The Summer of the Garden Boys

I met Brad six years ago when my family moved to a house in the country near a small farming community. He rode up one day on a Honda ATV. I had never lived in the country and I had never ridden an ATV and here was a perfect stranger showing up and offering me a chance to ride his. A few quick instructions and away I went. It was a great icebreaker and the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

Before long we were rippin' and runnin' all around the country. Fishing, hunting, trapping, lying about all the things we'd done with girls and bragging about what we wanted to do with them next. I worked for Brad's dad, Earl, in the spring, summer and fall, as did most of the country boys we knew.

There was always something to do. Moving pipe in the green bean fields, spraying strawberries, planting corn, threshing wheat, hauling hay, working cattle and a thousand other tasks. Brad and I worked together all the time.

When we were finally split up, it was to run separate crews. Brad got the irrigation moved, I got the fences fixed, gates built and cattle fed and watered. Life was simple; work hard, play harder.

When we goofed off, we'd do the normal stuff that older boys becoming young men would do. Dirt clod fights, water wars, wrestling matches, all the stuff that turned boys into men. There was a hierarchy on the farm that wasn't dictated by age or blood. It had more to do with ability and experience. Though we had several young men older than us working with us, Brad and I were the undisputed leaders.

This was in part because Earl owned the entire operation, and in part because I was Brad's best friend, but mostly because neither one of us had ever failed to get a crop in or a herd moved. The harder the task the better. We were young and bulletproof. Because we spent a good bit of our down time at the country store in Garden, Oregon, we became The Garden Boys.

From time to time one of the new guys, college students and such, thought they'd grown enough summer muscle to challenge either my authority or Brad's. We couldn't just fight a crewman, that wouldn't be fair. On the outside chance that the challenger could beat one of us, he'd have to take on the other too. No, it wasn't fair, but Brad and I never really concerned ourselves with fair.

Instead we'd arrange for a contest of some sort that we'd put the crews through to come up with a worthy challenger to take on either Brad or me. If the challenger came from my crew, Brad would finish him off. If it came from his crew, it would be my turn to put him in his place. That way the loser could continue to work for his crew boss without any hard feelings and we wouldn't be short a guy at crunch time.

The guys that had been around us for more than one summer would find a way to lose in the earlier rounds and let the new guys have a chance to take us on. The older guys knew from experience that as much fun as we liked to have, neither Brad nor I would ever quit challenge. We might seem like we were easy going, but he and I had our own contest going. If either of the Garden Boys were to ever lose, we both knew that the other would spend the rest of our lives rubbing it in. That was a big incentive to keep our undefeated records going.

By the time I was 19 and Brad was 18, we had a long standing and hard-earned reputation for our skills in a scrap and our talents for trouble, but I was more proud of our ability to solve any problem. Brad could build anything you could think of, and I could think up a special contraption or machine to solve any problem. It wasn't uncommon for neighbors to wave us down and ask for advice on getting something done or solved. That was pretty cool for a couple of teenagers.

But the best part was that we were closer than brothers. We were and remain best friends. We even moved in together. Earl had offered the use of a mobile home on his property by the country store. We jumped at the chance. We got to come and go like we were adults and we were still close enough to home to always have a hot meal and clean clothes. For all of our apparent maturity, we were basically beginners when it came to matters of the heart.

One night I happened to notice something I had never seen before. It was a warm summer evening, the crickets and tree frogs just beginning to sing for night to come. I was sitting on our deck outside the trailer and happened to notice one of the neighbors working in the yard.

Delinda Zeller was 18, a year younger than me, and until that moment she was just a pain-in-the-neck tomboy I had grown used to ignoring. That perfect summer evening she became something else in my eyes.

Long, lean legs, narrow waist, perky breasts, and curly brown hair down the middle of her back; tied behind her ears with a baby blue ribbon. She was wearing a brown summer dress with tiny spots that I later I found out were little blue flowers the same color as her ribbon. Gone was the tomboy. Delinda had become a woman.

So there I was drinking iced tea and finally having a sexual epiphany. I nudged Brad and jerked my head in Delinda's direction. "Waddaya think?"

"Lisa's better." He was talking about Delinda's older sister by ten months.

