Wicked's Metamorphosis

She plopped down on the swing listening as Grandma engages her in banter about canning goods and about things she did during last evening.

I sit on the steps so that I have Marie's uphill full-frontal view. One leg is tucked under the other affording an expansive view of the crisp, white shorts stretched tautly over her mound. The faded white tee shirt wraps tightly around her breasts clutching at her protruding nipples. They poke so tightly against last season's shirt that the rose-colored nipples and pale whiteness of her breasts can be readily seen through the material. I love that she chooses not to wear a bra. Her tits, straining against her undersized tee shirt, are delightful.

Grandma pauses as she completes her day's greeting and remarks, "I see you have really begun to fill out since last summer, we need to get you some new clothes." Then she smiles and adds as she turns to enter the kitchen, "I think some new lady's undies, too."

Marie blushes and retorts, "Maybe, maybe not, Grandma," shooting a glance at me, she continues, "but, definitely not this summer!"

Sharp as daggers, her eyes cut back to stare me down, as if to say, 'I know what you are gawking at, Ray Schumacher.' My fixated gaze on her breasts and mound had not gone unnoticed. Now, it was my turn to blush and turn away. I trail behind Marie as we enter the kitchen for lunch. We ate and talked about gardening and chores we would undertake for the afternoon. Occasionally, I would find my eyes staring across the top of the salt shaker mesmerized by the movements beneath her tee shirt as she raised and lowered her fork back to her plate. Once, she caught me -- a sharp kick to the knee was what I got for it!

After lunch, Marie and I gather baskets and pick vegetables from the garden for canning that evening. As the afternoon heat increases, our tee shirts are damp with sweat as beads form on our brows and run down into our eyes. Marie's perspiration-soaked tee clings and becomes semi-transparent allowing me to almost see her breasts. Her nipples are definitely pressing forward and tearing at the thin material. I bet they would like to get out for some fresh air. I turn to pick beans from the opposite direction so as to take advantage of the view. It didn't take long for her to note that my eyes are picking more than my hands.

"So, ..." she asks quizzically. This is one of her favorite expressions meant to draw me out, or all too often, to deride me unexpectedly.

"So, ..." I drew out the word, trying to think of a response to change what we both knew I was thinking, but failed.

"So, Ray, why are you ogling me? Never seen a girl before?" Her peppery voice interjects.

Instantly she is in attack mode, taunting me as she frequently does with put-downs to establish her superiority. She has to dominate and be in control in all situations. Such is her compulsive nature. She feels, by virtue of her age, that she is in charge of everything, even though she is only three months older than I am.

"Yes, I've seen a girl before," I say good-naturedly, as I found my voice. "But, none as good looking as you stuffed in that tee!" Truthfully though, I hadn't seen any girls that dressed sans bra and tightly tucked titties struggling to push through an old tee shirt. Marie's tits seemed hell-bent on escaping the confines of the thin fabric.

'Perhaps, they just need a little coaxing to break out of the corral,' I muse to myself.

Not expecting my retort and caught off guard, she blushes. Looking down, she quietly continues picking beans. Regaining her composure, her wry sense of humor shot back, "So, you like my old raggedy tee?"

I hesitated, formulating another sassy reply to test her response; "I like what I see through it better!"

I look at her eyes for clues on how she would respond. However, she remains silent, turning those hazel orbs to focus on picking beans in order to avoid my gaze. I am surprised that she did not have a comeback. For now, she remains quiet. We turn in earnest to filling the baskets, - our conversation flagged. The heat of the day has sapped our wills. Filled to the top, we take the baskets to the house and wash them using the hose by the back porch.

Grandma comes out and looking over the baskets exclaims, "OK, these are wonderful! I have my work cut out for me this evening. Why don't you two go out and check on the animals. Make sure they have water, too."

"Ok, Grandma!" Marie replies, turning toward the barnyard, happy to escape the chore of snapping the beans for canning. Having gone not more than three steps away, we are hit with a cold spray of water. Caught off--guard, I gasp and Marie giggles with laughter as Grandma hoses us down.

"What's that for?" Marie asks still laughing.

"You forgot to turn off the hose!" Grandma replies with a chuckle, "And both of you look like you need a cooling off just like the beans!" Picking up the baskets she heads up the steps.

