My First

Hi all! This is the first story I've posted on Literotica. First story posted anywhere, for that matter. I'd love to hear what you think, good, bad, or indifferent. I hope you enjoy it!

*****

I know I'm not much of a storyteller. Never was much good at jokes either. What's a joke except a really short story after all? Well, a funny one anyway. I don't like talking about folk behind their back but I guess this all happened so long ago I reckon there's no one left to care. Well, except me I guess since I played a part.

I was a kid, just 18 years old. Working as a hand on a little ranch just outside of town. Well, now it's got houses all over. Swallowed up by developers and malls and churches and schools and everything else that goes into being a city. But back then it was a ranch. There was one high school and I had just graduated. That makes it sound like more than it was. I wasn't much of a student and I guess it wasn't much of a school. I just walked out on the last day and nobody stopped me. I was done with them, they were done with me.

I didn't much care for sitting around and heard that Bill Carson was looking for help at his ranch. I showed up, showed him I could handle a bale of hay and knew which end of a horse was which so he took me on. Paid me $100 a week, cash, and said I could sleep in the bunkhouse attached to the barn. I would've worked for free just to get away from my parent's house. Not that my parents were bad or anything, but I was 18 and living at home rubbed me the wrong way. I don't think my parents minded either, for that matter.

Now Bill owned the place, but he didn't work it much. I think he owned some businesses in town and his family seemed to have some money. But he grew up ranching and had some success as a rodeo cowboy, roping and cutting. He always had a few quarter horses in the barn and kept a small herd of cattle, mostly so he and his rodeo buddies had stock to work with. The other part of the ranch's business was boarding horses. Even then there were enough town folk who wanted to keep horses and Bill's place was close by. He'd built a horse barn, an arena, and had plenty of pasture with some acres in hay, too.

Bill had hired a woman, Carla, to run the place for him. She lived on the ranch in a smaller house with her family: husband and a couple of young kids. Her husband worked in the oil fields, good money in those days. He was a roughneck, I think, and would be away from home for weeks at a time. That's probably how things got started.

After Bill hired me he handed me off to Carla. She looked me over, figuring me for a townie, and asked me what I knew about ranching. Said I knew a bit since my uncle owned a farm in the area and I'd help him out some. Helped with baling, did some trail riding, the sort of things kids do on a farm. I remember the look she gave Bill before he got back into his truck. It was clear she didn't think much of me.

Can't say the feeling was mutual though. See, the thing about Carla was she might have been the best looking mom I'd ever seen in my young life. She wasn't a tall woman, shorter than me at least, and not exactly skinny either, in fact, she was a bit round. Thing is, she was round in all the right places. First thing I noticed she was wearing a tight-fitting red plaid western shirt with her sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons open. I know those buttons were open because she filled out that shirt so well the other buttons were straining to hold and she showed just enough well-tanned cleavage that I was fighting not to stare at her chest and losing the fight. What can I say? I was a kid and she was all woman and not shy about it. She had a kind of intensity about her, too. Knew how to give you a look or a few words to put you in your place. She did that to me right off.

"C'mon," she said with that knowing look, "when you're done gawking, I'll show you around." That was the first time she embarrassed me, or at least I embarrassed myself. Wouldn't be the last.

I followed her to the barn and couldn't help but stare at her backside all the way. See, as nice a picture as she was from the front, her backside was just as good, if not better. Couldn't help but notice how her round ass filled out those snug jeans, the roll of her hips as she walked, and her wavy dark blonde hair in a loose ponytail, swinging and bouncing with every step. It's not that she was showing off or anything, but that's just who she was. Any man would look twice. Me? Well, I couldn't look away.

First stop was the bunkhouse, attached to the side of the barn. There was a bedroom with two bunk beds, a little kitchen with a sink and a hot plate, and a bathroom with a shower. Seems the regular ranch hand had recently quit so I had the place to myself. Sounded good to me. I dropped my kit on one of the beds and followed her back out to the barn.

It was a typical horse barn: wide aisle down the center, box stalls on both sides, a feed room on one side, a tack room on the other. Everything was neat and clean as a whistle. A few of the stalls were occupied, the soft whinny and snorts of their occupants floating through the barn as we entered.

Carla stepped into the feed room. "This is where we prepare special meals for horses that need 'em. Eventually you'll be doing this on your own." I nodded, still trying hard to keep my eyes on her face.

