It turns out that Kaleb’s important morning off the ranch was a pick-up mission.
And the thing that he was picking up?
“Dude,” I say, gripping my fingers through my hair as he undoes the tailback trailer, un-strapping the hot tub from its clipped-in bonds. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
I’m stressed the fuck out. I spent the entire morning with my eyes locked on Kitty’s magic little ass and I need to jerk one out before I die a death by hard-on.
“Pre-fourth of July celebrations, man,” he replies, grinning at me like I’m not about to combust.
Hang on. He wants to orchestrate pre-fourth of July celebrations at his parents’ ranch with his little sister around?
“You’re gonna have a hot tub party here? With Kitty around?” I ask, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
I’m not insecure about where Kitty and I stand – I’m well aware that we’re on the precipice of an active volcano, on the cusp of enjoying an exhilarating freefall before I meet my bone-crushing doom with her brother – but that doesn’t mean that I want other guys around her, talking to her and shit.
“Yeah,” he replies as he unfastens the last clip, then he leans backwards, scoping the best way to manoeuvre the tub.
“How much does this thing weigh?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest. Whilst he scratches at his forehead I risk a glance over to the fields, trying to catch a glimpse of Kitty.
“Not sure. You’ll be able to lift it,” he replies.
It looks as heavy as a small tractor but I’m not going to turn down an opportunity to impress Kaleb’s sister if she just so happens to be walking by.
Right after I sort out the problem in my jeans.
“Think you can give me ten?” I ask, my voice hoarse as I try to hide my growing need.
“Yeah, whatever – I’m gonna shower off before we do this anyway. It’s hot as balls out here.”
My jaw twitches. He needs to use the shower? Get in the fucking queue, man.
“Sure,” I say, my teeth clenched tight.
What the hell am I going to do?
I look around, scoping for somewhere that I can go and do my business. No way am I jacking off in the cabin if it’s only Kaleb and me in there.
The forest maybe?
I turn around looking for my out when suddenly a flash of obsidian catches my eye – Kitty’s long black hair glimmering in the early morning sunlight as she hauls a stainless steel can of milk from their cooling den, working her way towards us so that it can be taken to be pasteurised.
I reactivate like I’ve just been hit with a defibrillator.
“Here, let me.”
I stride over to her, dismissing that amused eye roll that she just did as more of a show for her brother rather than mocking my desire to baby her, and I grip my fingers under the slots, replacing hers as she hands it over to me.
“Just put it in the-”
She stops short when she looks at the hot tub on the tail of the truck.
“Uh…” She raises an eyebrow and then looks up at Kaleb with squinting eyes. “Is that a hot tub?” she asks.
He smirks as he chugs back a mouthful from his water bottle and then he replies with a grin, “Yeah. You’re not gonna tell mom on me are you?”
Her eyebrow climbs even higher. “Surely you’d be more afraid of dad.”
He nods in agreement as he finishes the bottle. Then he throws it through the rolled down window onto the passenger seat and moves around to the back of the truck, squatting at the attachment key that’s joining the carrier tray to the Chevy. He unwinds the mechanism, freeing the vehicle from the plate carrying the hot tub and then gestures to the open-top bed, jerking his thumb at it whilst tipping his chin in the direction of the milk that I’m now carrying. How the hell did she carry this? Surely this is way too heavy for her.
“Pop it in there. Kitty’ll cover the bed once they’re all in.”
Kaleb, apparently done with his participation, begins heading towards the cabin, so I allow myself to slide my eyes up and down his sister as I heave the milk into the back of the truck. That tank she’s wearing should be illegal.
“You taking this to town?” I ask, voice getting lower as my brain cells turn to ash. There is not one clean thought left in my head.
“Yup,” she replies absentmindedly, tapping away on her phone. “The other cans are back there if you wanna get them for me,” she adds on, eyes still glued to her screen.
I lean against the truck momentarily, watching her in studious silence as she continues ignoring me. As if I didn’t have my hands running all over her an hour ago. As if she doesn’t know how stiff she got me this morning.
Aware that she’s gonna continue ignoring me I head to where the other cans are waiting and one by one I haul them into the truck for her, quickly so that they don’t curdle before she’s made it to town.
When I’m done I cover the bed, give the Chevy a slap on the rear, and then turn around to look down at her.
She’s still texting.
Who the fuck is she texting?
“Who are you-”
I’m about to ask her even though I have no right to do so when she suddenly looks up. She pockets her phone and, after a sweeping glance at the cabin to check that Kaleb’s safely inside, she lifts herself onto the toes of her cowgirl boots and plants a tiny peck on the side of my cheek.
My heart thunders in my chest like I’m a teenager again.
“Thanks,” she says quickly, and then without a second glance she hops into the driver’s seat, straps herself in, and peels off the gravel faster than I’d like her to be driving.
In seconds I’m alone, standing in the dust-caked driveway, with nothing but the swing of the barn door for company.
