Ripe Summer Fruit
I secretly watched from my bedroom window as Samantha's familiar round bum waltzed down to the stables, crunching the gravel with her riding boots. My cousin Kate was beside her. They had just finished their post-hack lunch and were off to take the quad for a spin down the fields. They knew that annoyed me. At least I think they did. They'd only recently started to use it. Until then, it had been my plaything only. I was not impressed by this new development, but seeing Samantha approaching the farmhouse on the quad, bouncing along at speed, was too hypnotic to spoil.
Her body made me weak and dizzy. Samantha was the same age as me, almost two years older than my cousin Kate and had the body to prove it. She was a woman. That day she was wearing her favourite tight blue riding pants which left nothing to the imagination; it was as if someone had sprayed her curvy cheeks with navy blue paint. It made me hard. Her front was just as good too. Her bra smelled of roses and read as a 36c, but she rarely wore bras nowadays. She had definitely fallen into the D-cup category.
Samantha had been friends with my cousin for years. We had all grown up together, although apart in many respects as I was still in the last stages of hating girls, while at the same time being hypnotised by their beauty. I didn't get on with either of them, though, partly because Samantha never took any shit from me, even if my cousin did, and partly because they were intruding on "my" space. I wanted the whole farmhouse to myself; I wanted to use the quad for myself, and I wanted no one to intrude on my adolescent teenage angst. I wore my baggy black Nirvana t-shirt with the solemnity it deserved, and my long blond fringe could hide my sad, virgin eyes. As far as I was concerned, I was the boss when the grown-ups weren't around. I didn't feel it was right to lower myself to speaking with them. As I've mentioned, I was too busy locked in my bedroom with my headphones on, empathising with Kurt Cobain, hating the world and waiting to die. I was 18.
On this summer day, I watched from my usual spot as they "stole" "my" quad, having brought the key with them from the once-secret location in the kitchen. I was not on the quad because it needed refuelling and I could not find any more petrol. There had been enough in it to get it parked up where it was stored, and perhaps enough to get it back down to the gate again, but no more. I was waiting for my parents to come back from work, to ask them if they'd take me to town to fill up the fuel cans again. We did have our own supply of fuel on the farm which was filled by a big truck from time to time, but that was full of red diesel for the tractors, strictly for use on the farm and not on the road, something to do with tax. The quad was a petrol engine, though, which would not appreciate the taste of diesel one bit. My father let us all know this in no uncertain terms.
Jealously, I watched them start up the quad. It ran until they had reversed it out the stable and had opened the gate to go down the field. Then it stopped. They took what I thought was a pretty long time working out what was wrong with it. Then they opened the fuel cap and saw nothing sparkling up at them. I could see them discuss something, before my cousin ran back up towards the farmhouse, and out of sight. I watched Samantha as she stayed mounted on the quad, her shapely thighs squeezing its bulk, her ripe pussy pressed firm down onto the detachable seat. I imagined myself between the two, her riding me, clamped onto my cock, her magical bosom swaying up and down above me as she rode us to the sweet chills of orgasm. Then my cousin ruined my fantasy by running back to the quad with a fuel can. I didn't understand where she'd got the petrol from and was annoyed I had missed it. They knew where I hid the key and now they were hiding petrol from me, I thought. I drank in the sight of Samantha's cleavage line to kerb my anger. They filled the machine up and tried to start it again. No luck. I squinted to watch the developments. Did they have it in neutral, or had they left it in gear? I wanted to shout advice to them, but preferred to keep my voyeurism quiet. They shook it from side to side, but still no luck. They conferred again, pushing levers, adjusting knobs, pulling out the choke, and shaking it again. Then the two of them decided to push it through the gate, both hop on and roll down the field, perhaps in the hope of jump-starting it into life. I could've told them there was enough fuel in there, if they shook it hard, to get them down the field, but now they had filled even more fuel on top of that meagre reserve, they should've had nothing to worry about.