"Hey" she smirked at me. "How about we move on?" I blushed and looked away as she headed across the aisle to the tack room. Two walls were covered by saddles, bridles, and other tack. The smell of leather and saddle soap filled the room. Nothing quite like it, then or now. I ran my hand over a well-worn and well-cared for saddle, the smooth cool leather soft against my skin. "That's one of Bill's", she noted, "one of your jobs will be to keep it clean. Ever worked with tack before?" I shook my head. "Not much of a talker, are you?" she laughed. "Don't worry, you'll learn."

She turned and headed back out the door into the aisle. Grabbing a pitchfork and a shovel she stepped into the first empty stall. I followed her in and she handed me the pitchfork, then leaned against the door frame with the shovel in front of her. "Let's see what you can do, kid." I couldn't help glancing at her tits once again as I took the pitchfork from her. She just gave me that smile again, adding "with the pitchfork."

I'm sure she figured I was completely clueless, but I'd mucked out a stall or two on my uncle's farm so got down to it. Separated the dry straw from the wet, threw the wet stuff into the aisle and swept the floor of the stall. I'd seen a straw bale on a wheelbarrow at the far end of the barn, so I ducked past her and brought the wheelbarrow to the doorway. I pulled enough straw off the bale to replace the wet stuff and spread it around. She chuckled. "Looks like you're not entirely new to this after all, kid."

I shrugged and fought a losing battle to keep my eyes up. "I've been around horses some" was all I managed to say.

She told me to finish all the empty stalls, dump the manure onto the pile out behind the barn, then come on back to her house when I was done and we'd have some lunch. The rest of my first morning went quickly. I finished the stalls, swept out the barn, then we had lunch on her back porch. Sandwiches and lemonade I think it was. Her kids were shy at first but didn't take 'em long to start in on me, asking me to push 'em in the swing and play catch. I saw Carla watching us from the porch, sipping on her lemonade with a little smile, an Ellington tune drifting out the window. She was always a different person around her kids. Seemed to lose some edges and soften a bit. After a few minutes she stood and called out, said we'd best get back to it.

After lunch she looked over my work in the barn and I guess I did ok since she had no complaints. She pointed out the horse runs behind the barn and the pastures beyond. Said some of the fences needed mending. There were tools and fence boards in the shed with the tractor. Said I should take the truck and work my way around, get to know the property, and fix any fences that needed fixing. Then come on back for dinner. I guess that was another test, seeing if I could fix a fence, so that's how I spent the rest of that first day. Driving along the fence lines, looking for worn and broken boards. I replaced boards in real bad shape, even replaced a couple of rotted-out posts.

By the time dinner rolled around I was worn out, sweaty and covered in dirt; not really used to this much physical labor. I ducked into the bunkhouse and then into the shower. The hot water felt good after all that digging and hammering and hauling. I just set it to hot and let it burn the ache from my muscles. After a good soak and a scrub I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on a clean pair of jeans. I heard a knock at the door and Carla stepped in just as I was putting my shirt on. I kind of jumped and wrapped my shirt around my bare chest, feeling my face heat up.

She had that smirk again. "You just about ready for dinner?" she asked. "You can bring your laundry down to the house with you, I'll get it back to you tomorrow."

Flustered again, I managed to get out "yeah, I'm, umm, I'm ready." She probably thought I was an idiot, barely able to string two words together, but that's the kind of effect she had on me.

I had dinner that night with Carla and her family. Her husband Dave was there, he had a part-time job in town that kept him busy when he wasn't working on the rigs. He was a short, powerful kind of guy. Friendly enough, but kind of intense. A bit intimidating. Being pretty shy I didn't say much, Carla and Dave both started in on teasing me for being so quiet. But they were nice, and the kids seemed to like having a new face around.

That was pretty much how things went for the next few weeks. I'd get up at six, tend to the horses and clean the barn. The fence work was pretty much ongoing, but there was always something else needed doing, too. I learned to mix feed for the horses that were on oats or barley or mash. Cleaned and oiled saddles and bridles. Water troughs had to be filled, hay and straw had to be stacked. Things needed painting. Wasn't a whole lot to do with the cattle most of the time, except to keep Bill's little working herd fed and watered. The rest were out on summer range and didn't need much. Mostly boarders dealt with their own horses, but sometimes I'd help younger riders with saddling up or cleaning hooves. Mostly I did that when the rider was 16 and cute. What can I say?

