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All characters engaged in sexual situations are eighteen years of age or older. All characters and events are fictional. Any similarities with actual events or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.
This is a work of fiction, and as such, certain events or situations may be improbable, and certain details may not correspond to real life. If you’re looking for strictly likely situations and exact reality, I suggest you skip this.
I tried not to jump when I felt the sharp tap of Bonnie’s shoe against my shin, under the table. Since Mom and Dad were concentrating on their bowls of oatmeal, I knew they wouldn’t notice even if I did jump.
Without raising my head from my own bowl, I lifted my eyes and glared at my sister.
She was slowly digging her spoon in the contents of her breakfast, and I watched as she slowly raised her spoon to her face and her blue eyes to mine. Her expression mirrored mine. Her entire face mirrored mine, with the same color hair, the same eyes, the same nose and the same mouth.
“Sorry,” she silently mouthed before her spoon, full of cereal, disappeared behind her lips and her eyes returned to where they were expected to be: her meal.
The silence, interrupted only by the occasional clink of a spoon against bowl or scrape of a chair leg on wooden floor when one of us shifted, was normal. None of us were big talkers.
I glanced at Mom and Dad as I pushed my chair away from the table. There would have been a time they would have stopped me, or at the very least noticed me getting up. As my sister and I grew older though, they granted us freedoms, evidenced by a certain diminishing attention, and now that we were eighteen, that lack of attention had progressed to the point of being ignoring.
“Clyde, I need you to muck out the stalls today.”
Dad hadn’t looked up from his bowl as he spoke. He barely paused the slow, steady motion of his hand from bowl to mouth long enough to growl out the words.
Bonnie and I had certain tasks to perform, chores we were expected to do around the ranch to help pull our weight. Otherwise, we were left on our own. We each had a new chore, added the day we turned eighteen: find jobs so we could move out.
“OK,” I agreed to the top of Dad’s head, then turned to put my bowl and spoon in the sink.
My sister raised her eyes to mine as I passed by her, and she almost smiled. I almost smiled back at her.
Growing up, I thought we were normal, a typical family, and like every other typical family.
The ranch house we lived in, had always lived in, as far I remembered, was what I was used to. There was a kitchen, which doubled as a dining room, a living room, my parents bedroom, the bedroom Bonnie and I shared, and a bathroom. It seemed like a normal house to me. The amount of time Dad spent fixing the leaky roof, siding that fell off the outside, plumbing and electrical issues inside, seemed like it would be normal.
Dad, working for the owner of the ranch, seemed normal to me. Even the fact that the man, in his shiny car and business suit, only showed up a couple times a year seemed normal.
I started to notice at some point, after reaching school age, that maybe we weren’t actually an average, typically normal family.
I remember on one of our rare trips into town to visit the library to get books, a woman came to me and asked why I wasn’t in school. I didn’t even know what school was, but Mom saved me. She hurried over and took the woman away to have a whispered conversation with her.
On the trip home, in the truck, I asked Mom what school is. The memory of the blush on her cheeks is still vivid in my mind. She explained, without looking at either my sister or me, that it was a place that rich children went to learn the things that she taught us for free.
Eventually I even learned what the word twins means. Our parents never used that word, but I figured out that’s what Bonnie and I are. Twins.
We definitely were not a typical family.
The job of mucking out the stalls wasn’t so difficult. We had only the two aging nags that Dad, or I, used when some of the couple dozen head of beef cattle on our ranch needed to be moved somewhere else on the three hundred acres.
Obviously, I use the term ranch loosely. Dad knew the owner wasn’t serious about it, and regularly referred to the operation as a hobby for the owner. He didn’t seem to mind, as long as it gave us a place to live and food to eat, even if it didn’t provide much beyond that.
I hurried with the mucking. I had plans for today. I knew I would need to clean up, so I made my way behind the hulking main barn to where I had made a shower with an old watering tank that had been damaged and replaced, some old piping I found around the place, and faucet I had rigged to control the water flow with a chain.
The morning was warm for an autumn day, and the sun was bright, so the water wasn’t intolerably cold as I scrubbed, the bahis firmaları best I could, the rancid smell of horse manure from my body and hair. I didn’t want to raise any eye brows by using the heated water in the house for such frivolous activities.
