ARCHIVED STORY

I was one of three children, born into a Mennonite family on a farm near a little town nobody ever heard of in southcentral Manitoba. I suppose my early childhood was typical for children of my faith in that time and place. For instance, I keenly remember how hard I tried to be the kind of little girl God wanted me to be, and also how important I felt as I wore a grownup apron, helping Mama try the lard after Papa and our hired man butchered a pig. I especially remember how crunchy and tasty the cracklings were. At another time, I remember licking the pink foam that rose above the edge of the pot when Mama was making crab apple and choke cherry jam.

I have other memories, too. I'll never forget one hot afternoon in late summer when Rachel and I were playing on the back veranda dressing our dolls. Sam, my twin brother, came running up the steps, his eyes wide with excitement. "Come and see, Willy -- he called me that just to tease me -- Ben's at it again!"

Ben was our old bull. I didn't see why, but Sam seemed to enjoy watching Ben mount our cows, especially when he could get me to watch with him.

"Can I come too?" Sometimes Rachel acted just like a little baby.

Sam looked at her contemptuously. "You're too little," he said. "You wouldn't understand." Then he seized my hand and literally dragged me off the porch. "Hurry up, or we'll miss the best part!"

His excitement was infectious. I found myself lifting my heavy skirts so I could keep pace with him as he darted around the corner and sprinted for the barn. We knew better than to go straight to the corral because Papa and the hired man would be there, helping Ben.

Once before, he had caught Sam watching, and had made it very clear to Sam with his leather belt on Sam's bare bottom that watching Ben perform his duty was not something young boys should watch.

The hay loft in the barn was shaped like a square funnel, descending to ground level at the back of the barn. Ordinarily, it was full of sweet smelling hay. A little door, just big enough for a pitchfork load of hay, opened into the side of the funnel. That's how hay was delivered to the horses and cows (and Ben) during the winter.

Now, in late summer, the hay loft was empty.

Sam opened the hay door. "Hurry up," he whispered. Modesty forgotten, I wiggled my way through the door, falling into a soft carpet of leftover hay. Sam followed me. Earlier, he had pried loose a board that formed part of the barn's back wall. Now, he simply slid the board slightly to one side, and we had a perfect view at ground level of the tableau in the corral. Since the back wall of the barn served as part of the corral, we didn't even have to peer through the corral poles.

Papa was holding Ben's lead rope while Fred, our hired man, soothed Susie. She was standing with her legs slightly spread as if she were bracing for his weight. She held her tail oddly crooked to one side, giving us a clear view of her rear end which seemed to be drooling a thick liquid. Fred tied her halter to the top rail of the corral, and then went to help Papa.

Ben was beginning to snort and bow his neck. The ring in his nose was all that kept him under control as the men led him to Susie. Ben snorted some more. Sam excitedly punched my arm. "See it coming out?"

I wouldn't admit it to Sam, but I was beginning to feel almost faint as I watched Ben's bright red member slowly descent from his belly toward the ground. It must have been three feet long, and was bigger around than my arm! I heard Papa warn Fred, "Don't let it fall into the dirt!" but Ben was already rising behind Susie. Fred lifted the bull's member and slid its pointed tip into Susie's rear end.

Ben rested his front quarters on Susie's back and began a series of quick thrusts. Susie began to bellow as she attempted to back against Ben. I was really feeling light headed by this time, and strangely uncomfortable in my lower stomach. I sneaked a peek out of the corner of my eye at Sam. He was rubbing a funny looking lump in the front of his pants. Suddenly, I wanted to do that for him, so I reached over and put my hand on his.

He was startled, but just for a moment. He decided to negotiate. "If I let you touch mine, will you let me touch yours?" The idea of any hand but mine touching my secret place made me almost nauseous at first, but to be honest, I also found the idea tremendously exciting. The excitement won. "OK," I said, "but you first."

He had been busy unbuttoning his fly, and said, "It's right in here. You'll have to fish for it."

By this time, Ben was forgotten. I was on my hands and knees reaching into the front of his pants. My fingers curled around his hard little thing. I was surprised by how stiff and yet how soft it was. I pulled it up through his underwear and out the front of his pants.

I had seen Sam's penis countless times, but never in this swollen condition. I even remember wondering as a very young girl who was still being bathed with her brother why he had something I didn't. But this was very different from the soft little worm inconspicuously hanging below his belly. I was also surprised that I found myself tingling almost as if I were caught in a mild electrical current as I examined his penis and experimentally slid its loose skin covering back to expose an end as bright and red as Ben's had been.

"Now it's my turn," Sam said. "Lift your skirt and take your underpants off."

I really didn't want to, but I'd given my word. "OK," I said, "but I'm going to leave my underwear on. You can peek around the edges."

With that, I lifted my skirt to my waist and laid back, closing my eyes. I felt a draft in my crotch as he lifted one leg. I felt him gently slide a finger into my crease. "Where does your pee come out?" Still not looking, I reached down with both hands and spread myself open. "Right there," I said, pointing to my urethra.

"Where's your place like Susie's?"

I knew what he meant, but until that minute, I hadn't even thought about it. "I'm not sure," I said hesitantly. "Ouch!" Sam had begun jabbing his finger into me. "Cut that out, or I'll tell Mama," I threatened.

"You got to play with mine," he whined. "It's only fair."

"You had your turn. Now it's over."

Thus my sex education began.

As I recall, Sam and I were only 11 years old at the time. Over the next two years, we continued to watch Ben perform his annual duty with our five dairy cows, and each time, I experienced the same curious fluttering in the bottom of my stomach as I did the first time we crawled into the hay loft. Also, it became something of a ritual that each time, we examined each other's privates. I remember when he proudly showed me his first hair.

Then Sam put on a growth spurt, and suddenly towered over me by several inches. I think it was just before our thirteenth birthdays when he very nearly got stuck in the hay door. I had to grab his feet and pull as hard as I could, just to get him free.

On any farm, even one as devout as ours, sexual activity is almost constant. For example, ever since I was a little girl, I had seen roosters hopping on squatting hens, but I hadn't paid much attention. I just assumed they were being mean like Sam was sometimes mean to me. But now I realized he was screwing the hens. My curiosity was aroused, and although I couldn't actually see how he was doing it, I began to experience that funny ache in my lower belly whenever I saw it.

Same thing with Tilly when she started drooling from her rear end and the neighborhood dogs began to appear. Papa usually locked her in the tool shed, but twice, I saw a neighbor's dog climb on her back just like Ben climbed on the cows.

This wasn't anything like what the roosters did to the hens. The dogs kept poking their red things at Tilly's rear until they found the spot and then they moved their rears back and forth so fast their backs almost seemed to blur. Within scarcely more than an eye blink, the two dogs would be standing quietly, still somehow tied together.

The first time it happened, I didn't get to see the whole thing because Mama happened to look out the kitchen window and saw what I was watching. "Willa! You come in here right now, young lady! You mustn't watch things like that!" I couldn't understand why, but Mama always knew best.

Things were happening to my body, too, that I didn't fully understand despite the whispered information I received from other girls at church. Some of them were even developing small breasts. I spent hours in the privacy of my room examining my chest, looking for the telltale bumps that would announce my impending womanhood. I also searched my groin every morning, hoping against hope that a hair would have magically appeared.

People always seem surprised when I tell them that Manitoba can get real hot in the summer. I guess they think of the north country as part of the Arctic with snow covering the land for eleven months of the year. August of 1954 was the hottest summer on record with daytime temperatures climbing well into the 90s for three straight weeks. It was at times like that I was glad my grandfather had had the foresight to stake his homestead on the bank of the Whitemud river.

It wasn't much of a river where we lived, and I don't know why they called it the Whitemud -- the mud where we lived looked pretty much like mud anywhere -- but it flowed under a canopy of shading cottonwood trees, and its banks were the coolest place for miles around. We kids spent a lot of time in that cool shady nook, especially after chores in the late afternoon during the hottest part of the day.

Once when Sam and Rachel and I were standing on the bank skipping rocks into the still water of a shallow pond on our side of the river. "I'm going wading," Sam suddenly announced.

None of us wore shoes, of course, so he merely sat down and began rolling up his pant legs. Rachel immediately asked her big brother, "Can I go too?"

"You can't roll your dress up," Sam said.

"I can, too!" Rachel replied. She immediately lifted the hem of her skirt and tucked it in the waistband of her underdrawers, exposing her skinny little girl legs. I suddenly remembered that I was her age when Sam and I had first watched Ben and then explored each other's privates. It seemed like such a long time ago!

Meanwhile, Sam discovered he was unable to roll his pants much beyond his knees. "Don't look," he said. "I got to take my pants off."

Asking us not to look, of course, was an open invitation. Rachel and I watched his feed sack clad bottom emerge as he dropped his pants and stepped out of them.

I now realize, of course, that this bit of daring exhibitionism was sexually arousing for my adolescent brother. What else could explain the obvious erection that was tenting the front of his undershorts?

Rachel was openly staring at the protruding cloth. She pointed at it. "What's that, Sammo?"

