Chapter 1

Orville Stuckey kicked angrily at the clump of grass that nearly tripped him.

He was angry.

He was angry that he’d been sent to “walk the fence.” He was angry that his older and younger brothers didn’t have to do it too. He was angry at ... well ... pretty much everything and everybody.

Of course, he knew that what he was sent to do was all part of growing up on a farm or ranch that raised cattle. You shouldn’t graze cattle in a pasture before you checked and mended the fences, unless you really liked chasing loose cattle.

Just because he knew it needed to be done, it didn’t mean he shouldn’t be mad about having to do it. He remembered his older brother stomping off into the field when he was asked to do it. It might be part of the job, as far as he knew, to be pissed about doing it. He also knew his younger brother would get his turn in a few years.

The job was simple enough. Just walk the fence line of the pasture and check to make sure that all of the barbed wire was in place. Sometimes, a tree limb, or a misbehaving hunter would knock a strand loose. Sometimes the wire itself would be broken. More often, it had just broken loose from the post. He carried a canvas bag of supplies for the minor repairs. It contained staples to reattach the wire to wooden posts, baling wire to reattach it to the metal posts, several short lengths of barbed wire to make semi-permanent patches where the wire had broken, and his lunch. He also had a hammer for the staples and a pair of lineman’s pliers to cut and twist the baling and barbed wire sections.

It was hot and dusty work, but it wasn’t going to do itself, so he stomped off to begin.

It didn’t take a lot of brain power to do the job, so he spent most of the time turning the things that had him pissed off over in his mind. The first thing was his name. Who was named Orville in 2025. Men over 85 and him, that’s who. He was named after his mother’s grandfather. His brothers, Charles (Chuck, about 4 years older) and Garrold (Gary, about 4 years younger) were also saddled with family names, but he felt he got the short end of the stick on that. His couldn’t really even be shortened into a reasonable nickname.

He also thought about school. In actuality, he didn’t hate it anymore than a reasonably normal amount for a teenager, but he figured he’d be stuck working the farm for the rest of his life, so what was the point, really.

He stopped for lunch in the shade of the old oak tree at the corner of the pasture. Just a few ham sandwiches and some chips, but it filled him up.

By evening he had finished half of it but didn’t want to get stuck with something else, possibly worse, the next day, so he left the rest for tomorrow and he headed back to the house to get cleaned up for dinner.

He stopped at the shop building near the house to report his progress to his dad where he was working on the old tractor (“Well, you aren’t breaking any speed records.” was his response. His dad didn’t tell him that his father had once said exactly the same thing to him). He left the canvas bag in the shop and took his lunch bag inside so it could get refilled for tomorrow.

He washed his dusty hands and face at the pump outside the back door. The cool water felt great after the heat and he splashed his face repeatedly before drying it with the tail of his shirt.

Dinner was of the traditional hearty (but not heart healthy) farm fare. His mother was an excellent cook, but he didn’t know and didn’t care that his normal dinner was a cut above average. His family weren’t very conversational, and the only sounds during dinner were the clicks of silverware on the dishes as they moved the food to their mouths.

The next day started the same way. He gathered his lunch and the canvas supply bag and headed back to where he stopped the day before. A shiny new staple in a wood post marked where he had left off.

At the far corner of the pasture was an old cattle shed that had been falling down for as long as Orville had ever known. Truthfully, it had been falling down when Orville’s father was his age and had many more good years of falling down in its future. A few volunteer trees provided shade as he leaned against it to eat his sandwiches (roast beef left over from Sunday dinner).

He continued on until he came to the runoff ditch that crossed from their farm into the next. Trees had grown up around it over the years and he appreciated the shade as he worked on the fence. The fence needed to go through a few more contortions than normal to enter and exit the ditch, so there were often more repairs than normal in that area.

The farmhouse for the neighboring farm was also near the fence and ditch so it was a good time to do some surveillance on the hated Russels. The Stuckeys and the Russels had been feuding as long as anyone could remember. Nobody could remember any blood being shed other than a few fist fights, but they hated each other.

Orville was twisting a repair wire when he heard a commotion in the Russel’s chicken coop. He took notice, not because he cared about their chickens, but because he knew if it was a fox or something it would be over to their own hen house after it had done with the Russel’s.

