It was Saturday, August 14, 1965, my seventeenth birthday. Rachel and Jethro, I had been calling my parents by their first names ever since I turned thirteen. They asked me to. Anyway, Rachel, Jethro, and Bobby were taking me out for dinner and dancing that night but until then, it was another workday down on the farm. For us farming was a family affair. Jethro, Bobby, and my two divorced uncles, who lived with us, worked the fields while Rachel and me took care of the house and yard work. I always cut the lawn on Saturdays and that, even with the riding lawn mower was an all-day job with edging and trimming and all. I’m getting ahead of myself again.
My love making with Rachel released a need in me that I never knew existed. I knew that I could never go back to lying in bed all alone, playing with myself again while fantasizing about my kinfolk. I wanted to have real sex. I needed to explore all the sexual pleasures that my body had to offer me. After our shower together that morning, I borrowed a dozen of Rachel’s sexiest outfits to showoff the new Rebecca of Worthington Farm. I burned, figuratively speaking, all my bras that morning.
Like all farmers, our days started at 5 a.m. with a healthy breakfast. Breakfast was always a big affair on the Worthington Farm with platters of eggs and bacon or sausages, and stacks of flapjacks to consume before. We all ate together in the kitchen seated around the table that Jethro made in his woodworking shop. It was a cozy arrangement with a leather-covered bench on each side and leather upholstered chairs on each end. Jethro had designed the whole thing using the CAD program that I had given him for Christmas two year earlier. The bench seats were actually love seats. You couldn’t set on one of them without making intimate bodily contact with the person sitting beside you. Because of that, at least until that morning, Rachel always sat beside Jethro while I sat on one of the end chairs but that morning Rachel sat my place next to Jethro’s. I knew that as soon as I entered the cozy old-fashioned country kitchen because we all had our own coffee mugs with our names on them.
I not only stopped wearing bras that morning, I, like Rachel had months earlier, stopped buttoning my blouses. Well, before you start thinking of us as cock teasers, we did button them up when we went out or when we had visitors that we wouldn’t be willing to get it on with. I had tucked mine loosely under the waistband of my miniskirt so, for all practical purposes, I was naked from the waist up. Summers in East Texas are very hot and very humid. The guys, wearing nothing but Jean cutoffs and work boots, were already seated at the table when I padded barefoot into the kitchen. The sight of their deeply tanned, brawny torsos always took my breath away. Farming is hard work and they could have passed for body builders. Their arms, chests, legs, and thighs rippled with muscles. Actually, their muscles looked as if they had muscles of their own.
As I settled down beside Jethro, the frigidly cold air from the window air conditioner flowed under my blouse. Its icy fingertips caressing my big nipples making them grow rigid. Our hips and thighs touched as I settled down beside him. Jethro tried to give me more room but I didn’t want more room. The touch of his muscular thighs was making my little clit tingle.
I looked across the table at Rachel. Bobby, seated next to Rachel was experiencing the same confusion as our father, Jethro. His mother’s body pressing into his turned on Bobby, yet he wasn’t sure how to react. Rachel had never given anyone except Jethro any indication that she would welcome sexual intimacy with them before. I grinned over at her. My birthday was becoming more interesting with every passing second. By the time breakfast ended, Jethro had developed a huge, throbbing erection.
Pete and Jeff left the kitchen leaving the four us alone. I had squirmed around enough during breakfast to work my skirt up around my hips. At some point during breakfast, Jethro had started caressing my inner thigh with his free hand, his fingertips moving slowly closer and closer to my sopping wet mound. Rachel told me later that she had to actually place Bobby’s hand on her inner thigh before he took the hint that his mother wanted him to get her off.
Reaching over, I unfastened Jethro’s cutoffs, pushing them down his thighs, releasing his gargantuan member. With my free hand, I pushed my panties off. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the size of him. His shaft was as long and as thick as my forearm; I could barely wrap my hand all the way around it. His cock knob was as big as my fist. Gazing up into his eyes, I started running my hand slowly up and down his throbbing rod.
“Oh, sweet Jesus. That feels so fucking good, Rebecca. Oh, honey make me cum. Please make me cum. I need to cum so fucking bad.”
“Yeah, I know, honey. Me too. Oh, god, this is a fantasy come true. Oh my God that’s it… I moaned loudly as his big hand closed over my bloated pussy lips. Throwing my thigh over his, I spread myself wide open as his finger started probing between my blood engorged lips.
I pumped faster and faster as I felt myself teetering on the brink of climactic bliss. I wanted him to cum with me.
“Oh, sweet Jesus Jethro, I’m almost there. I’m going to cum all over your fingers.”
“Me too, your hot little bitch.”
With that, Jethro started to work a finger deep inside my virgin pussy, slowly, gently. I bit into his shoulder as I felt my virginity slipping away. Finally, with his finger buried all the way up inside me, he started working my little button with his thumb, pushing me over the edge.
Leaning over Jethro, I took his cock knob in my hot, moist mouth as I worked his jerking shaft. Taking his huge balls in my free hand, I massaged them, squeezed them, urging his swirling jism to start its long journey to freedom.
Jethro pulled me tightly against him as we erupted together. My body thrashed around on the seat as my orgasms washed over me. Every mighty spurt of his cum striking deep in my throat ignited new explosions of orgasmic pleasure deep inside my wanton pussy. Each orgasm more violent, more satisfying then the last.
Finally, as my orgasms subsided and I started floating on a warm sea of total satisfaction I became aware of Rachel’s cries of pleasure. Opening my eyes, I saw her straddling Bobby, riding his shaft like a broncobuster at the county rodeo. Head thrown back, mouth hanging wide open, eyes squeezed tightly closed, she was totally lost in the moment. Her moans built in intensity until they became one continuous piercing wail as she plunged down into that bottomless abyss of pleasure.
Could life get any better than this, I wondered, as the four of us squeezed into that one tiny shower to wash up before starting our chores. Somehow, we still managed to get our chores done that day.