I will agree that Lisa Zeller was pretty, no doubt about it. But she wore a lot of makeup and acted like she knew she was pretty, both turn-offs for me. I liked them pretty without makeup and I prefer that they not be stuck up. Yes indeed, Delinda was more my style.

"I think it's a good night for a camp out," I declared, knowing by just declaring it, Brad would agree.

"Tonight? You think so? We have a long day tomorrow," he was just stalling while he did a mental list of everything we would need.

"I think the Zeller's should come with us. Maybe do a little catfishing, maybe look for some falling stars, maybe taste your mom's blackberry wine......" I left off right there.

Up until then Brad and I always went camping alone, if for no other reason than we had always preferred our own company than dealing with the camp habits of others. That and we liked to try to stink the other guy out with our flatulence, a habit we were perfectly certain wouldn't be funny to anyone else.

"Maybe you're right." He paused as if thinking about it. "I'll meet you down at the lake."

Brad jumped to his feet, climbed into his Ford 4 x 4 and took off for his folks' house. That left me to do the inviting. Not a problem. I chose the direct approach.

"Delinda!" I called out. She turned, almost done taking down the sun-dried sheets. "Wanna go on a camp out?"

She reached up and pushed a stray strand of curly brown hair that the breeze had pushed across her face. She looked at me strangely for a moment, as if trying to divine my intentions. She didn't seem at all confident but she answered.

"I guess so. Let me get the laundry in the house," she hollered back.

"See if Lisa wants to come too. Brad will meet us by the lake," I shouted. That seemed to reassure her, safety in numbers. Maybe she had thought I was asking her to come with just me. Too late now, I blew that chance.

"OK. When?" she asked.

"Twenty minutes. I'll get my stuff."

She just nodded and carried the basket of laundry into the house. I gathered up my fishing tackle, a couple of sleeping bags, a bag of food and some pans. I tossed it all into the back of my truck and drove the fifty yards to the Zellers.

"You should have showered," said Delinda, scrunching up her nose as she slid in beside me. Lisa took the seat by the door. Good.

"I'll just take a swim later in the trout stream and cool off. It's a nice night for it. Have Lisa roll her window down if it's too much man for you."

"It's not that bad. I kind of like the way a man smells." To prove it, she settled in a little closer to me, even though there was plenty of room next to her sister. Even better.

Brad was already at the lake when we got there. He had a couple of rods out and was busy getting the fire going. Even though there was plenty of deadfall around, Brad and I always made certain there were a couple of ricks of dry cottonwood and oak stacked up at the campsite.

This lake wasn't that big, less than 200 acres and it was surrounded on all shores by fifty or sixty yards of woods and around that by a few thousand acres of his father's fields. This was as private as you could get in the central Willamette Valley.

The lake water was used for irrigation and there were several spring-fed creeks that kept it full. At the end farthest away from us was a small creek that emptied it out and drained into the Willamette River, a couple of miles away. It was full of crappie, bass, blue gill and in the spring creeks, small rainbow trout. Pan fried rainbow trout was always a treat, no matter the season.

I got my tackle out and set out a couple lines of my own. Brad had the fire going good in just that short time. "Let's go catch some trout and have some supper," he said, not getting any dissent from me.

We guided the girls down a quarter-mile trail through the cool woods, the summer evening beginning in earnest. We arrived at our favorite pool and set to the task of catching a few fish. Just throwing pink Rooster-Tails was enough. The trout were hungry and we had a fine mess in just a few minutes. The girls wanted to catch more, but we didn't want to take any more than we planned on eating.

"Let's swim instead," I suggested. "You said I stink and it's a perfect evening for it."

"We didn't bring suits," complained Lisa. She was really complaining that she didn't bring makeup but that didn't matter to Brad.

"You don't need one," he assured her. "There's no one around but us roosters. Cockadoodle doo!"

With that he skinned out of his shirt and pants, kicking off his cowboy boots and pulled off his socks. There he was in his navy blue briefs with a gray band. I had to admit, Brad was a good looking guy.

"Last one in has to do the dishes!" I shouted, shedding my own clothes.

