Dark and Stormy Night

Characters:

Bruce Franklin: The stud, college grad, lives in West Columbia, WA

Nellie Jacobs: Red-haired daughter (Twin), tall, slim, almost lanky, outdoorsie country girl

Nancy Jacobs: Brown-haired daughter (Twin), tall, slim, almost lanky, domestic country girl

Stanley (Stan) Jacobs: Grandfather to the twins, 'getting by rancher'

Hook: A young traveler is mistaken for ranch daughters' hired stud.

Tags: Twins, Cowgirl, Redhead, Shotgun, Breakdown, School girl, Daddy's girl, Inexperienced., No choice, FFM

Notes to Readers:

All sexually active characters are age 18 or older

Short story: Includes 3200 words (6 book pages)

I was oh, too aware that my car's engine was sputtering and threatening to stall all together. The gauge said my gas tank was nearly full, but the way the engine acted, fuel starvation sounded the most likely cause. Probably a clogged fuel filter. I never should have gassed up at that hick-town station on the edge of Mortonville. If you're going to get bad gas, a place like that was the place most likely for it.

I made it about another mile, the engine running rougher and rougher the further I went. The last half mile I was coaxing my engine at near-idle up every little rise in the road to keep my one-year-out-of-college heap running. Finally, there was no more. I coasted to the side of the road to get it out of the way of someone with better gas purchasing sense than me. From there I sat a moment, listening to the gusty, wind-blown rain hammer my car, wondering how far it was to that light I saw through the trees up ahead.

Damned! It was Friday night, and I sure wanted to get home yet tonight so I'd have a full Saturday ahead tomorrow, but it didn't look promising now. That's why I took this back road out of Mortonville in the first place. The service station kid said this road cut twenty miles off the distance, and he also said although the road was gravel, it should be in pretty good condition yet this fall.

So there I was, sitting with a dead engine halfway from Mortonville to West Columbia. I gave the engine a couple more hopeful cranks with the starter, but got nothing out of it. So I sat there a couple more minutes cursing my judgement, hoping behind it all, that if I waited, the wind would die down and maybe the rain would ease up. I'm sure you can guess my success from that wishful thinking.

I opened my door against the wind, and right off, got a heavy blast of rain in my face, followed by several more that succeeded in drowning my face, the front seat where I sat, and most of the workday-clothes I wore. As I put my left foot to the ground I found no gravel, only soft mud—fairly deep and getting-deeper mud.

I guessed that light up there was perhaps a half mile ahead. I found when I got closer, though, the house with the light wasn't near the road. No, when I should have gotten closer, the house and it's light got little closer, but back off the road to one side.

What I found instead was a driveway, also wet and muddy, and a long way off the road still to go to that house and it's single light. But by then I had committed all my energy—and little remaining dryness—to getting there and getting help. So I trudged on, stumbling through the road's windblown tumbleweeds and sagebrush clumps, trying to guess where the next mud puddle was relative to the blown-to-the-roadside weeds and trash. As I slogged along, mud and rain filled my oxfords, making me cuss myself for not wearing work boots instead. For a job supervisor on a construction site, either would be cosher, but there I was, caught wearing the worst choice of the two.

I think my teeth chattered by the time I reached the fence I decided in the dim light wound around the mis-kept yard and the house. The house was no better kept than the yard and its fence, but the light still glowed in a first-floor window, so my optimism held I'd get help here and still get going on towards home.

Standing on the dilapidated porch under the rickety roof, I knocked the door, which sounded as if it had weathered too many storms and had lost most of whatever held it together.

"Just a minute," a not-at-all friendly voice said from within.

Well, I'd use my vast interpersonal relationship building skills to set aside the negative attitude of whoever that was.

The door latch rattled, then the door. Next thing I realized was a double barrel shotgun greeted me through the half open door.

"How come you're so late?" The voice behind the shotgun said.

"I had car trouble out on the road. If you or somebody would come help me, maybe I could get going again on my way into West Columbia."

"Like hell you will, Sonny. You're three hours late, and my girls have already gone to bed."

"What?"

