Summer on the Farm

Valerie led the way across the pasture to the broken fence. The grass was still wet from the morning dew, and it soaked through my leather work boots. There was a nip in the air, and a thin mist hung over the meadow. When we reached the fence, we started work immediately. It was the kind of work I loved, where I could see the result of labors at the end of the day.

We worked all day repairing the fence. I cut long beams into posts and laid them beside the rotted posts that needed replacing. The previous day, one of the staff had dug new holes directly next to the existing post, so all I needed to do was cut the bad one off at its base. Valerie followed behind, planting the new posts and running barbed wire between them.

We broke briefly for lunch, and then continued till almost six. Exhausted, we gathered our tools and began the long walk back to the farmhouse.

We mingled very little with the other staff, aside from meeting with the foreman on Monday mornings to discuss the week's projects. When the staff left at the end of the day, we had the farmhouse to ourselves—an arrangement we both found to our liking.

Valerie and I were at each other's side literally night and day. Her bedroom had become an office when she went off to college, so a twin bed had been set up next to my own in the expansive room I occupied in our converted attic. I didn't really mind—the room spanned the entire attic, so there was plenty of room for both of us. It had a bathroom with a shower, so it was like having little apartment all to ourselves.

A hot supper awaited us, left in the warming oven by our cook Emma just before she quit for the day. We ate our meal, and then Valerie went up to our room in the attic to shower while I used the downstairs bathroom.

After washing up, we met again in the living room and watched TV for a little while. But by nine thirty we were both starting to nod off, so we went up to the attic and crashed, falling asleep almost instantly. Such was a typical day of life on the farm.

I was glad my older sister had decided to spend the summer on the farm. She had moved away for college when I was just finishing eighth grade, and I hadn't seen much of her since then. Now that she had graduated, she wanted to spend a final summer at home before venturing off into the real world.

I was nervous around her at first. Four years of college had turned her into a sophisticated young adult, nothing like the gum-smacking girls at my high school.

Mostly, I was intimidated by her beauty. She was the embodiment of my feminine ideal: tall and thin, narrow waist and shapely behind, firm medium-sized breasts, long blonde hair, and a face that distilled the very best features of our parents.

But Valerie seemed every bit as intrigued by me. She openly marveled at the transformation I had undergone since eighth grade, asking my parents what had happened to her skinny little brother, and where did this tall, handsome man come from.

Indeed, I was hardly recognizable from the scrawny fourteen-year-old she left behind when she went off to college. I now stood at 6'2, with a trim, muscular build from my years playing soccer and running track. I knew at some level that I was attractive, but hearing these compliments from Valerie meant so much more than it ever had coming from anyone else.

The next day, Valerie and I had to go into town to the feed shop to buy a bag of oats for the horses. Ingrid, the shop owner's daughter, stood behind the counter. Her thick glasses and poor complexion made her somewhat homely, but she had a nice body. Valerie shot me a glance as she caught me staring at the girl's chest.

"What was that all about?" she said as we climbed into the truck.

I acted like I didn't hear her and stared straight ahead with a glassy-eyed expression.

"God, I'm horny," I mumbled, trying to get a rise out of her.

"John!" Valerie laughed. "I think someone needs to get off the farm more often."

I started the engine and pulled out onto the highway. We rode in silence for a ways, but I could sense Valerie looking at me.

"So, got any girlfriends?" she asked.

"Yeah, a couple," I said flatly.

"Oh really?" she smirked.

"Nah," I admitted.

"I thought Mom said you were seeing someone this year?"

"Yeah, sorta fizzled out though," I said.

Valerie was silent for several minutes, but I could hear the gears spinning.

"So when is the last time you, you know...," she began.

"The last time I what?" I said, playing dumb.

"You know—got laid."

I felt my cheeks flush.

"I don't know," I muttered.

"Come on, John. You can tell your big sister!"

"Jeez Val, what makes you think I ever got laid in the first place?"

"Oh please," she scoffed.

I didn't see what was so implausible about my being a virgin. However, my sister was right.

"Four months, I guess."

I turned to look at her. She was staring straight ahead with a self-satisfied smile on her face.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," she answered innocently, "It's just that I can see why you would be horny is all."

