Hunter Lee Home at Last

Texas summers are sweltering hot. Even at the crack of dawn, the sweat drips down your back and soaks through clothes, plastering the fabric to your arms and sides. Texas in July is wet and hot and the sun, high in the sky laughs and continues the merciless assault until late in September. Sitting outside the DFW airport I feel the beads of perspiration clotting my chest hair, slicking the fur of my arms down as if I'd just got out of the shower. My Sunday shirt is rumpled and dingy around the collar, my lightest cotton slacks are oppressive, and my cotton boxers beneath are damp and stuck to my thighs. I hang my head, letting the sweat drip from my hair.

After a long, stuffy plane ride wedged between two enormous women, all I wanted was a cool shower and to spread out on a hotel bed, bare ass naked. After nearly a half a day with gigantic pendulous cow udders pressed on my shoulders smelling like parmesan cheese, I was grateful for the ten feet of space between me and everyone else on the taxi platform. The only solace I would get for this trip would be alone in my hotel room. No harping wife, no noisy kids, just me and my view of the freeway.

My great-uncle had passed away after a long illness. In his fondness for me, and for his lack of heirs, he left me his property south of Tyler. I suppose I would have to sell it after the funeral and go back west. I briefly entertained the idea of staying home, working at the plant with my father and uncles, have fresh okra fried for me every night by my sisters. I got a good job in California, though, and a wife who had no mind to give up her California girl ways, and a whole mess of step kids who had no mind to uproot their lives again.

Finally my sister arrives, and her honeysuckle perfume throws me for a loop. Candace, of her snub freckled nose and mousey blonde red curls.

"Hunter Lee, Greet your sister with a proper kiss!" She squeals with joy and embraces me, her little pink mouth planting sloppy lip glossed kisses on both of my cheeks.

Her sweet little sundress dips low down her freckled chest as she opens the trunk for my luggage. Her voice is sing-songy like a chirping bird. Her tight fitting skin, perky small breasts and smooth golden tanned legs are wonderful. Simply wonderful. In my exhaustion I felt the rustlings of arousal and shook the thought away. It was only my bratty youngest sister.

The car ride is long and without peril, crawling along the web of metroplex freeways. My sister taps her fingers and quietly hums along with the radio, leaving me in blessed silence. The city turns into suburbs of perfect green lawns and miniature stone castles of the more affluent neighborhoods around the lakes. On the edge of the county line, almost as if by magic, the houses disappear and we are alone in the world. Only the sprawling wild oaks and mile markers to tell us where we are.

I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep, but Candy shook my shoulder gently.

"Lee, we were thinking since Jesse and I had so much room in that big ole house you could stay with us instead of at the Super 8. I guarantee you the suppers would be better." She smiled her little girl smile, all teeth. "We have a few cousins in for the funeral too, but they're staying with Mama and Auntie Jo out on the farm. Asides, 'twould be nice to visit with my big city brother for a spell. It gets lonesome just the two of us up there."

Yeah, why not, I said. I made her promise me okra. Jesse and the ranch dogs met us at the gate. My brother-in-law was easily 6'4" and thin as a rail, not much of a looker, but with that cowboy charm my sister was so in love with. They had just been married, and had this huge empty house outside the city with horses and a river that sometimes had good catfish. Jesse had a soft baritone voice and an almost overly polite way of speaking.

Supper was pleasant, light, and brief. My sister deep fried my okra to golden perfection, hot juicy seeds bursting in my mouth that no bag of frozen okra could ever compare to in California. Greens and pork loins, all with my sister's masterful but simple culinary touch. She made big mooning cow eyes at Jesse across the table all night.

My sister's guest room was simply and tastefully appointed with my own private little bath and a lovely view of the front drive. The first thing I did was sit under the cool shower for the better part of half an hour. Then, as I had fantasized about since the wee hours of this morning, I lay, spread eagle and arms apart on top of the covers in nothing but what I was born with. The ceiling fan kissed the fuzz of my chest and the damp intimate areas and I thought about nothing.

Family portraits adorned the walls of the guest room. A classic shot of just us children, lined up tallest to smallest had a place of honor on the night table. There I was, all gawky arms and legs and my boyish face just starting to square out. My brown hair tousled, light brown eyes looked too large for my head. Sitting in front of me was Maggie, the eldest of us, with her dark hair and serious, no nonsense expression. After Maggie and myself came Nora, with her flirty curls and sensuous little red mouth. Then Candace, still a little girl in these pictures, with her all-teeth smile and snowy complexion.

Nora and I were so close in age and appearance we were mistaken for twins. Same brown, curly hair, same hazel-ish eyes framed with thick dark lashes. Same high cheeckbones and same little mouth. In our small little community there weren't many other children, so Nora was not just my sister, but my best friend. I loved her best and made no secret of it. The summer she turned eighteen we were reading some romantic book to each other, and confessed, with much shame and humiliation the desires to experience that for ourselves. For weeks we walked through the woods together and never mentioned it again.

