In real life, I didn't have sex with Sandy until we were both out of college. But I might have in high school if I had been half the cocksman I wished I was.
I’m embarrassed to read my old press clippings from my freshman year at Centerville High. I never read them back in the day, but my mother and sister clipped every article that mentioned my name and pasted them into a leather scrap book. Several books actually. I was thumbing through them the other day, right after I started this story. It brought back a flood of memories that I had long since left dormant.
After the win over Chase, no one said it, but we all thought we were destined for greatness. A conference championship was ours for the winning. The path to the state championship game at Parker Stadium was laid out for us. Even without the Baldwins, we had a lot of great athletes and the best coach in state history. We finished the remainder of the regular season without another loss. Our first playoff game was against South Marion, whose team was made up of inner city kids. Yes, you can read that as “black”. Centerville was as white a school as there could be. Lancaster County was white as well except for Nigger Bob. Nigger Bob was the junk man. Before anyone gets riled up by the use of the “n” word, when I first met the man, he introduced himself as Nigger Bob the Junk Man. It was painted on the doors of the old Dodge flatbed he drove around, buying and selling junk. Maybe it’s not right to call him that now, but I reckon if he was still alive, he’d still be telling folks to call him Nigger Bob. Anyway, except for Nigger Bob, I’d never seen a black person.
By virtue of our record, South Marion traveled to Centerville to play in the first round. We were dressed in our home blue pants and white jerseys with blue letters. South Marion wore all black. Black pants, black jerseys, black helmets. They had white letters and red stripes down the sides of their pants. They looked pretty damn intimidating. Then the game started.
South Marion had lost three regular season games on their way to the playoffs. They were good athletes, but poorly coached. They were the best of the Metro League that year so they drew us to start the championship playoffs. It wasn’t much of a game, but the South Marion Spartans never quit. They flew all over the field, but they just didn’t get anything done. There was a little jaw-jacking for a while, but when our team left the field Coach Kennedy put a stop to the smack talk with a look. We won 45-6.
Mid November put an end to my regular job on Loeschen Farms. I was told to come back second weekend in December to start with the Christmas tree harvest. Mister had five or six thousand trees and harvested several hundred each year to sell from the farm yard at the main house and also gave folks a chance to pick their own and cut it down. One of my last duties before I took a month of Sundays off was to mow between the rows of trees on the various hillsides. The grass was dead but soggy from all the rain we were having. So I sat in the rain on the old Ford N tractor with the sickle mower and drove up and down and around. If it wasn’t for the smell of the trees and the peaceful countryside, I would have thought my lot pretty well sucked. As it was, the two days on the N weren’t that bad. Particularly the first.
The Saturday after the South Marion game was misty and foggy and gray. In other words, a typical fall day in the northwest. I putt-putted the N up the country road, with its dim lights warning any stray passersby. I needn’t have worried. Except for me, and a soggy cottontail rabbit, the road was empty. It was around midday when I decided to stop up at the far end of the Christmas trees and find a dry spot under the massive firs that covered the higher elevations of the foothills. With the tractor shut down, I could hear the trains rumbling down the valley several miles away. I could hear the log trucks descending a mile to the east as they hauled heavy loads of wood to the lumber mills around Centerville. Those jake-brakes are hard to miss. I also heard a vehicle coming up the road to the field I was in. I figured it was Mister, coming to bring me to the shop for lunch under cover and out of the rain. It was so misty, I couldn’t see the truck as it entered the lower field and the engine growled to silence. I heard the door open and then a voice pierced the gloom, “Paullllliiiiiiiieeeeee!” That voice was mighty familiar.
“Up here. West slope, under the trees!” I shouted back. The door slammed and I heard the vehicle start and come up the hill. It was approaching several rows below me so when it got to the last row of trees, I whistled and it turned toward me.
“Sandy!” I shouted when I made out that smiling face. “What the hell are you doing up on a muddy hillside in the pipe truck?”
“I come looking for you, Pauly-Boy! I’ve been following your heroics in the newspaper and thought I might come and see this Kid Wonder in person.” She climbed down out of the cab and gave me a hug. The hug lasted longer than a hug between old friends should. When she released me, she kept her hands on my biceps.
“You are filling out pretty quickly. What are they feeding you?”
“Today it’s meatloaf sandwiches and black coffee. Why don’t you have one with me?”
“I don’t mind if I do, but I don’t want to sit in the cold. Let’s sit in the truck and listen to the OSU game.”
She didn’t have to ask me twice. The pick-up cab was warm and we listened to the AM broadcast of the OSU game, drank coffee and shared my lunch of meat loaf sandwiches, sliced apples and potato chips. I was still packing three sandwiches a day, though I rarely ate more than one or two. I always seemed to be sharing with someone. We shared the coffee in my green steel Stanley thermos. It only had one cup. We talked about damn near everything and the conversation ended up getting around to our liaison in the cornfield. In the few months that had elapsed since she had given my head and I had returned the favor, I’d grown up a lot.