Wait a second.
The barn.
I take a look over my shoulder towards the currently vacant barn, freshly cleaned out and totally empty.
Huh. Would you look at that.
I grind the heel of my boot into the dirt, contemplating if this is really fucking wrong or not.
I know that it is. But I also know that I don’t care.
I turn around and start making my way over to it, my brain burning with the new visual of Kitty holding that giant can of milk in her sexy little top.
When I get inside I push the door so that it’s fully closed and then I lock the latch, hoping to God that Kaleb doesn’t try to get in here for the next ten minutes.
It feels hotter in here than it did out there, the warmth of the cloying June morning clinging to the wooden panels and radiating upwards from the freshly lain straw. Too horny to not jack off but not horny enough to beat one out in a cow stall, I move to the booth at the back of the room that’s stocked up with ropes and various other pieces of ranch maintenance equipment. I rest my left palm flat on the plank in front of me whilst my other hand slips my belt buckle loose, unzipping my fly and then tugging down my jeans.
I stifle a groan of relief as my shaft is freed from the denim, giving me the room to expand and thicken fully. I tuck my hand into my boxers and rub my thumb over the head.
It’s too much. I bow forward, grinding my head against the wall as I take my hand back out of my underwear, wiping the pre-cum on the side of my jeans.
I’m not sure I can even do this. A couple of tugs and it’s gonna be over.
Breathing heavy, I tilt my head to the side, subconsciously acknowledging what else is in the booth. I blink slowly as if I’m seeing it for the first time when a hook adorned with a couple items of clothing comes into view.
A roughed up pair of denim dungarees.
A dusty red and black check flannel.
And a black cotton tank top.
Incapable of finesse, I yank the whole lot off the hook and then drop everything except for the tank. It’s so over-washed that it’s gone translucent and there are holes around the neckline and a gash up the back. Presumably it’s been hanging here to die for the past year at least, no longer usable and long unworn.
Swallowing hard I lift the top to my face and I gently press my nose into it, sniffing at the soft cotton.
I’m not sure if I’m in Heaven or in Hell because this little tank smells sweeter than sugar. It’s falling to pieces and she still fucking wears it.
She shouldn’t be wearing it. She shouldn’t.
Keeping my forehead against the wall in front of me I lower the top to my crotch, and I lightly press it against myself. I squeeze my eyes shut as my temples tighten, the need for release weighing heavy in my sac.
I slip the fabric into my boxers and wrap it around myself, cursing because this shit’s softer than silk. I clench my teeth together as I tighten my grip, desperate to unload this aching weight.
Biting my teeth into my lip-ring I fist one rough tug, pumping my whole length into the softness of Kitty’s tank, and it’s the best feeling that I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to thrust into it in pure ecstasy, allowing the fact that she’s been wearing this, the knowledge that her scent is rubbing all over me to squeeze me to the brink, but at the same time I know that I can’t.
Would she forgive me? Yeah, she’s so sweet that I bet she would. But would I forgive myself for defiling something that she’s probably been wearing forever? Hell no.
I slip her tank out of my boxers, cursing because even that feels good, and I swap it from my right hand to my left, scrunching it against the wall as I shove my fist back down my underwear.
I picture her with me, in front of me, wearing that RAWHIDE top that needs to be incinerated. She’s wearing a pair of her cute denim cut-offs and her used holey tank is dangling from her fingers. She knows what I need and she holds it between us, giving me permission to take it.
I push my forehead against hers, silently asking her to do this for me, to help me get there, and she understands. Of course she does. She knows me better than anyone else.
Still holding her top, it’s her hand that slips down my boxers, enrobing me in softness and warmth, and then she begins to grasp and grip and pump me senseless.
“Cum,” she whispers, looking up at me through her lashes, her lips parted and perfect for kissing.
I want my tongue in her mouth. She’s wearing that tiny top and her sweet little shorts but she shouldn’t be wearing anything at all.
I shake my head when she gives me an encouraging nod. We’ve only been here for fifteen seconds and I want to last as long as I can. I need to show her what I can do for her.
“It’s okay, I want you to,” she continues, lips lightly kissing against the stubble on my neck. Fuck she feels so good. “Before anyone catches us, Madden. No-one’s allowed to see.”
I’m desperate to last but I know that I can’t, not with the smell and the feel of her all around me. With both of her hands gripped around my shaft she tosses me faster, making me groan and buck. Then she stands up on her tip-toes so she can kiss her way up my jaw. Goosebumps ignite up my back and my shoulders, and I lean into her harder, wanting her to know how little control I have left. It’s fucking obvious but she needs to know. She has to know how desperately I want her.
“Kitty,” I whisper, dipping my head low so that I can finally catch her lips. She’s right there, she’s ready to be kissed, but somehow she’s still just out of reach.
My body swells and tenses until I can no longer see a thing.
