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 the 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.
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.
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.