Now, I learned a few things about Carla during that time. One was that she had high standards and expected a lot from folks. My dad had drilled that old saying into me "a job worth doing..." and I liked doing things well. Plus I could tell when Carla was pleased with my work. She didn't often come right out and say it, but she'd just kind of nod and smile. I guess I was a bit of a puppy dog around her, hoping to earn that smile of hers.

The other thing about Carla was she had an edge to her. She was all business and respectful around the owners, but she didn't take kindly to those that weren't on top of their game when it came to their horses. If they were sloppy with their horses or left a mess in the barn, she was all over them. Owners, rich kids, didn't matter, she'd be right up in their face about it. If they made a habit of it they wound up on her shit list and that was pretty much the end for them. If she didn't like you she made your life hell. I saw more than one boarder leave on her account. Now she wouldn't just tell 'em to go, she couldn't do that, but rumors and stories would start, and folks would talk behind their backs, and before you knew it, they found greener pastures elsewhere. I'm not sayin' that this put Carla in the best light or anything, but that's just who she was.

Well, I'd been there a few months, it was probably into September when things began to change. Carla's husband had gone back to the oil fields and had been gone a good month by then. I wouldn't say that Carla and I were close, but I'd eat with the family most days, and sometimes I'd watch her kids if she went into town. So I didn't think much of it when she asked if I could watch her kids one evening when she went out with some friends. It's not like I had much else to do, and I enjoyed time with her kids, so I said sure. I recall I fed the kids and put 'em to bed around 9, then sat up watching TV for a while.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch cause next thing I know I'm hearing Ellington, Sophisticated Lady, I think, and Carla is standing by the couch with a funny smile on her face. And she's wearing a bathrobe. Ok, I figure, she got home and got changed before waking me. That was nice of her. At least that's what I was telling myself. At the same time I noticed that her robe was pretty short, only came halfway down her thighs, her pale smooth thighs, that seemed to glow in the dim lamplight.

I wanted to say something, but for some reason my mouth wouldn't work. The best I could do was gulp a few times like a fish out of water. I struggled to sit up but Carla leaned over me, put her hand on my chest and pushed me back down. "Shhh," she whispered. "Lay still."

As she leaned over me her robe parted enough that I got a full view of her magnificent full round breasts. Couldn't miss 'em. They were practically hanging in my face. I'm pretty sure I blushed but I'm also pretty sure I didn't look away. How could I? They were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Pale and smooth, moving slowly back and forth as she pushed on my chest. Her dark pink nipples like fat little thimbles, standing proud, just inches from my face.

Now I hadn't seen many breasts before. I mean, Suzy had let me feel her boobs back in junior year, but I hadn't actually seen them, just rooted around under her shirt and bra like an oaf. Sure, I'd seen my share in the girlie magazines that my dad kept hidden in the box under his bed, but these weren't like that at all. These were real. They weren't near as perfect as those tits from the magazines, they were better. They were right there. Swaying and moving. The tits I'd been trying not to look at since the start of summer now held my eyes in some kind of spell.

I remember thinking that she'd close her robe and yank away from me as soon as she realized what she'd done. But instead, she lowered herself to the couch, sitting beside me, facing me, with her hand still on my chest. "Shhhh" she whispered again, "just relax and breath". I didn't realize until then that I was holding my breath. I sucked in a breath then froze again as she slid her hand under my t-shirt and began exploring my chest. She leaned forward over me, holding me with her eyes and bringing her lips close to mine. "Breathe" she murmured. Her words drifted off her lips and into my foggy brain. She pressed her lips gently to mine and brushed them with her tongue. Her lips so soft and warm, with a hint of strawberries. "Relax" she whispered again, her warm breath caressing me. My heart threatened to jump out of my chest but her eyes never left mine as she continued to kiss me and explore my lips with her tongue until I was able to breathe again.

After what seemed like an eternity she must have been satisfied that I wasn't going to faint. She sat back up and looked down at the bulge forming in my jeans. With a smile she reached down and pressed her palm firmly against my hardening cock, rubbing it through my pants. "Mmmmm" she purred, "that feels nice."

