Chapter 1241 - LUCKY AT SUMMER

"Aw Mom," he said, sounding more eight than eighteen.

"Now Mikey..."

"Mom, stop calling me Mikey. I told you I'm too old for a little boy's name."

"Very well, Michael..." Mike's mom said smiling at her son.

"Mother!"

"OK Mike, I got it, but you have to give me some time to get used to calling you that."

"You said I wouldn't have to go to Wyoming if I found a job here this summer. Jimmy told me Mr. Lansing told him he's going to hire me."

Mike mentally kicked himself for referring to Jim as Jimmy. Both boys were struggling to grow up as quickly as possible.

"I know, honey, and I wish we didn't have to do this but your Aunt Molly is struggling more than anyone suspected and summer is the most critical time for her. There will come a day when you realize this is what family is about."

"But she's not even related! Not really, anyway."

Mike, apparently, was in a mental kicking mood and offered one to his Uncle Hastings for dying so suddenly last fall. Then he kicked himself even harder, mentally, of course, for being a callous jerk.

"Michael! Don't say such a thing. Hastings was my only brother and Molly was his wife. Like us, they never had much and now she's faced with losing everything. Please say you'll help her."

Mike could no more turn down the plea in his mother's eyes than he could buy her the mansion on a hill she deserved. With servants. Topless, female servants...horny ones...pretty...with great bodies...

Mike shook his head to clear it. Would such intrusive thoughts never go away he wondered? His mother brushed a tear from her eye as she watched her son retreat to his room.

Lying on his bed, Mike began contemplating the pros and cons of spending the summer on a ranch in Wyoming. Or at least he wanted to but there didn't seem to be all that many pros.

He really wanted that pool-cleaning job with Mr. Lansing. Jim had worked there last summer and was full of stories of classmates, college coeds, and even some hot moms sunning themselves in bikinis – or less! Throughout their senior year of high school, Jim had teased Mike unmercifully about the sights he'd seen on pool aprons around town.

Mike was completely jealous of his best friend and continually badgered his buddy to put in a good word with Mr. Lansing. All winter Mike lay naked in his bed masturbating, like he was doing at the moment, thinking about seeing Jessica or Melanie or any of a dozen girls at school Jim claimed wore micro bikinis.

Releasing his semen into the air above his chest, Mike groaned softly as it splashed onto his bare skin. When his heavy breathing finally calmed, he hurried to mop himself dry with a soiled tee shirt from his hamper.

This was to have been his "breakout" summer. At eighteen, Mike was still a virgin. If there were degrees of virginity, Mike would be among the purest. He had never been on a date, never kissed a girl, never seen one naked or even topless. The only things impure about him were his thoughts and those innumerable trysts with his hand.

High school had not been the best of times for Mike, and senior year was the worst. He matured late growing eight inches in the eight months before graduation. Limited family resources, a result of his father's disability, meant his wardrobe lost race after race with his body. For the most part, he looked like some gangly Huck Finn with three inches of bare arm sticking out of his shirt sleeves and pant cuffs high enough to remain dry when fording small streams.

He tried to take the ribbing of classmates good-naturedly, took what pleasure he could in the fact that he wouldn't spend his life at five feet seven inches. Now 6'3" all those features that had been oddly proportioned making him look and feel goofy suddenly fit.

Mike the butterfly has emerged from his chrysalis, he thought as he admired himself in the mirror then immediately chastised himself for such a "girly" analogy. The ugly ducking has become... Ugh! Was his the mind of a six-year-old?

Mike wasn't just adding stature to femur, fibula, and tibia either. For each inch in height, he added half that where it counted most: his cock. Mike knew because he kept precise records.

In September, he measured a rock hard five inches. By Christmas, he was sporting six and a half inch boners. At spring break he was a full eight inches, topping out at a stunning nine, thick inches in May.

His cock was not limited to a growth spurt either; there was also spurt growth. At the beginning of the year, lying in bed jerking off, Mike could hit his collarbone with the first two squirts of his five shot orgasms.

By midyear he could easily fire over his head with four or five shots and orgasms were lasting nine to twelve contractions each.

In May, Mike could blast the wall behind his bed three feet above where he lay. Not wanting to create enormous messes to clean up, he usually pointed his dick straight up shooting cum geysers four feet high before they came splashing onto his bare torso.

Sometimes, he would try to aim his ejaculation so it would land on his face, capturing some on his tongue and mouth. He was flexible enough that, as his cock grew, he was able to get his tongue, and finally, his lips around the head.

While what he did felt great, he never actually succeeded in sucking himself off. He did, however jerk himself off into his own mouth sometimes. He felt perverted, not realizing that these were the things teenage boys either accomplished or attempted.

* * * *

There was only one other passenger on the regional jet that flew Mike into Cheyenne, a man who appeared to be in his fifties and slept most of the way.

Mike guessed the solitary flight attendant to be mid to late twenties and reasonably cute. He stared at her often and she caught him more than once. She too had noticed the tall, lean, good-looking teen as he checked in and boarded her flight.

With the plane virtually empty, she knew she could either go up front with the pilot and co-pilot or flirt with the kid in seat 4A. She chose the latter. The first thing she did was to go into the galley and roll the waistband of her navy-blue skirt over four times so the hem went from the top of the knee to mid-thigh.

"Hi," she said, settling onto the aisle armrest of 6B with her legs facing Mike. "I'm Jen."

"Mike," he said dragging his gaze from her legs to her eyes.

Jen had a great time watching Mike struggle to maintain eye contact. Every time he ogled her legs, she would steal a look at his crotch. The kid was packing something, that was for sure, and it was getting bigger.

Jen continually touched Mike on the arm or shoulder as they talked about themselves. Once she punched his arm when he made a sarcastic comment, and once she tousled his hair because she found him so cute.

"How do you like your job?" Mike asked.

"It's OK," Jen responded.

"I really like your uniform. You look good in it."

"Really?" Jen answered, genuinely flattered. She stood up and modeled it for him, turning backward and then sideways. She knew she had a nice figure.

Sitting again, she draped one leg onto the seat next to Mike leaving her knees wider apart. He could feel his erection building. "The material is very soft. Go ahead, feel it."

Blood rushed immediately to Mike's cock and he felt a pain as it tried to push down his tight pants leg. Gently, quickly, he ran two fingers a few inches across the hem of the skirt. He felt the firmness of her thigh under the skirt.

"Very nice," Mike said. His ambiguity was unintentional.

Despite the minimalism of the sexual content in his touch to Jen's leg, it was the most intimate contact he'd ever had with a female. Mike's phallus screamed silently as it lay cramped, doubled over, against his thigh. Pre-cum was beginning to leak through his shorts and moisten his jeans.

"Not like that," Jen admonished grabbing his hand. She placed it flat against her thigh and pulled it up to within an inch of her pussy. As she did, Mike watched intently. He was not the only person in row four whose genitals were leaking liquid. He was, however, the only one whose fluid was showing. A silver dollar sized spot had formed to the left of his fly.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Jen, nearly giggling out loud. "Did you spill something?" She was well aware, of course, of the true source of the liquid causing the wet spot. "Let me get you a towel to blot that," she said as she swayed toward the galley. She could feel a squishy slipperiness between her own legs as she sashayed with exaggerated undulations.

No sooner had she turned the corner than Mike popped out of his seat. He was unaware of the slit in the galley wall through which Jen watched as he pried at the hard cock trying to reduce his pain.

As he walked forward, in the same direction the flight attendant had just taken, Jen could make out an enormous denim covered tube extending from the crotch to the left, front pocket of Mike's jeans. It had been a long time since she'd dick teases someone so young and she was having fun as well as becoming excited. When he reached the galley, Mike poked his head around the corner so he wouldn't expose his obvious boner to the friendly stewardess.

"I'll take care of it in the men's room," he stated as he slipped into the cramped lavatory.

Once inside, he ripped down his pants and sighed out loud as his phallus sprang from its tight, denim prison. Grabbing himself, Mike began beating his meat to relieve the lust consuming him.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why Mike had rushed to the toilet. Jen smiled when she heard the moans of self-gratification emitting from inside the restroom. Briefly, she considered knocking on the door to ask if she could help with anything but thought that would be too cruel.

Instead, she closed her eyes and formed a mental image of her young hunk fisting his giant phallus and beating himself off as he thought of her. She squeezed her thighs tightly together and pushed her cunt against the edge of the counter and let the vibrations of the aircraft bring her pleasure as Mike fired rope after seminal rope into the stainless steel bowl of the plane's toilet.

Her airplane-induced orgasm did little to quench the blaze between her thighs and, ten minutes after Mike returned to his seat, Jen resumed her perch atop the armrest of 4B.

