Leaving Home Pt. 01

Holy shit. What had happened to the lady who worked as hard as I had and wore work clothes all day? Her hair was done, still in a long braid but freshly done without an errant strand here or there. She had on light makeup, a spring looking cotton dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, (I would later come to know it was called a sun dress.) It was now apparent that her breasts were nicely shaped and in proportion with the rest of her body. I did notice they swayed slightly as she walked. I would learn later on that she chose to wear soft pretty undies when she wasn't working. What really caught my eye and had me mesmerized was the shimmer of sun reflecting off her stockings. Walking to me I could hear the swoosh, swoosh of stockings as her legs passed each other.

Sitting next to me she smiled, "Okay David. I do this with every new summer worker, boy or girl. We worked hard today, I feel like a steak. How about you?"

"You bet Mrs. B, I'm hungry as a horse."

"Then let's go, the Prairie House will fill up fast after 6. We should get there just before the supper crowd. You wanna drive?"

"Yes, I'm okay with that. Thanks, you'll need to tell me where to go."

"She chuckled, "That's right, you haven't been there. I'll drive this time."

The drive there was relatively quiet, she wasn't one to talk much anyway. She'd asked if I had called my folks to let them know I'd arrived safely, when I affirmed I had she said, "Good." And that was it. The steak was either the best I had ever eaten, or I was so hungry it wouldn't have made a difference if it was worst I'd ever eaten. As we finished she ordered a beer. When the waitress set it down she asked if I wanted some, which surprised me.

"I'm not old enough Mrs. B."

She looked surprised, "You mean to tell me you've never had a beer? What kind of 19-year-old are you?"

I hung my head a bit, "I'm one of those whose life mainly revolved around school, chores and not much else. That's part of the reason I was never one of the "cool" kids. I didn't give a hoot about sports, when chores and fieldwork were done I was usually in my room reading. Guess I'm kinda boring."

She grinned, "Would you like a taste? It won't matter, you're with an adult."

I slowly put the bottle to my lips and took a small swig. The face I made must have said it all as she laughed.

"Yes, it's an acquired taste, but once you're used to it there's nothing more refreshing on a hot summer day than an ice-cold beer. For me anyway."

I had another iced tea while she nursed her beer. When I mentioned there were people waiting she chuckled.

"Let um wait. I paid a helluva lotta money for those steaks, they should've gotten here earlier if they're in a hurry. Besides, it's just them damned yuppies moving in to our once quiet and quaint community. Transplants. They think they're gonna take things over, foolish kids, never gonna happen. They're rapidly coming to realize things aren't going their way, I guess they thought all of us were a bunch of ignorant hayseeds."

When we were back at the ranch she asked if I had laundry, which I did and took the basket to the laundry room. I've been around and seen my mom's undies all my life, but what I saw on those drying racks made my eyes bug out. Whereas moms had always been full cut briefs, Mrs. B's were shaped more like a bikini. And the bras, moms were the heavy-duty utilitarian support kind of harness. Most of what I saw hanging in front of me on wooden pegs along the wall were thin and delicate looking. In a basket on the floor were heavier duty cotton panties and bras she'd just taken from the dryer.

She'd been loading the washer as I stood staring, which made her guffaw. "Geez, don't tell me you've never seen women's underwear either?"

I stammered a moment and then found my bearings, "Yes, sure I have, but moms were different. You know, not as, um, delicate, and um."

Before I could go on she interrupted, "Sexy. Is that the word you were looking for?"

My face must have turned five shades of red, "Yes, that's the word. I've never thought of my mom's underwear as sexy."

She belly laughed, "I must say, you've had quite a day haven't you? You saw your first hairy beaver and a pair of jiggly tits, took a swig of beer and now you're looking at my lingerie. David, I may have been a rancher's wife and now the sole owner of said ranch, but I'm still a woman. One who sorta looks like a man when I'm working, but also one who likes soft, delicate and lacy undies. Sure, I have others just for working, but when the work is done I wear what you're looking at. I love silk."