Sam blushed. He looked helplessly in my direction. "You tell her, Willy. I'm going in the water." However, instead of wading, in his hurry, he clumsily tripped and fell headlong into the water. Rachel covered her mouth to stifle her giggles, and I wasn't any kinder because I couldn't help but laugh at his scowl and discomfiture as he stood, dripping wet, in water that barely covered his knees.

When he realized we were laughing at him, he lunged forward and as he did so, his heavy waterlogged underdrawers suddenly slipped off his hips and fell to his knees, tripping him. Again he splashed face down into the water!

This time, Rachel and I laughed so hard that I, at least, had tears in my eyes and failed to see him lunging at me. Catching me by surprise, he easily bowled me over, and the next thing I knew, his strong fingers were digging into my ribs. I was still laughing, but he had my arms pinned to my side and was hurting me. In self defense, I strained to get my fingernails into any part of him I could reach, and was suddenly shocked and strangely titillated when my claw-like hand closed around his soft penis and scrotum!

I immediately softened my grip but unaccountably could not seem to let him go. Instead, I felt his penis harden almost immediately in my hand. At the same time, he swiftly took his fingers from my ribs and seized me in an embrace tight enough to squeeze the air out of my lungs. Then he made a strange thrusting motion with his hips and I suddenly felt a hot, sticky fluid pool in the palm of my hand.

At first, I thought he had peed on me. But pee isn't sticky. While I was still trying to understand what had happened, Sam did another strange thing. He impulsively kissed me on my lips!

Because our bodies were tightly wedged against each other, Rachel hadn't noticed my hand and his privates, but she did see him kiss me! She screwed up her face in disgust, and said, "Yuuuck!"

I didn't know what to say. I knew as sure as sin, however, that Sam and I were both headed to the woodshed or worse if she blabbed what she had seen to Mama. Somehow, we had to gain her silence. That meant involving her so that she would also face punishment if she revealed what she had seen.

Sam was ahead of me. Still sprawled on top of me, he turned his head to look at Rachel who was staring wide eyed at his bare buttocks. She quickly averted her eyes. "When we were as old as you, we used to hide in the hayloft and watch Ben mount the cows," Sam said in a conversational tone. "Did you ever watch that?"

I was shocked that Sam would tell Rachel about that!

Rachel shook her head.

Sam continued, "Afterwards, Willy and I used to peek at each other."

I wanted to scream at him to shut up! I felt my whole face turn crimson with embarrassment. Why was he doing this to me? To us? I just knew I would have to run away before Rachel had a chance to tell Mama what Sam was telling her!

Sam was still talking to our little sister. "I'll bet you wonder what boys have that's different from what girls have. Am I right?"

Rachel's indecision was plain on her face. In the end, curiosity won. Rachel slowly nodded. Then I realized that unlike me, she had probably never seen a boy penis in her entire life because she had never been bathed with a twin brother.

"If I show you mine, will you promise not to tell?"

Again, indecision played across her face as she weighed the rich store of forbidden secrets she could use to get even with us, with her natural curiosity. "Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

Sam smiled as he set the hook. "Tell me you want to see my thing," he said firmly.

Again, Rachel hesitated. Again curiosity carried the day. "I want to see your thing," she whispered.

"Louder, so Willy can hear."

"I want to see your thing."

As Sam rolled off me (to my great relief -- now I could breathe again) Rachel covered her face with her hands. I wiped the sticky stuff on my hand on a tuft of grass and stared as hard as Rachel did because, instead of a soft dangling appendage, his penis was erect again, but this time was pointing toward the sky. I was shocked when I saw it.

Evidently, his growth spurt had not been confined to his height! It was at least twice as thick and long as I remembered, and it even rose from a thin bed of blonde hair. It wasn't fair. He had almost twice as much hair down there as I did!

It still didn't occur to me that I was the cause; that he had been sexually aroused by his naked contact with my body, even though three layers of clothing separated us. And, of course, my grabbing hand. But I did know that I was feeling strangely uncomfortable between my legs. I had a warm itch that needed attention, but of course I didn't dare touch myself in front of Sam or Rachel.

Besides, Mama had warned me that girls who touched themselves down there would surely go to Hell if they didn't go crazy first.

Rachel gradually overcame her shyness, and she began to study Sam's penis. "Is it always like that?" Sam smiled. "Only when I'm around pretty girls," he said boldly. As the import of what he had said sank in, he immediately blushed a deep scarlet.

I knew what he meant, but poor Rachel was confused. I remembered how I had felt under similar circumstances four years earlier in the hayloft. "Would you like to touch it? Sam asked.

Rachel instantly sat on her hands and shook her head. Her face was solemn and I suddenly realized she was frightened. I reached over and gathered her thin little body in my arms. I felt her heart pounding in her chest. "Put that thing away, Sam," I said. "Can't you see you're scaring Rachel?"

His penis withered almost immediately, and he sheepishly stood, and hopping on one leg at a time, got his feet into his pants legs. Despite her earlier fright, Rachel giggled at the ludicrous picture he presented as he pulled his pants up. That was a good sign. Then he spread his underdrawers on a rock to dry. "I'll get them later," he said.

We were a subdued bunch of kids as we sat at the supper table that night. Of course, children were never encouraged to talk while we were at the table; my father firmly believed that "silence is golden." But Mama was more alert to our moods than Papa.

Once, as Papa was asking for more bread, Mama quietly asked Rachel if she was coming down with something. My heart stopped as I waited for her reply. Later, Sam told me he had almost fainted. I dared breathe again when Rachel shook her head."I'm alright, Mama," that wonderful little girl said.

A month or so later, I was about 13-1/2, I woke one morning feeling wet and sticky, and finding, to my horror, that my sheets and nightdress were bloody. Thinking this was God's punishment for looking at Sam's penis, I hurried out of bed, wrapped myself in my robe, and went downstairs where Mama was still using splinters of wood in the firebox, coaxing heat from our old cast iron stove.

"Mama, look!" I said as I opened my robe. "There's something wrong with me!"

"I don't think so," she said calmly. "It just means that my little girl has become a woman."

A woman??!! "You mean there's nothing wrong with me?" Evidently, I had escaped God's wrath.

Instead of answering my question, Mama merely said, "First, let's get you cleaned up." She dipped some tepid water from the reservoir on the stove into a wash basin. Then she handed me a bar of soap and a washcloth. "Wash yourself down there," she said, "while I put your nightdress to soak."

I was reluctant to expose myself, even to my mama. Although I had longed for them when I was younger, my budding breasts had become an acute embarrassment and I tried my best to conceal them by wrapping them tightly before donning my underwear. I was also shy about displaying my thin veil of pubic hair. "Let me wash up out on the veranda, Mama. I'll put my nightdress to soak right after I'm finished."

She shrugged and turned away. I escaped from the kitchen and ran around the corner of the veranda, where I was out of sight from anyone in the house. Only then did I lift my dress and begin washing away the dried blood around my vulva and on the inside of my thighs.

As intent as I was on my task, a motion across the yard caught my eye. I looked up in time to see Fred, our hired man, emerge from the bunkhouse dressed only in his long woolen underwear. Without even looking around to make sure he was alone, he opened the front of his union suit, extracted his penis and began to pee.

I was fascinated. Forgetting that I was holding my nightdress open up to my waist, I watched his yellow stream arc into the air before puddling on the ground. Although he must have been at least forty feet away, I could clearly see that his penis was considerably longer than his hand was wide. He shook the last drop off (what a convenient arrangement men have), tucked it back into his underwear, turned and returned to the bunkhouse.

The itching I had experienced when I saw Sam's erect penis now returned. Fortunately, this time I was able to rub the itching place with the wet wash cloth under the guise of washing myself. But the harder I rubbed, the stronger the itch became. The itch suddenly erupted in my nipples. While one hand was energetically rubbing the itch between my legs, the other darted from nipple to nipple, squeezing, twisting and pulling those pink tips.

Without warning, a wave of glorious relief accompanied by a tingling sensation rippled through my body. I felt my muscles slowly relax and I opened my eyes to see Sam staring at me with a big grin on his face.

Almost sick with embarrassment, I immediately dropped the hem of my nightdress and began to turn away, but something about the way he was standing required another look. His legs were spread, but my attention was riveted on his right hand, which was moving so fast it was almost a blur. Then, just as I realized he was holding his penis, I was amazed to see a thick white substance spurt from the end of his purple penis and fall to the ground.

Neither of us said a word, but he continued grinning as he wiped his hand on the seat of his pants and calmly tucked his penis away. Turning, he headed toward the barn to help Fred with the morning milking. I threw the bloody water in the washbasin out into the yard and went into the house.

Mama was waiting for me. She held up a curiously folded cloth with an elastic waistband as I walked into the kitchen, now redolent of frying bacon.

"This is one of mine," she said. "I'll show you how to make your own after the men leave."

Still mystified by all that had happened to me that morning, I hurried up to my room where I quickly figured out where my legs went in mama's odd garment. It wasn't until then that I realized its purpose. Mama knew I would bleed again! Did she also bleed? Did all women bleed?