"You know what I said. Quit acting stupid. I wasn't born yesterday, you know, so get in here and do what you're supposed to."

By now the shotgun was even closer, poking me in the gut just above my belt.

"But what?" I tried to say, only to find the gun barrels pressing even tighter against my belly.

"Who are you, anyway?" the gunman said. "I never seen you before. What happened to that Jerry fellow who usually comes out? My girls like him."

"I don't know any Jerry. You got me confused with someone else."

"Bull shit. Now get in here, get ready, and get to work."

"Ready for what?"

"What I paid you for, that's what."

"But ..." I tried to say, only to find that gun's barrels now trying to stab a hole in my middle just to the left of my navel. Finally I came to my senses and decided arguing with a 12 gauge shotgun made no sense at all from my side of things.

"Where?" I said.

"Up the stairs, you jerk." With that I got another jab in the ribs, so I headed for the closest staircase.

"That's more like it," the gun holder said. "Don't screw with me and we'll get along just fine"

"Okay. Okay. Didn't mean to offend."

"You better not. They expect you on time, and by god you're going to come close to on time from now on. Got it?"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Don't sorry sir me, you peckerhead. Turn right at top of the stairs, first door on the right."

So, I turned. When I arrived at the door, I grasped the knob, but didn't turn it. My pause lasted too long for him, I guess..

"Well, what you waiting for? Go on in so they don't feel stood up and embarrassed."

So, I turned the knob and pushed the door open into a dimly lit room. Inside, two candles glowed on night stands, one at the head of either side of a huge bed.

"What?" I think I gasped.

"Gramps? This isn't Jerry. Who is this guy? We like Jerry. Where's Jerry?"

"He didn't come again tonight. Sent this guy instead. He's late 'cause he claims his car quit out in the storm. But he's here now, so get him into bed with you and make certain he earns his pay."

By now both girls had rolled out of bed and were at the door sizing me up. Let me tell you, there was little of me they didn't size up.

"Will he do?" the man at the door said.

"I think so, Gramps. We just gotta get him ready,' the redheaded one said.

Ready? For what? I was thinking.

"Okay, Mister. I'm going back downstairs so you and my daughters can get acquainted. But I warn you: I'm a good shot, and you try sneaking out and I'll blow your manhood off, understand?"

Yes, I understood that much, even if I didn't understand why two tall, very attractive young girls in baby-dolls were feeling me up and coaxing me toward a huge bed. Did this sort of thing happen anywhere other than in young men's fantasies?

I tried to make conversation, if only to help me figure this all out. "Hello. I'm Bruce Franklin?" I said.

"I'm Nellie Jacobs," the red-headed one petting my prick said as she rubbed her warm and thinly clothed body against my shivering, wet one.

"And I'm Nancy Jacobs. We're twins," the brown-haired one said. I didn't have two pricks, so she had a handful of my testicles.

They looked pretty young; in our state a guy could quickly go to jail for screwing anything under age 16. That concern must have shown on my face.

"We both graduated from Home Path last spring, so don't worry," Nellie said. Yes, I'd heard of Home Path; that public school scion meant both were highschool grads and age 18 or older.

"Granddaddy's so proud of us he bought us each a night with Jerry every week this year for our graduation presents. Aren't we lucky?" She paused a moment, the said "Where is Jerry, anyway?"

I shook my head. I know if I had two slim bodies like these to cozy up to every week, it would have taken far more than wind and rain or even snow, sleet, hail, and the dark of night to keep me away! Although just out of bed, they looked gorgeous, even if they needed a moment to straighten their hair.

"Well, we like you already, Bruce, but I think we're going to like you a lot more," the brown-haired one said.

Me too. My like for this situation was fast turning to lust!

"So, it's Bruce? I got that right?"

"Yes?" I think my voice shuddered slightly from the jack Nancy gave my Johnson just as I answered.

"Well? You gonna stand around all night with your wet clothes on? Or you want us to pull them off?"

I sat on a side chair and started to remove them, muddy shoes first, but Nellie beat me to it.

"Oh, no, no, no! We take yours off. You take ours off. Fair deal, don't you think? Sorry we already gave up on you and climbed into bed, but we'll make it up to you, don't you worry."