“You think you are ready for the real thing?” I asked boldly. “You weren’t ready for ‘Bjorn Thorhammer’ the first time you saw it, how about now?”
“Damn, aren’t you a cocky bastard!” she cried in false indignation. She slugged me hard in the arm, but this time I didn’t move. “What if I said yes?”
“Then I’d show you a really good time,” I said flatly, without any bragging. I just looked at her with my steely blue eyes glistening a challenge. She didn’t say a word. I could sense a conflict in her mind. She wanted me to fuck her, but she didn’t want to fuck someone so young. I decided to make her mind up for her. I set the coffee cup she was holding on the dash and pulled her close, sliding her on the bench seat.
“Pauly, I don’t know…..” she tried to protest. I kissed her. Hard. She was reluctant to kiss me back. “Really Pauly, I don’t know. You are so young…..” and I shut her up with another kiss. This time I held it until she started kissing me back. “Damn you Paul David! Why do you have to be so damn sexy? Come on then. Let’s see if you can do me some good with that stick of yours.” I had to control myself as I unbuttoned her western shirt to reveal her red bra. It was the first time I’d seen a red bra and it was as sexy as clothes can get. I wanted to just rip her clothes from her body and slam my dick into her. But I was as gentlemanly as a fourteen year old cock hound could be. I fumbled with her buckle and helped her out of her jeans. I had to remove her boots to get her pants off. It was getting crowded in the truck so I opened my door and stood outside as I ripped her jeans off her legs. Then I gripped her panties and ripped them down her legs as well. I was in a frenzy. Her scent was causing me to go plumb wild. Sandy was a country girl through and through, no straight lines on her anywhere. Strong and curvaceous, she was so desirable it made my cock ache.
I buried my face in her pussy, skipping over the niceties and getting right to business. I remember that taste. She started to flow and I lapped up like a puppy lapping milk. She bucked and thrashed and just as I felt her start her peak, I pushed her bra up over her breast and pinched down hard on her nipples. She collapsed her thighs on my head and locked my wrists in her vice like grip, freezing my head and hands in place. She squirted her appreciation into my mouth and I made her pay with my tongue. I brutalized her swollen clit and pinched her nipples so hard I was afraid I was going to do permanent damage. She groaned something unintelligible and tightened her grip on my head with her thighs and my wrists with her hands. Her entire body tensed except for her pussy, which was twitching and pulsing with her waves of pleasure. And then she went limp. I could hear her ragged breathing, so I knew was ok. After about 45 seconds, she took in a giant gasp of air and propped herself up on her knees.
“Climb in here Pauly. Put that cock of yours to work.” It was a little awkward mounting Sandy. She ended up with her head resting on the driver’s armrest, her right leg on top of the back of the seat and her left foot on the dashboard. I climbed on top of her and got a chance to put those magnificent breasts in my mouth as I entered her. As slick as she was from her orgasms, she was still swollen tight. It took several thrusts for me to get fully seated into her cunt. I could feel her internal muscles contracting, milking my cock. I started slow, allowing her to become accommodated to my girth. I grinned internally, knowing both my girlfriend and little sister could manage my cock with far less trouble than this fully developed woman. As her vagina became used to my intruder, I increased my pace. Do to the awkward nature of our coupling, I had to throw a hip sideways to get a full stroke. Apparently this was exactly the right thing to do. I only knew how to fuck straight but I learned in the cab of that Ford that throwing a little side-to-side stroke in from time to time made all the difference to a woman. We fucked for a long time. I was purposely holding back because I didn’t want it to end. She was having petite orgasms and really enjoying herself. Finally her legs started to get sore and she threw her legs around my hips, driving her heels into my ass, spurring me on like a Derby jockey. I picked up the pace and let it fly. My balls were used to making a lot of cum in those days and I emptied both barrels into her womb, coating my cock and making my final thrusts even smoother.
“My GOD Paul!” she finally gasped. “Oh MY GOD! When did you learn how to fuck like that?”
I grinned down on her and didn’t answer. I just leaned in and kissed her, giving her a slow, slippery, sloppy grind in the process.
“Have mercy! For the love of Pete, HAVE MERCY!” She giggled and struggled. “How did you learn how to do THAT?”
“What?” I gave her another slow grind. “You mean this?”
“Fuck you Paul David. Just Fuck You!” She laughed in surrender. “How can I fuck a mere mortal after being fucked by the Hammer of Thor?” I have to admit, she could really boost a young man’s confidence. I withdrew and climbed down from the pickup cab. I pulled up my clothes and enjoyed watching Sandy struggle to put hers back on, she was shaking so badly. I grabbed my coffee cup and other belongings and whistled as I ambled over to the tractor. I still had a lot of trees to mow around and had spent enough of the boss’s time making myself happy. Sandy started the truck and drove away, shaking her head in amazement as she passed.
