She stayed perfectly still, poised on the high ladder with her legs spread open, her feet hooked on different rungs of the ladder.
The boy whose head was under her skirt moved his face an inch and Sally suddenly shivered as he made contact with her quivering pussy. The touch of his lips on her cunt released a deluge of moisture. It seemed to pour out of her, staining her panties.
Sally Jean was embarrassed. She knew the boy kissing her sex was suddenly being bombarded with the thick, musky odor of her sex. His nose was practically pressing in her box and his hands were caressing her legs and thighs and sliding up around her sex.
Sally Jean was tense. His fingers were closer to her slit and she expected any moment that the boy would snatch her panties off and maybe plant his tongue full depth into her quivering quim.
But he didn't. The hot hand caressed her butt and then gave her a hard shove on her behind and boosted her unceremoniously up into the hayloft.
Scrambling away from the square opening cut into the floor of the hayloft, Sally wasn't surprised to see that it was her smart-ass brother scrambling up after her. She smoothed her gingerbread skirt over her thighs and stared at him. "What was that all about?" she asked. Her tone was as sarcastic as she could make it.
"Nothing. Come on, Sis, be a sport." He turned and started to haul the next boy up into the loft. But he didn't turn fast enough that Sally Jean couldn't see the huge bulge in the front of his pants and the lust in his hot, little eyes.
She knew that that look meant that she was going to get fucked. Good.
She trembled all over and knew that she wanted it to happen. And she didn't know if she could wait until they were alone before she encouraged him to get with it.
"Be a sport about what?" she demanded. She eyed him suspiciously.
"Aw, Sis, you know," Tony said, trying desperately to hedge. He hauled Wilbur up into the loft and was giving the last cousin a hand. She tried to remember the boy's name, but couldn't. It didn't really matter. She'd learn it. They'd be there long enough.
"I know what?"
"I promised the guys. You know. I told them we'd show them how to fuck."
Sally's eyes bulged and she looked around at the boys. And for once she was speechless.