As my pants slid off, I suddenly noticed how drowned the weather had gotten them.

"Must be really raining out there," Nancy said. "You didn't see Jerry, huh?"

I shook my head. Two pairs of hands started in on my wet shirt. I don't know if I shivered from that cold shirt sliding off my shoulders, or from the touch of those warm hands that helped it slide.

"Boy, you're just freezing!" one girl, I think it was Nellie, said. "Here, let me roll back the bed covers so you can slide in."

Two pairs of hands helped me accomplish that. Once the covers settled back down, both pairs found the sensitive parts of me and began a more vigorous attempt for warming me up. I tried to reciprocate, which only prompted more attention from them.

"Ooh, he's sure cold! But I love him already," Nancy (I think) said.

"Me, too!" A fine, warm, pair of lips found mine and put an inexperienced smooch on them. Another pair found me farther down and put a smooch on down there, too. Ooh!

Nancy, the lip-kisser, pulled back a bit, then laid another kiss on me, on my neck and all over my right ear this time. "Like that?"

"Yes." I sort of drew out that 'yes' so she'd know I really did.

"Come up here, Nellie. See if you like kissing him, too. I'll take care of him down there."

The change was painfully long, although quickly accomplished. Yes, Nancy's lips, now wrapped around my penis, left nothing to be desired—either.

The situation, I learned as I went along, was this Jerry, whoever he was, came out Tuesday nights each week after supper and screwed one girl (usually Nellie) while the second girl 'helped-out.' Thursdays that same week, he came out again and serviced the other sister (Nancy) while the first girl 'helped out.' Seemed this week Jerry kept his Tuesday night appointment, but missed his Thursday duties completely, leaving Nancy feeling stood-up. When he didn't show on time Friday night, either, well you can understand their grandfather's surliness when Jerry not only didn't show on Thursday, but sent an unknown in his place Friday night—and better than three hours late.

I also learned the girls were twins, obviously fraternal. How you can get twins as different as Nellie and Nancy, I'm not about to speculate. Maybe a passing tramp? Or a stranger in the woodpile? But what the hell? I can say this with certainty, though: if this Jerry was the only sex they'd ever had, he did an excellent job training them. If there had been others, then my hat's off to them, too.

As the sun peeked through the tired curtains keeping the morning's light dim in the girls' bedroom, I struggled to gather my consciousness so my brain woke enough to recognize the hand on my depleted manhood belonged to Nellie, my girl of the morning, not Nancy, my first girl of last night.

"Just relax, Bruce. Nancy is downstairs cooking breakfast for us. When Granddaddy comes in from his chores, we'll all go down and eat. Nancy's a good cook, I hope you'll appreciate her for more than just last night."

So, what would I recognize about Granddaddy? His ability with a shotgun? I hoped Nancy and Nellie gave the talents I demonstrated last night good reviews. I didn't want that gun pointed into my belly again because he—or they—were dissatisfied!

"So, what about you? You a good cook, too?" I said.

"Okay, but not so good as Nancy. She's sort of the motherly type, you know? Housekeeper, nurse, gardener, cook, that sort of thing. I'll bet she'll be the first of us to be a mother. Me? I'm more the outdoorsie type. I can ride circles around her, rope better, bulldog better, brand better, and cut studs and steer calves better. You know, ranching sort of stuff."

All I was thinking was how good Nellie's talents were in bed! God, my body was exhausted, yet it couldn't wait for more! I reached over and put my hand on Nellie's left breast.

"Ooh, I like that! Wanna go again already?"

Better head that off right now. I had a long way to go to ready-up for that! God, no way I could handle either of them again yet!

Just as I came to grips with my condition, soft footsteps sounded at the other side of the bedroom's door, then knuckles rapped gently as if the rapper expected Nellie and me to still be in Never-Neverland."

"You two awake yet?" she said softly.

"Yeah, I am. I think he is, but I'll check." With that a face dived under the covers and its lips took up quick residence surrounding my expended penis. Then the face reappeared, accompanied by a smile and a giggle.