"Valerie!"

"What?" she said.

I couldn't help laughing at her ingenuous tone.

"Anyway," I said, "It's not gonna happen this summer, that's for sure. Guess I'll just have to wait till college."

She sighed in agreement. It seemed that my older sister was just as preoccupied with sex as I was. Before I knew it, we were casually discussing our prospects for getting laid, just as I might with a buddy in the locker room.

The subject of sexuality began to manifest itself frequently in our interaction. On the surface, we bonded in our sexual frustration, and our isolation from the outside world that dimmed our prospects of finding a partner.

Privately, guiltily, I fixated on my older sister. If my nervousness around her had eased, I was no less in awe of her. I wanted nothing more than to gain her affection, and also to show her that I was a man.

Pride crept into my consciousness. I paid close attention to my cleanliness and grooming, making sure to remain clean-shaven. And I often worked without a shirt, hoping to impress Valerie with my muscular body.

Sometimes I was startled by my boldness. One afternoon, I had to fix the wiring on a light fixture in the barn. Valerie held the step ladder and stared up at me as I worked. I felt her gaze on my bare chest and stomach, and I started getting turned on. But when my cock began tenting my shorts, I made no effort to conceal it.

Valerie's outfits became more revealing also, though it would not have occurred to me at the time that it was for my benefit. One day, we had to change the oil in the pick-up truck. Valerie wanted to learn how to do it herself, so I sat at her feet while she slid under the engine on a roller board and gave her instructions. She was wearing a tight-fitting pair of cutoffs, and a white midriff tank-top. Her nipples jiggled visibly beneath the thin material, making it clear she wasn't wearing a bra.

She eased back on the roller board and gradually pushed her way under the truck until only her stomach and legs were visible.

"Which one is the oil filter?"

"It's a round cylinder, probably orange or yellow," I replied.

"Oh, here it is. How do I get it off?"

"Try twisting it off with your hands."

As she adjusted her body to gain leverage, her legs spread apart and she drew her knees up. She began grunting as she struggled with the filter, thrusting her hips up with each contortion. The material of her cutoffs rode up inch by inch until her ass cheeks were clearly visible.

"It's hard to get a good grip on this thing. Could you hold my legs tight so I don't slide around so much?"

I positioned myself between her legs and wedged my knees behind her buttocks, grasping onto her knees.

"How's this?"

"Good."

As she tightened her legs around me and resumed her struggle with the filter, I looked down at her crotch, now outlined by my grievously hard cock which was straining so violently against the flimsy material of my running shorts that the waistband was pushed away from my stomach.

A muffled voice snapped me out of my reverie. "John, this thing is way too tight!"

"Okay, here, try this," I croaked. She held her hand out and I handed her the oil filter wrench.

"Why didn't you give me this in the first place?" she yelled.

"I guess I figured you were strong enough."

She flailed her leg and kicked me in the back.

"Here, you better have this ready," I said, sliding the oil pan to her. By now, her shirt had ridden up and was twisted around her torso just below her breasts. Her beautiful white belly was in full view, and with each movement her stomach muscles became more pronounced.

"Be careful when you unscrew the filter. The oil will shoot out--"

"Aaah!"

Valerie squirmed to the side to avoid the gushing waste oil.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, but I got a little on my face. Will you pull me out?"

I grabbed her legs and rolled her out from under the truck and started laughing when I saw her face. It wasn't as bad as I thought, but a few splotches had splashed onto her cheeks and hair.

"You think that's funny?" she said, then held up her oil covered hand and smeared black oil all over my stomach.

"Gross!" I grabbed her hand and tried to force it back on her own body, but she struggled and twisted around until I was holding her from behind with my arm wrapped around her shoulder. Her ass was grinding into my crotch, and the mound of my erection nestled in her crack. I continued trying to make her hand touch her stomach, and she kept pushing it away from herself, and in the process ramming her ass harder against me.

She was laughing, but she must have felt my hard cock pressing against her. I suddenly became self-conscious and loosed my grip on her, backing away.

"Ok, we should clean up for dinner," I said, "We can let the oil drain overnight and finish in the morning. I'm gonna go take a shower." I began walking up to the house.