The fog never did lift and the mist never did stop spitting. But I smiled through it all while my gooey cock stuck to my thigh as I bounced along the hillsides. When it started getting dark, I headed back to the house. I made it into the yard just as the vapor lights came on. I’d have to service the tractor in the morning before I went out to finish the mowing. Rusty was waiting when I got down from the Ford N.
We climbed into his car and he gave me a ride home. Along the way he asked if Sandy had caught up to me on the mountain. I said yes she had, that we had lunch together and then we listened to the Beaver game for a while before she took off. Rusty laughed. I looked at him kind of like ‘what?’
“There was a slime trail all across the seat in the crew truck. You fucked her good, didn’t you?” I just shrugged and raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t going to fuck and tell. “I know you did you bastard. I’m next, just so you know. I’ve been waiting for four months for my turn.”
Now I just laughed. “All right. I won’t fuck anyone else but YOU Rusty. But not today. I am a little sore. That Model N seat can wear a man out.”
“Yeah, I’ll just bet.”
In the tub that night, soaking away the chill, Becka assumed her regular position on the toilet. She wasn’t hiding the fact that she was in heat. She needed some attention herself. She rubbed her finger tips lightly along the edge of her panties where the covered her slit. It was so sweet and innocent, almost casual. It was incredibly arousing too. In spite of my sexual exhaustion, she was getting me to stir. I started to rub a soapy washcloth on my shaft in time with her hand caressing her slit. She watched me over her knees tucked under her chin. I watched her as I reclined in that old iron tub. We knew where it was leading.
When the water cooled, I climbed out of the tub and stood naked before her as I dried off. My cock was thick but not erect, it swayed just within her reach. She grabbed it as it swung like a pendulum. I heard footsteps in the hall and wrapped the towel around my waist. Our mother came in.
“Becka, aren’t you getting a little old to sit in the bathroom while your brother takes a bath?”
“Aw mom! Pauly doesn’t mind. We never get to spend any time together. He’s either asleep or studying or at practice or in school or at work. It’s not like I have a ton of friends around here to play with.”
“It’s true mom, I don’t mind.”
“It’s still not right for a young girl to spend so much time around her nude brother. She might get the wrong idea.”
“Nuh huh,” she grunted. “I get the right idea.”
“BECKA JEAN! Shame on you. He’s your brother.” My mom acted genuinely concerned. She already knew we were messing around, why did she care now? Then it hit me: Jealousy.
Becka stormed out of the bathroom. She was irritated and didn’t care if we knew it. That left my mother and I in the bathroom with me just wearing a towel. I dropped the towel and my mother’s eyes dropped to my manhood. She flushed with desire, her cheeks turning pink and her eyes glistening with arousal. I grabbed my gym shorts and pulled them up to just under my balls. I crossed the bathroom and pushed the door closed and sat my mother on the toilet lid. I stood in front of her with my cock at half mast, waiting. She contemplated her options and then took my unspoken hint. Her lips parted and my cock slipped into her mouth for the second time. It took me very little effort to cum in her throat. She wiped her lips and pulled my shorts up the rest of the way, careful to avoid my sensitive manhood.
“Feel better now?” I asked. She slapped me on my thigh for being so cheeky. The whole interlude had taken less than a minute. Becka and I went to bed around eleven and our parents were in the next room fucking by eleven fifteen. My mother was getting far more vocal as if to remind us that we weren’t the only couple fucking under our roof.
I took my sweet time with Becka that night. I made her lay back while I kissed her all over. I even rolled her over on her stomach and kissed her all over from the back of her neck to the soles of her feet. On the way back to her neck, I stopped at her tiny little ass and gave it a nice tongue bath, even tickling her rosebud once or twice. She responded by raising her hips off the mattress and thrusting her butt against my chin. Interesting. I’d seen pictures of men with their cocks in full grown women’s asses, but I never thought of my sister’s asshole with sexual intent. I made a mental note to do some more investigating.
Becka came easily and often under the control of my fingers and tongue. Her arousal fueled mine. While our parents were loud and boisterous, we were slow and sensual. I climbed on top of Becka and settled between her open legs. She shifted her hips upward to make my entrance easier and slowly exhaled as I entered her. When my cock head shoved against her cervix, I waited. With steady pressure it slowly yielded and I was in her womb. Short, slow strokes and her breath against my chest was all it took for me to swell to my greatest measurements. I made the strokes harder, but not longer and she grunted with each thrust. She spread her legs obscenely wide, offering herself entirely to me to be consumed. I felt her twitch and convulse as her preteen orgasm racked her body. I poured hot cum into her and she gasped with satisfaction. Spent, I collapsed on her, still buried deep in her womb. Nothing could move me from that position.
Nothing but heavy footsteps in the hallway. Our father.