that is that by mid-day I am relaxing on the front porch, reading a book or taking a stroll around the watering hole on the far end of our property.
In the evening, the summer haze hovers over the fields like a translucent amber blanket waiting to put the crops to bed, tucking them in sweetly before the chill of the night descends over all. The locusts buzz in the distance and the mosquitoes gather around the porch lights as we play cards and sip lemonade. It’s muggy, but a comfortable kind of humid, like natures hug on your sun-kissed skin. One such evening as the sun was setting over the wheat fields just before dinner, a pickup truck came barreling down the gravel drive.
“It’s Carly,” my kid sister screamed, jumping up and running down the steps to the drive.
“Carly’s here,” my father repeated, nodding to my mother to go in a set the table for one more.
I picked up the cards and placed them back in their case, looking out to see who was driving Carly. My father nodded to me to mind my own business and assist my mother. He was a stern man; genuine and hard-working. Knowing my place, I grabbed the half-empty glasses of lemonade and followed my mom indoors to help.
“Better make it for two,” I told my mom.
“Two? Who else is joining us?” she asked, frantically lifting two plates from the cabinet and wiping them off with a cloth. Her excitement was overwhelming. We hadn’t seen Carly in months. She had signed on as a youth counselor for a summer camp with her college roommate in June. We had all hoped she would make it to the ranch before the season was over, but weren’t sure the date of her return.
“Looks like Carly brought a boy home.” I replied, a bit more unenthusiastically than I imagined it sounding.
Carly was my older sister; the tall, brunette, athletic one. Since going away to college, I hadn’t seen much of her, nor heard much from here either. We had been so close growing up, sharing the same room and friends. She was only a year older than me, but she looked like as woman already. She matured faster than me, and although I just celebrated my eighteenth birthday last May, I still look every bit fifteen and and in high school. I’ll probably use that to my advantage when we’re old ladies, but right it now, it’s just plain annoying.
“Oh boy,” my mother joyously exclaimed, “a boy!”
I watched as she tousled her hair and pressed her apron with her hands, smoothing the wrinkles from her waist down. My mom was funny. Although I was quite sure she and my dad still had romantic evenings together, I think she longed for the attention of a man. The thought of a youthful gentleman in the house gave her the opportunity to feel sexy, yet still mature enough to be Mrs. Jennings. It was cute.
“Kendall,” my mom ushered, “take these and set the table.” She handed me the two plates and quickly left to make herself presentable.
As I filled the glasses and set the silverware, I could hear the engine of the truck cease and the doors slam. My kid sister squealed and I heard my father introduce himself to a young man. Carly’s voice echoed in the distance and I could imagine there was a lot of hugging going on between the four of them.
“Kendall!” my dad called. “Come out here and greet your sister!”
I left the table and slowly walked to the front door, peering through the screen to see the commotion. Carly stood with her arms around our little sister and my father stood with his arm over the shoulder of a brawny young man while they inspected under the hood of the truck.
“That’s a nice engine,” my father said. “How much horsepower does this thing get?” Leave it to men to discuss their toys. The door creaked as I opened it and I walked out onto the porch, waving to Carly.
“Kendall!” she called out, trotting up the drive to reach me. “Come, I want you to meet my boyfriend!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down the steps. With me in tow, Carly ran up to the truck and tapped her boyfriend on the shoulder. “Andrew,” she started, “this is my sister, Kendall.”
Andrew turned slowly as the setting sun caught his cheeks and eyes just under the brim of his cowboy hat. Its rays shimmered across his green eyes, highlighting the amber flecks sprinkled within his irises. His skin was tan, dusted with a strawberry blonde five o’clock shadow. His square jaw gave his youthful face a mature quality that contradicted the cute dimple in his right cheek as he smiled and held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Kendall,” he said with a deep voice as he tipped his hat to me.
“You, too,” I swooned. His looks startled me a bit. I was taken back by his handsome demeanor and charm.