And so they rode together, my cousin behind Samantha, her arms wrapped around Samantha's soft belly, which was exposed slightly beneath her white vest. They went through the big gate down the hill and out of sight. I heard the quad rumble into life, not sounding the best, but going all the same. My fun was over again for a while. I was still hard as a rock, rubbing my foreskin back and forth over the large pink head, lubricated by ample precum as always. Pleasuring myself was the antidote to boredom and depression. Drugs were hard to come by in these parts, so my prong had to do. I closed my eyes and imagined sliding my cock up and down Samantha's Alpine breast-line, as she squeezed her creamy white breasts together and dared me to come in her face. I quickened my pace and shook myself towards orgasm with verve, finally collapsing back on my bed, quivering and spraying myself with the fruits of masturbation. As I lay back, panting, my ears zoned in on the droning of the quad, sometimes louder, sometimes quieter. I closed my eyes again, waiting for the noise to stop, and imagined the motions of her breasts, bouncing all over the bumpy fields, independent of each other as the quad ran over uneven ground. My cock, as if affected by her proximity, would not go down. Its head gently drummed a beat on my belly button, cum slowly spilling out of the foreskin like white lava rolling down a volcano. I pushed my cock into my bellybutton hard, so it made a vacuum and a slopping, popping sound when I pulled it out again. I imagined putting my cock into my belly button like I put the fuel bowser back in the holder at the petrol station; a place to keep it when I didn't need it. A handle as well.
And then the droning stopped. I opened my eyes and went to the window to see what was happening. Eventually I spotted the blue dot of the quad up the other side of the hill, almost half a mile away. I decided to come to the rescue. If only my cousin wasn't there, I mused. So I hitched my jeans up, tucked my still-erect cock safely behind my belt, pulled a fresh baggy black t-shirt over it, and started the long walk across the fields. Five minutes later, I met my cousin coming the other way. She explained that the quad had died on them and nothing would get it started, even though it was full of fuel. "Where did you get the fuel from?" I enquired. "From the big tank in the garage - where else?" she replied. I looked over into the distance to where Samantha and the quad were. Samantha still had the empty fuel can with her. I looked back at my cousin and said, "You realise what you have done?" She gave me a blank look. "My dad is going to kill me," I told her slowly. "That quad is worth thousands, and you've just filled it up with diesel and ran it to its death." I wasn't really angry, just going through the motions while thinking of a plan to be alone with Samantha. Kate looked away at the quad. "He told us a hundred times not to use that filler. The quad runs on PETROL, not diesel," I continued. She looked angry. "How do I know the difference?! I thought we couldn't use it because it was meant to be for the tractor. . and he hardly uses the tractor! How was I to know it was different to petrol? God..." And with that she stormed off up the hill towards the farmhouse. "Where're you going?" I shouted after her. "Going to look for some PETROL," she replied petulantly. "There's none around," I said, smarmily. But she was out of earshot, marching up the hill to fume and search for petrol. I turned back to look over the field to where Samantha was stranded. She was sitting side-saddle on the quad watching me, arms folded. My cock began to throb again, and started to work itself back up to its full size. I had to adjust myself so that it could point straight upwards, tucked behind my belt again, rather than letting it try to push my tight jeans out horizontally, which was painful and, well, looked obscene.
"Kate's decided to go and find a can of petrol from somewhere," I said, as I finally arrived from across the field. "You realise you both filled it with diesel, not petrol?" Samantha didn't look me in the eye, and continued to sit there playing with her mobile phone, biting her lip, arms folded, squeezing her breasts in with her forearms. She was tapping her boot to a silent beat. I imagined that it was the beat of my cock, bouncing up and down on my stomach, hidden under my jeans. But her beat was too fast. Mine was a gently knocking, the insidiously slow drumming of life, residing in my pants.
I tried another tack. "We'd better get the diesel out before she comes back. IF she comes back. My dad's going to go mental when he finds out. And I'm sure I'll get blamed somewhere along the line." She didn't reply but hopped off the quad and stood alongside it. I could smell her, a scent that was half sweet girl sweat and half something else. Back then I had no idea what it was. I still remember it as if it were today. As it wafted over me, it lured me in. I wanted to simply take her in my arms and eat her. I hated the etiquette of life, the shyness and the barriers which were stopping me from doing what I wanted to. I wanted her to jump on me too. I wanted to suck all the energy from the ground around me and drive it into her, and take it back again, to take us to heights never before travelled in sex. I wanted the orgasm. Instead, I had to work out how to fix the quad.