I quickly finished dressing, not forgetting to bind my breasts again, and hurried back downstairs. The men were already seated at the table, impatiently waiting. Mama sat at the foot of the table, a bit of lace covering her hair. She quietly passed a similar cover to me. "Put it on, child," she said. As I selfconsciously did so, I was aware of my father's appraising stare.

The covering was a mark of womanhood. I had suddenly become eligible for marriage. After grace was said, the men quickly demolished a stack of sourdough hot cakes and a plate full of crisp bacon. I scarcely touched my food. I was keenly and uncomfortably aware of both Fred and Sam. Fred paid me little heed, but every time Sam caught my eye, he'd smile and wink. I was sure everyone else at the table noticed his odd behavior, and I desperately willed him to stop it!

As for the terrible thing I had done that morning, all I could do was wait and see what God had in store for me. The men quickly left the house. Mama sent Rachel out to play on the veranda. Then she and I sat at the kitchen table. "I saw the faces Sam was making at the table," she began. "I think he was probably congratulating you, but goodness knows what Fred may have told him. In any case, you must not play with him any more. It isn't seemly."

Then she went on to explain that every 28 days I could expect the sort of bloody discharge I had experienced that morning. "I don't know what causes it, but it's perfectly normal. I think all women do it. I guess it's just part of God's Plan." Anything annoying or inexplicable was always part of God's Plan. Then she showed me how to fold my napkin and how to hold it in place. "You can expect your 'course' to last anywhere from three to five days."

That was the extent of my formal sex education. Like all farm kids, however, I already had a rough idea of the mechanics of sex, and I knew where baby animals came from. I assumed humans would not be much different. Also, thanks to Sam and more recently, Fred, I knew that there was a huge difference between boys like Sam and men like Fred. I shuddered as I tried to imagine how a penis as large as Fred's could possibly fit into my tiny hole.

Which started another, equally unpleasant, train of thought. I hadn't missed Papa's strange stare at breakfast, and I was pretty sure he was already planning my wedding. Girls like me had little say in choosing husbands. Our marriages were arranged much like and for the same reasons as those of European royalty. There was always either a political or economic advantage to be gained. Love had nothing to do with it.

My beloved brother saved the day. It was almost a week after my unintended (and his intended) exhibitions that we had an opportunity to speak privately. By that time, I had managed to rationalize away all but the last vestiges of embarrassment, and was beginning to hope that God hadn't noticed my transgression.

Mama had a small truck garden and raised enough vegetables to supply not only our table, but a small roadside stand. Our job was to cultivate the garden, harvest the produce as it reached the proper state of ripeness, and operate the stand. Evidently, she did not consider working together in the garden or jointly waiting on customers to fall under the heading of "play." She was mistaken.

Even after we resumed the close contact our modest commercial venture required, it was several days before either of us was sufficiently comfortable to mention what had happened that morning on the veranda. We were sitting on a pair of milk cans in the shade of our stand. I was arranging ears of corn while Sam watched me. He mentioned it first. He opened the topic with, "Do you ever think about what happened the other day on the veranda?"

My first impulse was to shut off that line of conversation before anything more happened. I had already suffered embarrassment like the ravages of Hell and I was in no mood to invite more of the same. Yet at the same time, I had replayed again and again in my mind the incredible picture of his penis straining as it began to spurt. Every time that thought crossed my mind, the itch, which by this time had become all too familiar, would begin to torment me.

I had prayed to God a thousand times during the last few days to relieve me of that itching torment, but His face was turned away from me. I had to take matters into my own hands. Hoping Sam wouldn't notice the blush I knew was inevitable, I turned away from him as I confessed, "Yes, sometimes."

"Me, too!" Sam said emphatically. "It really turned me on to see you do that!"

"I was just washing myself," I protested weakly.

Hoping to redirect the conversation into less embarrassing channels, I asked, "What does 'turned you on' mean?" I had a pretty good idea, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"Excited me, I guess," he said. "You know, like Ben gets excited."

Faintly, the itch was beginning again. "Remember what we used to do with each other while we were watching Ben?" he continued.

"Sure, but we were only kids. We didn't know what we were doing."

"Did you like it when I kissed you the other day?"

That kiss and the memory of his hard penis was all I had been thinking about. "Yes," I said. "I liked it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a sin." The itch was getting stronger.

He rested his hand on mine. An immediate spark ignited down there and my itch became almost unbearable. I quickly withdrew my hand. He grinned at me. "What's the matter, Willy? Scared of me?"

Too embarrassed to respond, I fled. I halfway expected to hear Sam running after me, and to be honest, when I reached the truck garden and glanced back, I was even a little disappointed to see him still sitting in the shade of our stand. It was as if he didn't even care!

Strangely disappointed, I picked a few more ears of corn as an excuse, and carried them back to the stand. He smiled knowingly as I resumed my seat on the milk can, and at that moment I hated him!

A couple of cars stopped, interrupting my confusion, but as soon as they left, Sam leaned over and asked, "Why was it a sin, Willy?"

Instantly, a picture of his penis spitting that white stuff, and the earlier memory of white stuff pooling in the palm of my hand flooded my mind. That awful itch instantly returned. It had taken a long time for me to catch on, but suddenly, I realized there must be a connection between certain memories and that annoying itch. I shifted uncomfortably. "Let's talk about something else."

"OK," he said cheerfully, "but first turn your head. I've got to take a pee."

Oh, God! A mental image of Fred's penis and arching golden spray flooded into my mind. Involuntarily, I turned and peeked. But it was his fault. Instead of tactfully standing to one side with his back turned toward me, I was horrified to see Sam holding his penis while staring straight into my eyes. I know now that I must have turned a dozen shades of red, but all I remember of that moment was hoping for an instant death!

Sam must have realized how genuinely distressed I was because he quickly finished his business and then, without even buttoning himself up, returned to the stand and silently wrapped his arms around me, comforting me as we had soothed one another since we were babies.

The love and warmth his embrace conveyed soon overcame my embarrassment, and it seemed only a logical extension for him to tilt my head up and for his lips to descend on mine. We were only children; nevertheless, that loving kiss ignited a spark in me that still burns when I think of my brother. I distinctly remember how my breasts, particularly my sensitive nipples, tingled, and how that tingling was echoed in my delta.

I didn't know what I was doing, but Sam later told me that I had pulled his head down and that our lips had caressed with increasing passion as I rubbed my body against his. He responded by massaging my flattened breasts, while I had a sudden, almost overpowering, need to watch his penis spurt again. I whispered, "Could you make it spit again?"

I thought I must have shocked him, because he abruptly stopped rubbing my chest. Now I realize he was merely reviewing the options I had suddenly laid before him. "Sure I can," he said, "if you'll let me see your chest."

My chest??!! He wanted to see those embarrassing lumps on my chest? My need to see his penis spit again was so great that I recklessly agreed. "But not here where someone might see me." Actually, a hidden little glow of pride greeted his demand, but I certainly wasn't going to admit it, not even to myself.

Meanwhile, he had opened his pants again and was engaging in peculiar contortions with his hips as he slowly extracted his manhood. This was not the same penis I had seen just minutes before. This one was much larger and resembled the stiff one he had shown to Rachel (and me) down by the river, months earlier.

At first, I merely understood why he had had such difficulty extricating it from the layers of clothing he wore. Remembering what he had said at the river, I blushed again, because I was evidently the cause of it. My mouth suddenly went dry as he slowly began pulling its skin covering back and forth. Each time, I was fascinated to see more of the red-turning-purple lump under the skin, and I remembered Papa's warning to Fred when Ben's thing was in danger of falling to the ground and I wondered if the same thing could happen to Sam.

"Please, Sam, could I touch it?"

Sam grinned at me and released his stiff penis. "I'd like that," he said.

I reached over and touched his rigid member with a tentative finger.

"Go ahead," Sam urged, "grab hold of it. It won't bite."

Emboldened, I wrapped my fingers around it, and was instantly amazed by the velvety texture of his skin, the heat of his member, and how rigid it was. At the same time, I was distracted by feelings in my own body; by an unfamiliar pulsing and sudden dampness in my underdrawers, and a sudden need to rub my tingling breasts.

Before I could pull my hand away, Sam made a couple of quick thrusting motions with his lower body, and I felt a cord at the bottom of his penis begin to pulse as streams of that white sticky stuff erupted into the air and spattered on the ground.

Sam looked gratefully in my direction. "That was great, Willy! It sure felt good!" Looking down, he milked the last few drops from his rapidly shrinking penis, then let it disappear behind the clothes he wore.

I was almost faint with need. Unconsciously, I had begun to rub myself through my clothes.

"Let me do that for you," he whispered as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Then he found the shallow indentation in my skirt that marked the parting of my thighs and dug into it with his strong fingers. I found myself trying to help by raising and separating my knees, but where his sex was wonderfully obvious, even I was uncertain if I even had a similar organ, but my itch would not be denied.

