By Egmont2022
Brad Cambridge (29) regularly takes a Friday off work out of respect and appreciation whenever his parents are to arrive for a long weekend break every 3-months from their large cattle ranch 'way out and beyond' of Sydney.
Parents and son have engaged in that routine ever since he completed boarding school, so far never returning to the farm, knowing that his older brother was in line to take over family dirt. He began is high-powered dream job as a computer engineer eighteen months ago.
Brad's mum would dump two fruit cakes on him, despite being constantly told her youngest child didn't eat cake or deserts fancy tucker. He would also be told to keep his rented room tidier and to comb his hair and routinely check his zip.
"For heaven's sake, mum," Brad would moan, "Stop treating me as a child, although I do, um, appreciate you guys driving more than 150 miles just to see me. Oh, and for me to escort you shopping mum, and to later sink a few pints at bars with you dad."
One recent change occurred when, out of nowhere, his mother dry-sobbed, "Where are my grandchildren?"
His father, a perpetual troublemaker within the family, sniggered, "You favourite Brad is never with a female long enough for her to conceive as there are always two or three other babes pushing impatiently to fill his arms."
Brad regarded them a being great parents and he loved them and his off-handed manner of showing his love was reciprocated. He knew no girls he'd ever banged would get pregnant just to thrill his mum because they all insisted on condoms before being mounted.
Fortunately, seemingly insolvable problems like that can take an unexpected turn.
Parents Dave and Debbie had scarcely breasted the city-flanking Blue Mountains in wrapping up their latest visit, when a knock drew Brad to the door.
His other three reprobates, err flat-mates, were not yet home.
"Hello, yes," he said in the voice of expecting to be dealing with a bill collector.
His eyes blinked heavily in shock.
Though she'd yet to utter a word, he knew it was HER!
The girl, err young woman about his age, replicated the female image he'd been visualising ever since he'd started to masturbate.
This is uncanny, he mused.
She had the long blonde hair and extended eyebrows that would go down a treat with his mum, along with the look of a great cake-maker, and the jaunty breasts that would flood his dad's mind with wish-list entries.
Brad then saw her aura, plus her solid athletic figure that told him she could keep up with him in the pool, running long distance or in bed, err providing the beauty actually went beyond encouraging ejaculation by ripping off her clothes to take him on, groin to groin.
"I'm sorry," he gasped, pulling out of that wild imaginative spree.
"Whatever for?"
"For debasing..."
Brad caught himself, aware what no confession was required.
"Be-basing what?"
"Nothing"
She looked at him curiously and said, "Have you been outside on this hot day without a hat?"
"Yes," he lied.
"Oh, you poor darling. I'll spare you by going to another neighbour to ask for this cup to be filled with self-raising floor. I'm in the middle of baking."
"You look lovely."
"What?"
He said bravely, "Most females around here are fat and yearn for good looks."
"Surely you don't mean to say that so ruthlessly?"
"Of course not," he oozed. "I'm near to flat-lining with sunstroke, err possibly. Come in."
"Ooh, I can't do that. I don't know you."
"And I don't know you, so we are even."
She paused reflectively and said she couldn't fault that logic and swept in ahead of him.
"Nice legs," he said approvingly.
"I should think so, and thanks. That's my first personal comment of approval or appreciation in five days. Good for you. In fact, full marks as I'd taken you for an indifferent lout, mistakenly I hope."
"Yes, I and my three mates are simply harmless reprobates, according to older neighbours."
Then she said something with profound foresight.
"Actually, I find you refreshingly different because you appear to understand how to talk to a female."
"I do?"
"Err, possibly. I'm the one that has been out in the sun for quite a bit without a hat."
"Naughty girl. I am Brad Cambridge," he said, turning and reaching for the flour.
"Hi, Brad. You possess an athletic body. I'm Cassandra Bolt and even my parents call me Cass."
They eyed one another a little nervously.
"I find you delightfully pleasant, Cass. Here, take your flour and go and return at 7.00 for drinks and cold chicken salad. Only a fool would cook in this heat wave."
"So, I'm now a fool?"
"It's your call but I'd say, you are super-adaptive. Come and share dinner with we four attentive citizens this evening. They'll be told to respect you as you display an aura."
"Omigod, like my father you can see my aura?"
On the edge of panicking at being nailed about the surprising aura, Brad steadied himself. "Bye for now, Cass," he said, pushing her gently towards the door.
"You've touched me without my consent."
"Now, now Cass. You cannot tell me that that such trivia bothers you. Off you go, with my best thoughts."
* * *
Cass called her mother.
"Mum, I have been invited to dinner tomorrow night by a guy a few doors along from me who flats with three other males who'll be there. What should I do? Aunt Eve and Uncle Tom are away for two more days and so I am seeking your guidance."
Michelle was just glad to be consulted by the daughter she missed hugely.
"I advise you to use your instinct. That's why you have it and you are a young adult who has voluntarily dropped from the family nest, aged twenty-five. A question: Do you like him, instinctively?"