I nodded as my head swirled and my hormones went into overdrive. I excused myself and hit the rack, sleep was put on hold while I took things in hand to relieve the building pressures of the day. My eyes were closed as I stroked and thought about looking at her perfect hairy beaver as she called it. And her tits, geez, they seemed great to me, not that I had anything to compare them to other than the perfect ones I'd seen in magazines. I knew my mom's hung down quite a way, but Mrs. B's didn't. They were more rounded on the bottom and the tops were like a small ski slope with long pointy nipples. The wide round circles around the nipple were a lighter brown than the deep dark nipples.

(I didn't know they were called areola at that point in my life. Sex ed in the seventies isn't the perversion it can sometimes be today. The boy's version was along the lines of girls have periods and guys shouldn't screw without a condom. That's a bit overly simplistic, but you get my drift.)

Not paying attention how close I was to blastoff I erupted into the air, the first volley falling across my shoulder and chest, the three that followed all landed on my chest and stomach. Thank god it landed on me and not all over the sheets, that would have been embarrassing if she knew I was whippin the mule as my brother used to say. I was awake at 4:30 and decided to get up. Thinking I would be the first one awake imagine how startled I was to find her in the kitchen in just a flannel nightie making coffee.

I struggled with keeping my eyes to myself and my dick under control as she made her way around the kitchen making breakfast. I loved looking if she would turn quickly so I could watch her breasts sway and jiggle. Keeping my dick in check was becoming more difficult when she suddenly bent over to open the oven door. Nothing was visible except the nightie pulled tight across her bottom, and no panty lines. Could it be, was she bare underneath that cloth? Standing straight she put the pan of stickybuns on the cooling rack and turned toward her bedroom. With a slight frown combined with one of disgust she addressed me.

"I'm not used to having anyone else in the house David, you caught me off guard. I'll make sure to be dressed tomorrow and stop looking at my ass."

By the time she came back dressed in work clothes the buns were cooled enough to wolf down a few. Big meals and sweets are common on a farm or ranch. Hell, you burn thousands of calories all day long every day. Meals and snacks are what keep you going. As we cleared the morning dishes she mentioned she was going to be chisel plowing and have me follow on a tractor with a disc. But first I needed to disc the ten acres she'd plowed a few days prior.

She opened a machine shed I hadn't looked in the previous day while I explored. What was inside made me drool, it was a brand new IH 3588 2+2 articulating tractor with duels front and back. That baby boasted 150 HP and could pull a 13-tine chisel plow with ease. She smiled as I walked all around it and asked if I could sit in the cab. The 2+2 was the first to have the engine and cab on the front half of the tractor giving the driver much better control. How I wished I was the one operating that baby. When I got out she obviously saw the enthusiasm on my face.

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance to drive it, but today you're on the 1466 with duelies pulling a 24-foot harrow/disc. If you keep it in the 7 to 8 mph range you'll have no problems and leave a nice level field to plant. Be sure and top off the tank before you head out. You'll be in the field next to the one I'm plowing, you can follow me out."

I filled my Igloo with water and ice, in the Playmate I had a sandwich and some cookies. Individual water bottles weren't a thing then. It wasn't a windy day although there was a stiff breeze which surrounded me in a constant cloud of dust. At one point she stopped plowing, got out unbuckling her belt, squatted on the other side of a tire, dried herself with some TP, dropped it into a furrow, pulled her jeans up and climbed back in the cab. She waved as I went by about 100 feet away in the other field.

By late morning I had finished the field and was moving into the field she'd been plowing. I'd made three or four passes when I noticed she had stopped at the other end of the field. By the time I reached that end of the field she was standing with her back against a tire. I raised the harrow and moved toward her, stopping about ten feet away.

"How you doing Davey? Any problems in the other field? Drop the disc, we'll take your tractor back for lunch, this thing is too big."

Over lunch I asked about the new tractor. Did she like it, was it all the dealers said it would be? I was a constant barrage of questions. The few she answered were basically factual. She liked it now that she was used to it, and though it had a cab it was still dusty in spite of the a/c. In her mind it could do far more than the dealers said it could. My last question made her sit back in the chair.

"How can you afford that Mrs.B.? It's over a hundred thousand dollars."

Leaning forward on her elbows she addressed my rather impertinent question.

