Chapter 34: Answers?

Mary drove the Suburban up the driveway as Andy and I were finishing dressing in the back. Andy was her old, sweet, happy, self again, although I was unsure whether two long hard fucks in four hours or all my patient loving and talking did the trick. We unloaded Lisa’s things and the new bondage gear we bought at the boutique. I slipped down to the dungeon to check on Cathy. She was lonely and depressed, but still passive and understanding of why her brother had imprisoned her.

It was almost nine but I still had work to do. I told Lisa to get ready for bed, telling her she could sleep in whatever she wanted and she would be sleeping in the back bedroom tonight. I removed her collar. She scurried through a bath, returning dressed in a flannel nightgown that covered her from neck to toe, with her collar in hand. Her eyes beamed up at me as I refastened it around her neck.

By then, Mary and Andy were naked and waiting.

“Lisa, I want you to braid their hair.”

“Any particular way.”

“Yes. Together.”

Lisa had no idea of what I meant until I showed her. Mary and Andy sat back to back. Lisa pulled their hair into two strands, braiding Mary’s left strand to Andy’s right and vice versa.

“Why in the world did you do that?” she asked, as she stood back to admire her handiwork.

“Come on, Lisa. Bedtime.”

I led her to the back bedroom, chained her collar to the headboard and kissed her goodnight, telling her I was glad she was back. Of course, you know why I had her braid their hair together.

“Kittens sweet, bound as one by woven fur.”

These kittens did not have fur. They had hair. I hoped braided was as good as woven. If Uncle Bert meant public hair, I was in trouble because I made Andy keep her mound clean shaven. He couldn’t have meant brading their pubic hair and tying them together that way. Could he?

I knew the rhyme he wanted. Many years ago, he and I were in southern California on the way back to Colorado for the summer. We stopped at a small town which was having a festival, like a county fair. It was a lovely, bright day, with clear skies. As I thought back to that day, they suddenly popped into my mind.

I was fifteen that year and was looking forward to being with Uncle Bert more than I ever had. Remember, it was my fourteenth summer when he got me laid for the first time, with the three Stevens’ girls, Sandy, the mother and her daughters Sandy and Sara. I lost my virginity to Sara that summer, but before the first three days was over I had all three Stevens all three ways, which for a fourteen-year-old, is heaven.

Over the school year in LA with my parents, I had gotten laid only once and only then because Darla Davidson was a slut in the making. She had just discovered the joys of sex and was fucking anything in pants.

So, this summer, I really expected to do some great things. Uncle Bert had seen the sign for the festival and pulled off the interstate, headed down a road in the directions the signs pointed.

“I’m horny, Davy. Let’s see if we can stir up some good farm women,” he said

“Yeah, Uncle Bert. That sounds great!” What would any teenaged boy have said?

My teenaged pecker was standing at attention as we drove into a field, parked the car and walked towards the festivities. We wandered around, looking at machine and livestock displays, playing some arcade games and always looking for women. The food was excellent from the booths, but expensive. Uncle Bert said the high prices were for charity and he did not mind. I had no idea at the time he was so rich.

I got tired of looking for women or anything else. The sun was brutal. Everybody was sweating but the desert air dried you quickly enough. I drank everything I could find to keep hydrated. But, the desert was draining me. Uncle Bert would not let me give up.

“Look, Davy, you got to put some effort into it. You think a good fuck just falls off the trees. Women need to be found and courted.”

Courted? He meant drugged, I suspect.

Shortly before nightfall, I was back in the livestock area walking around when I saw her. She was almost as tall as I was, which is unusual for a teenaged girl. I was already pushing six feet. She was mucking out a pen with a big rake. She wore jeans and a western shirt with a straw cowboy hat on her head, one, long, braid of coal black hair down her back. She was a long and lean girl. She had a beautiful ass, one of those high, firm, teenaged-girl asses which seems so adult in comparison to the rest of their bodies that it out of proportion.

When she turned around and saw me for the first time, her huge black eyes bored into me. Then, a shy, sexy smile crossed her face before she looked away, returning to her raking. I slowly walked to where she was. I realize now she started raking an area that had been raked before so she could be by the fence and more available if I wanted to talk, which I did.

It was there Uncle Bert found me. He had struck out but he was happy to see I had found someone, even if a fence was between us.

Her name was Melody. As luck would have it, she had a mother, an older sister and a father, except the father was up in Sacramento looking at cattle to buy and he had taken Melody’s older sister with him. Uncle Bert sent me for drinks since Melody was thirsty. But, when I returned, he took if from me to give to her and then sent me, to my great chagrin, on another errand. When I got back, the mother was there. Shortly, the mother went ahead in their car. It took about ten minutes for Melody to finish her work, then we left, too. She rode with us to show us the way.

They lived in a nice, three bedroom home on a dairy farm. When we arrived, Melody’s mother was sitting in the porch swing, enjoying the now cool desert night. Her hair was wet and she looked freshly bathed. She stood as we walked up the four steps to the porch and took Uncle Bert’s hand. I remember she looked flushed and happy.

“You kids stay outside for a while. Mr. Wilson and I have some business to discuss,” she said, leading him into the house.

Without saying anything, Melody took my hand and led me off the porch towards the hay barn. My two strongest memories are of her smell and the strength of her hand. She smelled sweaty, but it was not an unpleasant smell. In fact, I liked it. It was a sweat plus perfume plus girl smell that to this day makes me horny.

“Follow me,” she said softly. She had a little girl voice but a big girl’s body. She led me up a straight ladder into the loft. My eyes never left her swaying ass as I climbed behind her. In the darkness, she slowly found her way to the end of the loft and opened a swinging door. Moonlight flushed in, brightening the little world there. Now, I could see in the shadows.

“Over here, Davy.”

She walked to a spot and gracefully sat. There was a blanket and a pillow. She showed me the flashlight and books laying nearby, saying she came out here to read and for peace and quiet. We sat and talked for a while. She was my age but our lives were so different, mine urban, hers rural, we had many things to learn about the other. We had been talking about nothing special when she said,

“You have beautiful eyes.”

She leaned forward and gently kissed each of my eyes. Quickly, before I could respond, she turned, putting her back to me.