"What I really dislike about what we have to wear are these," Jen said, as she pinched the nylon of her pantyhose between her thumb and forefinger, picking up the conversation as if both hadn't just rushed off for a measure sweet relief.

Pulling the stocking away from her thigh just below her hemline, Jen jammed it with her thumbnail causing a deliberate run.

"Fuck," she cursed softly brushing at her leg as if that might repair the damage. "Damn it, I'm going to catch hell if my super sees that when we land."

"Maybe she won't notice," offered Mike trying to comfort this beauty in distress.

"Oh, she'll see it all right. That's a guarantee." Jen deliberately gouged a hole making sure she wouldn't chicken out on her tease.

"What do you think?" she asked Mike running her finger across the nylon and her bare flesh. "I've got a pretty good tan. If I slip these off, I'll bet nobody will notice. Plus, anything will be an improvement over this."

Checking on the sleeping man in the back of the plane, Jen kicked off her shoes. Crouching as modestly as she could so as not to appear ludicrously loose, she reached under her skirt and pulled her pantyhose over her hips and ass.

Mike stared, incredulous, watching a woman partially disrobe in front of him. His hard on was back with a vengeance, poking out along his left pants leg. It was as if he hadn't just jerked off ten minutes ago.

As she slid her torn garment down her thighs, Jen noticed that her panties had come down along with the pantyhose. While she hadn't planned to take the tease that far, she nonchalantly removed them too. Fishing her panties from inside the hose, she felt her moistness on them.

Mike's mind spun wildly as the sight of her pretty pink thong caused his genital shaft to pulse out its renewed hunger.

"I'll probably need these later," Jen smiled as she thrust the lacy panty into her jacket pocket before resuming her perch.

"Souvenir?" she giggled holding out the torn nylon garment.

It didn't surprise her that the teen reached for them even though he probably had no idea just what he might do with such a trophy.

Jen slipped her now bare right foot into her flight shoe. The other shoe had landed near Mike's feet and she asked him to retrieve it. Placing her left foot on the seat cushion between them, she felt the air of the cabin caress her naked pussy as she waited for her footgear. The coolness of the breeze against her labia confirmed that she was again becoming hotly aroused from her games.

When he brought the shoe up, Mike stared at the beautiful tanned flesh inches from his hands. With one foot on the floor and the other on the seat cushion, Jen's legs were spread wide and he could see several inches up her skirt, almost to what he knew to be her bare cunt.

Mike had no control over the moan that escaped his throat as he contemplated just sliding his hand right up Jen's thigh to finally touch that which he'd fantasized touching so many, many times. For the first time in his life he detected the aphrodisiacal aroma he would come to know as the heat of the human female – as if he needed more stimulation.

He could feel his cock throbbing as it again ached with need. Even Jen thought she could see the denim material pulsating as she stared at the hard on in Mike's jeans. Slipping on her shoe, Jen moved her foot off the seat and crossed her right leg over her left.

"What do you think, Mike?" she asked as she ran her hand up her leg from her ankle to her hem and even higher, pulling her skirt up as she continued until her hand butted against her pussy and could trace no further. "Does it look like I have stockings on?"

Mike held his breathe as he saw her entire limb revealed to his gaze. His heart skipped a beat as he felt a pre-orgasm tingle and dance along his scrotum and glans. Only the fear of the embarrassment of cumming in his pants kept his climax at bay.

"Yeah, I think so," Mike answered having swallowed hard in order to speak at all.

"Oh, I have a question," Jen announced bubbly like she hadn't thought it while letting the galley counter vibrate her to climax earlier.

"I had my legs waxed for the first time yesterday. I think they're much smoother than shaving. What do you think?"

Mike shuddered in complete, unbounded arousal as she spun toward him laying her left leg on the seat and placing her right foot on his thigh.

"Go ahead," she teased gleefully, "feel them."

Mike touched her calf and ran his palm against her skin. He'd never felt anything so soft and his moan told Jen that. He wished he could press his cheek against her leg.

"I've never felt anything so nice," Mike told her looking into her eyes with gratitude.

"Up here too, silly," Jen told him placing his hand on her thigh and pulling it almost all the way to her pussy.

She let go hoping he'd move further and discover her dampness, but he didn't. He couldn't. The softness of Jen's upper thigh was infinitely greater than the calf he'd just felt, and the sensation finally pushed him over the edge.

"Oh, god!" he groaned as he pushed his face against her thigh.

He knew he'd lost his battle and began convulsing as semen spewed from his cock slit. Mike would have to be embarrassed later as he gave himself to the same spontaneous climax he sometimes enjoyed at night in his dreams.

Jen could not escape her own hands-free climax as her clit began twitching violently when she saw and felt Mike's groans as his lips began kissing her thigh. She clamped her thighs against his ears as she humped out her involuntary orgasm. She half hoped to feel his tongue against her vulva but never did.

Releasing Mike's imprisoned head, Jen finally slid into seat 4B as both gasped for air. Slowly, they recovered from their unconventional visit to the mile-high club.

"My god, Mike," Jen whispered in contentment, "I've never experienced anything like that before." Turning toward him she saw the huge cum spot on his jeans.

"I'd better get you something for that," she said reaching into his lap and running her hand the length of his softening cock to feel the wetness she'd caused.

Poor Mike was too close to his climax to enjoy the feeling of the first female hand to stroke his clothed cock.

"That tickles," Mike told her, as he jerked his knees upward and grabbed her arm to make its movements stop.

"Be right back," she said as she withdrew her hand and got up to fetch Mike something to dry his pants. As she walked forward, she brought her fingers to her nose so she could smell the stimulating freshness of young cum.

Somebody's going to get lucky in Cheyenne, she thought, staring at the cockpit door and thinking of the men beyond it. Hell, with how I feel right now, maybe two somebodies.

Jen took a moment to wipe her own soaking genitals before returning to Mike with the promised towel. Again sitting in 4B, she leaned over and pretended to mop up his seminal fluid. In reality, it was little more than an ill-disguised effort to play with his cock. Damn, he felt big. Jen wanted to see it but there wasn't time. A light flashed in the galley.

"Mmmm," she said as released the towel and sat straight. "I'd love finish that for you but I've got to prepare for landing. If you're ever in St. Louis, I'd love for you to call me."

Jen leaned over and kissed Mike's cheek as she slipped a piece of folded paper into his pocket. Just before she got up, she moved her index finger to her lips and kissed it. Then she moved her finger to his jeans and traced it the length of his cock. Once more, bolts of lightening ricocheted through the nerve endings of Mike's genital system.

At the airport in Cheyenne, Mike exited the plane onto the tarmac. Once inside the terminal, there were few people and none who looked like she might be his aunt.

His eyes were immediately drawn to a hot blonde who had her back to him. She wore cowboy boots, faded jeans, a white shirt, and a cream colored Stetson. It was difficult to tell whether it was the tight jeans that made her ass so firm or her firm ass that made the jeans so tight.

Either way, she was much too young and Mike turned his attention to the dumpy, graying woman about ten feet to the blonde's right. Approaching her, Mike was just about to ask, "Aunt Molly?" when she waved to someone behind him.

Turning, Mike saw the other man on his flight waving back. Mike began to look for a phone so he could call his aunt or his mother to see what had gone wrong. Just as he started off, the blonde turned around. It was as if he were staring at Charlize Theron and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Molly was as shocked by her nephew's appearance as he was by hers, but she knew immediately it had to be Mike. His jeans were brand new and his sneakers were a dingy gray. He wore no hat. His clothes screamed out-of-towner!

"Mike?" she asked. He smiled and approached her with his hand extended.

"Did my Aunt Molly send you?" Mike asked not believing his luck. Are you staying at the ranch he hoped more than wondered.

"I guess you could say that," the woman laughed. "I AM your Aunt Molly!"

Mike blushed deep crimson as his aunt pushed past his hand and hugged him tightly. The blood left his face rushing southward as her soft, hard body pressed against his. Thankfully, the contact was mercifully brief.

With his duffel bag in the back of the pickup, Molly asked Mike if he'd like to take the wheel to start what would be an almost six hour trip to the ranch just outside Big Piney. As they drove, Mike drank in the beauty of the desolate countryside. Molly told him about the ranch and all the things that needed doing."First we're going to get you a pair of boots," Molly laughed, mocking his footwear. "And a hat. Then you won't look like such a tenderfoot."

Molly was the first to confess her surprise at her nephew's physique.

"Shit, Mike," his aunt said peppering her language with the easy curse words that accompany the rough life of the open range, "I didn't know you'd got so tall."