I pulled my hand away coyly, trying not to stare at the way his shirt clung to what I could only image was the body of Adonis. His tee stretched across his chest, revealing the definition of his muscles, and neatly tucked away below his belt buckle. My eyes continued south, below his belt to see a slight bulge hiding behind the zipper of his fitted jeans. The muscles in his thighs pressed tightly against the denim. He was all man.
“Where’s Mom?” Carly interrupted, oblivious to my instant attraction.
“Inside,” my father replied. “Let us join her.” He took Andrew by the shoulders and led him up the walk with me and my sister’s in tow.
“So,” Carly whispered, excited to have brought her first boy home to meet the family, “what do you think? Cute, huh?”
“Sure,” I agreed, trying not to let on that a warm tingle was crawling through my panties at the very site of the snug fit of Andrew’s jeans hugging his ass as he walked ahead of us.
Inside, Mom was introduced and dinner commenced. We all sat around the table, exchanging stories about the summer, the crops, the horses and camp as we passed the food around and delighted in the joys of having the family together. I was sitting across from Carly and Andrew. Once during prayer and once while Carly was talking to our mother, I caught Andrew staring at me. A few more stolen glances and his dimple began to show again. I was beginning to feel warm inside.
“So Andrew,” my father asked, “where are you from?”
“A little town down south, Sir,” he replied. “It’s called Westfield. My family is from there. My grandma still lives in the house she grew up in.”
“So how did you and Carly meet?” my father continued.
“Howard,” my mother interjected, “that’s for me to ask.” She smiled like a teenager herself, twirling her hair between her fingertips and looked at Andrew. “Andrew,” she mimicked my dad, “how did you meet Carly?”
“Well, Ma’am,” he tipped his hat again, forgetting it was polite to take it off at the dinner table, “we were both camp counselors at Tipton this summer. And as you know,” he nodded to Carly on his right, “your daughter has a lovely smile. When I first saw her, I thought to myself, now there’s a smile I would love to see every day.”
The whole table cooed over his adorable story. Not only was he easy on the eyes-very easy on the eyes-but he was also a gentleman. Although, I swore I saw him wink at me when Carly looked away.
When dinner was over, Carly and Andrew took a walk under the stars while I helped Mom clear the table and wash the dishes. Dad put our kid sister to bed and took his usual place in the living room nestled into his old leather recliner. It was no secret he would read the paper until he was fast asleep and his glasses fell onto the floor. My mom would simply pick them up, set them on the coffee table and place a blanket over my father before turning in herself. I, on the other hand, would sneak across the lawn in the dark and slip into my room in the bunkhouse where I enjoyed the privacy of sleeping in a separate house on our property.
As I climbed up the latter to the loft where I slept, I looked out the window. I watched as Carly walked Andrew to his room; a small sleeping quarters near the stable. They lingered for a few moments, exchanges laughs and kisses under the light of the moon. I could tell she was happy. Although a bit envious, I was happy for her. She seemed to have met the perfect guy.
Perfect, I thought to myself, in so many ways. My hand slowly slinked down my stomach, finding the waistband of my jeans as I watched them through the window. My virgin femininity tingled with curiosity, calling my fingers and wishing they were his. I slipped them inside my jeans, carefully gliding them inside my panties toward my warm yearning. I had never touched myself before in this way, but the sensation within me that Andrew inspired had me feverishly longing to be touched; by him, by anyone, by my own fingers if necessary. As my fingertips tenderly caressed my skin, discovering my damp slit, I unzipped my jeans and peeled them down my thighs.
The humid air combined with my escalating body heat created tiny drops of perspiration on my body. I could feel the dirt from the fields sticking to my damp skin and my jeans sticking to my legs, hugging my knees and calves. My panties clung to my hips as they crept into my crevice and soaked with anticipation. My fingers separated the cotton from my tender mounds and slipped into places I had never explored before. I was wet, soft and swollen to the touch.
Carly finished her goodbye and walked back to the house. Andrew leaned against the stable, the moon