Casting caution to the winds, as they say, I pulled my skirts up into my lap and taking his hand, guided his fingers into my secret nest, now shielded only by my thin underdrawers, to the spot where my itch seemed most pronounced. He accidentally touched The Spot, and I felt a sudden warmth radiate outward from that spot to the furthermost parts of my body.

I let my legs and skirt fall and again lovingly kissed Sam. I felt as if warm butter had passed through my body and I suddenly loved Sam with every fiber of my being.

We continued to play with and pleasure each other for the rest of the summer. Two incidents remain indelibly etched in my memory. The first occurred late that same summer. Sam was supposedly on an errand to town while I had told Mama I just wanted to be alone for a while.

We met in the same sheltered glade where I had first felt his sticky seed and seen his erect penis. Only now we had become virtual lovers except we had never seen each other nude. Sam had been pestering me to see my breasts, and I had been equally curious to learn whether he carried the same kind of sack between his legs that Ben carried between his.

"Well, shall we do it?" Sam asked after we silently met, hugged and kissed each other. I still wasn't sure, but Sam had been reminding me with increasing urgency of my earlier promise to let him see my breasts when I had first asked to touch his stiff penis. Since then, we had been secretly meeting and had been continuing to play with each other, but in his case, sight unseen.

"We might as well," I said, beginning to unbutton my dress. Sam stepped into the brush where he had tied Maud. Maud and Molly were a team, only Maud was also trained as a saddle horse. She was also a much more pleasant animal than her team mate.

Sam returned carrying a blanket. "I brought this just in case," he said. By this time, my dress was hanging on a nearby elderberry bush, and I was beginning to unwind the bindings around my chest.

Sam was making me uncomfortable as he avidly watched. "Please don't stare, Sam," I pleaded. Obligingly, he turned away and began undoing his own buttons while I completed removing the binding and massaged life back into my flattened breasts. Those embarrassing bumps had continued to grow, and I felt foolishly proud as I arched my back and invited Sam's attention.

He wheeled around, and his jaw dropped when he saw the globes of flesh I held in my hands. "Put your hands down, Willy, so I can get a good look!"

I put my hands behind my back and arched my back even further. "Can I touch one?" he asked. Almost to himself, he added, "I've never seen anything so beautiful!"

That was heady praise, indeed, and I felt myself blush as he gently poked a breast with his forefinger. His gaze seemed fixed on my puffy areola and tiny nipples. "Can I taste one?"

The instant he touched my nipple with the tip of his tongue, I felt a jolt of lightning between my thighs and almost immediately felt damp. "Rub the other one," I urged while pulling his face into closer contact with my soft flesh. The one lightning strike became a barrage. I began to ache with longing and need, and suddenly I wanted more than anything to feel his fingers on me and for me to begin stroking his manhood.

I pulled my petticoat down and with scarcely another thought, stripped my damp underdrawers off. Reflexively, I attempted to shield myself with my open hands, but truth to tell, I was so eager to see his nude body again that my mind was oblivious to my own naked condition. In my eyes, he was a Greek god. His muscled thighs and broad chest only added to the beauty of his erect penis and the sack beneath it upon which my entire being was focused.

"Let me see you," he said. "Take your hands away."

We must have stared at each other's nude body for a whole minute, at least. Then he opened his arms and I rushed to feel his cool skin against mine, my breasts crushed against his hairless chest and his erect penis prodding my soft belly. What a glorious feeling that was!

Our mouths were firmly joined. Then I felt the tip of his tongue tickle the corners of my mouth. It tickled, but at the same time, set off a series of mini sparks between my thighs. I dropped my hand to his hot penis, but that wasn't enough. I wanted to feel his fingers between my legs. "Let's lie down on the blanket," I whispered into his mouth.

Still clinging tightly together, we walked together to the center of the blanket and slowly knelt, still holding each other, until we rolled down on our sides, facing each other. "Can I see between your legs?" he asked.

"In a minute. First, though..." I rolled on my back and spread my legs while bringing his right hand to my steaming delta. "... you know what to do."

While he tickled me, I cupped his sack in one hand (rejoicing in the feel of those small stones in the middle of that sack), while I slowly stripped his skin all the way back, causing the extra skin to disappear, revealing his naked penis. Unlike Ben's or the dog's penises, Sam's was red only part way, and looked like a helmet instead of a pointed stick.

Sam's penis was rigid, yet as smooth as velvet, as I slid his skin back and forth over it. My nipples were beginning to itch uncontrollably as Sam continued rubbing his fingers in my crease, so I pinched one nipple with my left hand, while continuing to stroke his penis.

"Please rub my nipple, Sam. It itches like anything."

Sam obligingly began to pinch and twist my other nipple, and impulsively leaned over to kiss my tummy. Something happened to me. I felt my muscles suddenly tighten and I felt the same wonderful wave of relief wash through my body as I had earlier when Sam had seen me washing myself.

Sam began to complain. "Willy, you just peed... !"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING!!!???"

Papa was standing, like a bearded avenging Jehovah, on the edge of our secret clearing, a tree branch held over his head. Sam turned white and attempted to cover himself with his hands while I instinctively closed my eyes and curled myself into a tiny ball.

I heard the swish of the branch coming through the air and braced myself for the blow. Sam cried out instead as the heavy limb fell across his bare chest. He attempted to roll out of range of the next blow, but Papa was demented with rage, and as he pursued Sam, I quickly leaped to my feet and snatching my dress off the bush, began to run for home.

When I was out of sight of the two struggling men, I slipped my dress over my head, and continued to run for the safety of Mama's kitchen.

The kitchen proved not to be so safe, after all. Mama knew something was wrong the minute I ran through the door and closed it as if the demons from Hell were after me. "What's wrong, child?"

I didn't know what to say. How could I explain what had happened? I turned and ran up the stairs to my room, but she followed me. Her voice had a harder edge as she strode through the doorway. "You'd better tell me what happened, child!"

I still couldn't find the words. The enormity of what Sam and I had been doing was beginning to surface in my mind. I threw myself into Mama's comforting arms and began to cry. "I've been awfully bad, Mama," I sobbed. "God will strike us both!"

Mama was not a fool. "Us? Who is 'us'? Just who are you talking about, child?"

"Me and Sam," I whispered.

Alarmed, she held me at arms length and studied my face. "What did you and Sam do?"

I couldn't respond. The shame was simply too great! "You'd better tell me, girl, before your father comes home!"

For the first time, I wondered if Sam was still alive, and began to cry anew. This time I was mourning my lost brother. "Papa was beating Sam and I ran away," I said.

Mama suddenly realized I was wearing no undergarments. "Did you two have your clothes off?" Her voice was hard with suspicion. Dumbly, tears streaming down my face, I nodded.

SMACK!!

A white flash of pain accompanied the jolting blow as Mama slapped my face! SMACK!! Again, she hit me, and yet again and again.

My nose was bleeding and my cheeks were numb. She eventually tired. "You're to stay in your room until I tell you you can leave," she ordered as she left, slamming the door behind her. I flung myself on my bed where I cried myself asleep.

The door burst open. "... RIGHT NOW!

The room was dark, but I could see it was Papa standing in the doorway. "The Deacon's waiting for us downstairs, you little Jezebel," Papa said contemptuously. "That's your mother's doing. If it was left to me, you and Sam would no longer belong in this house! But she sent Fred for the Deacon before we got home, and since he's a good Christian man, he came to see if either of you is worth redemption."

I was stunned. The Deacon, I understood. But Papa had never spoken that many words to me before in a single conversation. He turned and left. I padded silently behind him.

When I came downstairs, I was immensely relieved to see Sam. He was on his knees, his head bowed, as he and Deacon Nies prayed together. Fred was also on his knees, praying. Papa sat stony faced at the table watching the deacon and listening to his son pray for redemption.

I sat silently next to Mama, who wore a scarf over her hair. Little wide-eyed Rachel sat on the other side of her. I knew my turn would be coming next, but I was more concerned about the dried blood on Sam's face. I hoped nothing internal was broken.

The men's voices droned on and on, seemingly for hours. Then, abruptly, they stopped. Deacon Nies looked up in my direction. Mama handed me a scarf, and I joined the men, kneeling in front of the Deacon next to Fred. My memory of that next hour, mercifully, has disappeared. All I recall is how dreadfully my knees hurt and how my face stung where Mama had slapped me.

I do recall, however, the funeral atmosphere at the table that evening when Papa looked at Mama and said, "It's time she was married." No mention was made of Sam, who had disappeared while the Deacon pleaded with God to forgive my sins. Rachel later told me that Papa had ordered him to "live in the barn with the other animals," and that he was no longer a member of the family!

A week later, I was introduced to Mr. Enders, who Papa had invited to dinner. He was a member of the congregation, of course, a middle-aged widower whose wife had died in childbirth six months earlier. When I met him, I knew I was meeting my husband, and I saw a heavy set man with thinning reddish hair, a large mustache, crooked teeth and bad breath. Two weeks later, we were married. He, I later learned, was 41. I was 14.