Mike detailed his extraordinary growth over the last year but didn't think it appropriate to include corresponding information about his penis.

"Truth be told," Mike confessed to his aunt, "I thought you was my age when I saw you from the back like that."

"Why Mike, how nice of you to say that. You just earned yourself a better pair of boots."

"No, I really mean it!"

"If you don't stop flattering me I'm not going to be able to afford your new footwear," Molly smiled. "One thing for sure, the ranch will keep you fit."

"How old are you anyways?" Mike asked before thinking maybe he shouldn't have. "That is, if you want to tell," he added quickly.

"A lady never tells," Molly laughed, "course that don't apply to me. I'm forty-six, Mike. Was married to your Uncle Hastings for twenty-eight."

"Do you miss him?" Mike asked with genuine sympathy.

"Every day, Mike," Molly answered morosely before turning upbeat. "But look at the stud I got now! I'm so glad you're here Mike. It gets pretty lonely sometimes."

Whether or not Molly realized she was sending mixed signals to her nephew with references to him as a stud and her being lonely, Mike quickly became befuddled. The truck fell silent as he tried to sort out his feelings for an aunt he hadn't seen in more than a decade. He knew the thoughts that were jumping into his brain shouldn't be there but was powerless to stop them.

It was late afternoon when Mike pulled the pickup into the lane that led to the house. It was a narrow two-story frame structure in need of painting and serious upgrades to windows, doors, and mechanicals.

The first floor contained a living room, dining room, kitchen, and powder room. Upstairs were two decent sized bedrooms separated by a common bath.

Molly lit the burner under the stew she'd made the day before knowing she'd be gone all day to Cheyenne and back. Then she took Mike upstairs and showed him his bedroom. The bathroom, Mike noticed had three entrances: one from each bedroom and one from the hallway.

After supper, Molly cleaned up the kitchen while Mike put away his clothes. He had exactly one pair of sneakers, two pairs of new Levis, three new cotton shirts with collars, five tee shirts, five pair of socks, and five pair of briefs.

He never knew how desperately low those new clothing purchases left his mother's bank account. No matter the sacrifice, she would not send her son out to face the world with an ill-fitting wardrobe.

Also packed with his clothes were photographs of his mother and father, his high school yearbook, about a dozen magazines and two books he had resolved to read. As he was finishing unpacking, Aunt Molly poked her head in to say she was taking a shower before turning in.

"Can I go down and watch TV for a bit when I'm finished?" Mike asked.

"Sure, honey, but not too late. The sun gets up early and so do we." She left him to ponder her use of a term that sweethearts use.

Leaving his room for the stairs, Mike noticed the bathroom door was open about four inches and the light was on inside. He tried to move quickly past it but was unable to refrain from glancing inside. What he saw made him stop dead.

He could see just a sliver of Molly's body but it was clear she was naked. She faced away from the door. All he could see was her extreme left side. Her arm was at her side and Mike could see her shoulder, arm and a strip of her back. From the waist down, he could see part of her buttock, but not the crack, and the left half of her left leg.

Molly slipped a towel around herself and turned around. Mike was startled and froze like a deer in the headlights as he watched her close the door.

"Shit!" he muttered to himself and scurried for the stairs.

Downstairs, Mike quickly discovered that the ranch had no cable and the three channels that could be received were fuzzy. He soon retired to his room.

Lying in bed, Mike was not surprised when his erection paid him a third visit that day. He began stroking himself using images of Jen to fuel his lust. Mike was mildly surprised when thoughts of his Aunt Molly intruded. He finished quickly as images of both women filled his mind.

Less that thirty feet from where Mike arm wrestled his one-eyed pants python, Molly struggled with her own forbidden thoughts and images. Her nephew was far more attractive and desirable than she'd considered when she sent her request to her sister-in-law.

It had been seven long months since Hastings had died and more than twice that since they'd last been intimate. In all that time, she'd never once felt the familiar ache that had so dominated her physical life since puberty.

When her husband fell ill, it was as if her libido just died. The demons that lived in her ovaries and converted estrogen into liquid heat requiring constant extinguishment from male fluids simply disappeared completely.

Molly didn't care where they'd gone nor why. She didn't miss them. But now they were back, and in their dormancy they'd grown more powerful. It was as if her nephew's arrival had released them from a prison.

Gently she massaged her inner thighs trailing her fingertips close to her pussy lips without touching them. Her teasing hands did nothing to ease her tensions; rather they inflamed them.

For the first time in more than fourteen months, Molly slid open her nightstand drawer and groped in the dark. There was no mistaking the hard plastic. Gripping the long tube with one tapered end between her fingers and thumb, she slid the instrument between her thighs.

Feeling slightly virginal from her sexual hiatus, Molly gently rubbed the "head" against her moist labia. She moaned out her self-induced pleasure. Soon, the tip was slick with feminine juices and Molly was able to insert about three inches before the dry shaft began to stick in resistance.

Pulling the vibrator out most of the way, she swirled the end around her vulva as one might a fat straw in a thick milkshake, coating it with more goo. This time, nearly five inches slid easily inside her.

Molly continued swirling and thrusting until the hard plastic phallus easily moved in and out of her vagina. Pulling her old companion out, she rested the tip against her clitoris while she twisted the end to produce those sweet, pulsating vibrations that would lift out the orgasm that she'd held for so long.

Nothing. Molly didn't know whether to curse or cry. Thinking of her nephew for courage, she did neither. No doubt the batteries had lost their charge in their extended hibernation. She threw off her covers moved one hand to her clit and thrust the plastic cylinder to and fro with the other.

Her climax was so long and so beautiful it seemed as if it never would or should end. Eventually, she exhausted herself and sagged limp on the mattress.

The vibrator remained lodged in her vagina as the tears began to flow onto her pillowcase. But these weren't tears of sorrow, or bitterness, or frustration as they had been for over a year. They were tears of relief and renewal.

Her long mourning of Hastings had come to an end.As usual, Molly awoke with the sun. Today was different than the past four hundred or so. She felt fresh, alive, more sixteen than forty-six.

The source of her regeneration was her nephew Mike who had arrived the day before to help with the ranch for the summer. Hot images of the good looking youth had invaded her night's rest and she'd masturbated for the first time since her husband Hastings had fallen ill and passed away more than fourteen months ago.

The bright feelings of a freshly satisfied libido put a bounce in her step as she dressed quickly. Hastings had taught her early on that sleeping nude meant one less thing to do at night and in the morning. She always kidded him about ulterior motives.

Her jeans were soft and faded from six months of thrice weekly wearings and twenty-six launderings. Ranchers never purchased so-called "pre-washed" denim. Their new levis were always stiff and bright blue with one of the world's distinctive and recognizable aromas.

Molly rarely wore panties but had, long ago, taken up bras when working (but not for parties!) because the nipples on her perky b-cup breasts tended to raise noticeable protrusions under her shirt without one. Just being an attractive woman provided enough sexual distractions in the man's world of ranching without introducing something as overt as visibly hard nipples. A cotton shirt covered the bra and cotton socks were covered by her boots. Her hat was downstairs; it wasn't worn inside.

Today, there would be one new task before heading downstairs for breakfast. Molly left the bathroom light on as she opened the connecting door to the spare room where her nephew now slept.

"Mike," she called softly taking two steps into the room. She could see the sleeping teen in the dim light. "Mike," she called again.

Had she been closer, Molly might have been able to make out the rapid movements of the boys eyes beneath his closed lids. The dream Mike was having suddenly veered erotic as he heard a feminine voice call his name. In sleep, he saw a dream girl say, "Mike" again.

The dream lovers quickly embraced and Mike recognized her as Jen from the airplane flight. Outside the dream, Molly approached the bed and touched Mike gently on the shoulder.

"Mike, come on honey, it's time to get up."

Back inside the dream, Mike heard Jen call him honey and ask if he could get it up. Somehow the couple had become naked and Mike grabbed his stiffy to show Jen he was erect. The movements from the slumbering vision became visible to Molly as Mike rolled onto his back and slid his hand onto his morning missile.

"Baby, I am up," Mike announced to both Jen-the-illusion and Molly-the-reality.

Baby, you sure are, Molly thought as she stared at what was easily the largest sheet gazebo she'd ever laid eyes on.How big are you? She wondered as she stared, held her breath, and imagined that Barnum & Bailey had set up a slightly smaller version of their Big Top in her spare bedroom. She knew she would be masturbating again tonight.

Silently, Molly wondered if she could slip the sheet down without waking her eroticized nephew. She'd give a month's profits at that moment for an unobstructed view of what must be an enormous purple-headed yogurt slinger.

