Long Skirts and Short Shorts

From the age of 12, and until I graduated high school, I worked all my summers in wheat/oat/ barley fields for farmers in Northern Oklahoma and Southern Kansas.
I began scooping grain in bins on the farm, which would be used for planting the next year’s crop.

Wheat and barley was bad enough, but scooping oats was an itchy bitch. The husks were sharp and would break in your skin, causing constant irritation. Oat dust was worse on breathing, too.

The second year, I graduated to driving an old dump truck, loaded with grain, to the elevator. I could barely touch the pedals, but once I got the hang of it, they turned me loose. Over those years, I believe that driving that old International was the highlight of all my farming years… except the summer when I was 18.

I worked for a family that year. The old man & his wife (Mr. & Mrs. K), their oldest son, (Wally & his family.. wife, Mary; daughter, Maria; and the little boy, Wally Jr.) AND… Kenneth, the youngest son who was married but I can’t remember her name… we’ll just call her ‘Puss’. She always seemed kind of a bitch to me.

During the week, Monday thru Saturday, I lived with the old couple, Mr & Mrs K.
I had graduated to operating the combine, rolling the big grain trucks, and doing all phases of tractor driving (plowing, disking, pulling the springtooth harrows, rotary hoe, mowing… all of it. Mr. K would say, “we need to take care of ‘such & such’ field,” and I would go do it.

Noon meals were always at Wally’s house, unless we were working a field too far away to drive the tractor there in ten minutes, or less.
Right here, I need to insert that the family were Mennonites… maybe Quakers… maybe Amish… Pentecostal… Wiccans… not definite on that one, at all. I do remember the females always wore dresses or skirts. Many times, I wondered if they wore underwear beneath those skirts.

SO….. One day, I was turning dirt in the farthest field from Wally’s place, four or five miles to the west. Not a home, barn or fence line in sight for as far as I could see.
Mr. K had told me that Mary, or Maria would bring me my dinner (what we were raised to call the noon meal). He, Wally and Kenneth were going to Wichita to look at some new equipment, and would be gone until late in the day.

I was at the far end of the field when I saw the ’56, salmon & white, Ford drive up to the tree line and park in the shade. When I got closer, I saw Mary, Wally’s wife (probably 36 or 37 at the time) standing outside the car wearing blue shorts and a plaid shirt that was unbuttoned, but tied at the bottom. (in later years, I often wondered if Daisy Duke patterned her outfit after Mary’s)

I can remember thinking, “What the fuck??….” Now, this was a nice looking woman; even without makeup, which she never wore. I climbed off the tractor and told her I needed to step behind the trees for a minute to relieve myself (the vibrations of the tractor were always a little rough on the bladder). Mary told me, “It’s okay, Donnie, I’ve seen a few dicks in my time. Just pull off your jeans and piss. Let’s eat; then we’ll play a little before you go back to work.”

I’m pretty sure my brain completely ceased to function as I stood there, watching Mary untie the bottom of her shirt.
Needless to say, my teen cock jumped to attention and I was about to piss my pants as well. But I wasn’t about to take my eyes off the sight before me.
Now, I hadn’t been a virgin for a while, but here was a grown woman, mother of a pretty 19yr old daughter and a 12yr old boy.

Her pale tits, tipped with pink aureoles and nipples, were fan-fucking-tastic. My eyes were glued to them when I heard her say, “Donnie? Have you ever screwed a woman?” That brought me out of my trance and I answered, “Ummm… some girls. But I’ve never fucked a full grown woman… I mean, my girlfriend is full grown, I guess; but you’re… uh… well, you’re… ma’am, I’ve never seen anything like you.”

She chuckled and asked me if I was hungry or not. That confused me a little because she already had my mind on tits… and pussy. But I told her yes, I was hungry.
“Good. I want you to get all your clothes off and piss. We’ll eat, as soon as you screw me real good.”
I must make a note right here and say that I never heard Mary say the word, ‘fuck’. She always said ‘screw’.

I tripped over the draglinks on the back of the old Twin Cities four cylinder as I tried to hide behind the tractor to drain my bladder. Mary, of course, was giggling like a teenager the whole time. I know I was as nervous as a dog named Spot, trying to learn commands like Stop, Trot and Squat.

Whole I was pissing, I peeked over the hood. Again, my eyes just HAD to be lying to me; Mary was turned toward the Ford, bent over and working her tight shorts down to her ankles.