"You don't muck around do you? It's alright though, you're young and probably don't know any better. When Jerry died he left me a huge life insurance policy. The ranch was paid for, I lucked out and did everything right the first year showing a profit. Which meant I didn't have to use any of the insurance money. You had asked some time back how long he's been dead, it'll be five years in August. When the crops were harvested this past fall and showed a healthy profit I no longer wondered if I could make the ranch work without Les. I rewarded myself by buying the IH over the winter. Like the ranch and all the rest, it's paid for."

I sat astonished, she sort of glared at me as she continued, "Now that we have that bullshit out of the way it doesn't need to be brought up again. Right?" I nodded. "Good, then let's get back to work and try to finish that field by nightfall, we'll grill up the pork I took out yesterday."

We pushed through finishing just before six. I would need to finish discing in the morning, but all the plowing was done and she could move to another field the next day. As with the night before she went to the outdoor shower while I put the machinery away. I walked around the corner just as she was wrapping the towel around her body, but not before I caught a glimpse of that wonderfully furry pussy and one tit.

She laughed at me as she walked by, "You'll need to be a little quicker next time if you intend to see the entire show. I'll start the grill, it'll be ready by the time your cleaned up and dressed."

Before I jumped in the shower I turned the burners on the grill to the lowest setting, seasoned the pork chops and set them aside. By the time I put them on the grill the rack was hot enough to give them a nice sear on both sides. Ma always said the sear was an important part, her words were, no color, no taste. It was four minutes on each side after that. When I brought them in Mrs. B was putting sides on the table.

She looked especially nice in my opinion, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her face was scrubbed clean, she was dressed in a pair of shorts that were about mid-thigh length and a baggy t-shirt. It was loose enough that I couldn't tell if she was wearing a bra or not, although I did detect the occasional jiggle if she moved abruptly. We discussed the days progress over supper and adjourned to the den. I was told I could turn on the TV if I wished, she was going to read. Ah, another somebody like me. I went to the room, grabbed what I had been reading and returned.

I have no idea when I fell asleep, but I do know I woke just after eleven to an empty room. I had slept so soundly that I didn't know she'd gone to bed. I wasn't awake at 4:30 the next morning, the alarm woke me at 5. Mrs. B had breakfast ready by the time I hit the kitchen. By six it was light enough to start field work, and our day would begin. Considering that the distance to the fields would take us further away from the house she had packed a lunch in a big cooler.

She told me to load the cooler into the pickup and make sure the water jugs had plenty of ice. After that I was to come find her. I followed as she went ahead of me in the truck. At days end she told me we'd leave the tractors overnight and use the truck going to and from hereon. In the bed was a 200-gallon fuel tank with a 12V electric pump, it was my job to make sure that tank was full every morning. My second job every morning was to do maintenance on both rigs when we reached the fields. Check oil and other fluids, grease what needed greasing and make sure the fuel tanks were full. By Friday morning the routine was down pat. Early breakfast, field work until dusk or later, return, eat supper and crash.

At breakfast Saturday morning she said we'd be stopping earlier. She needed to go into town for groceries and wanted me to accompany her to help get them in the car. I didn't even know she owned a car, I'd never thought to look in the garage. After getting back to the house and cleaning up I had a big bowl of ice cream around 4:30 to tide me over until supper. She appeared in a cotton dress that buttoned down the front, there was nothing seductive about it, but in my mind she looked mighty fine. Her hair was pulled back along the sides with a barrette behind each ear.

The dress was her typical knee length, and my favorite feature, the swish, swish of silk stockings. No cowgirl boots tonight, instead it was a pair of muted red flats. As she opened the door from the mudroom to the garage I damned near lost my breath. There sat a two- or three-year-old Buick Regal, and next to it a 1971 Camaro SS convertible with a 327 emblem on the side. She was laughing.

"Put your eyes back in your head Davey. It's just a damned car. We'll take the Regal, looks like it might rain. Before the summer's out we'll take a ride or two in the Camaro. I'm ready for a burger at Morreys tavern. Are you game?"

As hungry as I was I ordered a double cheeseburger with an extra order of fries. Little did I know I would have the biggest burger I'd ever seen placed in front of me. It was so big the fries were on a separate plate. She laughed at my expression.