"Yeah, you are pretty dirty," she chimed after me.

Our exhibitionism extended to the bedroom. I generally wore boxers to bed in Valerie's presence, but had recently switched to a tight-fitting pair boxer briefs. I liked the idea of Valerie seeing the bulge in my crotch.

Valerie had begun the summer sleeping in an over-sized tee shirt and a pair of my boxers, but her boundaries had eroded as well. Recently, she had shed her boxers in favor of white panties, and wore a small tee shirt that left a narrow strip of her belly was exposed.

One night we turned off the TV around ten and headed upstairs together. As I sat down on my bed and started taking off my shoes, Valerie stood in front of her dresser in the corner of the room and got her nightclothes out, then went into the bathroom to change. When she came out, she was wearing her pink mid-riff tee shirt and white panties. I tried not to stare, but she caught my glance as I was walking over and pretended not to notice.

"I'm not sleepy yet," she said.

"Yeah, we didn't do much work today."

Valerie sat down on her bed, adjacent to my own, and pulled up her legs Indian-style, giving me a clear view of her crotch. I pulled the blanket over myself to conceal the growing bulge in my boxers, but found it difficult to avert my gaze.

"Why don't you take a picture?" she said, grinning.

I blushed and looked down at the floor.

"I'm just teasing you, John!" she said, tossing a pillow at me. "I probably shouldn't be walking around in such skimpy clothes, but it's been so hot up here lately."

"Yeah, it has," I agreed.

She sat on her bed and began flipping through a magazine. I turned out the light on my side and closed my eyes despite not feeling sleepy.

Valerie must have noticed me tossing and turning.

"What's wrong, can't sleep?"

"No, I'm not really tired yet either."

"Want a backrub?" she said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"C'mon, you'll enjoy it. Your shoulders must be sore from all the lifting you've been doing. Plus, it will help you relax."

Without waiting for a response, she rose from her bed and stood beside mine.

"Lay on your stomach," she instructed.

I did as I was told. She straddled my legs, and I felt her cool hands on my back.

"Let me know if I'm being too rough," she said.

Her touch felt wonderful. She worked her way up my spine, kneading the tight muscles with her surprisingly strong fingers. When she reached my shoulders, she began by massaging my upper arms and shoulder muscles, and then gently squeezed the base of my neck.

"Feel good?"

"Mmmmnnn," I moaned.

She continued her massage for a few minutes, then stopped suddenly and slid off my legs. I looked back at her.

"Turn over," she said, "I'll do your legs."

"Oh, that's okay," I stammered, "I feel much more relaxed now."

"John, come on, it'll feel great—I promise."

I didn't doubt that it would; I was just concerned about hiding my rapidly growing erection. But I knew it was no use protesting, so as I turned over, I quickly adjusted my cock to a less conspicuous angle.

She sat down at the base of my legs and resumed her massage. One leg at a time she kneaded my leg muscles, starting just above my knee and moving slowly upwards.

My head was resting on a pillow and I couldn't help staring at her breasts swaying gently with her movements beneath the thin fabric of her tee shirt. I was also aware of the sensation of her straddling me. I could feel the muscles of her legs and taut ass flexing as she shifted her weight.

She appeared to be focusing her gaze on my legs, but there was no way she didn't notice my erection straining against my boxers.

She seemed to sense my unease.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

I closed them, and she started on my other leg, halting once again well before reaching the hemline of my boxers.

"All done," she said. She rose from the bed and sat on her own. "Feel better?"

I let out a sigh of immense pleasure.

"Much," I said. She switched off her light and got into bed. A minute later, I was fast asleep.

The next day was spent fixing fences. We returned home and had dinner, and then Valerie went up to our room to take a shower. I followed her upstairs to retrieve a clean pair of boxers and then, eager to get clean myself, I went back downstairs to shower in the main bathroom.

I didn't feel like watching television when I got out of the shower, so I went up to our room and got in bed. I picked up one of Valerie's magazines and began flipping through it. Valerie was still in the bathroom, and I could hear her voice echoing faintly as she sang softly in the shower.

Soon I heard the water switch off, and a minute later she emerged with a towel wrapped around her. She seemed slightly surprised to see me.