I stood there in my white skivvies, having long given up briefs so that my cock wasn't confined all day. Briefs are uncomfortable when your cock is as long and thick as mine is. I kept my back to Delinda, suddenly a little unsure of how she would react if she saw my horse cock. I dove in and swam to where Brad was treading water.

"Come on in, the water's fine!" Brad lied. Spring-fed water is cold as hell. I was glad of it, I could use a little shrinkage.

The Zeller's conferred with each other, took their time looking for signs of any other human beings, then reluctantly removed their summer dresses, both standing there in just their white bras and panties, shivering against nonexistent cold.

"Run and jump in, that's the best way," I coached. Brad and I kept to ourselves, a long way from where they were, hoping that we'd give them enough confidence to just run and jump in. It worked.

"One-----two-----THREEEEE!" they shouted together as they ran toward the creek pool, hands linked. Into the air they leapt and then into the cold water where their joy turned to utter shock!

"Oh shit this is cold!" screamed Lisa. Brad and I were shocked that she knew that kind of language. She immediately turned to shore, desperate to get out.

"All yours," I whispered to Brad, who suddenly decided it was time to get out himself. Delinda was swimming confidently to me, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Serves her right," she said to me as she arrived. "This is nice. Do you and Brad come here a lot?"

"Yes," I replied honestly. About every chance we get. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. "But this is the first time we've asked anyone else to come."

Half a lie, but half a truth was good enough. She seemed buoyed by the idea that she and Lisa were the first girls allowed into our inner sanctum.

"We're going back," Brad called from the shore. "I'll get the fish cleaned and get started on supper. Lisa is cold and wants to sit by the fire."

We both knew that the walk back would have her warmer than the fire would. Brad walked back in just his briefs, knowing that by the time he reached camp he'd be dry enough to get dressed again. Lisa put her green summer dress on over her wet clothes, which Brad cautioned against but was ignored.

Delinda and I splashed around, taking turns trying to dunk each other. I accidentally on purpose let my hand slip and brush against her breast. She decided to tickle me in retaliation and despite the cold water, my manhood begin to flood with blood, poking through my boxers.

It felt so good, I just let it go, not caring if Delinda could see. I wanted her to see. The back of her hand smacked the top of my cock and I jerked back. This was the first time a girl had touched me there, ever. It sprang to life and remained that way for the rest of the day. I was harder than Chinese arithmetic. So hard a cat couldn't scratch it. It shocked Delinda a little too.

"I'm cold," she lied. "Let's get out."

"You go ahead, I want to swim a while longer. You know, get that man-smell off of me."

She looked at me funny and then headed for the small area where it was safe to climb out. She didn't rush right into her clothes as her sister had. Instead she sat there on a rock, knees under her chin, arms hugging them close, waiting for the summer night to dry her off.

When my cock finally subsided slightly, I swam over to her and climbed out. This time I didn't try to hide my family pride. If she was going to be put off by a well-developed cock, now was the time to find out. I stood up on the shore and stretched out, letting my muscles loosen up, giving her ample opportunity to ogle my package, well defined by my clinging cotton boxers.

"Let's head back," I said, intending to scoop up my clothes but pull on my cowboy boots.

"Wait a second," she interrupted. "I need to do something first." She walked over to me and tilted her face up to mine. She pulled my neck until our lips met. Her kiss was sweet. Sweeter than honeysuckle blossoms in August. "That's for inviting us up here."

She let her hands drop down my arms, until they came to my waist. I pulled her closer and kissed her again. I could feel my cock pressing into her stomach and I knew should could too. I could feel her breasts pressing into my chest. Without the cold spring water to keep things temperate, my cock threatened to separate us. "You are certainly well hung, aren't you?" she laughed, rubbing her belly where my cock had pressed into her.

"Is that a problem?" I asked. I knew for a fact that some girls were intimidated by a cock the size of mine.

"We'll see later," she flirted. She picked up her dress and retied her hair behind her ears with that baby blue ribbon. Her breasts jutted out, more than a handful but not quite melons. Her nipples pressed hard against the lining of her bra. I snuck a peek farther south and could clearly see the outline and shadow of her pubic hair.

"God I hope so!" I answered, finishing what I had started with my clothes.

We walked back to the campfire, our hands clasped together and swinging. I knew she was my girl and she knew I was her man without any formal declaration. In that short walk in the summer twilight we became a couple.

