I dropped down under the shade of the tree next to Bill and Joe. "Has she been out yet?"

"Ya don't see any laundry hangin' up do ya'?" Joe observed.

"Good, I had to finish fixing the fence out back, I thought she might be done by now."

Working on a cattle ranch in Montana in my youth did not offer many possibilities for sexual extertainment. We couldn't log in on the Internet and surf for porn sites, we had no soft core porn on the movie channels, and the nearest titty bar was some thousand miles from here.

So our biggest source of erotic entertainment was to watch the owner's wife, Ruth, hang up her laundry. Now this might not sound like something worth hurrying back from a job for, but then you never had the pleasure of watching Ruth hang up laundry on a hot summer day.

Every boy on the ranch, who knew what his dick was for, took his noon break under the oak tree near the clothesline. Now, as I look back on this with the knowledge I have today, I know she knew what she was doing to us.

She would come out of the house wearing a pair of white shorts. Shorts so tight that you knew if you ever got close enough to touch them, they'd explode and kill you with cotton shrapnel. If you didn't die from the shrapnel, the sight of that bare bottom would stop your heart. Just imagining what her bare ass would look like would dampen your pants.

She floated up and down the clothesline on legs that Betty Grable would have killed for. Smooth, tanned and firm as only a Montana farm girl could have.

She wore thin white cotton shirts, bleached so white, you had to squint to look for the bra showing through. The bra held up her tits for the world to see like an altar raising up an offering to the gods.

The boys raced through their morning work to be sure to have a seat for the noon show.

She would open the backdoor and walk down the steps, with the laundry basket balanced on her hip. It rocked in rhythm to her walk as she descended the steps to the yard. She would turn a bit and walk away from us to the far end of the clothesline. I think she could hear us all moan as we watched her ass cheeks bounce in a motion that pumped blood into our cocks with each little roll.

One day I had to piss something awful, so I set over to the outhouse. I stepped inside and shut the door. It never got too dark in that little wooden shack because of the cracks in the seams of the old planks. After I pissed, I looked out through a crack and saw she was only about thirty feet away. When she would bend down to pick up a shirt, her blouse would fall open and I could see part of a tit and her bra. My cock got so hard at the sight of this I was worried about puncturing one of those old planks.

I backed up a bit from the wall and unbuttoned my pants. My cock was long and hard as my hand wrapped around it. I slowly stroked it as she hung up a shirt, and when she bent down to get another, I picked up the pace, jacking my cock, while I got a straight look at her underwear and part of her tit. Soon my hand was getting my close, and it only took three more shirts, a dress, and a pair of her panties, before I was painting the inside of that outhouse.

She always dried her panties and bras nearest to where the boys sat watching her. I'm sure the Boss wouldn't have liked it, but he never paid attention to how she did the laundry.

If a stripper could generate half the sexual energy Ruth could hanging up clothes, she'd be booked solid. The fellas never figured out why I always had to piss when the show got going, but at least I never went back to work with a boner.

Now, I was dating her sixteen-year old daughter, Beth. We'd go out to the movies or I would be around to take her to school-so Ruth knew I existed. I was always polite and treated their daughter well and was pretty sure I would marry her some day. Beth was beautiful. She was a five-inch shorter version of her mother. But each time I came to the house to pick her up I would gaze on Ruth and my cock would swell for her.

I called their house one day to see if I could pick up Beth to go to the movies, Ruth said, sure come on over, Beth would be ready.

I pulled up to the house and parked where her husband's pickup usually was. I figured I would be there no more than a couple of minutes, and the spot was closest to the house.

So I went up to the house and knocked on the door.

Ruth opened it, "Come on in, John"

"Evn'n, Mrs. Ruth. I came to get Beth for the movies."

"Oh, John, Beth and her father went to that Agriculture Seminar over in the next county. They won't be back until tomorrow."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought you said she would be here."

"I know, and I'm sorry John. Her father thought she should go with him to learn about the ranch, and I forgot to call you." She smiled at me in a way I had never seen, warmer, softer.

"Well, that's okay, I'll just be going back to town."

"No, John. You're not driving fifteen miles back into town without at least coming in for a cold drink. Now you go sit in the living room and I'll bring us some." She pointed me to the living room and turned to go to the kitchen. I watched her ass transport her through the door and went in and sit on the couch.

She came in carrying two glasses of Coke and set them on the coffee table. She sat down close to me-very close-too close.

"There now what shall we talk about?" Talk, I had to talk? When she sat down next to me her smell met my nose, every ounce of blood in my body went to my dick. I must have looked very pale to her. She had the most amazing odor, a light airy scent that floated over her, and a deeper, musky odor; I couldn't, at that time, identify.

When I make no reply to her offer of conversation she leans over and kisses me. No woman had ever kissed me before. I had kissed girls. I was good at kissing girls and they liked to kiss me. Kissing Mrs. Ruth was like being sent into the game for DiMaggio, you knew the crowd wouldn't like you, and it was certain you would strike out. This woman was the reason the backyard outhouse had one wall painted white. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, I realized her hand was sitting on my thigh, just inches from my cock. I was dead. I knew the Boss was going to come through that door in any second. He would look around and see us, and calmly walk over to the gun rack, and find the biggest gun there and put a bullet through my head.

At the same time as the kiss drew out her hand crept closer to my cock, I came to the conclusion that I didn't care. When the bullet entered my skull I would be safe in the knowledge that I had just died the happiest man who had ever lived.

Her hand moved on my thigh and I was ready to fire a week's worth of cum into my pants if she touched my cock. Her hand passed over the top of the aching bulge, and she took hold of my left wrist. She pulls my arm up until my hand touches her breast. She presses it into her firm flesh. My mind doesn't register that there is no underwear masking my touch. I just feel her nipple burn its tip into my palm.

She broke the kiss and whispered into my ear a question. "Would you like me to teach you how to make love to Beth when you are married?"

She didn't wait for a reply, certainly knowing that I was past speaking. She placed her lips back on mine and resumed kissing me. Her hands traced their way across my chest, feeling the muscles built up working for the Boss, now being felt by the Boss's wife. Death once again crossed my mind, when she pulled my other hand to her free breast. She pulled me into a tight embrace and my hands went behind her, while her tits flattened against my chest. Her tongue was alive in my mouth. She drew my tongue in to her mouth and sucked it fiercely, almost painfully.

She reached down, opened my pants and pulled my cock free. "John, you have a wonderful cock, Beth is going to be a very happy wife when you fuck her with this big cock, and I am going to be a very happy mother-in-law when you fuck me with it."