I'd rather not dwell on my wedding night. Let's just say Mr. Enders was accustomed to getting what he wanted and was impatient with things, like my maidenhead, that temporarily stood in his way. Like the ordeal with the Deacon, my actual memory of that first penetration is lost. I only recall his enormous satisfaction when he saw my bloody night dress and the stains on the sheet. I also remember his comment. "I was taking a chance on you, little Miss. I knew about you and your brother, and I wasn't sure he hadn't beaten me to it!"

I met his brood, my ostensible step "children," the next day. Nels was the oldest and was several years older than me -- he was 18 or 19, I think. He was hired out to a farmer across the valley and I saw him only at rare intervals. Julia was next; she still lived at home. She was two years older than me, and all she could talk about was getting married. In that place and time, a girl who remained unmarried at 17 was getting dangerously close to spinsterhood. Janice and I were almost exactly the same age, but she was mean and spiteful and watched me closely, looking for any missteps she could gleefully report to Mr. Enders.

Then there were the two little ones. Hester and John. Hester reminded me of Rachel at home. She was a shy child and needed mothering that neither older sister could or would provide. John was a delightful six year old who quickly began following me around like a puppy.

Mr. Enders also employed a hired man who took care of the farm while Mr. Enders was away on business. The hired man -- everyone called him Paul -- ate with the family but slept in the barn. He was a strange man who rarely spoke and never looked anyone in the face. In a rare confidential mood, Julia told me one day that Mr. Enders had arranged for Paul's release from jail and that if Paul ever gave any of us any trouble, we were to report it to the sheriff who would put Paul back in jail.

Julia continued in her role of family cook, while I became the scullery maid, washing dishes, waiting on Mr. Ender's children and trying to keep the house neat and orderly. Mr. Enders gave me an allowance each week to cover the family living expenses. Julia made the shopping list, while I was expected to harness the team and drive the wagon into Virden for supplies. Janice usually rode with me. The rest of my life lay before me like a well beaten track. But then one day, a kindly Providence intervened.

On that fateful Saturday morning, after Paul left for the woodlot, Janice began complaining of cramps, so I was left to harness the team. Breeching harness is heavy and this was a job that required more lifting, tugging and adjusting than one small pair of hands could easily handle but I knew she disliked the smell of horses and anything involving manual labor, so I wasn't surprised. I expected her to recover as soon as the team pulled the wagon out of the shed, but when I stopped at the back door, she shook her head and waved me on. That was the Saturday when, as I was loading my purchases in the wagon, I saw Sam.

He saw me at the same moment. As our eyes met, an instant tiny spark of lightning ignited between my thighs and a remembered itch began to plague my breasts and especially my nipples.

It had been almost six months since that awful day. He had been sent away to relatives in the next county. He was even more handsome, taller and heavier than I remembered. I had changed, too. I was then in my fourth month with Joseph and was just beginning to show.

"Sam!"

"Willy!"

Indifferent to the fact that we were standing in the center of town, or that we were surrounded by people, I flew into his welcoming arms, and he, equally recklessly, gave me a passionate kiss that had no resemblance to a brotherly peck. The spark between my thighs ignited a sharp yearning and I felt suddenly very moist and very empty. My breasts ached for his touch, and as we clung together, I could feel his member stir and begin to grow.

"Let's find somewhere so we can talk," I said breathlessly, although I'm not sure talking was all I had in mind.

"I know a place," Sam said. "I'll get my team. You follow us."

I began working myself into a frenzy as I waited for him. There was never any doubt in my mind about my feelings for my brother, but now, especially following the brutality Mr. Enders had subjected me to, I longed for his gentle touch, his soft mouth, and yes (dare I admit it?), his beautiful member! I only hoped he shared my thirst.

"Come on, Willy!"

Jolted out of my reverie, I shook the reins and spoke to the horses. They swung behind Sam's cart and followed him to the edge of town. The road, little more than a grassy track, was new to me. It passed through a stand of cottonwood trees, then dipped to the bed of a small stream and up a shallow climb on the opposite bank. Sam's team unhesitatingly splashed through the shallow water but instead of going on across the ford, they turned downstream and were quickly lost to view around the bend. My horses were uneasy at first, but then I let them stop and drink their fill.

"Over here, Willy!" Sam was standing on a boulder in the stream. Even as I swung the horses to follow his track, a vision of his beautiful rigid member with its purple head peeking from behind its loose skin flashed through my mind. I shook the reins again to hurry the horses.

Sam's team was standing just above the stream in a shadowy glade. My horses whinnied a greeting as we swung next to them. Meanwhile, Sam had removed his cart cover and spread it on the springy grass. He was standing in the middle of it as I set the brake and hurried into his arms. Again we kissed, our tongues and lips working together. My womanhood was a seething cauldron of liquid fire between my thighs that only his cock could extinguish. Neither of us hesitated. The itch in my breasts was unbearable, and as we sank to our knees, still locked together, I began to undo his buttons, while he rubbed my breasts through my dress.

"Wait," I said. I stood again, and quickly drew my dress over my head and my underclothes fell in a heap. Sam stripped just as quickly. I saw his manhood, even stronger and more beautiful than I remembered, tilting up into the air like a miniature arm held up in a salute. I couldn't help but compare the beauty of his weapon with the thick, stubby tool my husband possessed, which I had seen only on my wedding night. At the same time, he noticed my altered condition. "Willy, are you... ?"

"Yes," I said, "am I ugly?"

"You could never be ugly, darling."

Darling??? This was the first time he had ever used a term of endearment with me! I ran to him again, this time deliberately pressing my bare belly against his rampant cock. Again I raised my mouth to his, wallowing in the sensual pleasure caused by mashing my full breasts against his chest.

Again we sank to our knees. This time, I would not be denied. I rolled on my back and spread my legs. "I want you in me, Sam, right now!"

He rolled between my trembling thighs. As I raised my knees to accept him, he loomed over me, his earlier passion replaced by concern. "Are you sure, Willy?" For an answer, I reached down and seized his cock which I attempted to guide into my secret place, but he still resisted. "Are you sure it won't hurt the baby?"

I wanted to scream, "fuck me!!" except I had never heard that word before. I renewed my effort to pull him into me, this time seizing his buttocks with both hands. This time I was successful.

I don't know why I'm telling you all this detail, but the minute I felt Sam's beautiful cock slide inside me, wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed through my body. I was transported to some place beyond the stars. I could never have imagined that sex would be so wonderful!

When he began thrusting himself into me, those wonderful waves of pure passion continued to ripple though my body, and I found I was lifting myself, reaching up to greet his member as he pounded himself into me. All the pent up frustration since our youngest days when he first saw my cunny and I, his little boy erection in the hay loft, up to the terrible moment when Papa caught us lying together flowed away when I felt his wonderful penis begin to spasm as he bathed my insides with his hot seed.

After we held and caressed each other, he stroking my taut swollen belly and incredibly sensitive breasts while I gently massaged his softened and sticky penis and balls. I was horrified when I realized that I suddenly felt a strange need to taste his member; to feel that beautiful cock growing on my tongue, but I realized in time that if I attempted such a vile thing, he would be repulsed, and rightfully so. Reluctantly, I released him. We dressed without daring to look at each other.

Even without having revealed my perverted impulse, Sam was deeply troubled by what we had just done, and he put his thoughts into words. "Willy, what we just did was just about the worst sin there is."

Tears were too near the surface for me to dare speak. Instead, I nodded.

"We can't ever do this again! We'll go to Hell for sure if we do."

Again I nodded. I can't honestly say whether my tears were tears of repentance, or frustration, having experienced the most glorious moment of my life only to have any possibility of experiencing it again rudely snatched away. Still, common sense told me Sam was right, if only for purely practical reasons. I sadly kissed him goodbye, and we parted.

Fortunately, Mr. Enders believed that sex for pleasure was a sin; that the only reason God allowed it was so the human race could multiply as the Bible required. Consequently, he regarded me as one might regard a brood mare. Once he was satisfied that I was "settled" as he put it, he left me alone, and I was eternally grateful for that because Mr. Enders not only lacked skill as a lover, he was almost sadistic as if he were punishing me for being a woman.

If Mr. Enders had been even the slightest interested in making love, I could better have endured his crude manners in the bedroom, but his idea of foreplay was to lift my night dress to my waist, wedge himself between my thighs and force himself into me.

When that happened, I found myself thinking of Sam. I even tried to pretend that his pig-like rooting in my cunny was Sam, but even that was a small consolation. I even tried to anticipate his whim so I could prepare myself with my fingers and make his entry into me much less painful. Now, of course, I know some of the reason for his hostility. Papa had paid him $1,200 to marry me.

Fortunately, Mr. Ender's visits had ended when he realized I was pregnant. Mr. Enders also began spending more and more time away from the farm, so I spent many happy nights with my fingers and loving memories of Sam to comfort me. I didn't realize it at the time, but Mr. Enders was working on a project for an investment company in Winnepeg.