Unexpectedly, for Molly at least, Mike's hand began moving on his cock. The arousing display transfixed her for a moment more. She felt herself becoming flushed. With great effort, she managed to pull herself back from a dangerous precipice. There was no time for sex in the mornings, and more importantly, he was her nephew and that made it wrong even if the twenty-eight year difference in their ages didn't.

Grabbing his arm, Molly yanked Mike's hand off his cock. In his dream, Jen playfully pulled at his arm to keep him from jerking off.

"Mike!" Molly said sternly. The outside world broke into his dream and his eyes fluttered open.

"Time for breakfast," his aunt said. "See you downstairs in five minutes."

Molly flipped on the light as she walked to the door. She couldn't resist on last look at her stretching nephew. She knew that he, too, must sleep nude, as she hungrily ogled the crotch teepee in the bed sheet one last time.

Before he could dress, Mike faced the painful task of draining his bladder through a full erection. A morning pee was the only way he knew to get rid of his hard on short of jerking off. The problem was the toilet bowl was below his genitals and his cockslit pointed at the ceiling.

Maneuvering himself above the toilet, Mike squatted and bent ninety degrees at the waist so his cock was parallel with the floor. In this position, his cock needed be bent only slightly below horizontal, which was more than painful enough to accomplish.

Finally downstairs, Mike looked forward to his first full day as a ranch hand with more alacrity than he'd expected. At breakfast, he fidgeted as he remembered how he'd gotten caught peeping at his aunt in the shower the previous night. He figured it would be best to confront the issue head on.

"I'm really sorry about last night," Mike offered his aunt.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Molly responded, genuinely perplexed.

"You know, about the bathroom."

Molly didn't answer; she looked quizzically at her nephew.

"When I was coming downstairs to watch TV, you were in the shower," Mike continued. "I sort of, accidentally, looked in? You had to close the door?"

"Really?" Molly answered. "I don't remember that at all. It's probably my fault. Hastings and I never closed those doors. No need to. Did I at least give you a good show?" She teased.

Mike blushed deeply. "No! I swear I didn't see anything! Not really, anyway."

"Damn," joked his aunt, "I'll have to be less careful in the future."

She winked playfully at Mike and tousled his hair. "C'mon sweetie, I'll show you the barns."

That night, after supper, Molly took her shower while Mike cleaned the kitchen. Later, it was his turn in the bathroom. Mike carefully closed the doors to his aunt's bedroom and the hallway before stripping to shower. None of the doors had locks.

As he toweled himself off, he noticed the door to Molly's room was now six inches ajar. He was sure he'd closed it. Molly's bedroom was pitch black so it was impossible for him to see anyone in there. He realized that the light in the bathroom meant he could easily be seen.

Was his aunt spying on him? The thought sent him into a pre-arousal modality and his cock and scrotum began to tingle. He quickly closed the door again as his penis began to harden.

The following evening, Mike's shower was a repeat performance. He carefully closed both doors only to discover the one to his aunt's bedroom open again as he stepped from behind the shower curtain. After that, he didn't bother closing the door to Molly's room again.

But when he left it open six inches before he showered, he found it open twelve inches when he got out. By the next night, the door to Molly's bedroom was open completely and from then on, he let it stay that way when he cleaned up at the end of the day.

Mike never saw his aunt in her room but felt she watched him from somewhere. He stopped trying to restrain his cock from becoming hard or concealing it as his erection began to build.

At first, he'd pull his towel away as his cock swelled to half-staff caused by thinking about a gorgeous woman wanting to see him naked. Finally, he took to disrobing in his bedroom and entering the bathroom displaying a rip-roaring flesh rocket, even stroking it for his hidden admirer.

Molly knew what she was doing was wrong, but it had been so long, and she meant no harm. Ever since the first morning when she discovered Mike's sheet thrust obscenely away from his sleeping body, she had become fascinated with her nephew's cock.

It was so much bigger than any other she'd seen. She realized she was becoming obsessed with the nine-inch cylinder of pure pleasure. Mike's body was having a more profound effect on Molly than anything done by Hastings...or the other men.

For his part, Mike got equally aroused watching his hot aunt in her jeans during the day or as he showed off for her in the evening. Eventually, he realized Molly was also visually devouring his morning sheet statue when she came to awaken him. If he heard her getting up, he'd roll onto his back and grab it so it pointed straight up for her maximum enjoyment.

Both aunt and nephew spent the nights of that first week applying liberal doses of manual medicine to their mutually enflamed genitalia. On Saturday afternoon, Molly took Mike to town for boots and hat as promised. Sexual tensions had been building all week.

Molly liked to keep the hours from 1:00 pm Saturday till sun up Monday as free as possible. Like more sophisticated employers before them, she and Hastings had learned that more could be accomplished in a week if one and a half days were devoted to leisure than by working all seven.

It took more than three hours just to drive to town, do some shopping and drive home. Molly spent much more than she'd planned for Mike's stuff but, considering the excitement he'd been providing her back at the ranch, she felt she could do no less. Molly found out all there was to Mike's sexual history, or rather lack thereof, on the outing.

"Are you upset that you had come spend the summer with me?" Molly began as Mike drove the truck home after shopping.

"No, not really, it's so..."

"Mike," his aunt interrupted, "will you do me a favor? Will you promise me something?"

"Sure," said Mike, not as eager to please his aunt as the beautiful woman who was his aunt.

"Be honest with me. Promise you'll tell the truth. I want us to be friends this summer. Would you like us to be friends?"

"Sure," said her nephew, "I promise."

"So tell me, you really didn't want to come out here, did you?"

"Not at first, no," Mike answered making sure he was truthful.

"What would you be doing back home?" asked Molly.

"Cleaning pools," Mike said laughing.

"Staring at the pretty girls?"

Mike's laugh contained a large measure of nervousness at where the conversation was heading. "Well, I sort of hoped."

"No pretty girls out here, Mike."

"Just pretty women," Mike sighed as he blushed.

"So, tell me about those pretty girls," Molly prodded. "What was your girlfriend like?"

"Honestly?" Mike asked with a smile. "I've never had a date."

"Can I ask you a question?" Mike uttered nervously during a lull in the conversation.

"Sure," answered Molly.

"Will you tell the truth?" Mike wanted to know.

"Depends on the question," his aunt teased. "Why don't you just ask?"

"Have you been watching me? At night?"

Molly paused for a few seconds. "I'll tell you the truth but not right now."

At supper, Molly opened a bottle of wine. Somewhat surprisingly, she hadn't self-medicated with alcohol during Hastings' illness and after his death as she had done during other times of crisis. In fact, she had been cold sober the entire time.

Mike had only marginally more experience with booze in high school than he'd had with women. However, if you counted Jen on the plane and his recent bouts of exhibitionism to darkened bedroom, the ten beers he'd shared with Jim over the course of senior year made him now decidedly more experienced sexually than he was alcoholically.

The wine quickly made both the mature woman and younger male tipsy. It was a setting in which more than one boy had become a man, albeit, not usually at the hands of his aunt. The pair was sharing some riotous/embarrassing laughs about some of Mike's early adventures at riding some of the ranch's horses when suddenly the room turned erotic.

Molly got up and uncorked a second bottle of wine. Mike was sitting with his feet up on the ottoman. When she walked over to refresh his glass, Molly swung her denim-covered leg over his knees and stood straddling him as she held out the bottle. Mike offered his glass while looking up as his hot aunt and began to swell. Molly filled the glass then offered a toast.

"To a very happy summer," she offered clicking the bottle against Mike's glass. She took her swig directly from the bottle.

Molly understood full well what implications she was sending her nephew with her legs spread above his. Moving to the side, she let her butt cheek and left leg slide onto the arm of the chair. She slid her left arm across the chair-back behind Mike's head and her right leg lay across his.

"Yes," said Molly answering a question Mike had asked hours ago. There was a hint of slur in her enunciation. She gently ran the fingers of her left hand through her nephew's hair.

"Pardon me?" Mike answered taking a gulp from his glass. Molly joined him, sipping from the bottle. His speech, too, was showing evidence of alcohol. In his pants, his cock was beginning to cause him pain.

"You wanted to know if I watched you through the open bathroom door. The answer is yes. Did you know?"

"I wasn't sure. I never saw you."

"Did you hope I was watching? Did you want me to see you? Is that why you stroked yourself? So I would notice it?" Molly had moved her lips closer to Mike's ear, and spoke in a throaty, slurred whisper.

"I don't know. I guess so."

"Why were you so hard? Did you get that way thinking of me watching you?" Molly asked, letting her tongue reach out and pull her nephew's lobe between her lips.