I began to feel panic setting in. What was she doing? What was I doing? What if Dave found out? He could kill me. What if her kids came in? She must have read my expression. She reached out and took my hand in hers, and placed it gently on her breast. "Do you like that?" she asked shyly. "The kids are asleep and Dave is gone for another 3 weeks. We're all alone." Part of my brain was screaming to stop, but that part was drowned out by the feel of her breast in my hand. She held me there and squeezed, kneading her flesh with my hand. I got the idea and began to explore, stroking her soft pillows and brushing her nipples. As my hand moved over her skin she arched her back and pressed her chest forward, into my hand. "Ohhh, that feels good" she practically growled.

Her eyes were closed as she offered her tits to me, her lips alternately puckering and parting as I explored her body, experiencing the feel of a woman's breasts in my hands for the first time. Then it was my turn to gasp again as she reached back and grabbed my cock, stroking it through my jeans, a moan escaping her lips as she held me.

She turned back to me and opened her eyes. Locking onto me with a hungry gaze. She shifted on the couch and spread her legs a bit wider. Then holding me with her eyes she took my hand from her tits and moved it slowly and firmly between her legs, pressing my fingers against her pussy. She didn't say a word, just held me with her stare and rocked her hips against my fingers. I felt the warmth of her pussy and then the wetness inside her as my fingers brushed between her lips. She spread her legs wider, inviting me deeper. I pressed forward with my fingers, tracing her thick moist outer lips, then delving deeper into her wetness, exploring her slit and then pushing a finger into her tunnel. She grasped my hand and pulled it towards herself while pressing forward with her hips. "Put two fingers inside me," she said as she pressed her pussy against my hand, while her hungry eyes remained locked on me. With my two fingers inside her, she ground against my hand. With the other hand she began to pinch and pull her nipples. All thoughts of doubt were gone from my mind. In fact, thoughts of any kind were gone, except the sight of this beautiful creature before me, fucking herself with my fingers and moaning with every thrust of her hips.

Without thinking I reached up with my other hand and took her nipple between my fingers as she had been doing and began to pinch and stretch it. With my touch she gasped, then shuddered and I felt a warm gush of fluid spill over my hand. She bent forward, holding my hand tightly against her pussy, gasping for air, then finally took a deep breath. "Fuck" she groaned as she relaxed and let out her breath. She released my hand and straightened up, a big smile slowly spreading across her face. "That was nice," she sighed.

I lay back and grinned. "Yeah," I agreed, "nice".

"Was that your first time to third base?" she asked with a grin. I nodded. Suddenly her smile took on a decidedly wicked look. "Hmmm, so you're a virgin?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows.

I blushed. Didn't quite know what to say. Carla just grinned and lay down on my chest, her tits pressing firmly against me and began tracing my lips with her fingertip. "I guess you are," she purred, "and I know just what to do about that." I gulped and must have looked like a deer in her headlights. "Just leave everything to me," she said, getting off the couch and onto her knees. She unbuckled my belt and released the button on my jeans. Then she grasped my zipper and slowly pulled it down, her tongue pressed against her top lip in anticipation as she worked. With my zipper down she grasped my pants at the belt. "Lift," she said. I raised my hips off the couch and she pulled my pants off my hips, then worked them down my legs and off. My cock was straining against the fabric of my shorts.

Carla wasted no time, reaching up and pulling the elastic down, allowing my cock to spring free. She wasn't looking at my eyes anymore. She just stared at my cock, her tongue pressed against her top lip again. As she reached out and wrapped her fingers around my shaft I moaned and she broke out into a big grin. Then she leaned in and brushed her tongue across the tip, then began circling my head with her tongue and pressing the tip of her tongue into my opening. I'd never felt anything like this before. My chest was tight, I couldn't breathe, my body seemed to be moving on its own. She looked up at me, grinning, but never stopping moving her tongue. Finally she wrapped her lips around the head, swirling her tongue around me, almost pulling off then taking just my head back into her lips. Her eyes never left mine. She was obviously enjoying the power she held over me at that moment. Every motion, every lick, every swirl of her tongue went straight through my brain. I was gasping and twisting like I was her horny little puppet. And I was. She stopped as my moaning started getting louder. "Not yet" she growled, "not yet". I just lay there watching her and panting. My brain unable to form coherent thoughts.