Usually, Paul drove Mr. Enders to the station, but he wasn't always available, in which case that chore fell to me. I didn't really mind when the weather was nice, but I hated to make that hour-long trip in the winter because when the dirt road was bare, the wagon bounced jarringly as the wheels crossed the frozen ruts. Otherwise, the horses would have to drag the wagon through heavy snow drifts, and it was awful cold, especially when a north wind was blowing.

Joseph was born in the early spring. Mr. Enders was in Winnepeg, and the roads were virtually impassable. Julia tried to help me -- Janice was nowhere to be found -- but neither of us really knew what to do. The agony was so great that I finally pleaded with her to get Paul. He had birthed two calves and a colt, so I thought he would know what to do.

I can't remember much about what happened next. I was just faintly aware through a fog of pain that rippled through my entire being like sheets of lightning, of another person besides Julia moving around my bed. I also remember a man's strangely familiar voice urging me to push harder, and then a sudden searing agony followed by a feeling of emptiness and a baby's cry.

But I quickly recovered sufficiently and was aware of Julia's happy smile as she handed me my warm, blanket-wrapped baby. Little Joseph was a tiny but very active baby, and was born hungry. As I studied the frown on his face, it quickly disappeared as I brought his mouth to my nipple.

But the biggest surprise of all was when Sam came into the room!

I'm sure I must have looked as astonished as I felt. How in the world?? Where?? Questions that were still to be answered. For the moment, however, all I could do was sink back into myself, knowing that all was right at last. Julia lifted my baby and I closed my eyes.

Later, Julia told me that when she had asked Paul to come and help me, he had refused, and almost immediately ran away. Desperate, remembering how her mother had died, Julia harnessed the team and despite the the storm and snow drifts, drove into Virden for help. Unfortunately (or luckily, as it turned out) old Mrs. Beardsly, who had birthed babies in and around Virden as long as anyone could remember, was attending a woman on a farm several miles away.

As Julia climbed back on the wagon, a young man had stopped her to inquire about me. Julia didn't know Sam, of course, but he had recognized the team. When he introduced himself, she told him about the trouble I was in. He insisted on returning to our farm with her. Julia was in too much of a hurry to argue.

That's how Sam came back into my life. Of course, there was hell to pay when Mr. Enders returned to the farm a few months later and found Sam living in Paul's corner of the barn, but there wasn't much he could do about it because Paul was gone and the sheriff had no replacement. When Mr. Enders realized that Sam was willing to work for little more than room and board, he left the outside chores to Sam and industriously set himself to the task of "settling" me before returning to Winnepeg. Almost every night for two solid weeks, Mr. Enders applied himself to my weary cooze.

What he didn't know, of course, was that Sam had overcome his fear of everlasting damnation. Three months after Joseph was born, I found myself daydreaming with increasing intensity about that wonderful hour we had spent together by that little stream near Virden nearly a year earlier, and especially that momentary weakness when I had wanted to taste his beautiful cock. Unaccountably, whenever those thoughts entered my mind, I would begin to feel a moist, aching emptiness deep inside, and my breasts would begin to tingle so badly that I would even awaken little Joseph sometimes and bring his hungry mouth to my nipple to quiet the awful need I felt.

Finally, however, even little Joseph's demanding mouth could no longer quell the fire that raged within me. One Sunday morning, while we were at breakfast, when just his mere presence caused the tingling and aching to become almost unbearable, I boldly asked Sam if he could spare the time from his chores to take me and my baby for a picnic. "I just need to get out of the house for a while," I explained. As he turned, leveling his eyes on me, and smiled, I actually felt a sudden faintness, and wondered for a moment if the warm moisture between my thighs meant that my "course" had again begun to flow! Fearing that blood would stain my dress, I had actually excused myself and gone to the outhouse to investigate! There was no blood.

Three hours later, I packed a picnic lunch while Sam harnessed the team. Then, after bundling little Joseph in his blanket, We three climbed into the wagon and drove out to he woodlot, where we stopped in front of a small stream. I held Joseph while Sam spread a blanket on the ground and placed the picnic basket in the center of it. Then I sat and began to unlace my bodice so I could feed Joseph who was beginning to fuss.

I had not consciously intended to expose myself to Sam, but neither did I turn away when he sat facing me on the other side of the basket. Instead, I made no attempt to conceal my full breast as I offered my nipple to Joseph. His greedy little mouth pulling on my nipple and Sam's openly admiring gaze were both causing that familiar dampness between my thighs, and when Sam said, "Do you remember the vegetable stand?" the dampness became a flood, and I found I was nearly sick from that familiar, but much stronger ache in my belly.

"If you only knew how many times I've thought about it," I said softly, "And other things, too!"

"Me, too," Sam said. He crawled around the basket and sat next to me. "You still have that effect on me, Willy. Look."

I didn't want to look. I knew what he had in mind, and I knew it wasn't right, especially while I was nursing my baby. Still, I had to peek as I moved Joseph from my empty breast to the full one.

His beautiful hard cock, lined with blue veins, and with its red tip just beginning to appear beyond his stretched foreskin (an image of Ben's huge cock flashed through my mind) was standing proudly from the front of his pants. Involuntarily, I gasped as my hand, unbidden, reached out to touch it.

"Sam," I heard myself say, "you shouldn't... I mean we mustn't..." while just the feel of that silky hard object under my fingers caused my stomach to tighten, my womanhood to turn to mush, my belly ache with emptiness, and sweat begin to trickle down my ribs. Again, I had an almost irresistible need to taste his maleness.

Sam was grinning. "You want it as bad as I do, Willy," he said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't leave both your tits hanging out!"

"Oh, God, if only you knew..." Then I shyly dropped my eyes. "Could I just kiss it, Sam?" I whispered.

That set him back. "What on earth for?" he demanded. "That ain't natural!"

"I just need to feel it in me, Sam, all over. I can't help myself."

"What about the kid?"

"He's full. I'll just burp him and we can put him in the wagon. He won't tell."

Sam laughed at my feeble little joke. While I burped the baby, he made a cradle from some hay in the wagon bed. I carefully laid Joseph on his little bed. When I turned around, I saw a man god. Sam had stripped his clothes off, and stood, arms and penis raised to welcome me.

While I hastily undressed, I studied his sturdy body; muscles I hadn't noticed before rippled as he breathed. God, he was beautiful! My inhibitions fell away like leaves in an autumn storm, and I eagerly fell to my knees before his magnificent manhood, cupping his balls in one hand while I stripped his foreskin back with the other, and for the first time took a man's penis in my mouth.

The taste was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Beneath the mixed flavors of urine, male sweat and the tang of a clear liquid that was beginning to flow from his cock was the pure essence of man. I was torn, frankly. One part of me wanted to continue the novelty of holding Sam's cock in my mouth, but another, more urgent desire roiled in the emptiness between my thighs.

I fell back, lifting and spreading my legs. "I need you, Sam. More than I ever needed anything in my life. Please come here."

My plea was unnecessary. Even as I spoke, I felt him push my legs further back as he lowered his body over mine, and his stiffness probed my bottom, seeking the entrance to my pussy. He found it. "Ohhh, my Goddd!"

He worked his cock into the opening of my pussy --I felt a distinct 'pop' when the head was inside the inner ring. Then, as my tissues parted under his insistent thrusting, I thought I would die from the exquisite pleasure waves that rolled through my body. Soon, I felt his balls slap against my bottom.

He rested for a moment while I rejoiced in the healing fullness he was giving me, and tried to memorize that wonderful feeling so I could relive those exquisite moments in my memory. Again, however, I was mistaken.

The pleasure I had experienced as he penetrated me was nothing compared to the ecstasy I felt as him began his in and out thrusting and I felt the engorged head of his manhood rub and stimulate the lining of my cunny. In and out, in and out. With each stroke I felt myself elevated to still higher levels of pleasure until I reached my peak. I felt him tense, and his penis grow even harder and thicker as he began pounding me with his primeval need.

Again and again and again until I felt I had to scream to release the built up energy, when suddenly a series of convulsions rippled through my body and I felt like warm butter and honey. I know my cunny must have squeezed mightily on his manhood, which began to spurt scalding hot sperm into my thirsty pussy.

He slumped down, and I felt my milk trickle down my ribs as my breast was squeezed beneath his muscular chest. He took me in his arms, and we rolled to the side, still joined, while he kissed me, stroked my hair, and told me how much he loved me. It was a perfect moment.

The ice broken, Sam and I made love at every opportunity. I'm sure the girls must have suspected something, but when Mr. Enders returned to the farm a year or so later to breed me again, neither he nor Sam knew I had missed the previous period. Thus, while Mr. Enders applied himself to giving me another child, I rejoiced because I knew I was carrying Sam's baby.

Satisfied that he had once again successfully performed his "duty," Mr. Enders left the farm and returned to Winnepeg. Janice had already run away. Julia never really forgave her for disappearing when I was in labor, and had insisted that she assume my responsibilities while I was recovering. Janice had responded by taking the grocery money to town and using it to buy a train ticket to God knows where, leaving the team tied to the hitching post. She disappeared and I never heard anything about her again. She simply vanished.