I made my way from my personal shower, shielded from view of the house by the gargantuan structure of the barn, back toward the house. I was holding my soiled clothes as far from my body as I could, with a thumb and finger, and letting my naked body air dry. I noticed that one of the large double doors to the hay loft on the upper level of the barn was open, and needed to be closed and latched to keep the weather off our hay and straw stored there. I knew that wet straw could spontaneously combust as it dried.
My best denims and a clean shirt, which I had brought with me on the way to the shower, were waiting for me, and I pulled the denims on, slipped my feet into my newest second hand boots and made my way up the steep, narrow steps leading to the hay loft.
My head was almost to the opening leading to the hay loft when I heard a squeaky gasp from above me. Bonnie was at the edge, just about to step down, staring at me. Her naked feet almost glowed in the dim light of the barn, she had both her boots clutched to her chest, and I could clearly see her cheeks, blushed bright red in embarrassment.
“Clyde you scared me.”
“What are you doing up there?”
My sister stepped down the few steps between us and stopped on the step above mine. We were face to face, almost nose to nose.
“That’s my secret place, just to think.”
She almost smiled, but her cheeks were still blushed red.
Her hand felt warm on my bare chest, just above my nipple, but her fingers felt damp.
“Good luck, little brother,” she giggled as she looked in my eyes, then gently pushed me out of her way and stepped past me, brushing her narrow shoulder against my chest. She flipped her single, red braid behind her, and it popped a little as it struck the bare skin of my belly.
“Good luck? With what?”
“Finding a job,” she spoke over her shoulder from the barn floor before disappearing around a corner.
I stood motionless for a few seconds, staring at the spot where she had vanished. It spooked me a little when she did that. It seemed she could read my mind, but she was forever a mystery to me.
The door in the hay loft was closed and latched firmly already when I got to it.
“I’m sorry. We’re cutting back for the winter now, letting the summer jobs go and stuff. We just don’t have anything for you,” the Manager of the feed store told me after I finished my spiel of all my experience helping Dad and Mom on the ranch.
The feed store was, pretty much, the only place in town I was familiar with, except the library. I really didn’t think what I knew about ranching would help me get a job at the library.
I was more than a little frustrated, at the Manager for letting me go through ten minutes of my practiced speech before telling me what he knew as soon as I told him I was looking for a job.
I was also very disappointed. I had been dreaming that I would get that job, and be able to get away from my parents, and start a new life.
I needed a new plan, and I needed it quickly. I already walked the three miles to town, so I would just keep looking.
I didn’t even make it to the first cross street as I headed up Main Street for the business district, when a white, four-door pickup truck pulled to the curb just slightly ahead of me. A gold star with the letter B in the center was emblazoned on the front passenger door, and below it was lettered “Bonomo Ranch, Beaver, Utah”
A tall man got out of the driver side, pushed a black, worn cowboy hat over his brow, then strode around the front of his truck.
“Hey kid,” his gravelly voice called to me as I passed him on the sidewalk.
“Yeah?” I replied, looking him over. He was a few inches taller then me, making him about six two or three, his salt and pepper hair was visible under the brim of his hat, the leathery skin of his face was crisscrossed with deep lines and his gray eyes seemed to have been dyed to match his thick mustache.
“Rusty Bonomo,” he growled, extending his weather beaten hand.
“Clyde Steele, sir.”
His handshake was firm, and his calloused palm felt like leather.
“That was quite a resume you gave Bill back at the feed store. I reckon you’re Jim Steele’s kid. Never seen ya before, but that red mane and freckles ain’t anything one could miss between the two of you. Can you really do all those things ya claimed?”
“You know my dad, Mister Bonomo?”
I didn’t really believe my dad had any friends, or acquaintances.
“Yep. We’ve had a drink or two together over the years, when I was in the mood for buying, and your pa was in the mood for company. Neither of which happened much, and pretty damn rare for them both to happen at the same time.”
I didn’t even kaçak iddaa know my Dad drank.
Mister Bonomo wore an expectant grin, and it confused me a little. He was a stranger to me, and that alone put me off a little.
