Pregnant Pond Farm: Sir_Scouries?

****

I still woke up early the next morning. Even though we hadn't got home til after midnight and I'd been a little tipsy. My first chance to sleep-in in over two weeks and I still woke up just after six. I'd gotten so used to getting up at 5:30 that I even panicked when I saw the big, illuminated 6:04 on my digital clock. I'd jumped out of bed and pulled my shorts on before I remembered that I didn't have to make breakfast for anyone that day. I did try to get back to sleep as soon as I remembered but it was too late -- I tossed and turned for a half an hour before I gave up. By six forty-five I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee.

"So what's my big city girl doing up so early on her holiday," suddenly sounded in my ear. Grandpa! Somehow he was always able to surprise me with his comings and goings even though he was six-three and weighed over two hundred pounds.

Grandfather was wearing his morning attire -- a towel. And nothing else. I'd sorta got used to his arriving in the kitchen every morning dressed only in a towel. And, after two weeks at the farm, I'd studied just about every inch of his body as he'd entered and left the pond. Granddad was not shy! And his body, even if over sixty years old, still had a hell of a lot going for it!

"So, are you going to join me one of these days?" he asked as he stood over me.

"Swimming?' I asked back as he leaned over and picked up my coffee cup and took a long sip. "With you? Now?" I added as I wondered if I should.

"C'mon," he encouraged, gave my hair a friendly ruffle, and then headed towards the door.

I followed slowly, tentatively, trailing ten feet behind him as he walked down to the pond. He dropped his towel and walked a couple of feet into the water, then turned and asked, "Coming?"

"Naked?" I asked back timidly.

He guffawed. I mean it, it was a real farm guffaw. Then he said, "Any way you want," then turned and dove in.

I slipped my sandals off. Then quickly lifted my tank top over my head and slipped my shorts down my legs. Down to my bra and panties I looked up as I wondered if I should swim in my underwear. Gramps, standing in water that just failed to cover his penis, was grinning at me twenty feet away.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't think I've seen as pretty underwear as that on a filly in all my life," gramps said.

Well no wonder! I certainly hadn't noticed in my time in rural America that farm country was a hotbed of female fashion. Or even "filly" fashion for that matter. And the ensemble I had on that morning was one of my finest. And I'm a New York girl. Look, I like nice underwear. There's no crime in that. And as I contemplated the cheeky, faux tiger skin, satin panties with black lace trim and the matching bra I realized there was no way I was going to dive into the muddy, weedy pond with them on. The set had cost over a hundred and twenty dollars!

I looked at gramps as I unhooked the bra. I was growing a blush even as I felt my nipples harden. His eyes never left my body. As I slipped my panties down my legs I was glad I'd let my pubic hair grow back. Just a month earlier I'd been as bare as a bowling ball down there. Now at least I did have a short, neat triangle of hair to help protect my modesty. I ran down into the water.

I'd never swum naked before. And certainly I'd never wandered around nude in front of a man. So afterwards I couldn't have told you if I liked the experience of water flowing over my nude body or not, I'd been far too nervous. It was okay when I was still in the water, it was only when we finally were finished and it was time to get out that I got excited again.

Grandpa, out of the water a minute ahead of me, offered me his towel when I got out. Which left him naked. And apparently in no hurry to cover himself up. I checked out his penis. No barbs!

I knew, as we walked back up towards the kitchen, gramps buck naked and I with only a towel around me, that I'd be swimming with him every morning for the rest of the summer. It was an exciting thought! And one that made me smile. I knew my friends back in New York would never believe it if I told them I'd skinny dipped with my grandpa every morning.

Spanked

I'm a liberal! My school's curriculum had always emphasized that girls such as we, girls who'd been lucky enough to be born wealthy in the richest country in the world, who'd been fortunate to have been blessed with the brainpower that had allowed us acceptance into one of America's best private schools, had a responsibility to society.

And my parents had echoed that teaching in the everyday examples they'd provided me growing up. You gave to charities. But even more important was that you also donated your time. You lived your beliefs.

So there was absolutely no reason I should have used the word. Or with the tone I used to say it. I was pissed off at grandpa, not them. I'd actually grown to like the boys. It was just a few words, words I immediately regretted the second they left my mouth -- "It's not my job. Your lazy wetbacks should be doing this. Not out screwing American girls."

