"Dad, I think I'll call Carol and see if she would like to go for a ride if you don't have plans for me," I said as I pushed back from the breakfast table. "Charlie needs to be ridden and this looks as though it will be a great day for it." Dad looked up vacantly from the Sunday paper and nodded agreement with my proposal. He looked toward mom and said, "I sure don't have anything planned, do you Meg?"
Mom's name is Margaret and she has been called Meg since long before either my sister Sue or I was born. She is tall but not nearly as tall as either dad or me and weighs nearly one hundred fifteen pounds and wears her light brown hair cut moderately long, just off the shoulder. Mom has not let ranch life wear on her and has a life that extends to friends in town. She likes to work out at a fitness center and swims a lot whenever she can find time.
Sue, at eighteen is almost a mirror image of her mother, enough so that sometimes when they travel the sixty miles to shop in the nearest large city, they find themselves being hit upon by guys a good twelve or fifteen years younger than mom.
Both mom and dad are in their mid-forties and both were raised on ranches, dad, right here on the place that has been in the family for four generations. My Great Great Grandfather Ira carved the ranch holding from wilderness and through hard work and denial of worldly pleasures built the place to a spread that covers a couple of sections. Most of the land is in pasture, although there is enough bottom grassland to provide all of the hay we need. A lot of the range land is in timber and provides adequate graze for our cattle and horses. One side of the property backs up against National Forest timberland that, with our grazing permit provides all the summer range we need. Grandfather Ira and Grandmother named their first born son Ira. Dad is the the fourth in the family to be named Ira.
Carol Peterson and her family have the ranch that adjoins ours to the South. They, too, have a couple of sections, also backed against the National Forest and the two ranches border on an old road/trail that at one time traversed the range land and made its way through the mountains to the valley and old mining ghost town to the west. The road now stops at the entrances to the ranches but traces are still visible where wagons once hauled supplies and processed ore to and from active mines.
Carol lives with her parents, Marge and Tom as well as with her brother Pete. Pete is my age, nineteen but a couple of months younger and was born almost thirteen months before Sue entered upon the scene. Being the only young people in the area, the four uf us grew up together and palled around together from the time we were able to toddle down the drive so we could get together and play. Each of was put up on a horse as soon as possible and we have since spent countless hours in the saddle.
Naturally, growing up on ranches as we did, seeing the livestock copulate or, at least trying to breed, was an almost everyday event an sex was no mystery to any of us. We all well understood the mechanics of procreation. Also, being on horseback frequently meant there were countless times when it was necessary to answer the call of nature. Our saddlebags always had a small roll of tp stashed inside ready for the inevitable need to clean ourselves. Of course, riding open range meant that modesty had to give way to necessity as generally our horses were the only cover we had. It was easy for Pete and me to duck out of sight behind a horse to piss, but a girl has to squat to pee and horses have notoriously long legs. Seeing pee gush from the girls' pussies was as commonplace as seeing the mares lift their tails to relieve themselves.
Likewise, riding with mom and dad or with Marge and Tom, for that matter, was no different. Age and maturity have nothing to do with answering the call of nature. The older folks did try to turn their backs when they had to pee, though. Early on, both mom and Marge tried to instill a sense of modesty in us kids, but their efforts were largely unsuccessful and watching each other pee was as commonplace as watching each other swat at pesky flies. Which is not to say that, once our hormons began to flow rampantly, our thoughts didn't turn to naughty fantasies. It is just that Pete and I were not aware that our dreams were shared by our sisters!
Whenever it is convenient and if it is what we want to do, the four of us ride, fish and hunt together. Being ranch kids, both girls were taught to handle hunting rifles and fishing gear right along with Pete and me. Pete is far and away the best shot, but the girls are both more proficient than am I. None of the other three can hold a candle to me when it comes to handling a fly line though. Both Tom and dad made it very clear from the get-go that each of us would be responsible for taking care of whatever game we managed to bag and both girls handle dressing-out game chores with as much aplomb as when they brush their teeth.
