Chapter 8

I said I love metaphors. Here’s the one for what happened next. It was like when you watch NASA sending a shuttle into space. You hear the countdown and flames explode from the base of the rocket. It moves, ever so slowly, as the flames get brighter and lift it higher. It finally overcomes gravity and moves faster and faster until it’s driving through the sky, small now, but just as bright.

In my case, the countdown was me pushing him on his back. “We have liftoff,” was me moving to straddle him. The first, straining movement of the rocket was my hand, finding his erection, and the flash and smoke of the rocket getting a hundred feet off the ground was me, notching the tip of his ‘rocket’ in my pussy mouth (instinct, I swear!) and slamming down on it, filling my vaginal canal with something alive, and warm, instead of a cold, plastic toy.

I suppose you could say that the rocket, way up there and still bright was me, bouncing up and down on his cock. That’s because I felt no pain when I gave him my virginity. My rabbit had prepared the way. All I felt was being deliciously full of something hot and alive, part of Uncle Bob ... the man who loved me ... and the man I also loved.

When one does things on impulse, it can go well, or poorly. They can also go at what feels like light speed, or in slow motion. If two people are involved in whatever’s being done on impulse, it can happen at light speed for one, and in slow motion for the other.

For me, it was slow motion. I felt everything, every delicious second of it. For Uncle Bob, one second he was telling me he loved me, and the next he had a wildcat on top of him, basically raping him. His penis didn’t mind, of course. But the honorable part of him reacted badly. If you’re a prude, I suppose you’d say he reacted well, instead.

“Stop!” he croaked.

Slow motion sped up as his words penetrated my brain.

“You just shut up!” I barked, and went back to my much-better-than-my-rabbit new friend. I was in no mood for his shenanigans.

“Cassie, stop!“ he yelled.

I leaned down and put my face right over his.

“If you say another word, I’m going to punish you,” I said. I was just talking, trying to get him to stop ruining the mood. I was in the midst of losing my virginity, and it was everything I’d never hoped it would be. I hadn’t reflected on giving my virginity up. All I’d ever thought about was protecting it. But if I had thought about it, and dreamed about it, and hoped how it would go, what was happening would have blown all that out of the water.

“You can’t punish me!” he snapped.

I sat up and took off my shirt. I knew my boobs would enslave him. I leaned back down.

“If you don’t shut up and love me, I’ll never do this with you again.” I put a growl in my voice.

It was the shining pinnacle of my acting career, even if my acting career had just started.

He snapped again, but this time in a good way. Or, if you’re a prude, a really bad way.

He rolled us over until he was on top. But instead of pulling out of me, he pushed in deep.

“I am not your fucking rabbit,” he growled. “You can’t just use me like a toy.”

“You’re not a toy,” I groaned. He was really deep in me in this position, and the tip of his beautiful, delicious penis was prodding my cervix, creating exquisite pain.

“Then don’t treat me like one,” he said.

He pulled out, and sank back in. I thought I might just die with happiness. But I had that perverse streak in me, and it came out at the most inopportune times.

“You’re my favorite toy,” I gasped.

“What?” I could hear disbelief in his voice.

“No batteries required,” I panted.

I don’t know why, but it was the right thing to say.

Pretty soon I was bouncing all over and flopping around as he gave me a bone-wrenching orgasm that I actually thought might kill me, but all I thought of was that it was a great way to go.

Then he worked another one out of me, which I wasn’t scared of in the least.

As I came down from that one, he groaned, pushed, and a ball of warmth exploded in my belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whined, as he pushed even harder.

“I love you,” I gasped in his ear, as I realized that ball of warmth was his sperm, shooting into me.

Nobody had ever given me a gift so precious as he just had.

I think he finally just gave up trying to do the right thing. What had happened between us, even though it was unplanned, had been so obviously beautiful that it was impossible to view it as doing something wrong. I know I never once regretted it.

He had some remorse about ejaculating inside me, but that’s where the natural progression ends. Instinct will win out. Mother Nature is firmly in control of things.

The aftermath was just a little awkward. It had been unplanned, after all, a surprise to both of us.

But it was awkward while we caught our breath and cuddled, which made it nice awkward. I hugged him and wouldn’t let go, just to make sure he knew I wasn’t unhappy. The awkwardness finally dissipated when I said, “Next time, could you go a little longer?”

He laughed, and I kind of gave a sob of relief, which I felt push his penis out of me. That was sad, but I felt like I could live with it, because somehow I knew this wouldn’t be the only time we did this.

It wasn’t, either. He let me stay there, or maybe I should say I refused to get up and go back to my bed (and my dead rabbit). We fell asleep together.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to find him sucking gently on my nipples, and within a minute I was under him, legs spread wide, as he gave me a luscious orgasm.

“I should pull out,” he panted.

“You should not pull out,” I gasped in return.

“Cassie!” he warned.

I don’t have much in the way of fingernails. If you work on a ranch you just don’t. But I did have strong fingers, and they dug into his bony butt and held on for dear life.

“Oh yeahhhh,” I moaned, as I felt that ball of warmth deep inside me again.

“Fuuuck, Cassie,” he groaned.