The door of the coop banged open with a clatter, a cloud of “dust” and feathers, a barrage of hens complaining and Lisa Russel (the oldest Russel daughter of three) carrying two buckets containing the same “dust” that had formed the cloud when she kicked open the door. She kicked the door shut and latched it with her elbow while Orville hid behind the nearest tree, watched and mentally calculated how many chickens they might have and any other valuable intel for his father.

She dumped the chicken litter into the compost pile which, like their own, produced the richest possible garden fertilizer and put the buckets in the shed next to the coop. She beat the dust out of her bib overalls and looked at her grubby arms before walking over to the stock tank to wash them off. The water in the stock tank isn’t “Sunday clean,” but more than good enough to wash off chicken shit. She rubbed the water up her arms repeatedly before splashing it over her face.

It must have been very refreshing because she kicked off her boots and jumped into the tank. Orville wouldn’t even think of going to join her, but he was pretty envious of the relatively cool water right now.

Lisa totally submerged herself for a few seconds before allowing her head to emerge again and slicking back her dark hair. She backed against the edge of the tank by the windmill that pumped the water to keep the tank full and let the cleaner water wash over her face.

She enjoyed the cool, clean water for a bit before standing and stretching a bit. Her overalls must have been a bit too restrictive so she unclipped the straps and let the bib fall and change Orville’s life.

Orville had a normal amount of interest in girls (except the Russel girls, who were evil, of course), but the white tee shirt that Lisa Russel was wearing was nearly transparent now and provided ample visibility to her full, firm tits. He had never seen anything more beautiful. He dropped the hammer he was holding on his own foot, but didn’t even notice.

Lisa completed her stretch that had been restricted before while Orville watched, transfixed. The few seconds it actually took may have taken hours for all Orville knew. His rampant cock pressed uncomfortably against his own overalls begging to be released from its confinement. Orville reached down and adjusted himself to relieve that discomfort, but he definitely appreciated even the feel of his own hand as he watched Lisa climb out of the tank and reattach her straps before heading around the corner of the house and out of sight.

Orville leaned his back against the tree, his face red and sweat dripping from his brow. He spent a few minutes replaying the scene in his mind. She took on the bearing of a mermaid or angel or something that caused the adventurers in his books to stop and take notice. He knew what those passages were meant to convey, but he never really “got” them until that very moment.

After a few pleasurable moments of reverie, he realized it was about time to head home, as well. He checked to make sure none of the Russels were where they would spot him to prevent the “enemy” from getting any intel of their own before heading toward the house.

Orville spent dinner lost in thought about what he had seen. Every time her back arched as she stretched and thrust her glorious tits out he felt a pleasurable throb in his crotch. Thankfully, nobody noticed.

He jumped out of bed the next morning with a strategy. He gathered his lunch and canvas back. His father was actually impressed that he didn’t have to pry him out of bed to get started. If he had only known why.

Orvilles grand plan was to start at the end of the last section of fence that he had to do and work his way back to the trees, hoping for a repeat performance.

He tried to time his work and his lunch (Egg and onion sandwiches) to reach the trees in the proper time in the afternoon. To his amazement, just as he reached the ditch and the cover of the trees he saw Lisa exit the chicken coop gently carrying a small bucket that obviously carried eggs (from about 20 chickens by Orville’s figuring, useful intel). She put the bucket on the back steps and headed over toward the cattle tank.

Orville pressed himself against the tree and celebrated. Even that rough pressure against his again rampant erection felt great. He knew he was going to get a repeat performance.

He watched Lisa wash again and just at the point where she would have jumped into the tank, her youngest sister Katy came around the corner of the house.

“Damn, Damn, Damn!!!!” Orville though, furious at the interruption that is the bread and butter of younger siblings everywhere.

He continued to watch as Lisa and Kate talked for a few moments. He was hoping Katy would leave and Lisa would get back to her duty.

Katy seemed to be trying to convince Lisa to do something. He was too far away to hear anything but a mumble, but she had her hands clasped in front of her and was almost hopping from foot to foot her blonde hair swishing as she bounced. Lisa finally shrugged and nodded.