I went to the phone and dialed the Peterson number and talked to Carol who happened to be closest to their phone when it rang. "Hi Carol," I said as soon as I heard the sound of her voice, "What's happening?" "Same ole, same ole," was the expected reply and I said, "Well then, to break the monotony, why not come along and we can ride somewhere? Maybe up to Hidden Pond and see if they're biting, how's that sound?" "Sounds like a plan," replied Carol, "When?" I was thinking of a reply when Sue caught my eye and said, "Hey Jack, will it be a bother if I come along? Maybe Pete too if he doesn't have any other plans."
I nodded and said, "Hey Carol, Sue just suggested that she and Pete come along. What's he doing today, anything?" Carol said, "Dunno, I'll ask him." She must have put her hand over the mouthpiece, but at that, I distinctly heard her yell, "Hey Pete, Jack, Sue and I are going fishing. Wanta come along?" I didn't hear his reply, but in a moment Carol came back on and said, "Jack, looks as though there will be the four of us. It's far enough up there that we will need to take lunches and stuff. I'll make up some sandwiches for Pete and me, we'll saddle up and meet you at the gate, OK?" I smiled and nodded at Sue while Carol talked, saying, "OK Carol, see ya soon," and broke the connection.
Sue was already making sandwiches when I turned away so I went and located our fishing gear and a cooler box for our lunches and drinks. Then I went to the gun cabinet and got our saddle guns, a couple of Winchester 30-30 carbines, and a box of ammo.
Just before sundown on Saturday, anticipating we might do something with the horses, I brought Charlie and Bess, our rides, into the barn and put them in their stalls so they would be ready to be saddled without having to go out after them in the morning not that finding them would be a problem. They try not to get to far away from the source of carrots or lumps of sugar.
Sue and I walked to the barn, saddled up and walked the horses back down to the back porch where we stowed our gear in saddle bags and scabbards. Once ready, we swung aboard and walked the horses out to the gate where we found Carol and Pete waiting.
All four of the horses were young and eager so we lined them out and let them run for a couple of blocks. After running, they settled down and were willing to walk as we headed toward the trail that would ultimately lead to Hidden Pond and beyond if we wanted to go any further.
The ride was uneventful for the first hour, then Carol, in the lead, reigned in and stopped. Her explanation for stopping was a terse, "Too much coffee." She giggled and said, "No fair looking you guys." Yeah right, every one of us have watched the others pee for longer than any of us can remember. Together, we all stepped from our saddles, tied the reigns loosely to shrubs and relieved ourselves. Both girls nonchalantly loosened their belts, unzipped, tugged their jeans and panties down and squatted to pee. Pete and I unzipped, reached in to drag our dicks into the open and followed the lead set by the girls.
Even after all the times we had shared piss calls, the temptation was too great and I watched intently as orange tinted urine gushed forth from my sister's and our neighbor's pussies. It wasn't the pee that attracted my gaze, it was the pussy it flowed from that I liked to see. I know the same is true for Sue. She told me one time that piss doesn't do much for her. She just likes to see cocks.
We finished and restored our clothing, got back into our saddles and, once again, walked the horses toward the small lake. We were riding through open timber and were able to ride four abreast for awhile. Suddenly, suddenly Sue said, "You know, we have been taking piss breaks together all our lives. Hell, we even strip and swim together if we feel like it. Do any of you guys ever get the urge to touch each other?" Carol, Pete and I just rode along and looked at one another. I guess we were startled because Sue brought up the subject, not because we were shocked at the notion that any one of ever entertained fantasies about one another.
Our silence dragged on until Sue said, "What, no one has ever thought about touching or are you ashamed to admit it?" I spoke up and said, "Honey, I don't know that this is something we should be talking about." Sue came right back with, "Well, I don't see why the hell not. Anybody that is willing to watch me pee aught to be able to tell me if they want to touch me. Am I right or am I right?" Carol laughed and said, "Sue, of course you are right. Any one of us admits a secret desire or fantasy or whatever to touch, the next thing we will be acting out our fantasies." Sue said, "So. That's bad?"
