Seven Years Earlier
Moonlight flooded my bedroom, the deep, earthy smell of summer rain tickling my nostrils as I drifted awake. Glancing at my clock, I realized I’d slept for only an hour.
The sky must have opened up briefly while I dozed. Just enough to wet the grass and bring out the worms.
I sat up and swung my legs to the side of the bed, excitement buzzing through my veins. Nothing beat a fishing trip with live bait I’d plucked from the grass with my own hands.
As soon as I finished morning chores, I’d sneak off to the lake with my best friend, Willow. She lived on the next farm over.
I cracked open my bedroom door and peered down the hall before tiptoeing to the top of the staircase.
It was just after midnight, and everyone was in bed. The workday started early on a dairy farm. My brothers would be up in five hours, milking cows while my mom prepared breakfast.
I cut across the lawn toward the barn to get a pail, the cool breeze blowing against my long legs, sending my white nightgown flying above my knees.
My bare feet sank into the moist earth as I skipped happily across the grass.
I was fifteen, hovering on the precipice between girlhood and womanhood. A late bloomer, I’d only recently started developing breasts and having periods.
The outside light from the bunkhouse illuminated the yard, threatening to expose my midnight adventure if anyone happened to look out the window. I ducked into the shadows.
My brother’s best friend, Abe, was the only live-in farm hand staying with us that summer.
I was a tomboy, living a sheltered existence with my childhood innocence intact. My knowledge about sex was limited due to a lack of interest.
I had better things to do than fantasize about a man sticking his penis inside me. Things like fishing and hiking and honing my baking skills.
A strange sound drifted out the open window at the front of the bunkhouse. Maybe one of the pregnant barn cats had wandered in there to give birth.
I backed up against the wall when I realized Abe’s light was on.
Shit. What if he saw me?
I waited to see if Abe would come out and drag my ass back up to the main house.
Curiosity overcame fear as the weird noise grew louder. Cats didn’t talk. It was definitely a woman making those sounds.
Judging by the moans and “oh God”s coming from her mouth, she was in some type of distress.
I crawled along the wall and pulled myself up to the window. A blonde girl was on her back on Abe’s bed, naked, and he was on top of her.
I should’ve left. But I didn’t. I stood there, my feet rooted to the ground, staring in that window as Abe held her legs up on his shoulders and pounded into her.
He was going at her so hard, her breasts bobbed up and down like buoys in the lake.
She cried out, begging him to fuck her harder and faster, and screamed about how good it felt. He was grunting like a pig, ordering her to come, over and over.
I wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do, but she must have done it because he stopped saying “come” and yelled out “fuck!” before letting go of her legs and flopping onto his back.
And that was the moment I saw my very first penis. I watched him peel off the condom and toss it aside. His cock pointed upward, still erect, as I gazed in awe, the moonlight bouncing off the shiny head.
That thing was huge.
No. Abe’s dick was massive.
Were they all that big? There was no way I could ever fit one of those inside me. I could barely get a tampon in my vagina.
I scrambled away on my hands and knees until I was out of sight of the bunkhouse. Then I hightailed it across the lawn, back to the safety of my house and my bedroom.
The worms were long forgotten as I visualized the scene I’d just witnessed. The images replayed in my head on a continuous reel.
My life was forever changed by that night. I became obsessed with sex, wanting to learn everything I could so I would be prepared one day when a man wanted to do those things to me.
I spent all my free time on the internet, reading articles and watching porn.
I never told anyone what I saw that night. Not even Willow. My new interest was my dirty little secret.
Abraham went away to UCLA that fall. His parents moved to Arizona, and he never came back to Vermont.
I pulled a rag from the pocket of my jeans and wiped the sweat from my brow.
Vermont was experiencing a warm spring. The walls of the old barn trapped the heat inside, turning it into a pressure cooker. It was only early May, but the weather forecast predicted we’d hit eighty.
“This is not how I wanted to spend my summer,” I grumbled, grabbing a shovel to start the miserable task of mucking the stalls.
I had a college degree. And I’d gone to culinary school, graduating at the top of my class. I didn’t want to be a farmer. Yet, there I was. Shoveling shit.
I’d come home to lick my wounds and regroup. My family welcomed me with loving arms, providing the unconditional love and support I desperately needed.
But there was always work to be done on a large dairy farm. Nobody got a free pass from chores.
My father died when I was twelve, leaving my older brothers with the responsibility to step up and run the farm.
Chase and Cam stayed on after high school. They lived in the big farmhouse with their wives and kids and our mom.
The house was spacious enough with seven bedrooms, but it was still chaotic with four kids under the age of five running around.
I grabbed the handles of the rusty old wheelbarrow and pushed it outside to the manure pile. How the hell did cows shit that much?