One day at the lake it was just ourselves, too hot for even the insects, and Nora took off her dress in front of me. She stood in front of me in just her white cotton panties, and I was so surprised I had no idea what to do. I froze up, all of me stiff to throbbing a little scared and a lot unsure. Nora undressed me and lay me back at the foot of a wide spreading oak. I remember how sweet her mouth tasted against mine. I remember the friction of her panties against my raging erection and the warmth of her ass as she lowered her hot wet pussy onto my cock so slow it ached for desire.

I remember her wince with tears in her eyes as she forced me through her purity. I remember brushing the tears away with my fingertips and holding her to my chest. After a moment, she began to move on top of me. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before my legs began to tremble and I pulled her up off my throbbing member, letting my seed shoot all over my belly. I remember Nora's amazement watching my face as I came. A curious little finger ran through the sticky mess and went to her lips, for a taste. She made a face and laughed.

A few weeks later I packed for college and went away to California. I never told anyone about that day by the lake, and Nora never did either. Nora and I don't talk about it. It may have just been a dream. An inappropriate, incestuous but at the same time innocent and romantic experiment. At least I lost my virginity to someone I cared deeply about, not the tarts I ended up with in college. Co-eds are too used. Too commonplace and casual. For the rest of my life, I think, I'll be trying to find another Nora to undress me beneath the trees and explore me.

The thoughts of Nora stiffened my cock, and I tried to ignore it. Too tired to move. Too tired to even service myself. I may have been dreaming, but I thought I heard Nora's moaning and heavy breathing. Then I realized I heard Jesse's deep voice as well. My sister's bedroom was directly below the guest room, and a vent next to the bed brought the noises up to me. Candy and Jesse were having the kind of love-making that was more routine and everyday than even the most boring sex at my house. Poor Jesse chose the wrong sister. Whereas Nora was exciting and sensuous, Candy sounded like a real dud in the bedroom.

I hear a mumble of conversation. Then a loud thump, my sister gasps. "No, Jesse, please... please not my ass!" I can't help but chuckle. There is a loud succession of thuds as Jesse rams his load home into my sister's bony little ass. Stroking myself off is easy, even hysterical, with the image of my prim southern lady little sister getting fucked in her ass. The noise settles down and I do as well, wrapped in just the sheets I fall asleep thinking about the little trail from my mother's kitchen down the hill about a mile to that lake and that special day with Nora.

~*~

The funeral was the quiet, informal kind with paper fans and sun-bonnets, I wore a clean white shirt and a black cotton suit I'd bought in the airport just for the funeral. Even in his coffin he was a stately gentleman of refined tastes despite his country life. His good wool suit was crisp and fine, just like it always was, with his dress shoes places neatly in the foot of the coffin. He'd insisted that he would die an old man still in his work boots. And although he'd passed in his sleep at the retirement home, he could at least be buried in his boots.

The new young pastor couldn't have been twenty, but he was passionate and spoke beautifully of my Uncle's unwavering dedication to family and God. My mother cried. My sisters cried. I cried a little. It was really lovely, even though it was a hundred degrees and we all were miserable, we retreated to my mother's dining room where we ate apricot pie with local dairy ice cream and frosty, sweating glasses of iced tea. Nora smiled sweetly at everyone and bounced her little son on her knee, positively gloating in a silent way. She had money and a rich, handsome husband back east and a happy, fat little baby boy, which she had to rub in her childless sisters' faces.

The Nora I was in love with was now a worldly woman of the world, with a coach diaper bag and diamonds so big they blind you in the sunlight. Those girlish hips had widened and filled out, the upright, taut little breasts drooped with weight, and the curious, dreamy expression was gone. All her cotton was satin and silk now. No longer would she ride on the handlebars of my bicycle. My Nora was gone, and now I can only think of her as my sister, Mrs. Wade Montgomery.

The wake had other amusements though. I had cousins aplenty who came from far and wide for the passing of such a relative as dear as our Uncle. There was a whole mess of tow-head blondes with bright blue eyes, cousins from Mississippi. Lola Belle and her sisters, Cammy Anne and Marie, had spent summers with us before, when we were all still children. I had messed around with Lola's older sisters, playing doctor in the woods, I'd left for college long before little Lola was old enough for those kind of games. But, she had filled out from a gangly girl with wispy white-blonde hair and gawky fish eyes to a lovely young woman, statuesque, like a model.

Lola Belle sat down next to me, eating peach pie with whipped cream. She had not an ounce of refinement. She shoveled giant spoonfuls of peaches and melted ice cream into her mouth and talked with her mouth full. She wore worn out cowboy boots under a gray Sunday dress of immodest length and too tight, to boot. It was probably very demure and proper three years ago, before she grew 6 inches in a summer. At 19, Delores, as she liked to be called now, was a young woman, and not the little girl of ten years before.