Back at the fire, Lisa seemed shocked to see us still in our underwear. She was the only one dressed. Brad was hunched over the fire, a pan of potatoes and a pan of trout both sizzling on the metal grate we leave there for such things.

On the corner of the grill was a can of Bush's baked beans. We probably should have skipped those, but tradition is tradition. I could see a little lust in Lisa's eyes as she watched his broad back and rippling muscles while he worked on dinner. Brad's hair was long, straight and blonde enough that you might have thought he was a surfer. He chest was well tanned, but he was white as snow from the waist down. Farm hands don't work with their pants off.

"Lisa, you look over dressed. Why don't you slip out of that dress and let your underthings dry out. Otherwise you'll chafe tonight." Lisa looked at Delinda still in her bra and panties and shrugged. She slipped out of her dress and laid it on a nearby bush.

"Supper's ready," said Brad, standing up with a pan of trout.

"I'll help," said Delinda. "Where are the plates?"

Brad and I both laughed. I reached into the bag of supplies and took out four forks. "We doan' need no steenkeen plates" I did in my best Tony Montana voice.

I handed them each a fork and grabbed the hot pan of fried potatoes and onions. "Dig in."

Brad and I had long ago given up the finer dining styles of human beings for the hunched over the fire caveman-ism we had come to call our own. Fewer dishes to wash. The girls were good sports, taking turns with us at ripping apart the trout and spuds and shoveling them into their ravenous mouths.

They were pointing and giggling at each other, occasionally getting into fork fights over a bit of trout. Brad grabbed the beans while I moved the potatoes to one side of the pan. He poured the beans in and that started a fresh round of feeding. In no time we had the whole mess eaten. We were laughing and bumping and generally enjoying the moment. Brad and I realized that we should have had these girls come camping with us for years. Boy, were we glad they were here now.

"You two were the last one's in, you have to do the dishes." They found that hysterical.

They took the pans and flipped them upside down on the fire, letting the flames do the work. Clearly they'd been camping before. Night was now fully on us. The lake was alive with the melodic chirping of frogs and toads. The fireflies were twitting about in the underbrush, trying to attract a mate. Now that my shorts were dry, I pulled my pants on, just be safe. Brad did the same. Surprisingly, the Zeller's kept their dresses off, ignoring the high-pitched whine of the mosquitoes.

"Let's go look for falling stars," suggested Brad.

Hearing no objection, he and I each grabbed a sleeping bag and a bottle of homemade blackberry wine and headed for the adjacent ryegrass field. I chose a spot where the stand of grass was thick and lush. I spread out the sleeping bag and indicated that Delinda should lay down. She did and I flopped down next to her. The tall grass around us formed a barrier against the rest of the world.

"This spot isn't very good, Lisa" observed Brad. "Let's go over here a ways and see if we can see better."

Delinda started to protest, this spot was perfectly fine, but one look from me and she realized that this meant we could be alone. She smiled. Lisa followed Brad and they moved about a hundred feet away. I had to get up on my knees to watch him spread out his sleeping bag and sit down on it with Lisa. Then they laid back and were gone from sight. I did the same.

I remember thinking how perfect my life was at that moment. It was a warm summer night and I was laying in the grass with a beautiful brunette who was only wearing her bra and panties. I felt like the luckiest man alive.

I didn't know how to start anything with Delinda. She had taken the initiative at the trout pool. So instead we lay on our backs, staring at the stars, and we talked. We talked about our families, school, farming, 4-H, the county fair, how much we liked barbecue, everything. We opened the bottle of wine and passed it back and forth. It was delicious and potent. I had a healthy buzz going.

"David, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure you can Delinda, anything." I rolled up on my elbow, head on my hand.

"Are you going to kiss me?"

She smiled and waited, fingertips lightly tracing the outlines of her bra on her breasts. I took that as a sign of encouragement and leaned in to kiss her. We started slow, like a trickle from a small spring high on the mountain.

In a few minutes we had raised the stakes, first to a creek, then a small river, now to a raging torrent of passion. The wine made me brave and I let my hands finally wander, feeling the warmth and firmness of her breasts. She rubbed my bare chest and reached around and dug her nails into my back.