"Going to sleep so early?" she asked as she began brushing her hair.

"No, just didn't feel like watching TV."

I found myself stealing glances at her as she went about her bedtime routine. When she was finished brushing her hair, she opened her dresser and retrieved a clean pair of panties and tee shirt. I tried not to stare as she pulled her panties on under the towel. She reached for her tee shirt, and then looked over at me.

"Don't look," she said.

I buried my nose in the magazine, but peaked over it just as she was turning her back to me and removing the towel. I could just see the sides of her firm, pale breasts jiggling with her movements as she pulled the tee shirt over her head.

"What are you reading?" she asked as she walked over to her bed.

"One of your chick magazines," I said, tossing the magazine onto her bed.

She just smiled and picked it up.

"I know we worked really hard today, but for some reason I'm kind of wired," she said.

"Yeah, me too."

She flipped through the magazine.

"Are your shoulders sore?" she asked.

"A little," I answered without thinking.

"Oh, goody!" she said girlishly, springing up from her bed.

"That's okay, Valerie, you don't have to give me another massage."

"You don't want me to?" she said, looking slightly offended.

"It's not that—I just don't want you to go to the trouble is all," I said lamely.

"I don't mind! Now, lie on your stomach."

I turned over on my stomach. She straddled my legs, this time sitting slightly further up than before, almost on my butt, and then proceeded to massage me as she had done the night before. When she was halfway up my back, she stopped abruptly.

"Just a sec," she said, darting up and running to the bathroom. She returned with a small bottle of liquid.

"Mmmm—smell," she said, removing the cap and holding the bottle my nose.

"It smells like strawberries," I said.

She squirted a generous portion of the scented oil into her hand and resumed her massage. I was in heaven. The lubrication made the sensation of her hands kneading my back about a thousand times more pleasurable, and my concerns about smelling like a girl vanished.

"Feels good, huh?" she said, noticing my groans of pleasure.

"Guhhhh," I moaned.

When it was time for me to roll over onto my back, I had a throbbing erection and a large wet spot on my checkered boxers. But knowing it was useless to resist, I just closed my eyes as my sister straddled my knees and began working her magic on my thighs.

Once or twice I opened my eyes, only to see Valerie staring directly at my throbbing cock as she kneaded my leg muscles. When she noticed my gaze, she just smiled at me and continued working.

She was taking her time, drawing out the process much longer than she had the night before. Once or twice, it seemed that she would lower her weight onto my legs until her crotch was pressed firmly against my knees. I could feel the muscles of her butt flexing with the considerable effort she was putting into the massage, but these movements became increasingly gratuitous until it was clear she was enjoying the sensation herself.

Finally, she completed her massage.

"All done," she said in a ragged voice.

"Thank you," I whispered, keeping my eyes closed as I feigned exhaustion.

I waited until she was in bed and had turned the light out, then removed my boxers. As quietly as I could, began to masturbate. After a few quick strokes, a copious quantity of semen erupted from my cock as an intensely powerful orgasm tore through my body. I wadded up my soiled boxers and hid them under the sheets at the foot of the bed, then drifted into luxurious slumber.

Valerie's bedtime massages became a routine. We still observed our ritual of a short dose of mindless TV after dinner, which added to the anticipation I felt for having Valerie's hands on my body.

I usually had a full-blown erection by the time I got undressed and into bed. I would lie down and close my eyes, and listen attentively as Valerie brushed her teeth and changed into her nightclothes. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she emerged from the bathroom and padded bare foot across the floor in her white panties and tank top.

She would turn off all the lights except for the small reading lamp next to my bed, and then retrieve the bottle of oil on that was kept on the nightstand. I moaned with pleasure the instant her hands touched my skin.

One night, she climbed on top of me before I had a chance to turn over onto my stomach. I didn't object, because this had become my favorite part of the massage.

Her ministrations had become increasingly exploratory. She no longer stopped at the hem of my boxers, but pushed them up my legs so she could rub my thigh almost all the way up to my hip. I watched her unabashedly now, no longer self-conscious of my raging erection. Sometimes her fingers slid down the inside of my thigh and grazed my scrotum, eliciting a gasp from me as well as a noticeable twitch of my cock.