She liked my beard. She kept reaching over to scratch at my face, as if I were a puppy and not a grown man. I'd forgotten to shave in all the hurry and fuss for the funeral, I had a few days growth on my cheeks and chin. My hair was damp in the humid afternoon and slicked back away from my face. She toyed with my collar that had fallen limp with sweat from being outside at the graveside. She absent mindedly kicked my legs under the table with her feet. If I were not a sensible man, if I were not a married man, if I were not at a funeral and sitting next to a third cousin, I would think the girl sitting next to me were flirting with me.

The sun set and the ladies retired to the kitchen, washing dishes and gossiping. The children ran wild in the yard, chasing lightening bugs and each other. We men folk retired to the barn to smoke cigars and have a look at the twin colts Dad's best mare just gave birth to.

I'd lagged behind the group to look at the stars. I'd never really looked up at the stars in the two nights I'd been at home. You forget in the city smog and lights just how beautiful the night sky is. Lost in my reverie I was brought back down to earth by steely strong fingers pulling me back into the darkness of the barn. High, firm breasts smashed against my chest and I found my mouth caught in full, pillowy lips and little steely fingered hands tugging on my belt. I ached with desire, but I pushed the hot little body away from mine. Gripped with anxiety I fished out my lighter to see the face of my molester. I prayed it wasn't Nora. Or any other past romance I may not have noticed at the funeral. But it was Lola!

She moans into my mouth, forcing her tongue down my throat with ravaging need, then with the light fluttering kisses some little lesbian must have taught her. She yanks my pants down with force. I wince for pain where my sweating damp boxers had stuck to my ass. Her hungry little mouth seeks my half hard cock and sucks with such force it hurts. I yelp, like a puppy, in my helplessness and tell her to be a little gentle. She laughs at me and feathers her fingers up and down my shaft with one hand, kneading her mound through her panties at the same time.

"Cammy Anne told me all about you, Lee, and I've wanted you for forever. I wanted you inside me since the last summer we were here."

With that shocking statement, she surprises me again by taking my sweating, profusely haired balls in her mouth and flutters her tongue along the sensitive skin underneath. It made my legs weak and trembling, and she supported me by gripping my ass with both hands. Even as tall and strong as Lola was, I lost my balance and fell into a pile of horse blankets. She laughed and shimmied her panties down, revealing a clean shaven and perfectly pink little pair of lips.

As if she read my thoughts she straddled my face and bent her long lean body down across mine, in a 69. Her pussy was salty and sweet and dripping. I sucked ferociously, I tried to stay my aggression and take it slow, but I found myself unable. I clenched her little ass in both fists and forced that hot little slit into my mouth, kissing and sucking from back to front in an urgent and desperate rhythm. I felt the pearl of her clit getting hard and throb against the lashing of my tongue. I sucked one lip, then the other, and teased her puckering asshole with a moist fingertip.

She responded to my need with long, deep strokes of her tongue and lips. My cock grown so hard and thick it strained the corners of her mouth as she forced it's length as far into her mouth as it would go and pulling away right before she gagged herself on my engorged member. She toyed her fingers in the soft, short curls of my leg hair and pubic hair, occasionally reaching under me and massaging my ass. I could have died just then, a very happy man. I could have came at any minute if only she would stop changing the rhythm of her strokes.

Just when I think her pussy is going to soak my face with her sweet come, when I feel the trembling of her clit... she pulls away and I moan an unintelligible protest as she rises off me. She was only turning around, and she rubs the head of my cock against her sopping wet slit, up and down, before ramming the length of me deep into her and impaling herself on my hardness. She was reverse cowgirl, then, and I felt the flutter of her fingers on her clit, occasionally brushing against my balls. My hands found her perfect little ass and gripped it firmly, my fingernails left bright red crescents in her milk white flesh.

She rode me without mercy. Just when I thought I was about to come, she would hold perfectly still and fondle my balls, or scratch her long nails behind her, down my chest. Worse still when she roll her hips so seductively, so slowly that I thought the agony of the barely-there friction would drive me insane. My erection ached for release and I felt Lola's pussy tremble with what must have been a powerful orgasm as she brutally ground down on my pubic bone, the pulsing of her pussy so intense, like a blood pressure cuff, it almost hurt. Her breath was shallow and hurried panting as she looked back at me with wonderment. She started to get a dreamy eyed look, and I can only imagine what nonsense she was thinking.

I could take no more. I gripped her hips and stood up, and threw her down, ass up, onto the pile of blankets we'd made our carnal delights upon. My balls dripped with her pussy juice, and I knelt down and drove my cock into her, hard, relentless, without mercy or tenderness. I poured all the anger and lust and every filthy thought I'd ever had and every fantasy I'd ever dreamed of into a fit of violent spasms that started at my toes and hands and worked its way inward for an orgasm so powerful I may have yelled. I may have passed out. I saw stars. I was dizzy and the dark barn whirled around me.

Everyone else had gone home, it seems. There was a quiet in that barn unrivaled by any quiet before. My heaving breath began to steady, and with unsteady eyes I saw a kerosene lamp swinging in the barn door. I heard hard breathing of another body. We were being watched.

To be continued...