We turn toward the barn. Now, with her tee shirt really plastered to her breasts, Marie's pullover is nearly transparent. I can also see that under her soaked shorts she is not wearing underwear as well. Just as Grandma's observant eye picked up on this earlier.

'Shit!' I think to myself, 'Girl, I dream of you naked and here you are almost visible, almost naked right in front of me!' Marie caught my fixation out of the corner of her eye. After two years of being around her now, she could read me pretty well. Blushing, she races off to the barn holding her tee shirt out from her belly. I trot after her.

We feed the animals and fill the water troughs for the evening. Marie had opened the outer gate to let the horses into the stalls for the night. The mare and stallion bolt into the lower floor nearly pinning Marie to the wall as they wheel about.

Startled, Marie cries out, "Ray!"

I spin around at her cry. Quickly grabbing her by the waist, I hoist her onto the gate rails and rapidly scramble up beside her. Without my quick-thinking action, the horses certainly would have knocked her down. As we turn around, it only takes a couple of seconds to see what all the excitement is about. The mare is in heat and the stallion is fully intent on breeding her. To avert further danger, I swing the gate open and the mare dashes out with the stallion in pursuit.

Marie turns red, but promptly puts up a defensive smirk declaring, "Damn things are like fucking rabbits!"

I nod in agreement. Having grown up with ranch and farm animals, we both have seen animals mate. Yet at this moment, neither of us jabbed the other or covered our giggles, as we would have during this past year. Now, we are silent and reluctant to look at one another. The mare braces herself, as the stallion mounts and seeds her womb, hopefully with a next generation breeding stallion.

We stand transfixed while the horses consummate their primal urges. Then, with the fucking done, the stallion drops back on all fours and moves to nuzzle the mare.

"So," Marie asks again as she spins around to face me, "Why do you keep staring at my tits?"

"They are a lot -- a lot ... You have changed so much since last summer," I stammer holding back and not blurting out what I really was about to say: that her tits were a lot bigger than I remember from last summer.

"They feel nice and soft -- but your nipples are hard," I add almost in a whisper, having just pulled her off the ground and heaved her onto the gate. It is the first time I'd felt the warmth of a girl's breasts pressed so firmly against me.

As my remark sinks in, Marie's blush takes on a rose color as she looks down and replies, "Thanks, for grabbing me up before they trampled me." Then, as an afterthought, her soft voice adds, "Guess I can't fault you for crushing me against you while you rescued me. You weren't thinking about copping a feel, were you?" She asked with a shy smile curling up in the corners of those lush lips.

'Where is this going,' I find myself thinking.

Then, quickly, she turns away in an effort to hide her stiff nipples. I couldn't help notice that they appear larger, now, and seemingly straining to tear a hole through her still wet tee shirt. Is it just my hyper-imaginative state, or after witnessing the copulation in the barnyard, did I sense her nipples increase in size? 'Do girls get bigger tits when they are aroused?' I wondered.

Strike while the iron is hot, Ray. My impulse is to reach around her waist and fondle her breasts from behind; however, I know that would spell trouble. Instead, reluctantly, I turn to pick up the buckets scattered by the cavorting horses guessing I would just have to be satisfied with getting to feel her breasts pressed against my chest. To my surprise, from behind me, I hear Marie loudly call out, "Ray!"

Rapidly, I spin around expecting more horse trouble. Not horses this time, I quickly realize as my eyes widen and my mouth drops open. Marie had rolled her tee up over the top of her breasts. She stands frozen for a moment, allowing me to take in the beautiful view of her fully exposed tits. Then, way too soon, she pulls the tee shirt back down.

"That ... is for rescuing me from the fucking horses!" She blurts out. Wheeling around, she scampers out of the barn and is on a dead run to the house.

I was dumbstruck. "Damn, what else can I rescue her from?" I thought. Leisurely I stroll toward the house imagining other feats of daring I could perform that would land me a look at all of her and, perhaps, mount her ass, like a stallion, as well.

"Thank you horses and thank you, Marie!" I whisper as I crack a huge smile. I finished picking up the buckets and corralled the horses for the night before ambling back toward the farmhouse. My thoughts were on the bouncing bubble butt that sprinted out of the barn leaving my jaw dropped in amazement. I got half way across the yard -- just in time to see Marie coming out of the kitchen door.