I realised the only way to drain the tank was to turn the quad over and pour it out, like emptying a wheelbarrow. But the thing was so heavy. I would need Samantha's help. And that got me thinking to some possibilities.
"We're going to need to tip this thing over," I told her, "and hang it almost upside-down. I'll hold it from behind if you just bend down under it and collect the fuel in the empty can again. We can't tip diesel on the grass," I lied. Perhaps it was true, because a horse eating diesel grass will not be a happy horse. And there were four horses at various parts of the farm, perhaps all anxious for diesel grass. Regardless, having her under the quad collecting the diesel was right where I wanted her. She did not question my proposal and simply carried out my instructions. My mind was buzzing with excitement. I was going to enjoy this. I lifted and tipped the heavy quad towards her, straining to hold it from falling over totally, while she carefully held the can at the mouth of the quad's fuel tank. Her cleavage was heaving in front of me. She was concentrating solely on the task ahead of her and did not look up to my eyes once. She must have seen my staring. My eyes could not leave the sight of her large, creamy breasts hanging to the point of escape in her skimpy vest top. I wanted one of them to fall out. I wanted one to cheekily escape. My erect penis was straining against my jeans, splayed out to the side again, the head prodding the contents of my left pocket. My breathing was heavy, concerned, agitated; I didn't care about the quad, I just wanted to see her free herself. I leant the quad further away from myself to get all the diesel out, and she had to bend slightly lower too, so her breasts were even more on the brink of spilling. She dutifully took half a step forward while bent over, being careful not to miss the fuel as it came out. I could feel the dampness in my pants. My penis hurt from constraint. It was begging to spring free, to pierce her sex, to sweep her throat, to fire its load into the atmosphere. I was fueled to burst. Suddenly, the quad tipped away from me, my attention elsewhere, and Samantha dived out of the way at the last moment, being partially struck by the blunt rear section of the quad, and sent sprawling to the ground. I rushed over to her, apologising, to check if she was ok. She moaned and held her shoulder. She was on her knees, bending over with her head down, touching the ground, as if in prayer.
It was then that I noticed that one of her breasts had indeed fallen out of her top. If she knew, she didn't care. Her nipple was everything and more than what I had imagined. It was swollen and adorned with a large areola. The nipple itself was wide and puffy, painted by sex itself. Exposing it had not dispelled its magic at all. Fact was greater than fiction again. I was transfixed by its beauty. The whole breast was a work of art, hanging out from her white vest, thick and sturdy, waiting to be squeezed and sucked. I was torn between checking to make sure she really was ok, while on other hand trying to watch every single second that her chest was partially exposed to the naked eye.
She stopped moaning and rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes. Her breast was still out. I stood over her, not knowing what to do. My virgin cock was bulging across the front of my jeans, as obscene as you can get while still clothed. She seemed okay, but was taking some moments to thank some god or other for not being seriously hurt. I continued to look, guiltily, at her chest. She opened an eye and stared at me. I stared back at her. Slowly, she moved her hand down to her riding pants and began to delve inside. My mind began to wobble and my vision swayed. My breathing was heavier and louder. This was really happening. Again, fact was conquering fiction. She undid the top of her pants and pulled them down slightly, exposing her hips and then her vagina. A tuft of blonde hair rode up towards her belly button. She began to rub over her sex, moaning quietly, while starting up at me. I didn't know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do, but didn't know the etiquette. I had never shown anyone my cock. Her eyes moved down my body and stopped at my crotch, then her eyes moved to the left, following my cock's travels to the side of the jeans. With this, she closed her eyes and rubbed herself even more emphatically. I was in sensory overload. It was now or never.
