California Who Says Revenge Isnt Sweet
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Life Isn't FairChapter 6 free porn video
I dozed off and an hour later I had to pee. I thought I’d actually die when I tried to get out of bed. I hobbled to the bathroom, bent over like an old woman. Everything hurt. It was so bad that, when I sat on the toilet, I gave honest thought to just staying there. But when I leaned back, the porcelain tank was cold, so I limped back to bed. I managed to get under the covers and then worked on finding a way to lie that let me relax.
I didn’t get up the rest of the night. I was dead to the world. When I did wake up, the next morning, it was seven. My body clock wasn’t sore, as it turned out.
I actually felt a little better. Everything was still sore, but it wasn’t quite debilitating. It took me ten minutes to get dressed, and all I put on were shorts and a halter top. I originally went for a T shirt, but lifting my arms up over my head made me change my mind. I had a halter top that fastened in the front, and I shrugged into that.
Uncle Bob was stirring pancake batter while the bacon fried. It smelled amazing. He had on jeans and an old sweat shirt with the arms cut off. He looked like ... Uncle Bob. I must have made a noise, even though I was barefoot. There was no way I was pulling on a pair of socks this morning. He turned and looked at me.
“Did you bring any kind of clothes that don’t make you look sexy?” he asked.
“Sorry. My burka is in the laundry,” I said. I groaned as I sat down.
He kept looking at me. I knew the halter top showed a ton of cleavage.
“I actually get it, now,” he said.
“What?”
“Why they want their women to wear burkas. It must make things so much easier.”
“I didn’t wear this to tease you,” I said. “It was all I could get on without having to have somebody help dress me.”
“Sore?”
“Sore? Nah, not so much. I was thinking about doing a marathon today. Of course I’m sore. You know that. You knew that when you planned to torture me yesterday. In fact, I think you did all that on purpose, just so you’d have an excuse to get me all naked and have your nasty, curmudgeonly way with me when I was too weak to resist. I bet you don’t even use any hay in the winter.”
“I have some liniment that will help,” he said, ignoring my outburst. He handed me a big glass of orange juice and ordered me to drink it. I gulped half of it and set the glass down.
“Liniment. Is that that gunky stuff that smells bad? That’s what they always say in the movies. And doesn’t that require that it be rubbed on? You just want to get me naked again and molest me some more.”
I kept needling him. Don’t ask me why. I guess it was because everything hurt so much and I blamed that on him. I was mad, so I was trying to get him mad, too. Haying had unmasked me. I had been trying to act all grown up, but bucking bales had shown me for a teenager, after all.
He didn’t take the bait, though. He just came over and tried to kiss me. I dodged his lips, and then groaned as the muscles I used for that complained.
“One treatment for this is to starve yourself all day so the muscles have to consume the ache because there’s no other sustenance available,” he said.
“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” I asked, truculently.
“Sometimes,” he said, grinning happily.
“Like when?” He hadn’t risen to the bait, but I did, like a big mouth bass after a juicy bug.
“Like when you’re basically helpless, and you insist that a man masturbates in front of you.”
“That? Don’t make me laugh. I only wanted to see if your decrepit, old manhood still worked and hadn’t dried up completely,” I said.
“I’m surprised you’d be concerned about that,” he said, going back to the stove.
“I’m sure there’s some wizened spinster somewhere who’s desperate enough that she’d take even you,” I said.
Somehow, my funk had seeped away, and been replaced by something a lot happier. He was teasing me, and he didn’t seem to mind bringing up things that he’d have been trying to avoid a few days earlier. And I’d been being a bitch. I knew that. And he’d ignored it.
“So I have to care,” I went on. “If only to stand in solidarity with my nameless, much elder sister.”
“I see,” he said. “So no liniment for you, then. I’ll need to save it for the crone, when she shows up and has to help me be a rancher, in exchange for my sexual favors.”
“Hah,” I said. “I’ve been helping you be a rancher for months, and the only thing I got out of it was a body I’d like to take a vacation from for two weeks.”
“You can go on vacation anytime you like,” he said, “but your body has to stay here. It is the oil that keeps this ancient machinery going.”
And then he turned and actually pantomimed beating off! You could have knocked me over with a feather!
I had been rendered speechless, and stayed that way until after we ate. He ogled my breasts shamelessly during the meal, and I actually felt a little better after eating.
He cleared up and told me to stay where I was while he did the dishes. It didn’t hurt to sit there, so I did. When he was finished, he turned around and folded his arms while he leaned against the counter. The muscles of his upper arms bulged and it occurred to me that those muscles were the result of things like baling hay. He did this for a living. All I was doing was leeching off of him while my parents tried to find a prison to send me to. This was actually a minimum custody situation, and suddenly, having to bale hay didn’t seem like such a big deal.
“We used heat last night,” he said. “I don’t think you’d appreciate ice all over your body, but the stock tank is full of cool water. It will support your weight, too.”