“So, Clyde, you’re a real ranch hand, or was that made up?”
“Oh, no sir, I mean yes…I can do all that. Been doing it all my life, really.”
“No, sir, just did some stall mucking this morning.”
His eyes crinkled up around the edges before a deep laugh seemed to bellow up from his chest and out his mouth.
“Call me Rusty. That ‘sir’ crap just gets in my craw and grates.
“So you got like twenty, twenty-two years of ranch experience?”
“Well, I’m only eighteen, so that’s about as much as I can count.”
“Looks to me you can probably hold your own in a tussle, and I know your ma and pa been out at that broken down ranch for near on a couple decades. I gotta believe you got the chops for it, and I got a job if you’re interested.”
“Sir? Er…Rusty, what do you mean?”
“My foreman just left me for greener pastures, and I mean that as fact. A ranch in South Dakota, lots and lots of way greener grass than we ever have here. I wouldn’t be having you as a foreman, of course, since nobody would listen to somebody eighteen years old. I do need somebody on the ranch all day and night, you know for emergencies, and his old place is empty now.”
“You’re offering me a job?”
“Maybe, but I’m asking if you’d be interested. Step into my office, and we can talk about it.”
Rusty turned and headed around the front of his truck, and I assumed he meant his truck was his office, or he was going to take me to his office, or something. I wasn’t sure, so I climbed into the passenger seat.
I had never been inside a vehicle with such beautiful insides. The seats were clean and shiny, no tears or scratches, or even stains. The dash was all silver and glass and knobs. I was still a little overwhelmed with just the truck when he started talking.
“I got about three thousand head on a couple thousand acres. They’re Angus, so once a year we do a roundup and send some off to be butchered, and otherwise it’s mostly checking on them, mending fences and maintaining everything. Right now, there’s six of us working it, but with you it would be seven. The rest of the men got their own places, so it would just be you and me on the ranch all the time.”
“I’d live with you?”
“Nope. There’s a little place, off to the side, that would be yours. It’s not much, a couple bedrooms, living room, kitchen and a couple bathrooms. Nothing fancy, but for a single man, it’s pretty decent. You ain’t married, are you?”
“No. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”
“That don’t matter, kid,” Rusty chuckled. “It’ll be your place though. If you want to have a girl there, or a passel of girls, don’t make no difference to me long as you get the job done.”
“I don’t know any girls to have over.”
“Well, maybe you can meet one. Just not my daughter. Since she’s fresh away to college out east, I don’t reckon that’s gonna be an issue though”
“I reckon not.”
I wasn’t certain exactly what reckon meant, but it sounded like it should go there.
“So, with the house, electric, water, internet included, I could pay you, oh, say…hmm,” Rusty paused to think.
I was hoping he would say three hundred a week, but considering a place to live was included, figured it would be less. I’d take two hundred.
“Say seven hundred a week, to start. You still interested?”
“Seven hundred? Is that what you said?”
“Hell, kid, OK, seven fifty, but that’s as high as I’ll go with only eighteen years experience. Remember, you ain’t gotta pay rent or utilities out of that.”
I nodded my head.
“Perfect,” Rusty announced. “I’ll just need to get your driver license number…”
“I don’t have a license. I know how to drive, but never got a license. Dad just let me drive around on the ranch.”
“You got a cell phone?”
“Don’t think so. We got a phone in the barn, for the owner to leave Dad messages.”
“Kid, I guess the stories they tell are true. I’m sorry, and I don’t know why your pa put up with that man all these years.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“People say your folks are dirt poor, can barely feed themselves and you and your sister. He should a left years ago.”
“So you’re not sorry that you’re not gonna give me the job?”
“Nope. I’m getting too good of a deal on you to let some little details ruin it for either of us, kid. You do have a hat though, right?”
“I have a baseball cap at home.”
It wasn’t like Rusty’s hat, but I hoped it would do. I had found it in the parking lot of the library, and it fit me right, so I kept it.
“OK, we got some errands to do after lunch. Is the cafe OK with you?”