By the time little Abraham (Sam's child) was born, Mr. Enders had virtually abandoned the farm. He had begun traveling overseas and I saw him only once again three years later when he returned briefly to sire our daughter, Ruth. I never saw him again.

Meanwhile Julia moved to Virden, and became a schoolteacher. That left Sam and me with five children. Three of my own and the two step children. John proved to be a sturdy young man well suited to the rigors of Canadian farm life. Shortly after his 16th birthday, he left to join Nels, his older brother, in a logging venture.

Hester was already engaged to be married to a young doctor who had replaced Mrs. Beardsly in Virden. After she was married, Sam moved into the farmhouse (and secretly into my bed). Ours was an idyllic life. But it lasted only five precious years.

Sam cut his thumb with a sharp farrier's knife while he was shoeing one of the horses. The cut didn't amount to much, but a week later, his hand turned dark and began to swell. He soaked it in hot water and epsom salts, but the next day, the veins in his arm turned red. His skin felt hot and dry to my touch and his eyes were bright with fever.

Although he didn't want to go, I harnessed the team, bundled the children up, and drove him in to Virden. The doctor took one look at his hand and said, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Hermann, but you have blood poison!"

I know I must have turned pale -- I suddenly felt faint, but Sam just stared at the doctor. "Can't you cure it?"

The doctor sadly shook his head. "I can try, but to tell you the truth, you'll probably die unless I take your arm off, and even that's no guarantee! There's no telling how far it's gone, and we have no time to waste!"

The nearest hospital was in Branden, but the train had already gone. Sam shrugged. "Can you do it here?"

The doctor shook his head again. "I don't see how," he said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait. But I can try to drain some of the poison."

Sam spent the night in the doctor's office, lying on a makeshift bed, while I prayed by his bedside, begging for God's mercy and forgiveness and bathing his feverish forehead with cold cloths. In the morning, he was delirious, and by noon, my dear sweet brother, my lover, was dead!

Nels and John returned to the farm when they heard that Sam had died. I was certain God was punishing me for my wicked ways, and except for cooking and taking care of the children, I spend most of the day, every day, in my room, praying for Sam's soul.

Then, a month later, when things couldn't get worse and I was still sick with grief and despair, Nels brought me a telegram from his office in Winnepeg. "We at Bose, Rothchild and Gibbens are very sorry to inform you that Mr. Joseph Enders passed away in Malaysia on the 19th of last month from complications from malaria. His lawyer tells us he hopes to read Mr. Ender's will on the 10th of next month. We're looking forward to meeting you." It was signed, "Sarah Kincaide."

Now, even the brutal security Mr. Enders represented was gone! Wordlessly, I handed the yellow paper to Nels. "Well, this changes things, doesn't it?" he said.

I could only nod. "I'll tell the others at dinner," I whispered.

Nels and I took the train to Winnepeg. I called the Sarah Kincaide who had sent the telegram from the train depot. She insisted that as soon as we were settled in a hotel that we come to her office.

When we arrived at the hushed, carpeted offices of Bose, Rothchild, and Gibbons, we were met by Sarah Kincaide. She was a woman about my age, dressed in a short, dark dress that seemed to emphasize her bust line and her long, shapely legs. I wondered briefly what it would be like to wear a dress as revealing as hers.

After extending her condolences, and offering us tea, she invited us to sit on a leather covered couch while she sat in a plush easy chair facing us. "I don't know how much Mr. Enders may have told you about his work for our office, but he was a highly valued employee. He was overseeing the opening of a tin mine when he became ill."

"Naturally, as his widow," she continued, looking directly at me, "you're entitled to his pension and an indemnity payment. Unfortunately," she went on, "it's not a large sum, but the partners would like to express their gratitude for his devotion to the firm by offering you an opportunity to join us in whatever capacity seems best."

I must have betrayed my surprise, because she quickly added, "Please, I didn't mean to sound so crass; it's just that, as personnel director, my mind naturally leads me to dot the "i"s and cross the "t"s." She smiled for the first time. "Please join me for lunch. Then, I understand, you have a 2 pm appointment at Brothers and Steele?"

I must have looked puzzled, because Miss Kincaide quickly added, "Those are the lawyers handling your husband's estate. Nels stood. "I'd like to join you," he said, "but I can use this time to look at some tractors. I'll meet you at the lawyer's office. OK?"

Although none of us were practicing Mennonites, we still clung to the old ways and the idea of a tractor on the farm seemed odd. My surprise must have been obvious, because Nels had smiled. "Times change, mom."

Mom? This was the first time in the 20 years I'd known him that he called me anything but Willa. What was he trying to say?

That question remained in the back of my mind as I followed Miss Kincaide down the hall to the elevator. She had noticed Nels' peculiar form of address, too, because later, after we had been seated in a quiet restaurant on the ground floor, she mentioned it. She looked up from her menu. "It's none of my business, Willa; may I call you Willa? But I'm curious why Mr. Enders referred to you as mom? He's clearly several years older than you are."

I had nodded. "Yes, he's my stepson. He's nearly 40 years old. This was the first time he's done that, and I'm as surprised as you are." I hesitated, wondering if I was being too forward, but since she had called me Willa... "Would you mind if I called you Sarah?"

Sarah smiled, and for the first time, I became aware of another woman's beauty. "Please do," she said.

Our conversation veered into different channels, and I don't know if I have ever met a more interesting person. Sarah explained what Mr. Ender's role with the company had been. I was surprised. I had thought he was a sort of traveling overseer, but evidently he had been directly in charge of various overseas ventures.

Sarah explained, "He had a wonderful talent for getting the most out of the local natives."

I shuddered inwardly, because I knew all about that "talent." Knowing his feeling about sin, I doubted whether he had sired half-caste children, but I was sure he had been a brutal boss. But I was listening with only part of my brain because. looking back on it, I think I was already falling in love with Sarah! When she asked me to return to her office after meeting with the lawyer, I was almost giddy with joy.

I longed to touch her hand and to give her some indication of the feelings that were bubbling inside. If she noticed, she gave no indication. Standing at the curb, she expertly flagged down a cab, and gave the driver very explicit directions. She also gave me her business card and told me that when my business with the lawyers was finished, that I should show the card to another cab driver.

Nels was waiting for me in the lawyers anteroom. As soon as I walked in the door and identified myself to the pretty receptionist, she led us down a short hallway to Mr. Steele's office.

A very personification of Mr. Pickwick rose to greet us. He briefly expressed his condolences and after we were seated, he opened a file. "This won't take long," he said. "Mr. Enders left only two bequests. He directed that his real property, which is the farm, should pass to his oldest son, and that his personal property should pass to his widow."

He paused to let us absorb this news. Then he continued, "There is a problem with the first bequest, since under the law of Manitoba, the deceased cannot cut off a widow's portion of real property. Therefore, unless you two can resolve this issue, I'm afraid this matter will need to be settled in probate court."

I had no idea what the man was talking about, but Nels seemed to understand because he was nodding his head as the lawyer spoke. I started to ask for a more detailed explanation, but Nels patted me on the hand, and said, "I'll explain this later." Then he stood, although it seemed to me the lawyer had more to say, thanked him, and taking my hand, led me out of the office. In all, the reading had taken less than five minutes.

Once back on the street, Nels said he wanted to look at more farm equipment, so he put me in a cab and gave the driver the name of our hotel. For some reason, I remained silent until he turned away. Then I handed the driver the card Susan had given me, and asked to be taken to that address instead.

The Bose, Gibbons offices occupied much of a modern, seven story building in the very heart of downtown Winnepeg. I paid the driver, and feeling very brave, entered an elevator alone for the first time in my life, and pressed the button for the third floor.

Sarah's office was near the end of a long corridor. I knocked on her door and heard her respond, "Come in!"

She was standing to one side, silhouetted against a window, as I entered. Her slender form caught my eye, and I blushed when I realized I was wondering what her nude body might look like.

She greeted me by taking my hands in hers and leading forward to kiss me on the cheek. "Was it very difficult for you at the lawyer's office?" she asked.

I shook my head. "It was over so fast that I hardly remember anything the lawyer said." Then, as best I could, I told her what I had seen and heard. It was a very short description. Then she asked if the lawyer had described the personal property I had inherited. I shook my head. "Nels was upset when he learned that the will would have to go through a court." Then I told her how Nels had cut the meeting short even though I was fairly sure the lawyer had more to tell me.

We were sitting facing one another in the soft furniture in the corner of her office. She had not released my hand since I had come into her office, and she continued to hold it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Has it occurred to you, dear, that Nels may not have your best interests at heart?"

Obviously, it had; otherwise, I would have let him know I was returning to Sarah's office, but I loyally shook my head.

"Tell me about your family."

I began by describing the farm, and then my children. Whether it was her quiet acceptance, the first sympathetic ear I had found since Sam's death, or something more basic, I can't say, but I was horrified when I suddenly realized I was telling her about Sam, and I began to cry. Sarah moved from her chair to the couch where I was sitting, and took me in her arms.