I thought about that. Being suspended in the water last night had brought instant relief. And it wasn’t hot in Montana, but we’d worked up a sweat the day before. Cool water might feel good. Then I thought about the stock tank, which was a big, galvanized bowl of the giant variety, about ten feet in diameter. It also had straight sides on it that came as high as my chest. There were no foot holds on those straight sides.
“I couldn’t climb into the stock tank if the whole ranch was on fire,” I said.
“That’s what decrepit uncles are for,” he said.
“I didn’t bring a swim suit to Montana,” I said.
“You never heard of skinny dipping?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Ahhhh, now we get to the meat of the matter,” I said. “Now I understand. You do want to get me naked again.”
“I’ll go skinny dipping with you,” he offered.
“Okay,” I said, too quickly, caving like a kid being offered candy. I wondered, for just a second or two, if I really was turning into a slut.
He actually laughed, but I couldn’t get mad about it.
“I really think you’ll feel better afterwards,” he said. “The problem is lactic acid. That’s what’s causing the pain. Your muscles produce it while you work, and it builds up faster than the circulatory system can remove it.”
“And somehow, being naked with you in the stock tank will help?”
“I’ll explain it to you once we get there,” he said.
He offered to carry me there over his shoulder, but I opted for demanding he put socks and shoes on me. I knew we’d be removing them fifty yards later, but I still blamed him for all the pain I was in.
He rubbed my foot before he put the first sock on.
“Stop that!” I barked. “Your touching-Cassie privileges have been temporarily suspended.”
He smiled, but followed my instructions. I chose running shoes instead of boots, and he obediently installed them.
He helped me limp across the yard and through the barn. The stock tank was in one corner of the corral, which was left open most of the time. The tank was right beside a windmill, and it had an overflow on it that took water into troughs in the barn. The stalls in the barn were left open, too, so the horses could come and go as they wished. He treated his horses more like pet dogs than horses. Two horses were in their stalls and whickered at us as we went by. Molly, the horse I always rode, was actually standing next to the stock tank, drinking, when we exited the barn. She raised her head, looked at us, and went back to drinking.
“I forgot the animals use that,” I said.
“You can take a hot bath afterwards,” he said.
“You just want me naked all day,” I teased.
“Actually, I can think of worse days,” he said.
There was no laughter in his voice.
It is not possible to get into a stock tank gracefully when one’s muscles aren’t cooperating, and she has to rely on being basically manhandled over the edge. As I fell into the water on the other side, it felt like somebody had put ice in it. My muscles started working again as I struggled to the surface so I could cough and gag and get the water out of my lungs. They weren’t happy about all this moving around, but my lungs claimed precedence.
Then Uncle Bob vaulted over the edge like it was two feet tall. I was standing up by the time he got to me. The water came to just under my chin. He hugged me, and asked if I was okay. The hug seemed unnecessary, until I realized he felt warm. I wrapped my arms around him and said, “No.” He tried to let go of me, but I clung to him because I had just realized I was hugging my very first totally naked man. I was too distracted to pay attention to what made him a man. That is to say I didn’t try to locate and feel his penis with my body. I just had fun rubbing my naked skin against his naked skin.
Eventually, he pried me off of him and then started the physical therapy he’d had in mind for this skinny dipping foray. He could have done it with us clothed, but naked was more fun. And the water really did help, in terms of moving my sore muscles around.
He made me do exercises in the water, and explained that the best way to get rid of lactic acid was to have the muscles it was torturing force it out of the tissue and into the blood stream, so it could be carried to the liver, which actually does the work of getting rid of it. I had no idea if he was making all this up or not, but I did know that they tell athletes to keep working sore muscles. It didn’t hurt so much in the water, and when I got used to the temperature, I almost started having fun.
The best part, though, was that we were both naked, and he was treating that like it was normal.
We spent probably an hour in the tank. Two of the horses came over to see what was going on and stood there watching these two humans splashing around in their water source. The tank was filled from a pump, operated by that windmill I mentioned. Uncle Bob boosted me up so I could grab the steel frame of the windmill tower and I actually climbed down to the ground by myself. I felt so proud.
It seemed silly to get dressed, just to walk a hundred yards to take a bath, so I put on my shoes, gathered up my clothes, and waited for him to get out. I finally got to see the penis that had been underwater next to me all that time. It looked completely different soft. It flopped around as he climbed, and then lay on his ball sack as he walked towards me. It was only, like, two inches long! If he grabbed it now, it would be completely inside his hand! He saw me looking.
“Not very impressive, huh?” he said.
“Different,” I opined.
“The cold water does that to it,” he said.
“Remind me to keep you away from cold water,” I teased.
“Cassie, we need to talk,” he said, going to his clothes.
“Can we talk while I’m in the bathtub?” I asked. It was probably seventy degrees, but I was shivering.
He didn’t argue, but by the time we got to the bathroom, his penis wasn’t only two inches long anymore.