It was the Saturday afternoon after my first nude swim. Of course neither Felipe nor Angel was back yet at the farm. Nor was Gretchen. So grandpa had enlisted me to help shovel horseshit out of the barn. I'm serious, he did! And it wasn't even the shoveling that had set me off. It was the fact that a good, big piece of still runny horse crap had fallen off my shovel and onto my boots.

The second the words had escaped my mouth I wished them back. And not so much because I thought granddad would be offended by them. Heck he was a farmer, a rube. He used all sorts of profanities all the time. I was mad at myself. That's not who I was.

As it turned out Grandpa was angry. In a way I'd never seen him in all the time I'd been at the farm. Or had even imagined he could be. There was smoke coming out of his ears. He scared me.

"I didn't mean," I started. Grandfather did not give me a chance to finish my apology. I was over his knee, my jeans and panties halfway down my thighs and the first blow delivered before I even knew what was happening.

I screamed! But the blows continued to rain down. Hard. And even as they rained down on my ass, and even as my shrieks pierced the room, I could hear his words:

"I spent fifty grand to send you to some school that taught you to be an effing racist?" SLAP! "Too fucking good for us are you?" SLAP! "You don't think your ancestors were native Americans do you?" SLAP, SLAP! "That your great grandfather wasn't called something as bad as when he arrived penniless from Ireland?" SLAP! "You think you're better than those boys?" SLAP!

And then he simply pushed me off his knees and down onto the straw covered floor of the barn.

I simply lay on the floor crying when he'd finished with me. Gasping and panting through my tears. My bum was on fire. I coulda killed him. I just wasn't going to take it!

"Are you fucking crazy? You shouldn't have done that!"

"You deserved it," he answered.

"We're in the fucking twenty-first century... we don't beat people anymore!"

We went back and forth for quite a while. He eventually apologized. Sorta. I apologized back. We talked about the boys. About racial stereotypes. Like here I am lying on a barn floor with my pants and panties halfway down my legs and my legs spread and my female parts wide open and exposed and I'm talking with my crazy grandfather who's just beaten me about effing Mexican immigration!

Then he told me stories about how his great, great, great grandfather almost starved during the Irish potato famine in the 1840's and then came to America with his wife and two children in the hold of a small ship with three hundred other starving peasants. One hundred of who died of cholera during the trip over.

I learned more about my family's ancestors during those five or ten minutes than I had from mom all my life. But my bum still hurt. Big time.

"It still hurts," I finally complained. I still hadn't pulled my pants up.

"Does it?" Gramps didn't sound that remorseful.

"You're bad. As bad as that stallion over there," I accused as I pointed over towards Sir_Scouries stall. The stupid horse snickered.

"Am I? You know sweetie I've got some balm that just might help you," grandpa said as he walked over to a cabinet hanging on the barn wall. There was an evil smile on his lips.

I'm now his sweetie? "Balm"

"McGregor's World Famous Horse Balm. Helps ease their muscle pain, lets them run pain free for hours," he said as he held up the tube he'd just picked up off the top shelf.

"Do you think I'm going to let you put some wacky horse medicine on my bum?" I asked as I backed away from him.

Grandpa didn't ask for permission. A second later I was back lying over his knees. He coated my rear end liberally. Didn't miss a spot. Including the crack between. And it actually relieved the burning feeling. The cost was that my ass started tingling. And it didn't stop. Even my pussy eventually started to tingle! It was like I had a tiny vibrator inside my pussy.

Dogs

She and her husband had arrived from New York City some five years ago. He`d been some kind of Wall Street Hedge Fund financial type who`d made thirty million and then had flown from the big city just months before the market meltdown had occurred. He had planned to be a gentleman farmer and his wife, a New York Kennel Club type, was going to breed purebred Airedale Terriers. She, a real rich, upper class type girl in background, loved her new life in the country. Her husband had only lasted six months before he retreated back to the city without her.

Which meant that she'd become available. And so apparently granddad had answered the call and was now poking this dog breeder. Even though she was only in her early thirties. At least that`s what Jennifer had told me before she`d left. "He goes over there every ten days or so," Jenn had confided one afternoon as we'd rolled pie crusts. So I'd been warned about her.