"Yes, he's awake, but his important part needs more rest."

This had gone far enough. I reached over and raked the back of my thumb up between Nellie's thighs and across her clit. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it as if she'd never let go.

"On second thought, maybe he is awake. I'll get him up and we'll be down in a few minutes. Then we'll see how ready he is for the rest of the day."

***

For breakfast, on which Nancy had done a great job, both girls took up positions so Granddaddy sat at the table's head end, I at the other, with a girl at each table corner next to me. Granddaddy still looked skeptical as to my performance, and made no bones about finding out if his girls were satisfied.

"He was wonderful, Gramps," Nancy said."

"Wonderful enough to make up for being two days late?"

I looked over to see how I'd scored. The coy smile on Nancy's face said I'd hit at least one home run.

"How about you, Nellie?"

"Pretty good, Gramps. But he needs more practice ... and I need more practice, too." Was that added enthusiasm I detected?

"So I see. Not so great as before?"

"Not so great, but I'm willing to work with him."

Well, that was disappointing! I thought Nellie and I had done rather well by each other last evening.

"So," Granddaddy said looking straight at me as he had when holding his shotgun. "How's he compare with that Jerry guy? Worse? Better? About the same?'

Both girls pulled their lips between their teeth, bit them, then nodded.

"Worse, then?"

"A little better," both said, more or less in unison.

"Then you want me to get this guy every time? Should I tell that Jerry guy you don't want him any more?"

Both girls nodded. It pleased me to see those nods, which although reserved, definitely put my score on the plus side. But where did I fall in this? I had to find out. Last thing I wanted was this Jerry guy showing up and coming after me with a gun because I'd interloped and was now screwing the two girls he was getting paid for.

"Who's this Jerry I keep hearing about?

"You should know. I got him from the same place you came from," Granddaddy said.

I just shrugged, shook my head, and raised my eyebrows to emphasize my question.

A similar question quickly landed all around the table.

"I'm just a guy whose car broke down out on the road. I'm here because I didn't fancy a shotgun blast through my belly. When my car quit, I was only trying to get home to West Columbia so I'd have a place to sleep."

"Really? That was all true?" the old man said.

"One hundred percent. I never been down this road before. Just trying to cut twenty miles off my trip home from my work, car quit, saw your light and hiked over here through the mud, and got a gun stuck in my gut.'

"Oh my god!" he said. "I'm sorry!"

"I was pretty scared, I'll admit." I cocked my head to one side for emphasis as I nodded.

"So how ... Granddaddy sat dumbfounded for a moment ... how can I make it up to you? I may be an old man, but not the sort of guy who goes around sticking guns in people's bellies without cause. They put people in jail for that."

"Yes, they do. But not for accidents and honest mistakes. I'm assuming this was an honest mistake."

"I hope you feel that way. Can I pay your for your time and trouble and ... emotional stress? I know it won't really make up for it, but ..."

I only shrugged and shook my head.

"I don't know what else to do. I sure will pay you, though, if you'll take that. God, I'm sorry!"

I hadn't noticed through all this that Nellie and Nancy had somehow scooted more toward my corners of the table, but I did notice when two pairs of hands in my lap picked up both my hands. I looked toward Nancy first, then Nellie. I'd seen in their bedroom's dim light that when they worked at it ever so slightly, the flirt that came on their faces made me susceptible to any persuasion they might choose to apply.

"Please, Bruce, give Granddaddy a break," Nancy said. "We really love him, and I don't know what we'd do if he got thrown in jail. We'll make it up to you. Please? We'll make it up to you every night and every day and every time in between. You just let us know and we'll be ready whenever you get here. But just don't wait too long between times, okay? Because I know we'll really get to missing you."

"Maybe I should break down on that road out there more often," I said, thinking maybe I should plan more trips down this road.

"Once you find out what we mean, you'll discover you won't have enough stamina for more than we'll expect from you. You remember, okay? Every night, every day, and any time between, for the rest of your life. You okay with that Gramps?"

I looked over at him, to see if he agreed. What I saw was the start of a loving smile showing no bitterness that I'd played a cheap, Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card on him and his daughters.