He had another very handsome erection.
“Let me guess,” I said, a I settled into deliciously warm water. “You want to talk about that.” I pointed at his boner.
“Yes,” he said. “You see what’s happening, don’t you? I told you these things want to progress, and they’re progressing.”
“I get that,” I said. “I’m comfortable with the way things are progressing.”
“You’re not supposed to be comfortable!” he groaned.
“Oh,” I said. “Okay, so I guess I’m supposed to wait how long? Two years? And then I can be comfortable with all this? So what do I do in the meantime? I mean you said these things progress, so I can’t stop time. I guess I’ll just have to let them progress with somebody else. I mean you can’t stop the progression ... right? That’s what you said ... right?”
“You’re twisting things, Cassie,” he said.
“Bring that closer and then I’ll be twisting something,” I said, looking at the thing jutting from a bed of soft-looking brown hair.
“Look at this,” he said, ignoring my jibe. He cupped his cock. “It’s hard because I want to put it in you. I don’t want to jerk off while you watch. I want to fuck you with it, Cassie. That’s what this is all about!”
I knew he was trying to shock me. I also knew he was a big boy, and that there was no way he’d ever rape me.
“When I’m ready, I’ll let you fuck me,” I said, bravely. “I’m not ready, yet, but I will be some day. Are you going to force yourself on me?”
“Of course not,” he groaned. “But you’re killing me, here, girl.”
“Killing you,” I snorted. “You may not want to jerk off, but I know you do, and I know you can. Maybe I could help you do that. Would that be better?” I had been thinking about learning how to jack a guy off. Maybe that would satisfy guys like Todd and they’d be less aggressive.
Did I mention I was pretty young? And ignorant?
“It doesn’t matter what we do, Cassie. I’m going to want to fuck you every time I see you.”
“So, basically, you want me to leave,” I said. It just came out, but when it did, I felt dread. What if he said yes?
“No,” he said. I felt a huge rush of relief. “We just need to stop playing around.”
I lay there for a few minutes. He just stood there, watching me soak. His cock didn’t wilt even a little bit. It occurred to me that things really had changed a lot. It had happened slowly, so I hadn’t noticed, but here I was, naked in front of him, and he was naked with a hardon in front of me, and it was no big deal. A month before this, if you’d told me this would happen, I’d have laughed at you and said you were nuts.
“We can’t just stop,” I said. “It is a progression. You’re right about that. Trying to stop would be like trying to turn back time.”
“We have to stop,” he groaned.
Being young and stupid, I got an idea that I thought was brilliant. Again, a month earlier, if you’d have told me I’d think of this, I’d have laughed in your face, but now it seemed like a viable plan of action.
“I’ll stop on one condition,” I said.
“What?” he asked guardedly.
“You have Amazon prime, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then we order me a dildo and get two-day free shipping and I’ll leave you alone after that.”
He must have been desperate, because he agreed.
I took a nap after my bath. I don’t know what he did. When I woke up I felt much better, but it felt good to just lie there, so I did that for a while.
As my mind played over everything that had happened, I spent a lot of time remembering that massage. He’d said he had liniment. I’d teased him about wanting to rub his hands over my naked body again. But right then, the idea seemed very appealing, especially if, two days hence, I was going to have to forgo pestering him.
I got up to go find him and was surprised that I was just sore, rather than crippled. He was in his office, wearing reading glasses, going through bills or something. He looked at me over the glasses, which were perched on the tip of his nose. I thought “geezer” but immediately pushed that thought out of my mind. No geezer could bale hay like he had. Plus he was only wearing running shorts. There was no central air in the house, which was a hundred years old. Basically you controlled your comfort by the amount of clothes you wore.
“Whatcha’ doin’?” I asked, cutely.
“Paperwork,” he said, mysteriously.
“Is your offer of liniment still good?”
“I thought you agreed to leave me in peace,” he said.
“Technically, that’s after my toy gets here,” I reminded him.
I almost laughed as he looked over my shoulder while I paged through two dozen web pages of sex toys. Some of them were pretty outlandish, even to me, and he made all manner of noises as he saw things that would probably haunt his dreams in the future. Five minutes later he said he had other things to do and left me alone. He had one touch purchasing with Amazon, so all I had to do was make my selection and then hit the button. I finally chose one called the Eager Beaver. It was at a site called “The Blushing Teen,” which seemed appropriate. He was pretty freaked out by all this, which made the fact I was pretty freaked out, too, less noticeable. The Eager Beaver seemed pretty tame, by comparison to some things that looked like they would only be used by an Amazon warrior princess (no pun intended) or a complete freak. They even had one that was inflatable so you could “adjust it to your personal measurements.” I tried to imagine a woman, lying in bed with this thing plugged into her, and operating a bicycle pump to get things just right. Uncle Bob wasn’t there for that one, which is probably good.
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- 06.07.2021
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