Uncle Frank, Pauline, Sex, and Me
Copyright© 2024 by Fatbastard
Chapter 41
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 41 - Coming of Age in 1960s New Zealand. My father's much younger brother guided and mentored me from early adolescence through my teenage years and a series of girlfriends. While each story can stand alone, readers will get most out of this series if they read chronologically starting with Andrea, and progressing through Bronwyn and Robyn to my adventures with Pauline
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Teenagers Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Farming School Vignettes First Oral Sex Petting
June - 1963
I packed my hunting gear into Harriet, and headed South after school on Friday, making my first call for a catchup and meal with Grandma June, Uncle Bruce, and Robert at the Henley farm. They were pleased to see me and interested in my account of my progress as a fencer. There were only a few jokes about post hole borers and Hayes wire strainers. June shooed me off to the Morrow’s as soon as the dishes were done.
“Della says Sandra’s been hanging out to come home. She’s pretty sure that time with you is the attraction. She said she was really disappointed she couldn’t go up to Auckland last holidays. Come and see us again before you go back up if you can.” She grinned. “If you still have the strength!”
I maintained my usual quiet dignity, and departed for the Morrow’s. My welcome from Sandra was effusive, and Johnny and Della also seemed pleased to see me. Johnny muttered something about a filly in season needing service before she would settle to work, and I let that pass, but it drew a ‘Da-ad’ from Sandra. We declined their jocular invitation to a ‘few hands of Five Hundred’ and withdrew to Sandra’s room.
“It’s been a while!”
“I really wanted to come up in May, but Mum had to go and visit her sister. Aunt Maude is quite sick with emphysema. She was a nurse too, and all of them used to smoke like chimneys in the early days.” I nodded sympathetically, and Sandra went on. “Mum gave up years ago and Dad never started - thank goodness!”
“Grandad Henley died of lung cancer, and Grandma June never started. Uncle Bruce and Robert smoked for a couple of years as teenagers, but quit when Grandad got sick. Mum gave up when she met my Dad.”
“He was a serious rugby player wasn’t he? Smoking wouldn’t go with that!”
“Lotsa them did it, but he was obsessed with fitness. I think he smoked a bit during the war, but when he came back he really wanted to get serious about rugby.”
“I’ve tried it but I really don’t like it.”
“Me too. Sex is just as grown up and much more fun!”
We undressed each other hurriedly, both wondering whether our ‘energetic connection’ might strike, and both hoping it would. It didn’t, probably because we were both so horny that rampant lust was front and centre. I hadn’t been with Pauline for more than a week, and Sandra had had to be content with her dildo all term. We wanted each other.
There was a little hurried kissing, but no other foreplay, and with only a very brief pause to push in a tablet, I was on top of and inside Sandra, and we fucked like demented rabbits.
I came quickly, but stayed fairly hard and kept moving, albeit a little more slowly. Sandra got off quite noisily a minute or so later, and we collapsed in a sweaty, giggling heap.
“That ought to get Mum ‘n Dad going!”
“They heard you for sure! You reckon hearing us excites them.”
“Probably. Mum has hinted that Dad isn’t quite as keen as he used to be, and I suspect she’s got even keener since we both got the pill. She said it’s a real relief not to have to worry about contraception.”
“You reckon your dad gets juiced by the sound of his nubile daughter being fucked?”
Sandra screwed up her nose. “That’s creepy!”
I pulled back – at least a bit. “I suppose he could be juiced simply by the sounds of fucking. But it seems like you are bothered by the thought of any connection between his turning on and the noise you were making?”
We were lying together cuddling, smooching a bit as we talked. Sandra pulled away and sat up. I had no sense that she was separating herself from me, but she was thoughtful.
“The idea of Dad turning on to me making sexy noises is a bit close to the idea of Dad turning on to me in the flesh.” I Hmmed, and she shrugged. “Some of the girls at school talk about it a bit. Fathers, brothers, uncles, looking a bit too hard and probably lusting. No one has said anything about anyone actually doing anything, but some of the girls have felt uncomfortable.
“Your dad is a decent man. I find it very hard to believe that he would ever do anything to hurt you or upset you, but he is a man.”
Sandra bristled slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“We’ve talked about this a little bit in Biology. Your father is the descendant of millions of male ancestors who were all programmed to put as much sperm as they could into every fertile vagina they came across.”
“So what?”
“So all men are programmed to notice signs of sexual maturity, fertility etc. He couldn’t avoid noticing you in a different way as your body changed and puberty transformed you into a fertile and potentially sexually active female.”