The floodgates opened. The first thing I knew, I was telling her about our incestuous relationship between great wrenching sobs, and Mr. Ender's brutality. I was also clinging tightly to her. She tilted my head up and kissed me softly on my lips. Something passed between us in that instant. I was astonished to feel a familiar tingle in my nipples, and a warm wetness in my panties.

Then I realized that Sarah was also crying. Partly to comfort her, and partly because I wanted to taste the sweet flavors of her mouth once again, I put my arms around her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. There was nothing soft or tentative about that kiss. Rather, it was a lover's kiss; open, demanding and wet. My heart soared as she responded with a passion that equalled my own. Then, breathless, we released one another and sat back. Her makeup was a mess. I hadn't worn any except a touch of lipstick. She spoke first. "That was a surprise!"

I could only nod in agreement. "I've... never..." She smiled. "There's always a first time for anything." Then she added, "Did you feel you wanted to go further?"

Shamefaced, I slowly nodded.

"So did I," she said. "It's only natural. Some women do this all the time. Did you know that?"

I shook my head. Then I looked at my watch. "I must go meet Nels," I said.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

I sadly shook my head. "I'd really love to, but we're leaving in the morning. I have a family to look after, you know."

"Your children must be old enough to look after themselves."

"Ruthie is 13. Abe is 15 and Joseph is 17. They're old enough to get into trouble, you mean." I blushed as the implication of that remark in light of my earlier confession sank in.

Sarah ignored it. She stood and held out her arms. I allowed myself to burrow into her solid warmth, and as we held each other in a tight embrace, our open mouths met again in a wet lover's kiss. By unspoken consent we stepped back and openly regarded one another. She spoke first. "I don't think I ever met anyone who attracted me more on such short notice than you do, dear. May I call you dear?"

"Call me anything you like, darling," I whispered in return. "I feel the same way." Then an odd notion seized me. "Can I ask for something special?"

"Anything, dear."

Blushingly I said, "I wonder what your bare breasts would feel like against mine?"

"Let's find out," Sarah said as she swiftly stepped to the door and turned the lock. I watched, mesmerized, as she slipped out of her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse, pushed her slip shoulder straps down, reached behind and unhooked her brassiere. I waited, holding my breath, for my first glimpse of another woman's bare breasts. And then she lifted her brassiere away.

I was stunned by their beauty. Creamy, lushly pear shaped, they stood away from her chest, canted slightly apart. Her nipples were almost like tiny penises, betraying her arousal by standing hard and alert from their beds of pink wrinkled areola. Never taking my eyes from them, I hastily unbuttoned my dress, slipping it off my shoulders, and then removing my own brassiere.

We stood silently for a moment, each studying the other's body. Then she opened her arms to me and I happily entered her embrace, enjoying an incredibly erotic feeling as our engorged nipples and puffy breasts touched, then crushed as we tightly hugged each other. Again we kissed.

I don't know what Sarah was feeling, but I was almost faint with arousal, and I distinctly felt moisture trickling down the inside of my right thigh! Reluctantly, we separated again.

"I wish we were in my apartment," Susan said. "But we can't go further than this in my office -- if anyone were to see us like this, I'd be out of a job in a heartbeat."

Impulsively, I leaned over and licked a crinkled rosy nipple and was instantly rewarded by Susan's swift intake of breath. Then I kissed her hard little spike, and reluctantly picked up my brassiere.

Still flushed, I ran my fingers through my hair, kissed Susan goodbye, and left her office, but not before she hastily scribbled her home address and telephone number on another card and gave it to me. Nels was impatiently waiting for me in the hotel lobby. "Where have you been?"

I shook my head, asked for my room key, and hurried to the elevator. Once inside my room, after turning the night latch, I quickly undressed, and drew a hot bath. Then, as I soaked, remembering the taste of Susan's mouth and the crinkly texture of her bare nipple, I began trying to relieve the urgent itch in my own hard nipples by twisting and pinching them with one hand, while my other hand responded to the cravings of my body by exploring the mysteries in my delta.

Masturbation was nothing new, but the intensity of my arousal was. The only time I could remember when I might have been more excited was when dear Sam and I finally consummated our love for each other years ago in that grassy meadow near Virden.

Memories of that blessed moment combined with the stimulation of my recent encounter with Susan, helped by the urgent stroking by my busy fingers, soon caused a tidal wave of relief to wash through my body. When my breathing slowed, I quickly dried off and got dressed. Then I returned to the lobby.

Nels and I had supper in the hotel dining room. Then he asked me to marry him. It wasn't a flowery proposal on bent knee with a proffered engagement ring. We were finishing our coffee. He had been withdrawn during supper, and for a guilty moment, I had wondered if he somehow knew about my sudden infatuation with Sarah. I needn't have worried.

He looked up from his coffee cup. "You know, Willa, I've been thinking. I mean, I have two-thirds of the farm while you evidently have one third. Why don't we get married so we can each own the whole thing?"

I stared at him in surprise. 'You mean so you can own the whole thing,' I thought as I studied his face. He not only talked like his father, be was beginning to resemble him, and evidently was even beginning to think like him. I shuddered inwardly at the thought. I couldn't imagine marrying the man, but something warned me to avoid irritating him. "That's an interesting idea," I said, "but marriage means more to me than a business merger."

"I didn't mean it to sound that way," he said. "I've been thinking about asking you ever since we came to Winnepeg."

"It's been less than a week since we learned that Mr. Enders had passed away, Nels," I reminded him. "To be honest, I think it's much too early for us to be talking about getting married. After all, your father is hardly cold in his grave."

Nels nodded solemnly. "You're right. I just wanted to let you know how I feel before you take up with somebody else."

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Nels." Hoping I wasn't leading him on, I added, "And I'm flattered that you think someone else might be interested in an old woman like me!"

I half expected him to respond with a courteous, "You're not that old," or something like that. But instead, he merely nodded and said, "Think about it."

We returned to Virden the next day.

Nels was never much of a talker, but he scarcely said two words to me after my gentle refusal at supper the previous evening. Instead, he morosely stared out the train window at the passing landscape.

When I stepped down from the railroad car, I was relieved to see our team tied to the hitching rail by the tiny depot. Maud and Molly were getting along in years, and were much less likely to be spooked by the train than younger horses who were sometimes tied out of sight of the train depot.

Joseph helped his brother load the wagon with things Nels had bought. Then he surrendered the reins to Nels, and sat between us for the hour-long ride back to the farm.

Three nights later, I woke out of a deep sleep to feel a hand on my breast. At first, I thought I might be dreaming, but the hand was too insistent; too aggressive, and I suddenly realized that someone was in my bed!

My first impulse was to scream, but as quickly as I took a breath, a rough hand covered my mouth to stifle it. "You don't want to wake the kids!"

It was Nels! "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I come to claim what's rightfully mine!", he said as he stripped the covers away.

"You stop it this minute!!" I whispered.

Instead of replying, he straddled my body, sitting on my thighs, and reached for the collar of my night dress. I tried to stop him, but my pitiful strength was of no use. Ignoring my feeble efforts, he ripped the fabric all the way to my waist. Then he reached through the opening he had created, and began rubbing and squeezing my tender breasts.

I beat at his invading arms with my clenched fists, but my efforts seemed only to goad him into taking further license with my body because he moved further back and ripped the material down to my knees. "Why are you doing this, Nels?" I asked between sobs.

"I have my reasons," he muttered as, holding my wrists in one hand, be lifted the hem of my ruined night dress to my waist with the other. Then he shifted his weight and wedged a sharp, bony knee between my thighs, forcing my knees to part. "If it was good enough for my daddy, it's good enough for me!"

I suddenly realized that Nels was naked! Still holding my wrists in one hand, he forced my legs further apart, and I felt a searing pain in my crotch as he began thrusting his naked cock at my womanhood seeking my pussy.

It seemed an eternity before I felt his cock enter me. The pain was excruciating as he savagely thrust himself into me. I was sure I was suffering physical harm, as he continued his mad dance into my body. Suddenly, he went rigid, and I felt his seed splashing into my womb.

He grunted his satisfaction and withdrew his cock. "You're my woman, now," he hissed, "and don't you forget it!" If I had had a kitchen knife at that moment, I would have killed him!

In the morning, as I served breakfast, Nels treated me no differently than on any other day. After breakfast, he and Joseph went out to the barn to harness the team. I knew they would be gone until dinner time, so after they disappeared, I hastily packed a bag. Then I sat down with Abraham and Ruthie and told them I had to leave the farm; that they were free to come with me or stay behind, just as they chose.

It broke my heart, but Abraham, the child I had borne my brother/lover, Sam, elected to remain with his brothers. Ruthie, however, seemed glad for a chance to leave the farm and chose to pack a bag for herself. Together we trudged out to the main road.

It wasn't long before a truck stopped, and we gratefully rode the rest of the way into Vinton. The driver was kind enough to take us to the station depot, and it's a good thing he did because we were just in time to catch the train into Winnepeg. When we reached Winnepeg, I called Sarah.