So I undid my belt and let it out. I had travelled off the map in terms of my life experience to that date. I was doing things I had never done. I unfurled my cock and let it point to the heavens, under her watchful eye. As I exposed myself, she stop rubbing and got up to have a better look. She gasped a little and then looked up at me, before looking back down at it again. I massaged it and rubbed my foreskin back and forth, then sped up my action, bringing me perilously close to orgasm. She crawled towards me on her knees, taking my cock from me and taking a mouthful of my balls. From there she licked all the way up the shaft, devouring all the cum along the way, before reaching the head. I felt her teeth around it as she began to swallow me. I flinched. She continued, but slowly. I experienced the feeling, for the first time, of hot wet lips and tongue on cock. As her mouth ate up more and more of me, I could still feel her teeth grazing along. She got about half way before stopping and gagging. Then she took it out and licked it instead. I was ready to put it inside her, and positioned her thus. This must have been instinct taking over. I gently guided her to the righted quad and bent her over the back of it, pulling her pants right down to expose her beautiful heart-shaped bottom. Her pink flaps were on full display behind her, in ripe bloom. Before I knew it, I had clamped my face into it, licking and sucking the scent like a bee devouring pollen. She moaned stifled cries as I drank like a parched bedouin. After a few minutes of this, she reached her hand round and guided me to my feet, holding my cock with her warm hand, guiding me to enter her from behind. This was the moment I had been waiting for; the moment I had experienced in my mind a thousand times, but had never actually carried out. I looked at my target and then down at my weapon. Then I gazed up the field to see if my cousin was returning. All was clear. I was in heaven.
I rolled back my tight foreskin once again, unleashing my big red head and leaned one hand on her left cheek while guiding my cock into her gates with my right. I felt an initial squeeze, so pulled back and then in again. I repeated this a few times until I was further in, and then I leaned all my weight and entered her fully. She let out a loud yelp and I could see her hands were grabbing the quad fiercely. And so I began to pump her, holding my breath in nervous anticipation, going all the way out almost, then pushing to the very inside of her; long, slow strokes, stopping me from blowing to soon, and making the most of my length and girth. Samantha was panting loudly, speaking dirty to me, begging me to go harder and faster, as if she was in her own erotic trance and eager to reach higher heights. I willingly obliged, holding her hips for grip, occasionally sliding my hands up her hourglass waist, then back down to her womanly peach bum. Eager to embrace her breasts, I leant right over her, hammering her as hard as I could, panting and moaning, becoming perilously close to orgasm. My hands were cupping her incredible bosom, squashing them to her chest so that not even my out-splayed hands could cover all of them. They were large yet firm, with spring in them stopping me from squashing them flat. They were healthy, like the rest of her. A young woman in full bloom. Ripe summer fruit ready to eat.
I had been able to go for much longer than I though was possible. I was working up a powerful feeling, as if I would at any moment unleash a tsunami of semen into her. And by now she was screaming my name, shouting ?yes' and ?no'. Over and over again, she did this and she seemed to be peaking with orgasms yet able to continue. I carried on proudly, powering into her with my cock, breathing and feeling every moment of this heavenly experience, knowing that at any moment I was going to blow my contents right into her. And then I did. With my final few strokes I went in as far as possible, until I could feel my head nudging something, and stabbed a few times and exploded. At the same time, this final trick made her grab me roughly on my cheeks and pinch me while she moaned one final love cry. And then I collapsed on her back, still inside her, both of us draped over the quad, trying to get our breath back.
A phone rang. Both of us ignored it. We were exhausted and, besides, we were too comfortable as we were. Then I heard what sounded like a text message. Samantha leaned up and I withdrew from her. She turned, looked down at my still erect cock and gave me a sly smile and then reached down to pick up her mobile phone. She scanned the message.
"Kate's gone to town to get more petrol," she said, in a teasing tone. "Mrs Roberts is giving her a lift. She'll be about half an hour, apparently..."
We looked at each and smiled. Then we looked over at the small lake, glimmering in the sun 50 yards away. I looked down at my cock, still bouncing away in front of me.
We both started to undress completely, as fast as we possibly could, both of us tripping over pants around ankles. "Race you!" she laughed.
And I did.
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