"Yes," answered a barely audible Mike.

Molly's gaze drifted down the long, lean body sitting next to her and settled on the swelling crotch. She detected subtle, pulsing motion there as if some separate, distinct life form squirmed beneath her nephew's jeans. Briefly, she stopped the gentle nipping of her teeth and swabbing of her tongue at Mike's ear.

"Take it out. Show it to me, Mike," she commanded.

Mike drained the remaining liquid in his glass. His aunt took it from him, took another big swig from the bottle and placed both items on the floor beside the chair. She returned her mouth to her nephew's ear as she watched him lower his fly and insert his hand.

It is unlikely the designers of Levis jeans spend time researching the level of difficulty involved in extracting a nine-inch phallus through a five-inch fly. Where there's a will, there's a way, however, and there is probably no more powerful will than that of an aroused teen to comply with the expressed wishes of an attractive, older female that he show her his cock.

There was never any question in Mike's mind that his dick was coming out. Despite the pain, using contortions worthy of Houdini himself, his pole was exposed to his admiring aunt. He heard her quick intake of air when he released the turgid tube now jutting handsomely from his fly.

"My god, Mike, it's so beautiful," Molly gasped seeing her nephew's erection up close.

Reaching down, she stroked it softly. Molly's hand felt like a silken pelted mink. Mike could not prevent the wild, pulsing convulsions that caused his erection to thrash at the air like a frustrated pugilist. Molly maintained the contact between the cock and her hand as she languidly slid down from the arm of the chair to kneel between her nephew's legs.

Her eyes were a mere six inches from the most magnificent sexual organ she'd ever seen. She continued stroking like it was a new puppy. She'd never seen a cock release pre-cum like Mike did. No man "ejaculates" his pre-seminal fluid, but whereas it seeps slowly from the cockslits of ordinary guys, Mike seemed to pulse his out.

The liquid treasure gushed out and down his shaft coating Molly's fingers. Soon, gobs of clear, slick, gooey fluid were coating his, cock, her hands, his balls, and more was pouring out like a leaky drinking fountain.

Molly could feel the wild shivers that wracked her nephew's body. His cock was literally vibrating in her hand. She knew his orgasm -- the easy one as her husband would joke about his first climax of the evening - was at hand. She wanted him to know she wanted it.

"That's it Mike, shoot for me. Let me see how hot you are to show me your cum."

Drool was forming in the corners of Mike's mouth as all he could do was moan. Molly pumped her hand slick from his juice up and down. She trembled as uncontrollably as he. The size of the liquid bullets Mike shot from his nine-inch gun and the distance they traveled left Molly breathless. After the third volley, a more lusty desire overcame her and she let her mouth slide over the scrumptious, spurting cock.

Soft, warm, and slick, Molly's oral grotto caused his half-drained love muscle to pump harder. Her mouth filled despite her continual swallowing and semen leaked out and down onto her shirt.

Eventually, even Mike's testicular reservoir began to run dry. Molly slowed her mouth and tongue and began a leisurely cleansing of her nephew's tool. She moved all around his sticky shaft, returning occasionally to lap at the ooze still welling from the quieting blowhole.

Young cum: it was even more delicious than Molly remembered. It had to be more than a decade since she'd tasted that young cowboy at the Calgary Stampede while Hastings banged the boy's mother in the bedroom.

Dipping her head further, Molly laved clean the scrotum and inner thighs. She even licked at the cum drippings on his jeans and scooped dollops from her chin to savor on her tongue. Finally, she sat back, closed her eyes and smiled to herself. She felt more physically drained after claiming the easiest orgasm she'd ever sought than from any day of ranch work. It didn't last long, however. In less than three minutes, Molly felt Mike come back to life.

"Mmmm, Aunt Molly, that was..."

She turned and held her finger to his lips. Mike fell silent. Rising up to her knees again, she saw Mike's big cock still sticking through his fly. It wasn't completely hard, but Molly had not doubt it had never become completely soft either.

She reached for his boot and began tugging it off. She pulled the other one off, too, before she stood and helped Mike to his feet. There she unbuckled his belt and opened his Levis. She sank to her knees again as she pulled his jeans to his ankles.

Mike's white jockeys proved more difficult as she had to thread that big, hardening cock back through an opening provided for soft urinating penises, not angry, raging phalluses. Finally, the briefs joined the jeans and Mike stepped out of both.

"I love your big cock, Mike," Molly cooed as she began stroking her nephew anew. "You're so hard again already. A lady likes that."

Mike could see his aunt's blue eyes smiling up at him. Mike was pretty sure he had a big dick. He'd seen a few adult videos and some stuff on the net. Of course, some of the stars were bigger than he was, but a lot weren't. He was glad his aunt was leading him through this important step of his life.

Molly gave Mike a few quick sucks to make sure he was completely hard and add some wetness to the end of his dick. She was sure she'd need as much help as possible. Not only that, she enjoyed pleasing it with her mouth and doing so added to her own internal moisture.

Standing again, Molly took Mike's hand and led him upstairs. She had him lie on his bed while she removed her clothes and became the first live woman her nephew saw naked. He still had his shirt on when Molly began to mount him.

She would do the fucking this first time. Mike was clearly bigger than any real or fake cock she had had. Straddling him, she reached between them and grabbed his cock, placing it against her austral lips. Her labia quivered, leaking slick fluid onto the cock head. Mike groaned softly.

Slowly, Molly lowered herself until the head was inside her. It felt huge and wonderful. It stretched her wider than any cock she'd ever had. It also went in much more easily than she believed it would.Mmmm, she thought to herself,this is going to be even nicer than I thought.Molly sank down another two inches before the dryness of Mike's middle shaft caused progress to halt. She still held the base of Mike's prick in her hand, and as she rode back up the fat stalk, she forced more of her pussy lube out where it coated her external genitals, and leaked down onto Mike's.

On the next down stroke, Molly's smooth pussy touched her hand. She was widened beyond anything she'd ever known and it was magnificent. She removed her hand from the cock and tried to continue downward. She progressed perhaps another half-inch.

Mike laid stock still as his aunt ground her cunt onto his dick. Nothing had ever felt better, smoother, and slicker, in his life. His second orgasm was rapidly approaching. He simply lay with his eyes closed absorbing those sensations that constitute fucking.

Normally, Molly would have been disappointed in such a quick shooter. Right now, however, her own climax had been building for over an hour. More and more rapidly, she slipped up Mike's dick and back down. As the long fat cock refilled her suddenly deflated chamber, she realized what other women meant when they raved about being filled, stretched to their limit.

It was such a womanly feeling. She wanted Mike's cock fully encased in her vagina but she realized that would have to wait for a future fuck as she hastily, jerkily humped up and down on the upper two-thirds of her nephew's hard dick.

Wondrously, the pair came together in the quickest dick dunking in Molly's memory. She felt the cum spurts like great globs from a super heated grease gun lubricating the way for her to pump her pussy even harder and faster.

With her cunt walls stretched so tight, every slight movement, every change of direction, every attempt to go deeper caused Molly to experience the most delightful sensations. The massive head of Mike's cock felt like a large plum bobbing up and down inside her cuntal canal like a pig in a python.

The intense feelings of smooth cock skin sliding against slick, taut vaginal walls slammed Molly around like a North Shore breaker. She couldn't take Mike deep enough that his cock base would hammer against her clitoris but it didn't matter. Her climax was sharper and more prolonged than smaller dicks could provide.

Thirty minutes later, Mike mounted a woman for the first time. Molly was super slick from both their juices and Mike's third erection of the hour slid easily in as far as it had when she rode him. That still left three inches of the thickest part of the cock exposed.

With his weight behind the exuberant teenage thrusts, more cock began squeezing into Molly's screaming vagina. But, like OJ trying to jam his fat hand into that leather glove, even Mike's determined pumping couldn't push more than eight of his nine inches inside his aunt. Again, it didn't matter. Molly was already thrashing about spastic's marionette when Mike exploded for the third time.

Before the teen could recover, Molly retired to her own room. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he'd be ready again. She was already beginning to feel a soreness that would last for days and had had the best night of sex she could remember.

Sunday morning, Molly returned to Mike's room to awaken him. Her pussy was in no condition to endure another round of high-energy intercourse. Her nephew, of course, was another matter. She saw his hard on poking at the blanket as soon as she entered the room.

Sitting on the side of his bed, she stroked his cloth covered erection lightly, rousing him from his sleep.

"Mmmm," he said, smiling without opening his eyes.

He spread his legs granting his aunt unfettered access. Opening his eyes, he reached for her.