It was so hot I could see steam rising from the towering pile of excrement. I cursed under my breath as I stomped back into the barn, the bottoms of my hot pink rubber boots caked in hay and cow shit.
I was so caught up in my pity party, I didn’t hear my brother come in. I screamed when I felt arms circle my waist before I was picked up and spun around.
“Craig!” I squealed. “When did you get here?”
“Ten minutes ago,” he replied, setting me back on my feet. He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, wrinkling his nose. “It’s fucking hot and smelly in here.”
“Well, yeah!” I laughed, shaking my head. “Has Mom seen you?”
“No. I ran into Chase halfway down the driveway. He’s cutting grass in the west pasture. Said you were mucking stalls. So I headed here first.”
He leaned against a post, sighing as he studied my face with a sympathetic frown. “How are you, kiddo?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Craig and I were close. Always had been, with only three years between us. We were like the babies of the family. The three older boys were in their thirties, with a huge age gap between them and us.
He tilted his head, his brow cocked. “Cheyenne Carson, cut the crap. You are not fine. Far from it.”
I shrugged. “What are you doing here anyway? As soon as Mom finds out you’re here, she’ll have a list of chores a mile long for you.”
“I’m not staying. I’m on my way to spend a few weeks at Cape Cod with Julie’s folks.”
I forced a smile. I’d met Craig’s girlfriend only one time. But it was enough to know she wasn’t right for him.
They’d met at UCLA, where my brother had just completed a master’s degree in marketing. He had no intention of doing farm work for a living.
“Where is she?”
“She flew directly to Boston. I’ll meet up with her in a couple of days.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Just one night,” he said, yanking gently on my ponytail. “Now, stop changing the subject. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No! I’m shoveling shit! How do you think I am?”
He nodded. “I figured as much. Have you talked to him?”
“No, Craig. And I’m not going to. The relationship is over. I told you that on the phone.”
“What happened? I thought you guys were happy. And then he proposed. He proposed, Cheyenne. And you turned him down.”
“And I told you I had my reasons. I don’t feel like sharing them right now.”
I winced at the hurt expression on his face. But there were some things you just couldn’t share with your brother, no matter how close you were.
He recovered quickly, grinning as he folded his arms across his chest.
“What are you so happy about?” I snapped out. “If you’re gonna rub it in that I’m stuck here and you get to leave, save it.”
“What if I told you I could spring you for six weeks?”
“I’m listening.” I leaned the shovel against the wall and stared back at him expectantly.
“Well, remember that contest we entered? The one where we had to come up with a marketing campaign for that company that owns the chain of RV parks?”
“Oh, yeah. The one with the forty-thousand-dollar prize and the trip across Canada. When do you find out if you won?”
“They announced the winners yesterday,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “We won!”
“Holy shit, Craig!” I jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. “That’s awesome!”
“I know. There’s just one small problem.”
I pulled back so I could see his face. “What?”
“Emily, the fourth member of our group, can’t go now. Her mother was just diagnosed with stage IV cancer. She only has weeks to live.”
“Oh my God. That’s awful.”
“Yes. So we need a replacement for her.”
“Why can’t the three of you go on the trip?”
“Because Julie’s super-religious, overprotective father won't let her go on a trip across Canada in an RV with two guys. There has to be another girl.”
“Are you asking me to go?”
“Yeah. You’d get away from the farm for six weeks. Go on a trip across Canada in a fancy RV. You’d get to do all kinds of cool shit that you love, like hiking and fishing.
“And you’d get paid ten grand. What is there to think about, sis?”
“Yes!” I squealed, jumping up and down. “Fuck yeah, I’ll go.”
“It’s going to be a blast,” he said. “I’ve gotta call Abe and Julie and tell them you agreed to go.”
“Okay. I’ve gotta get back to shoveling shit.”
“You do that,” he said, chuckling as he pulled out his cell and wandered outside.
So, I was going to spend six weeks with Abraham McLean. I had not laid eyes on my brother’s best friend in seven years.
Not since that summer I’d seen him fucking the girl in the bunkhouse. The night my sexuality awoke, eliciting dirty thoughts and desires from deep within my psyche.
Abe was the starring character in most of my sexual fantasies. And the intense need to be thoroughly and truly fucked still burned strong.
Despite having three sexual relationships under my belt, I’d yet to find what I’d been yearning for since I was fifteen. I couldn’t even have an orgasm.
Well, I could if I was alone. But no man had ever given me one.
I’d gotten pretty good at faking after my first boyfriend dumped me because of my inability to come. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Perhaps my expectations of sex were unrealistic.
I picked up the rake and started spreading fresh hay in the stalls, laughing at my wishful thinking.
As if Abe McLean would have any interest in me. And even if he did, my brother wouldn’t let him anywhere near me.
Nope. My trip across Canada would be a celibate trek.