Rusty dropped me off at the mouth of our gravel drive just before five. My new cowboy hat felt strange on my head as I patted one kaçak bahis pocket for my new drivers license and then the other for my new phone. I waved at the back of the truck as it accelerated away.
Rusty had paid me for a day, that day, set up the account for my cell phone, that he said was necessary for my employment, taken me to take my driving test, which I paid for, then, claiming it was part of my uniform, bought me the new hat.
I made it home just in time for dinner. We all sat down in our places, and after the usual short blessing by Dad, everyone started grabbing dishes of food.
I caught my sister’s eyes, and she almost smiled at me before she looked away, then looked back and actually smiled at me before looking down to serve herself some potatoes.
I felt like a million dollars.
Done eating, I put my dishes in the sink, probably for Bonnie to wash when everyone was done, and headed for the stable. Tonight and tomorrow night, I would check the barn, count the herd, and if necessary, ride to find any that didn’t make it inside before I closed them in. Then, I would be done with what I needed to pull my weight at the only home I ever knew.
Sunday, after lunch, Rusty was going to pick me up along with anything I had to take with me, and I would move into the small house on his ranch. I was so excited I could barely stand to sit in the saddle of the old nag under me.
The cattle were all in the barn. They usually were. The dogs were in their place, also in the barn, so I scratched their ears before I closed and secured the doors. Dad would open them in the morning.
I didn’t need to, but I took a slow ride around the pasture nearest the house and barns. I tried to picture what a ranch with three thousand head of cattle would look like, knowing whatever I imagined probably wouldn’t be accurate. I had never been on such a ranch.
Beneath the waxing three-quarter moon, I felt like my life had been so small up to that point, but was about to expand beyond what I could imagine.
The room we shared was dark, and remained silent. I held my breath and listened for any hint of breathing from behind the curtain hung between my side and my sister’s.
Dad had nailed up the divider separating our beds when we were eight years old, and mom had explained that it was best, since boys and girls needed to have privacy when they dressed, or slept, and especially brothers and sisters.
He had done an excellent job of it too. The sheet of cloth was held firmly to the wall, ceiling, and floor by slats of wood nailed in place. There were no gaps to allow even the thinnest sliver of light through, except at one end that Bonnie used to slip into her side of the room.
Her side seemed vacant at the moment, so I undressed and crawled into my bed.
I knew I was too excited to sleep right away. I would be leaving home in two days. I would meet people, and work with people. Maybe I would make friends. I had never had a friend, except my sister. There had never been an opportunity to make friends for us. We didn’t go to school, or church, or anywhere that there would be people to meet.
Soon my eyes got used to the dim light in the room as I stared at the ceiling. The bright moonlight gave my sister’s side of the room a slight glow, even through the material dividing our sides. She had the only window in the room on her side.
Eventually, I heard the door creak as it was slowly pushed open. I could make out the form of my sister creep in and slowly make her way across my half. She was tiptoeing, carrying her boots clutched to her chest, and the bare skin of her feet, hands and face seemed to glow in the darkness.
I didn’t move or speak. That’s how we were, our whole family didn’t ever say much.
I closed my eyes, anticipating the click of her bedside lamp and the ensuing light, but it didn’t come. She was supposed to always turn it on. Mom had always been adamant about that, for some reason, and she always did what Dad and Mom told us to do.
I opened my eyes. The silhouette of my sister almost jumped at me from the white cloth of the divider. The moonlight coming in from her window was like a spotlight, illuminating her side, except where her body blocked it, and I could make out nearly every detail of her outline.
I watched, transfixed as she appeared to work the braid out of her hair then slowly run her fingers through and let it fall loosely around her head and over her shoulders. My eyes opened a little wider when she turned to the side and her hands started working down, from her throat, between the rise of her small breasts and to her waist as she unbuttoned her shirt, and slowly let it slide down her arms and off.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the shadow of my sister, and I understood why Mom had told her to always turn her lamp on.
She stood motionless for a few brief seconds, and I could clearly see the slope of her breast come to a point, a small knob formed a sharp tip, then the slight bulge as the bottom curved back to her torso. I was struggling to control my breathing, and was acutely aware of my rock hard penis under my cover. I knew I shouldn’t be seeing this, but I couldn’t look away.
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