"You're fun to watch dipshit. I probably should have warned you, but that wouldn't have been fun. You can wash it down with a sip of my beer."

I frowned, "No thanks. Iced tea will be just fine."

By the time I finished my stomach was so full I could barely move and not be uncomfortable. At Bubbles IGA we ambled through the aisles picking out this and that, as full as we were there would be no impulse buying. I pushed the cart and she filled it with mostly dry goods and some produce. It was too early for fresh fruit so she didn't bother. I loaded the groceries into the backseat and was about to sit when I noticed she was returning after taking the cart back. There was no such thing as cart corrals then. I quickly scooted around the car and opened her door. It apparently caught her off guard, she stood there staring at me for the longest time.

"Thank you David. No one has opened a door for me in a very long time."

I waited until she was seated before closing the door. Though I hadn't intended to look I caught a glimpse of a black strap attached to her stocking. I knew what it was, I'd seen pictures, it was garter belt. That image played over and over in my mind like a non-stop newsreel all the way home. As I lay in bed I imagined touching the creamy soft skin at the edge of her stocking.

With my dick in hand, balls boiling toward overload, I leaned back and let fly. I'd been smart enough to have a handful of tissues when I finally exploded. Even at that it still ran down my hand as shot after shot blasted the tissue. She told me before going to bed that Sundays were a late start day and she'd see me for breakfast at 8. She was in work clothes when I walked into the kitchen. I asked what we might be doing that day.

"We need to check the cattle. They all seemed to be crowded around the one of the stock tanks the other day. I want to make sure both tanks are filling. Sometimes the float doesn't work right, or maybe one of them is leaking. After that we're gonna move the tractors to the next set of fields. Sylvester and Raul will start Monday at six, they work until six so they can have time with their families. You and I will continue until at least ten if the weathers good."

In the truck she continued with her conversation. "It'll be nothin but assholes and elbows the next three weeks. Long days, late nights, not enough sleep and our asses draggin on the ground. If the weather holds, we can have everything planted by the end of the month. Now that would be lovely indeed."

Mind you, I was used to long days, but pa gave me more time to plant than what she was talking about. Then again, hers was a crop farm, we raised crops to feed our animals.

"What will the other guys do?" I asked.

"I'll put Syl on the planter with the 856, Raul will take the 1456 and you'll be in the 2+2. He'll be planting at 24" centers, so I'll have to make sure Syl has seed and fertilizer along with bringing you guys' food. When they go home I'll jump on the 1456 and continue dragging."

That was the longest most tiring three weeks of my entire life up to that point. Other than one day of light rain we were at it until at least ten every night except Sundays when we would stop at five. During the day she would stop at the house, put something in a crockpot or the oven and there would be hot food when we finally drug our worn-out asses home. With it being dark there were no peep shows at the shower, although she had become less stringent about being completely covered leaving the shower. More than once she was still drying as she walked past me. There was just enough light to watch her breasts move from side to side and see her brown furry bush.

I masturbated only once in that three-week period, I was too exhausted to have illicit thoughts of Mrs. B, much less the energy required to get myself off. We finished on a Sunday afternoon, she paid the guys and walked into the house. Plopping down on the couch she immediately went to sleep, to me she looked angelic. I couldn't understand why people talked about her as if she were some sort of dried up nasty old hag. Sure, she cussed more than I'd ever heard a woman cuss, and she wanted things done her way, but so did every other ranch owner. Why should it be different because she 's a woman.

I knew there were pork ribs in the fridge, after seasoning them I placed them on the grill on a very low heat. In a few hours they would be tender, mouth-watering morsels to be consumed for supper. I smiled to myself thinking how excited I was to be able to surprise Mrs. B with a meal she didn't have to cook. As she napped I was reading a magazine designed for people interested in computers and digital technology. Yes, it was around then, just not everywhere and all that common.

As she rolled on her side away from me the shirt slipped from the waist of her jeans exposing her lower back. At the very top of her jeans was a pair of red cotton panties. Walking to the kitchen to check on supper I lingered a minute to stare at her skin and the edge of her panties. What a thrilling sight, my cock was rapidly expanding, I needed to move on, and quickly. When I walked back in the kitchen after checking the ribs Mrs. B stood at the sink filling a glass of water.