Marie, snatched up her bike by the porch and shouted through the screen door, "See you tomorrow, Grandma!" She paused before pushing off just long enough to lock eyes with me in a lingering look that spoke volumes to my fertile imagination. And just like that the new, unseen side of Marie pedaled her 'girls' down the road home. Needless to say, my sleep that night was more than restless as my hand and my mind stroked my cock and Marie to an orgasmic state of bliss.

Confidant Complicity

At breakfast the next morning, Grandma was unusually thoughtful. She poured her coffee and milk for me. As we sat down to eat bacon and the guinea hen eggs, she had gathered before I awoke, she leans toward me. I could read the intensity on her furrowed brow.

"Marie told me about yesterday," she says, with a clearly serious tone of voice. It's that tone we do not hear very often from her, but when we do, it is not taken lightly. When a retired doctor speaks with that serious tone, you'd better be all ears.

Uncomfortably, I took another swallow and waited for her to continue, fearing the worst. Had Marie blabbed about flashing me or worse told her what I'd said, something that was now to become a millstone around my neck?

However, Grandma voiced her concern that we had been in danger and needed to be more careful, particularly around the horses. I know from the rest of her conversation, that Marie had not told her about the fucking horses scene and certainly not about flashing her breasts as a reward for being rescued. No, it had to be a tamer version of what transpired, otherwise, Grandma's admonishment would have taken a different direction.

Marie and I are now confidants, I think to myself. She is complicit in hiding her overt erotic tit show act as a reward yesterday. A sly grin lights up my face as I finish breakfast and head outside for morning chores. 'Maybe today, Ray!" runs through my mind as my heart pounds a little bit faster as I walked toward the toolshed.

Later, Marie rode up in time for lunch. I had just cut the side yard and was drenched with perspiration when she arrived. Grabbing the hose, she sprays me from head to toe before I can run. Grandma comes out to check on all the laughter and giggling.

"Come on you two," she says, "you're acting just like rabbits!" Marie cut short her laughter and looks questioningly at me. I shrug and put on my, 'I know nothing about it face'. Marie bursts out with greater laughter turning again to hose me down once more before we go in to eat lunch.

Teasingly, she calls out as she scampers up the steps, "Come on, Ray Rabbit! Let's get some lettuce for lunch!" While Grandma busied herself with plates, Marie whispers to me that she cannot believe the irony in Grandma choosing the same rabbit phrase as she used yesterday in the barn.

"Yea," I purposefully whispered back, far away from Grandma's earshot, "fucking rabbits!" Marie jabs her elbow sharply into my ribs. I stifle my grunt, for fear of Grandma hearing and wanting to know what was going on between us.

We hurry through the meal and set out to do the afternoon barn chores. Grandma reminds us to be careful as we bound off the porch in a race to see who would reach the barn first. I let Marie win. I liked watching her butt move as she sprints across the yard. Spinning around to face me as I came up behind her, she cries, "Hah! Beat your slow ass, Ray!"

"Yea. So, you think, huh?" I utter in response pretending to be out of breath. Chores were in short order this day and we speed through them.

"No show, today?" Marie calls out to the stallion. "Broke your dick yesterday, did you?" She teases him, calling out safely from behind the gate. Marie could be so salty away from adults, but so sweet in their ear shout.

Marie is Introduced to the Loft

Chores done; Marie turns toward me. She sees my fixed stare focusing on those wonderful orbs pressing tightly against another too tight tee shirt. "Ray Rabbit wants to see some more?" she teases as she cups two handfuls of perky breasts.

Putting on my smiley face, I nod yes while mockingly holding up my hands like rabbit paws.

Her smile turns serious and her demeanor pensive as she lowers her voice. "We can't keep standing in the middle of the barn; some peeping tom might see."

In that instant, I suspect her sexual ardor must be as boiling as mine. I hold out my hand and hesitantly she takes it.

"I want to show you my private place," I whisper even as I realize we are the only ones in the barn and there was no need for a whisper between us.

I lead the way up the ladder to the loft. With Marie in tow, I scamper over the straw bales to the back of the loft where I hold my fantasy sessions. She stops, turning her head to take in the space and the pile of loose straw strewn across the bales. Pensively, Marie surveys the loft. I can sense the gears in her mind turning and then, nodding her head, she quietly concurs while taking in the solitude that the loft affords. She takes several shallow breathes before blurting out.