"Not today, tiger," Molly told him. "I'm much too sore for that," she continued, squeezing him. Then pushing the bed linen aside, exposing his naked genitals, she added, "But that doesn't mean you have to suffer. Let aunty relieve the morning tension for you."

Molly dipped her head and captured Mike's cock in her mouth. Slowly, tenderly, lovingly she began her oral stimulations. Her wet mouth felt so soft, so faint, barely a touch at all. The tiny bumps of her soft tongue began rasping against the underside of his dick and her head began to bob.

Mike's aunt began to pick up the pace and increased the pressure. Her hand joined her mouth on Mike's prick.

"Oh god," Mike moaned, "that feels so good. Oh god, oh god! OH! Oh, I'm not going to be able to hold it! It's cumming, I'M CUMMING!!! OH DAMN! OH FUCK!!! OH SHIT!!"

Mike threw his head from side to side on his pillow. His hands had involuntarily grabbed his aunt's head, imprisoning it on his cock. Molly, of course had no intention of moving away from the dick spouting in her mouth. She swallowed her nephew's semen like a delicious, liquid canapé.

Standing, Molly looked down at her contented nephew. His eyes were closed and he was clearly enjoying pure bliss in a post-orgasmic utopia.

"I'll make us something to eat," she announced. "Why don't you get a shower and I'll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes."

After breakfast and a shower of her own, Molly called Mike upstairs. She was naked and sore but horny from delivering her wake-up blowjob. She began where most lovers do before they enjoy an intense night of passion. She kissed Mike lightly on the lips and then slipped her tongue into his mouth.

Later, Molly would discover that it was her nephew's first romantic kiss. A second quickly followed, and a third. Each lasted longer than the one before. The pair became increasingly passionate and hungry. Mike's hands caressed his aunt's back and buttocks. Molly hooked her leg behind Mike's and ground her cunt against his crotch.

Pulling her mouth from his, Molly grabbed him by the hair and pulled his lips to her nipple. Mike kissed greedily before licking and sucking at it. He grabbed it with his hand and squeezed while he suctioned powerfully with his mouth. He was a bit too rough but Molly chalked that up to innocence. There would be time for teaching tenderness later.

Pulling away from her nephew, Molly began undoing his jeans while Mike tore at the buttons of his shirt. She had him lie on his bed. His great penis was poking up at her face as she mounted in the sixty-nine position. Her raw, oozing gash would settle for soft kisses and licks.

The hotness of Mike's big cock throbbing between her lips and against her tongue heated her in a way that made up for a lack of technique on his end. Mike definitely required some "hands-on" sex education.

In the end, Molly's desire made up for Mike's oral insufficiencies and there was more than enough tonguing from him to get her off in a magnificent climax enhanced by a tasty, squirting man-meal.

During Mike's first few weeks at the ranch, he did little more than clean the house, wash clothes, and prepare meals for his Aunt Molly and himself. Although she would never admit it to him of course, what Molly needed most was a "wife" and Mike was it.

Being a sharp eighteen year old, Mike knew what role he had been given but he was an eager helper anyway. He knew he was basically useless elsewhere and the chance to watch his aunt's ass in those tight jeans more than compensated for any masculine ego bruising his gender inappropriate role forced upon him.

Molly and Mike's sex life settled into a happy routine. Each morning she would awaken him with a blowjob. On Wednesday and Saturday nights, they would fuck, usually three times. Neither could remember being happier.

In his spare time, Mike helped in the main horse barn. He learned how to assemble and put on the rider's tack. He practiced riding and gave the horses some needed exercise.

Although her spread [the ranch I mean...sheesh] wasn't large, it was more than Molly could handle alone, even more than she and Hastings could fully work together. About three days a week and whenever else Molly needed help, three cowboys from Abigail Campbell's place would help run the ranch with Molly.

Primarily, the business made money in four ways: leasing excess acreage to other ranchers for grazing and winter feed crops; selling stock; supplying stud services, particularly Molly's prized Appaloosa stallion Banshee; and leasing riding ponies to nearby dude ranches open during the summer.

In the past, Molly and her husband had boarded horses owned by well-off professionals working in the cities of Wyoming and surrounding states but escaping through imagined lives on the open range. She still had two mares that she kept for Bill Dennis, but that represented the smallest portion of her revenues and earnings.

As he became more competent, Mike's chores took less time and he began helping Molly with some of the revenue aspects of ranching. In particular, he learned to drive the pickup and horse trailer. He practiced for hours, maneuvering the tandem vehicles forward and back, across open terrain and around obstacles. Mike became a better driver than either Molly or Hastings had ever been.

With his newfound talent, Mike began delivering horses for tourists' use and picking up them up when the rush had passed. In time, he was also shuttling stallions to neighboring ranches for stud, including Banshee. His first outing was with the prized stallion proved to be quite an education for a young man still discovering the wonders of Wyoming women.

Mike arrived at Abigail Campbell's ranch at 10:30 as scheduled. A pretty girl his own age waved him over to a split-rail corral adjacent to one of the barns. A skittish filly moved nervously inside.

"Hi, I'm Amanda," she said as Mike stopped the pickup next to her and lowered the window. "Amanda, not Mandy, if you're thinking about being a friend," she smiled.

"Hi, I'm Mike," he smiled back. Girls his own age still made him nervous.

"Abby said to put him in with the filly."

Abigail Campbell was Molly's best friend and had already heard all about Mike. She deliberately didn't greet him herself sending Amanda, her prettiest and most friendly summer worker in her stead. She wanted to size up this newcomer from afar first.

In his boots, Mike stood six feet six. He was lean but muscled. His face and arms were tanned and he was now more handsome than he'd ever been. Amanda's heart skipped a beat as she watched Mike lower that trailer's back gate and begin unloading Banshee.

The stallion was more fractious than Mike could remember as the scent of a female in season saturated the air around the corral. Banshee reared up nearly causing Mike to lose control. The horse's fat penis had begun to unsheathe and both teens could clearly see the pink and black flesh bobbing in the air.

Amanda had noticed Mike's nervousness from the start and decided to have some fun with the tenderfoot. "Guess he's excited to be here, huh?" she asked, causing Mike to blush.

Mike had absolutely no idea what the protocol for horse mating might be and, after delivering the stallion to the corral, headed back to his truck. Until, that is, he saw Amanda mount the fence and take a seat straddling the top rail. Apparently, equine reproduction was a spectator sport. Mike joined her.

Almost immediately he knew he'd made a bad choice as watching a fully aroused stallion chase a fertile filly bucking at his attempts to mount while sharing split-rail seating with a gorgeous girl caused his own cock to swell. Amanda was immediately aware of the movement in his jeans.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked being almost cruel in her ambiguity. She let her hand rest on his thigh.

Poor Mike was no match for the human beauty. This was Amanda's fourth summer on the ranch and she'd heard all the raucous tales that have been told around the campfires of the west for that past hundred and fifty years. She knew exactly what she'd say next.

The coupling itself didn't take very long, but it was sufficient time for her to ask, "How'd you like to do that?" she asked, nodding at the coupled horses. Squeezing his thigh, Amanda looked deep into Mike's eyes with her best come-get-you-some look.

"Sure," squeaked Mike in a voice he hadn't used since his testicles descended.

"Well go ahead," Amanda laughed as Banshee's phallus slipped dripping from his erstwhile mate. "I don't think Abby will mind and from the size of that stud, I doubt that filly will even know you're in there!"

Mike was crimson as Amanda stood up on the fence rails. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before swinging her leg to the ground. "Don't be mad, it's only a joke," she said and started toward the barn. She turned but kept walking backwards. "And don't forget, cutie, it's Amanda," she called letting him know her interest was anything but malicious.

Mike watched over his shoulder as Amanda led the filly into the barn, leaving Banshee alone in the corral. He was just beginning to ponder her use of the appellation "cutie" when another voice, deeper and more sultry, startled him.

"You must be Mike," it said. He jerked his head around to see a most amazing sight standing by his knee. In her boots with three-inch heels, she was still under five feet high. Brassy, curls sprouted everywhere from under her cream colored Stetson like some blonde medusa. Her fat, pouty lips painted a bright red were no more than a foot and a half from his crotch as she stared up at his roost on the fence.

"I'm Abby and Molly has told me all about you," said the voluptuous, almost cartoonishly proportioned female. From the waist down, Abby was an almost normal, albeit well-cushioned, human. It was the two volleyballs Mother Nature had stuffed into her stretchy top that made people's mouth's hang open on first meeting her.

"You'll probably never hear another woman say this as the third sentence to a perfect stranger but, yes, they're real. Don't be embarrassed by thinking that, everybody does. Hey, come on in the house and I'll get you a pop."