Mrs. Huntington-Scofield`s name came up on the night granddad and I had watched the big male Tomcat screwing his daughter. "Heck girl, that`s nothing. You should see how these rich people breed their dogs," he'd said at one point in the proceedings. I hadn't followed up his comment at the time.

And now I was to drive him over to her farm. We'd both been invited to dinner he said. My ass was still tingling hours after the application of the stupid horse balm.

"I might stay the night," he said, his hands on the steering wheel of the pickup, as we turned onto the gravel road that led into the dog breeders farm.

"Stay the night?" I decided to play stupid.

"Maybe," he said.

"Are you and Mrs. Huntington-Scofield--"

I drove home alone just after eleven. I'd actually had a pretty good time. Marjorie, Mrs. Huntington-Scofield, was the first person I'd talked to since I'd left New York who I could relate to. We talked art and music and city politics and discussed our growing up experiences at our various private schools. We discussed fashion. Granddad didn't say much as we talked.

Then we got onto the subject of dog breeding. And granddad was right, it wasn't much better than the cats! The American Kennel Club apparently has extremely tightly drawn standards for any dog who hopes to compete in any competition. The dog has to be a certain size and weight. Bigger or smaller and it doesn't get to breed or show. There are standards for acceptable color. They even specify what the bloody dog's tail looks like.

In the end you end up with a small group of breeding dogs with an ever decreasing gene pool. More incest! No wonder people always joke about farm boys sleeping with their sisters I thought as I listened to Marjorie -- heck it's all they're ever exposed to. Probably seems normal to them.

And then there's the actual dog sex. Have you ever heard the term 'bulbus glandis'? It's a dog breeding term. It's also called a 'knot'. And what does it do? And how does it do it? Oh I'm not going to get into all the scientific stuff Marjorie told me that night. But I will tell you this- once a dog has got his erect penis in a bitch (yes that's what the poor female dogs are called) something happens to it. This big bulb thing grows and locks the dog's penis inside the bitch. And once he's locked in you can't get him out. Not until he's good and ready! Bitches just have to lie down and take it!

Eventually I left. Alone. With instructions to pick up granddad at ten the next morning. So little old me, an eighteen year old innocent from the big city, was officially placed in charge of Pregnant Pond Farm for the night.

As you can imagine I had some very weird dreams that night. Everyone else on the farm was having sex that night except me. The two Mexicans, the grumpy Texan, and even my sixty-three year old grandpa were doing it and I was lying alone. Sir_Scouries was in my dream. So was the farms big 'tom'. So were some of Marjorie's dogs. And somehow, in my dream, I was in the middle of all of them.

Two foot long cocks! Barbed spears! Bulging bulbs! Females of the animal kingdom were fucked any way you looked at it!

But it was grandpa who was the main player in my dreams that night. He did some very bad things to me! It wasn't consensual! But it felt so good... I mean how sick was that? Getting raped by your grandfather while a big cocked stallion looked on... and then enjoying it!

Why had I ever consented to spending the summer at Pregnant Pond farm?

Grandfather On the Subject of Men

It was three nights later. We are all back to our regular schedule. I'd watched Sir_Scouries rape another poor mare that afternoon so perhaps that was why I was a little agitated that night. We were back on the porch. Beers were in our hands.

Out of the blue granddad said, "You know Mandy, I think it's time we talked about next year. About you being away from home for the first time."

WTF? "I've have been living away from home for the last four years grandpa. Don't you remember all those checks you had to write to the Forsyth School?" I said the words slowly, sarcastically, and in a tone I'd use for a simpleton. I'd had a bad day!

All my words raised from him were another of his famous guffaws. One that went on and on until it ended in a chuckle and a rueful shaking of his head. A slap on his knee.

"Memory failing you now?" I finally asked. He might be appearing regularly in my dreams but he also had the ability to piss me off.

"Your mom and I both agree that you'll need a little more schooling before we release you into the wilds of Dartmouth College."

"Mom?" Christ I wondered silently, had mom really discussed Dartmouth with granddad? I started to shake my head no; there was no way that had happened.

"You know Amanda, I did warn your mom about sending you to that all girls school."

Huh? Where did that come from I wondered. "What! What does my school have to do with anything? And why did you warn mom?"