“He certainly changed about the time I first got my period. Didn’t cuddle as close.”
“I think lotsa girls have that experience.”
Sandra departed for the bathroom and returned with a warm damp washcloth. She cleaned my junk thoroughly and very sensuously, and then sucked me while I fingered her. She had three or four orgasms before I managed to come again, and once again we lay together in a sweaty giggling heap.
We eventually drifted off, and the next thing I was aware of was Della calling us for breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausages, toast and jam, multiple cups of tea.
“Are you two hunting today?”
I cast an enquiring glance at Sandra, and she nodded and smiled. “I haven’t been bush since I broke my leg.”
“We could shoot across the valley to the slip again. There’s always been deer there every time we’ve hunted.”
We agreed on a leisurely trip in the late morning, and after we had cleaned up and done the dishes, we withdrew to Sandra’s room again to ‘get dressed’ for a hunt. That took a while, since we had to get undressed first, and one thing led to another (as they say).
But by eleven o’clock we were climbing the ridge behind the farm. I had encouraged Sandra to take the lead, since, as I reminded her, ‘as a phenomenally fit soon to be champion fencer’, I was likely to be faster than her.
“If you get any further up yourself, you’ll choke! I’ll go first if you want, but leader takes the first shot!”
I nodded agreement and she moved off in front, and I cruised up the ridge behind her, enjoying the view of her bum as she toiled up ahead of me. Just as before, we slowed and quietened a hundred metres below where the side spur joined the ridge, and we were even quieter as we approached the place that provided a view across the valley to the slip on the other side.
There was a deer on the slip – a mature hind. Sandra lined it up with her battered old .303, and I slid a round into my P14’s chamber, looking at the hind through my scope. Sandra’s shot seemed very loud, and the hind staggered and dropped, rolling down the edge of the slip a few feet before coming to rest against a clump of pampas grass. I tried to follow it through my scope, but my attention was drawn to a movement on the edge of my vision.
A second hind had raised her head from behind a clump of five finger, and stood with her ears twitching. I could see nothing of her body, and I was certainly not thinking of the state of play in our hunt or the prospect of carrying out the meat from two carcasses. So when she moved forward, I got a sight of her body, and almost reflexively fired (or as Frank rather acidly suggested much later) ‘loosed off a round in the general direction!’. The deer flinched and staggered as the bullet hit her, but kept her feet and disappeared into the bush on the far side of the slip.
Shit! Shit shit shit! We had been here before, hurrying to bush bash across to the slip to track the deer that Sandra had wounded last time. That episode had ended badly, with a broken leg, mild concussion, and a Search and Rescue operation.
Sandra was onto it. “She went into the bush just above that clump of five finger. We should start tracking from there.”
“Right – but let’s go slowly and carefully this time. No Search ‘n Rescue dramas!”
We traversed across to the slip with a little more circumspection than the last time. The deer Sandra had shot had been hit though the thorax and both shoulders and was very dead. There wasn’t too much salvageable meat on the front end, and Sandra was happy to do the butchering while I tried to track the hind I had foolishly wounded.
I had learned not to try climbing up the slip itself, so I went into the bush on the far side, and climbed up the twenty feet or so to the clump of five finger, and looked for the blood trail. I knew I had hit ‘my’ deer in the hind leg, and thought she had probably not gone far. There was a smear of blood on the five finger, and another on a mahoe a few metres into the bush.
The deer had initially tried to climb the moderate slope to crest the ridge more or less parallel to the one we had climbed from the back of the Morrow’s farm, but had evidently found the task too much and angled down to cross it a hundred metres or so down from where she had been wounded. She was bleeding freely, and had had only just made it over the ridge. I found her lying in a thicket of tree ferns, mahoe, and juvenile tawa under the canopy of rimu, totara, and southern beech. She was nearly dead, and I didn’t fancy cutting her throat, so I put a round through her head and started the butchering process. I was better at it than I had been the year before, but I still hadn’t finished by the time Sandra arrived, having dealt with her own kill and then tracked me after hearing my coup de grace.
I was pleased to see her, and even more pleased to have her help to finish the butchering. We packed three haunches, back-steaks, and filets, and stood to shoulder our packs. Then it happened again. Sweaty, bloody, and tired, we made eye contact and ZAP! Even though our physical bodies were completely separate, we seemed to be energetically connected.
Sandra took the lead. “Let’s not waste it. I want you!”