Except to Mike's sexually charged ears, it sounded like she said, 'I'll get you to pop.'

Abby handed Mike a can of Pepsi from fridge and opened one for herself. She made no effort to get glasses. That kind of shit only meant something to pampered city cunts. She held her soda up in toast.

"That horse got some dick on him, don't he?" she offered without a hint of embarrassment.

"Uh...yeah," Mike replied, briefly thrusting his Pepsi toward the ceiling then taking a giant gulp. He had absolutely no idea where this conversation was going.

"Don't look so shocked," Abby told him. "I been on this ranch more'n twenty years. Husband's gone off -- again -- some barrel-riding cowgirl this time. That scratches his itch but it don't do nothin' fer mine. With these here tits, I had offers from just about every kind of guy there is. And I had almost as many men as offers. I ain't got enough time in summer as it is, so let's not waste any. Molly tells me that horse ain't the only stud come over here this morning. Says I ought to give you a try. You as good as she says?"

Mike may have reacted like a deer in headlights but his cock hadn't lost its ability to respond. Abby had put her soft drink down and was standing a foot away. Both were staring down between them. Mike's eyes were focused on the impossibly vast cleft line that jutted from Abby's low-cut top like the San Andreas Fault.

In Abby's vision, it was mounded blue denim as far as the eye could see. When she sighed deeply, both watched her soft, clothed mounds approach the hard denim swell then yield as the two fabrics touched spreading and encircling the teen's phallic bundle. Her hand reached between them stroking Mike's big dick.

"Oooo, you are a big boy, ain't you!" Abby said throatily, after letting out a whistle. "We ain't got the time to do things proper, but I ain't lettin' you leave without gettin' a sample."

Mike saw, felt, and heard his zipper being lowered. When her hand reached bare flesh, Abby knew Mike's big dick wouldn't come out of the open fly easily so she unbuckled his belt and opened the top of his jeans. She slid his pants and briefs to his knees and felt her cheek glide across the hot, hard cock flesh.

Leaning slightly backward, she grabbed his meat pole with her small hands. At least four inches still throbbed nakedly at the Wyoming atmosphere despite her two-handed grip. Abby's own genitals were twitching more violently than she expected and she knew she would soon have to use one of her hands to take care of her own rapidly building needs.

Abby began lapping at the sides of Mike's rigid member preparing it for an oral outing. She held onto Mike's balls while she tongue washed his cock. Finally, when both it and her lips and tongue were heavy with saliva, she let go of him and steadied her reddened oval just above the cock head.

Abby lifted her gaze to catch Mike's as he stared down at her. Their eyes locked as, slowly, she moved her mouth down the shaft.

In one of those quirks of human diversity, Abby's oral cavity was significantly more capacious than its genital counterpart. This meant she could (and did) bounce up and down on smaller hung guys with the snugness of a minister's wife. For bigger boys like Mike, Abby often resorted to oral accommodations unless she was feeling exceptionally horny and raunchy in which case, the back door would be open.

In awe, Mike saw eight-ninths of his unit slide luxuriously past Abby's lips. Her hot wet tongue sent him into fits as she scraped her teeth gently along the base of his cock. Mike stood no more chance of holding off his orgasm than Crocket at the Alamo as the experienced ranch owner sought, hungrily, to suck it from him.

Her hands had dropped under her skirt as soon as her practiced lips encircled his cock head. Abby knew Mike's inexperience would cause him to unload quickly and she feverishly clawed at her pussy to secure her own release. The hotness of fellating the big cocked teen led her to climax much more quickly than she was accustomed and she actually began coming before he did.

Mike wasn't far behind, however, and he gushed his appreciation directly into Abby's throat. For ninety gooey seconds the older wife and youthful ranch hand coupled in her kitchen twitching, connected only at her mouth and his cock.

Both were breathing heavily when Abby finally pulled her lips off his dick. Mike fumbled to do up his jeans while Abby, her eyes closed, leaned against the table savoring the cum she had yet to swallow.

"Fuck that was good!" she said breaking their sexual silence. "But you best get goin' darlin'. Molly needs you and there will be more time later."

"Thanks," was all Mike could think of as he headed out the door.

He saw Amanda leaning against the corral fence as he stepped from the house. She didn't move and she didn't look away as he approached to get the Appaloosa. As he led the animal to the trailer, she walked close enough to him that their arms grazed against each other.

"How was Abby?" she asked as Mike closed the horse inside.

"Oh, she was really nice," he answered, wondering if Amanda meant what it sounded like she meant.

"I'll bet she was," Amanda mocked. "You got lipstick on your jeans."

Mike's head jerked down at whiplash inducing speed as Amanda guffawed.

"Made you look," she chuckled as Mike angrily got into the truck and spun up dust and gravel as he pulled away. He quickly let off the gas when he realized he had the horse behind him.

As he drove the quiet roads of western Wyoming toward his summer home, Mike contemplated the enormous reversal of fortune he'd enjoyed with the fairer sex over the past five weeks. He'd left high school an awkward, gangly doofus who'd never had a date much less kissed a girl -- no need discussing other bases when he'd never gotten to first.

Now, he'd gone from mind-blowing mind sex with a pretty stewardess to sweet blowjobs and intercourse with an aunt who looked like she could be nominated for an Oscar to an unbelievable hummer from a bigger-breasted, larger-mouthed mini Dolly Parton.

Oh yeah, and Abby-Dolly or Dolly-Abby or whoever she was had the cutest summer helper with the dirtiest mind who just might want to hook up with him.

Meanwhile, back home, poor Jim, his previously presumed "lucky" chum from high school, was stuck stepping around bikini-clad bodies removing debris from swimming pools while depositing pre-ejaculate into his shorts.

Mike got back to the ranch just in time to prepare supper. He'd only had half a can of Pepsi since breakfast and he was ravenous. Once at the table, Molly began asking about his trip. Once the perfunctory questions were out of the way, Molly got down to the interesting stuff.

"That Abby's a trip, isn't she?" she asked him.

"She's something else," her nephew agreed.

"Who do you think she looks like?"

"Dolly Parton," Mike answered without hesitation.

"Exactly!" Molly nearly shouted. "Everybody says that but she doesn't see it. Better not call her that though, it tends to piss her off."

"She said she's married..."

"Brian. He's off somewhere screwing around. This is about the fourth time he's done that."

"She takes him back?"

"He's a good guy basically. In case you haven't noticed, sweet guys are a little scarce out here. He keeps her happy when he's around. Bet she was happy to see you, though."

Did Molly know? Ever since he left Abby's place, Mike had been feeling funny about being "unfaithful" to his aunt. At his level of arrested social development, Mike even imagined marrying Molly at times.

"You wouldn't be mad if we did something?" asked Mike disbelievingly.

"Why would I..." Molly began then realized the depths of her nephew's innocence. Mike must think if a woman has sex with a man, they're a couple.

"Look Mike," she began, "I loved your uncle dearly, but I wasn't all that pure. Neither was he. It gets lonely out here, especially in winter. A couple alone can be almost as lonesome as a single."

"You mean..."

"Yeah, Mike," Molly sighed, "faithfulness wasn't exactly a cornerstone of our relationship. It started when we found out we couldn't have children. Something snapped in me; our marriage was a cruel joke. I left for a while and sewed the oats I never did before the wedding.

"Hastings was a good man. He waited patiently at the ranch for me to return. When I did, things were different. I was different. We became what I guess you could call swingers. On the road, at rodeos, livestock shows, auctions, and such, a lot of married couples turned a blind eye to a spouse sharing a little extramarital contact.

"Sometimes another couple would stop by the ranch for a few weeks. Sometimes it might be just a single man. Hastings enjoyed sharing me. I think he knew I had a higher drive than he did.

"Abby too?" Mike interjected.

"Hastings and I swapped with Abby and Brian. It was a lot of fun. We're just scratching complementary itches, you and I, so I don't mind sharing you with her. So tell me," Abby giggled in a conspiratorial voice, "what did you and Abby get up to?"

Mike described the blowjob being careful not to praise Abby's oral skills too highly.

"Don't worry kid," his aunt soothed, "Hastings always said Abby gave the best head. I'm not offended. While we're on the subject, someone is coming over to discuss business this weekend. A male someone. He's Bill Dennis the guy we board horses for. He'll be staying in my room."

"Sure," said Mike a little too eagerly. He was still coming to terms with not being boyfriend and girlfriend with his aunt but he wanted her to know he understood their relationship.