“Any time,” I murmured in his ear.

He was mad at me the next morning when we got up. He started displaying his displeasure as soon as he woke up. He pushed me away and jostled me, saying, “Get up!”

“Why?” I moaned. It was cold away from him.

“We have work to do,” he growled.

He got up and I rubbed my eyes. He had a boner and, foolish girl I am, I said, “Oh goody!” and pointed at it.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said. “It’s not for you, anyway.”

“Who’s it for?” I asked, suddenly upset. I didn’t even think about being jealous. I just was.

“Get up,” he said again. “Cold breakfast this morning.”

“Who pooped on your pancakes?” I complained. I’d just had the best night of my whole life and now he was being a turd.

He just got dressed and left me there in his bed. He’d pulled the covers off and they were on the floor, so I couldn’t even cover up without getting out of the bed, first.

I think he skipped breakfast completely because there were no dishes in the sink when I got there, and he was already outside. I gulped down some shredded wheat and found him riding out of the barn on his horse.

“What about me?” I yelled.

“Find something to do,” he called back, and cantered off toward the north part of the ranch.

Now, if you’re a man, maybe you understand all this. If you’re a woman, you might have some clue as to why he was acting like such an ass. But I was clueless and didn’t get it at all. I had no frame of reference in which to put a man who had fucked his sixteen-year-old niece twice, ejaculating in her both times, and felt like he was a traitor or some such idiot thing. If he’d have just said all that - “I fucked you twice and probably got you pregnant and ruined your life, so I might act a little weird for a while,” - then I would have said something along the lines of, “Don’t be a complete douche bag, Uncle Bob. If you think about it, I’m the one who fucked you.” Well, the first time, anyway.

But he didn’t, so I stood there, watching him ride away, and my feelings were hurt. I even cried for a little while, but then I got mad. If he could act like an asshole, then I could too.

So I got his keys and stole his truck.

I was being a little dramatic. I didn’t steal his truck. I just drove it to town. When I got there, I realized I couldn’t do anything, because I didn’t have any money. So I suppose that’s when I stole his truck, because I decided to explore. Other than the ranch and town, I hadn’t been anywhere at all. I took off going north on state highway 80, which was the only highway that went by Geraldine.

Not owning a car, and having only minimal experience at driving one, I never had to do things like keep an eye on the gas gauge. That’s why I ran out of gas about forty miles from home. It turns out that, other than some really pretty scenery, there isn’t much to see in Montana. I got hungry, and decided to turn around and go home when the truck started jerking and then slowed down and stopped. I didn’t realize what was wrong, at first. I didn’t even know enough to pull to the side of the road, which I think is why the first person who came along stopped, instead of going around me.

That person, it turned out, was a guy in his eighties named Jasper Halstead. He didn’t know Uncle Bob. He just saw a young girl standing there, staring at a pickup parked in the middle of the road and decided it might be interesting to find out what was going on. Maybe he was just being neighborly. I don’t know.

Anyway, it was Jasper who decided I had run the truck out of gas. He’d been on his way to Fort Benton, going in the same direction I’d been going before I turned around. He had me get back in and steer while he pushed with his truck and got me off the road. Then he gave me a ride into Fort Benton, which was closer than Geraldine. He told me to call Uncle Bob on the way.

“I don’t have my phone,” I said.

He glanced at me.

“I don’t recall seeing no kids with no phone, over the last decade or so,” he drawled.

“I left in a hurry,” I said.

“Left in a hurry to drive to the middle of nowhere and run out of gas,” he observed, dryly.

“I was a little upset,” I admitted.

“Why’s that?” he inquired.

“My uncle rode off and told me to find something to do,” I said. It didn’t sound so unhappy when you just said it like that.

“And you wanted to play video games instead?”

Jasper had grandchildren.

“Something like that,” I muttered.

Jasper stopped in front of the Chouteau Sherriff’s office and said, “You can call your uncle from in there.”

Maybe he was just trying to establish an alibi for having a young girl in his truck.

Then again, maybe he didn’t quite believe I had only ‘borrowed’ Uncle Bob’s truck.

The first problem was that I didn’t have any ID with me. That meant I didn’t have my driver’s license, either, which made them pay attention when I explained why I was stranded in Fort Benton and my uncle’s truck was abandoned on the side of highway 80.

They “investigated” by taking me home. Apparently crime isn’t rampant in that part of Montana, and the cops have nothing better to do than embarrass teenage girls.

It might have been even more interesting if Uncle Bob had still been out riding the range and they couldn’t find him. But he’d calmed down and come back, to find me and his truck gone. I didn’t think about it then, but I bet his balls sucked up in his body when he saw the Sheriff’s car drive up the driveway, and me and two deputies get out. He had, after all, boffed an underage girl. Twice.

But I started crying and blubbering about how sorry I was that I’d taken his truck without permission. I basically blurted out a full and complete confession to grand theft, auto - or truck, anyway - but the deputies were having too much fun watching me cry to think about actually arresting me. They’d stopped at the truck on the way and confirmed it was out of gas. And they offered to take Uncle Bob back to his truck if he wanted to take along a can of gas to get it going again.