"Well young lady what the heck do you think you learned up in the hills of New Hampshire surrounded by a bunch of lesbians? About men?" he asked.

"Are you crazy? I'm eighteen grandpa! Have you heard of the internet? And Forsyth Academy was not full of a bunch of lesbians." I was getting royally peed off! Gramps chuckled in answer.

"For your information we were paired up with one of the finest male boarding schools in America. We had monthly dances with them ... we shared some classes... we ..."

"Your mother thought a summer with me might just broaden your--"

"Broaden my what? My chicken killing skills? My penis washing skills?" Grandpa laughed. "Okay, maybe I wasn't in contact with boys 24/7 but I—"

"Which was exactly your mom's point Amanda! Now you're going to go off to that fancy Ivy League school of yours and you'll be surrounded by them. You'll have no idea how to act. You won't understand their natures."

"What, do you think I'm a virgin? That I've never done anything with a man? That I've never been kissed? I have had sex you know." My words had just slipped out. I'd had no intention of telling granddad one word about my sex life.

Gramps raised one eye. Then took a sip of his beer. "Well then, we've got a good starting point for our talks don't we?" he replied. He didn't seem perturbed by my news. Huh? A starting point? "So how'd it go? Was it alright? Liked it did you?"

Jesus! I shoulda just shut up but I couldn't! "For your information grandfather, and if you wish to convey this info on to my mother go right ahead, it went just fine. Swimmingly in fact. In spite of the fact I apparently don't know anything about the male species." Gramps guffawed at my words. Words that hadn't been exactly true.

Yes I had lost my virginity. But neither my first nor my two subsequent bouts of sex, all with the same boy, had been particularly brilliant or satisfactory. It hadn't been what I'd been hoping for.

"Well Amanda we'll discuss your experiences in my lessons. We've got six weeks to get you up to date on the subject. Your mother almost begged me to take you under my wing."

"She did not," I answered even as I thought evil thoughts about my mother. Had she really sent me to bloody Green Acres because she'd believed I knew nothing about sex? Was that what this summer exile was really all about? To watch some animals fucking? Was mom capable of such machinations? I knew she was. Bitch! Just shut up I tried to order myself. But that wasn't in my nature.

"And I suppose you of all people are going to teach me? Hillbilly Joe."

"Well we can't have you wandering around an Ivy League College clueless can we? We'll start the lessons tomorrow night," my grandfather announced as he stood up and stretched. Then he was gone before I could say another word. Clueless? Moi?

I didn't dream that night. Instead I tossed and turned and talked to myself. What was grandpa going to teach me? And how? Where was our classroom going to be? He didn't mean he was actually going to give me hands-on lessons did he?

Stallions and lesser mortals

Granddad started his lessons the next evening. After dinner. After we'd assumed our now normal position on the porch swing.

Granddad's Lesson #1 was simple: "all MEN are potential ANIMLALS!" And don't ever you forget it!

He talked almost nonstop for an hour on the nature of male humans that night. And any time I tried to cut in or dispute one of his points he just cut me off. This was not a discussion, it was a lecture. And my job was to listen. Which wasn't exactly my nature.

His basic thesis was that a woman had to be on constant guard, vigilant even when with the seemingly most unthreatening man or in the most innocent of situations. That a rapist lurked deep in the ancient part of the brain of every man.

To me it appeared that he had no understanding of twenty-first century America. Of the liberation that had freed us. Of the laws that now protected us. He didn't understand that the days of mans sexual domination were long gone.

But even as I told myself these things that night in bed I also couldn't help remembering the looks that had come into the eyes of all the farm men every time Sir_Scouries had mounted one of his mares. The hunger. The need.

Okay some of these country guys were capable of rape I conceded to myself as I lay in my bed. But Dartmouth boys? From good homes. Who'd been brought up correctly. NO WAY!

Lesson #2 was titled "CREEPS, PERVERTS, and STALLIONS".

My grandfather did concede the next night that the vast majority of men for the most part of the time lived within the norms of acceptable sexual behavior.

"Especially at a school like Dartmouth," I tossed in. He shook his head sadly.

But even these 'normals' (as he called them ) could and did go off the track from time to time. But it was for the creeps and perverts that he saved his most dire warnings. He went on about them for quite a while.