"Abby said you could stay over with her if you wanted. What did you think of Amanda? She's cute isn't she? I guess you wouldn't mind talking with someone your age for a while."

"Sure," Mike said again. He needed time to think. So much had suddenly changed.

The remainder of the week played out as usual. Morning BJs and a fantastic Wednesday night fuck. It would be their last until after Bill left.

At noon on Friday, a distinguished, just-starting-to-gray gentleman arrived. Molly introduced Bill. It was obvious to Mike that his aunt was harboring a crush on the new guest. She clung to his arm and stayed upstairs unpacking for him while Bill shared a beer with Mike in the kitchen.

He really is nice, Mike thought as they chatted. Bill was a small businessman from the Denver suburbs looking to make some changes in his life. He asked Mike how he liked ranch life and told him some funny stories about the year he'd spent as a grossly untalented bull rider on the rodeo circuit. Mike had tears in his eyes when Molly descended the stairs.

"Just telling Mike about the time that bull "pants-ed" me up in Fargo," Bill explained. Molly laughed out loud. The image of that bull strutting around the arena with Bill's levis on his horns while Bill scrambled up the fence in his undies never failed to get a big laugh wherever he told it.

"Abby's, eh?" Bill said when told Mike would be staying elsewhere for the weekend. "Just remember to count your body parts before you head back."

Mike's second arrival at the Campbell ranch was treated with much more fanfare by the mistress of the house. Abby hopped up on the pickup's running board as soon as the truck stopped. She poked her head through the window so quickly she knocked her Stetson to the ground. She gave Mike a big, wet kiss.

Leading him inside immediately, she opened a couple of bottles of beer, taking a big swig from one while handing the other out to Mike. When Mike sat on a kitchen chair, Abby hopped up onto the table and scooted her way over in front of him.

Her denim mini-skirt scarcely covered her blue satin thong as her bare legs dangled on either side of Mike's knees. Her tank top, worn braless, was stretched hideously beyond recognition. Mike's eyes bounced around their sockets like they belonged in some hypersonic pinball machine.

"Molly said you liked that thing I did with my mouth last time," Abby told him like she didn't know the technical term for her best sexual skill. She rubbed her hands up and down her legs inviting the teen to feel them. More experienced men would eagerly accept her invitation but not Mike. His shyness excited her. She knew how near virginal he was and she was more than prepared to lead.

"I want you to know that anytime you need a blowjob this weekend, just say the word. I'll be more than happy to suck you off. Did Molly tell you I really enjoyed it too?"

Mike shook his head. He was actually a little scared of Abby.

"I loved it. You have a beautiful, big cock. Your cum was so fresh and sweet, mmmm. I'm wet just thinking about it. Let me do it now.Please..."Molly hopped off the table onto Mike's lap before letting herself slide down to her knees before him. There was no stopping her, not that Mike wanted to. He sat back and let her pleasure him, moving only to lift his hips so she could slide his jeans down.

Abby's second blowjob was even better than her first as she had more time to tease and play with him. In the end, Mike screamed loudly as he pistoned his discharging cock in and out of Abby's milking throat.

Later, as his hostess lay masturbating (although she'd told him she was going for a nap) in her room, Mike walked in the yard behind the house. Amanda was coming out of one of the barns just as he peeked in.

"Hi," he said, a bit startled.

"Hi back," she answered. Amanda apologized for the ribbing she'd given him last time. She could tell by the way he looked at her that Mike was developing a crush on her. She also knew he didn't have a clue that she had the same feeling. Suddenly, she felt as diffident as he.

They began to talk like they expected a platonic relationship. Their banter was classic shy teen, "my fourth summer... first time out west... just graduated... me too... not sure, college I guess... same here."

"I'm staying the weekend," Mike told her.

"With Abby?" Amanda asked.

"I guess so, in her house. I didn't really ask. Where do you stay?"

Amanda led Mike through a stand of fir trees to a tiny cabin about a quarter of a mile away. There were other similar nearby.

"These used to be tourist cabins when Abby ran the dude ranch. Now, only a couple of long timers still visit. I make sure they have everything they need. Do you want to see inside?"

"Sure," Mike answered unaware it was becoming his most used one word sentence.

Inside, Mike saw the two single beds first. In another corner, a six-foot couch, matching chair, and coffee table faced a fireplace. The table contained a stack of what appeared to be Cosmopolitan magazines with bold-faced type alerting readers to important content like, "Seven Sexual Surprises Your Man Merits Most."

Most of the other side was a kitchenette including a table at which more than two would have trouble eating. There were two doors. Mike guessed one led to a bathroom and the other a closet.

"Nice," he said like he was considering a similar living arrangement himself.

"Was I too mean to you the other day? Do you hate me?" Amanda asked sitting on one of the kitchen chairs.

"I thought you were funny. Probably would have been a bit more hilarious if somebody else had been the target, though."

"I'm sorry," she said looking into his eyes. She was flirting on purpose. Guys never let a girl apologize for making fun of them. Too macho to have hurt feelings.

"No, don't say that," Mike said on cue.

"Well, you can tease me if you want. I deserve it. Go ahead, make fun of my eyes. All the guys do."

For the first time Mike realized Amanda had one green eye and one blue one. At that moment, they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

"That's weird," he said. "Weird in a good way, I mean. I can't believe how pretty they are."

"They're not pretty!" said Amanda coming awfully close to over playing her hand. "Am I as pretty as the girls at your school?" If you want a compliment, ask for it, her daddy had once told her.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," Mike answered, mostly truthfully. His Aunt Molly was better looking but only by a tad. Of course she was a woman, not a girl.

Mike's stomach growled loudly enough for both to hear.

"Should I make us something to eat?" Amanda asked sarcastically.

"Shit!" exclaimed Mike looking at his watch. "I'd better get back. Abby doesn't know where I am."

Amanda stood with him. "Can you come back later?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," replied Mike honestly.

"After she's asleep?" Amanda offered hopefully.

"I'll try."

"There you are," chirped Abby cheerfully as Mike let himself in the back door [I would add "for the first time that day" but that would be getting ahead of myself now wouldn't it? --Author].

"I made us some dinner," she continued mashing her tits against her teenaged guest. She brought a hand to his crotch, cupping his genitals. "And I see you brought dessert."

Although Abby's slutty behavior brought a quick erection, Mike was still thinking of the beauty in the cabin he just left.

"I was talking to that girl Amanda. She seems very nice."

"Nicest girl ever come to work here. Been here four, five summers now. The tenderfoots just love her. Pretty little thing too, ain't she. Guess I'm not the one to be calling anyone 'little' am I?" Abby chuckled.

After eating, Abby and Mike settled on the sofa with a bottle of merlot. Abby wasn't interested in talking about much unless the topic were sex. There, she wasn't shy. In that way, she more like a man. Sex, for her, was one-dimensional, just something physical.

"How'd you like them two blowjobs I give ya?"

"God they were great! I never felt anything so good."

"You got a real nice cock, Mike. Something that's in short supply around here at the moment. I want you to know you're welcome to come around here anytime."

As she spoke, Abby ran her hands over Mike's body, not unlike she'd do if she were purchasing a horse -- excepting that she wouldn't stroke the animal's genitals.

Mike was teenager hard and his legs were splayed permitting the older woman unfettered access. His eyes are on Abby's massive mammaries and it was all he could do keep himself from lunging for them. He was so new to all this, he had no idea what constituted proper and improper behavior. The last thing he wanted to do was make the wrong move and have everything disappear like it was all some erotic dream.

"Not so much of a titty man, are ya Mike?" Abby asked. She saw him staring and realized it was up to her to get things rolling.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just that most men start grabbing at these before 'Hello,'" Abby said shaking her upper torso setting her boobs to rolling like a couple of bowling balls in a spandex bag on choppy seas.

For those women who subscribe to the big hands equal big penis criteria for date selection, Mike had hands that would attract you from across the room. His middle fingers were easily six inches long. Yet his hands were not match for Abby's breasts. Both could not encircle even one.

Eagerly, Abby pulled her top over her head. Discarded on the floor, even a stranger could see a well-endowed female had worn it.

Mike was delighted. He played with Abby's tits as his aunt had taught him: cupping and lifting; stroking softly; teasing the nipples with his fingertips. As bumps of arousal appeared on the huge areolas, he took the hardening nipple between his thumb and finger. Squeezing lightly, he felt the pulsing blood that made them swell.

As he moved forward, preparing to suckle, Abby placed her fingers over his and pinched down hard. His fingers were forced to tighten, flattening the nipples. With her fingers clamping his to her teats like a pair of vice grips, she pulled his hands outward distending the nipple and causing the areola to form flat pink cones in front of the breast.