"So, what is it that you want, Ray?"

None of my fantasy sessions accounted for standing face-to-face and telling her what I wanted; they all dealt with her craving me, or wantonly taking my cock between her warm lips or her pussy or ... She wasn't supposed to ask; she was supposed to already know what I wanted; just to lie down and let me into her without asking. I was flustered at this new development in my quest for sex.

My cock, turgid when we climbed the ladder, was on the wane as I tried to gather the courage to tell what I wanted was to fuck her to the cows came home, but I couldn't get the words to roll out of my zipped lips.

I couldn't even make up a phony answer to her question. Instead, I just stood there dumbstruck and unable to respond. I watched as she pursed her lips while she studied my lack of a response. At least she wasn't smirking or laughing at me for my timidity as she would normally have. I could sense my hope of fucking her was slowly slipping away.

"Ray, Grandma and I talk a lot. One thing she always says to me is that you have to get over your fear of expressing what you want from others. They can't read your mind, she says. Talk is actually easy. Just say what is in your mind, let it out. Ask for what you want, Grandma told me. Usually, you can expect either a rejection or receive what you are asking for, and that might surprise you. But if you don't ask you definitely want get anything at all. The worst that can happen is that your pride gets hurt a little. But if that hurts you, you will move on and gradually put it behind you."

Marie's words were spoken with sincerity and with a sensual softness in her voice. Those conversations with Grandma must have been over some really deep thoughts. The carrier of Grandma's message wasn't the peppery girl that enjoyed tormenting me. It was from another eighteen-year-old far wiser and hiding something darker than I had ever encountered.

I felt the lump that was stuck in my throat softening. I guess the worst, according to Marie, is that I could get rejected but would eventually put that behind me and I would move on.

"Marie, Marie, ... I want to ... to know what sex feels like. I want ... would like to have sex with you." I managed to finally drag out what was bottled up behind that lump in my throat. I would take whatever laughter she was ready to let loose upon me, because I foolishly acted on her conversation with Grandma and asked.

She remained pensive, studying me. The laughter never came. But her response did come as a surprise to me.

"Ray, I'm not going to let you fuck me. But we can touch each other, maybe share sex that doesn't get your dick into my vagina, with each other ... just so you can see how it feels, okay?"

"No fucking, you understand? I mean it! We just look and maybe, maybe I let you touch, but no fucking! Promise?" Her voice is commanding and raises an octave as she speaks in an attempt to show that she is in charge. My breathing almost stops. I feel my legs tremble with anticipation as my heart skips several beats. I sit down on a bale to keeping my knees from buckling. Feelings of déjà vu swirl through my mind.

"Okay, yes." I manage to get out the two words, I hope that moves this along, faster.

"Okay, Yes, what?" She demands.

'Yes, what?' My thoughts, come to a halt, then I realize she's demanding her famous promise keeper sworn oath or -- die trying statement.

"Okay! Yes, I promise!" I acknowledge. Marie has this quark about always honoring a promise. Not something you can shrug off around her or you'll never, ever, hear the end of it. Break a promise to Marie, - and you are dead to her, forever.

She sits down on a bale across from me. No words are spoken. The silence of the loft envelops us. We gaze at each other, hesitant, neither sure of how to make the first move. We are complicit, fully intending to cross over the boundaries morality erects between us. We steel our nerves preparing for a sojourn with an uncertain destination. Safe from prying eyes, we both swallow, and take time to soak in the moment. Pensive, Marie's eyes are fixed on the thick mat of straw covering the lair as her toes swirl the loose straw about.

Finally, taking in a deep breath, she crosses her arms over her chest, and pulls the tight tee shirt over her head in one quick, sweeping motion. Yesterday's grand view is now just an arm's distance away. She drops the tee onto the bale next to her, quickly folding her arms to cover her breasts in an auto-reflex action. Then, becoming conscious of her action, she wills her hands down to her lap. Her eyes fix on mine as her lips purse tightly as she resolves and acknowledges the purpose is to be seen and not back out of her resolve and commitment to me. Marie's petite, beautiful breasts are amazing. The first I have ever seen close up. Fantasy crosses over to reality.